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Discouraged by the blackness of his mood, Alanna went down to the lake to refill the pail, and tarried at the water's edge. Even with the awful specter of death on his mind, Hunter's heart was closed to Christian, and she saw that as a terrible tragedy, even if he didn't. Bitterly discouraged that her trip to New York continued to have tragic consequences, she reluctantly returned to her patient's side. He was sleeping again, and she liked him ever so much better that way.
She replaced the cool compresses on his chest and legs, before sitting back to study his color. She thought he looked less flushed, but feared it might only be wishful thinking rather than fact. She rested her hand lightly on his right knee, and decided there was no difference in his temperature. He was still much too warm. Perplexed by her inability to help him, she realized that lying directly in the sun couldn't be doing him any good. Inspired to remedy that sorry situation, she cut two long slender branches to serve as poles, then dampened her shawl, and strung it between them to form an awning.
Armed with a leafy branch from a sugar maple, she sat fanning him with lazy strokes, attempting to keep him cooled by the breeze wafting over the wet awning. Her arm soon ached with the effort, but unable to devise another way to lower his temperature, she changed hands often and tried only to think of how much she wanted him to live. He was such a handsome man, that sitting with him wasn't in the least bit disagreeable, but she wished his conversation had been more optimistic when he had last been awake. She chewed another strip of venison jerky, and vowed not to let him speak again of death. She had had far too much of the pain of loss, and craved the joy of love and life instead.
* * *
Throughout the rest of that day and well into the next, Hunter's dreams were filled with tortured images that kept him moaning softly. He was running through a dark, overgrown forest infested with evil demons. The hideous creatures leapt out at him, taunting him with vile insults uttered in strident cackles and hoarse shrieks. Their fangs dripped venom, and his buckskins were ripped to shreds by their long, pointed claws. Each time he escaped their grasp, but he had lost his knife and bow, and without a way to fight them, sought only to hide, but they were everywhere. He had to keep on running harder and harder, until he feared his heart would burst from the strain.
Looking back over his shoulder, he missed seeing the cliff until it was too late to catch himself, and he plummeted over the edge. He flung out his arms, hoping to soar like an eagle but he succeeded only in spinning head over heels, until his fall was finally broken by the icy waters of a bottomless lake. He splashed about and, finally free of the demons, awoke just as Alanna threw another pail of water on him. He sputtered and spit, then sat up and tried to wrench the bucket from her hands.
"Are you trying to drown me?"
Alanna released her hold on the bucket and sank to her knees.
"I'm sorry, but you've been delirious for more than a day, and I couldn't think of any other way to bring you out of it."
Hunter found it difficult to believe the ugly demon dreams had lasted so long. "When did you kill Blind Snake?"
"Three days ago."
Her shawl still shaded him, preventing him from seeing the angle of the sun, but he could tell by the obvious changes in her that he had indeed lost a day. Her dress was splattered with water, but seemed to hang on a figure that was rapidly becoming gaunt. There were shadows beneath her eyes, and her hair, rather than falling in attractive ringlets, was in wild disarray.
"You must rest," Hunter coaxed. "Come lie down with me."
"No, I'll bring you a drink first." Alanna struggled to rise and, weaving unsteadily, went to fetch more water. When she returned, she placed the bucket and cup within his reach, and then stretched out beside him. "I think you'll be all right now," she whispered softly, and before his hand caressed her cheek, she had given into the fatigue she had fought for so many hours.
After having slept for an equal amount of time, Hunter still felt drained, but wide-awake. He wiggled his toes, flexed his muscles, and while his leg did still ache, he attempted to convince himself that he would be strong enough to get up later. Recalling his frightful nightmares in the light of day, he wondered if death hadn't come for him again. If so, Alanna had saved him a second time, and he was extremely glad that she had. While he still felt weak, his fever had broken, and he was cheered by that small step toward recovery.
His thoughts remained focused on the exhausted young woman at his side, and he wondered if they might not have been the ones to fall in love last spring, had she not been so terrified of Indians. He tried not to dwell on how foolish his infatuation with Melissa had been, but he didn't want to fall in love with another white woman, who might soon spurn him. Even knowing that Alanna was a completely different person and undeserving of the awful doubts Melissa's memory inspired, he could not silence them.
Perhaps by the time he recovered, he would be a better judge of her feelings, as well as his own. He ought not to get well too swiftly, he vowed with a sly grin, for he wanted to savor awake the delicious attentions Alanna had obviously lavished on him, while he'd been unconscious. She would need her rest for that, however, and again winding one of her glossy curls around his finger, he began to plan how to become a much better patient. Once he had succeeded, he hoped it would not be long before they became lovers, but he would not repeat his mistakes. He would not risk his heart until he was certain Alanna's devotion would last forever.
* * *
"Would you really have married Elliott?"
They were eating a supper of trout and berries. Neither had spoken in several minutes, and Alanna recoiled slightly at the impertinence of his question. Her throat tightened painfully, and she looked away.
"Please, that's not something you should ask."
Her averted glance revealed a great deal. "It's something you should have already asked yourself."
While she had indeed pondered the question, she had not reached an answer before Elliott was killed, and it seemed disloyal to him to now discuss the matter with Hunter. Her appetite gone, Alanna rose and walked down to the river to rinse her hands. She did not return to her companion's side until her mood was again composed.
"I don't mean to be rude in leaving you, but if you'd like more berries, I'll have to pick them before it gets dark. I didn't realize you'd be so hungry."
Hunter knew she couldn't run away from herself no matter how far She went. "No, I've had enough. Stay with me."
Reluctantly, Alanna resumed her place beside their makeshift bed. Fearing he would continue asking her painful questions, she hastened to speak before he did. "I'm not comfortable here. I know you won't feel up to walking any great distance for a while, but when you can walk, if we could just move a dozen yards away, I'd be content."
Hunter readily understood her complaint about their present location. The three slain Abenaki braves were out of sight, but he was no more comfortable tha
n she being so close to their grave. "We'll move tomorrow then."
"Tomorrow? Won't that be too difficult for you?"
Hunter had gotten up briefly to see to his body's needs, and was confident he'd not faint crossing a dozen yards. He would be no example of either speed or grace, but he could make it. "In the afternoon then."
