Snow On The Stones
Bailey woke with a start, gasping and shaking. She looked around with wide eyes and found herself back in her own room, in her own bed. Had it all been a dream? Was it her own imagination? Had none of it been real? She sat up, and found her pant legs cold and damp…
Stranger, woken by her yelp as Bailey, sat up,
“Bailey?” he asked softly. Bailey tumbled out of bed and threw on her warmest clothes over her nightshirt and pants, tugged on sock and sneakers and pulled on mittens, scarf and hat and bolted from the room.
Stranger sat in utter surprise for a moment but a moment later he too jumped out of bed and as fast as he could, got dressed, to follow her.
Bailey charged down the hallway, past the kitchen where Alika, Daimen, Haigar and Loki were sitting down to breakfast. The Steef looked up in shock as Bailey sprinted past the open doorway to the front door. She wrenched it open and shot out. The only thought occupying her mind was that she had to get to where the Steef souls had led her, had to see what she had the night before. Had to be sure it was real and not some nightmare.
Bailey scampered along the bridges and walkways and through the tunnels until she burst from the door and stumbled out onto the new snow. There were no tracks, the snow fall last night had covered her tracks if she had gone out. Bailey did not stop, she had to know, had to find out.
She struggled through the snow, wading through the damp white. When she reached the wood she plunged in without slowing her pace and soon as was at the wall of thorns. But this time, she had no time to find a way through. It was straight up and over. She clambered up the thicket, ignoring the barbs but protected more now by her thick clothes and mittens. She climbed over the thicket and tumbled down the other side. She hit the ground and few a few, breathless, agonising seconds Bailey curled into a little ball and shivered, gasping for air.
She had barely recovered when she scrambled to her feet and continued her mad helter-skelter dash. When she reached the white rock steps of the mountain and the cliff face she hauled herself up, her burning muscles screaming with protest. But she did not slow and she did not rest until she had scrambled up the last step and was among the trees.
Only when she came into view of the woven archway did she slow. She swallowed dryly and warily padded forward and through the archway.
Once again the image fit for the horrors of nightmares assailed her senses.
Graves, six of them. But they were not in the form of Grubb tombs, nor the little pebble pyramids she had learned the Steef used as grave markers.
These were human stones.
And with them, were those human’s trophies… There was an entire Steef skeleton propped up near one. On another rest a pair of curling Steef horns, and one another, was the severed skull on another Steef.
And further back still, near the graves of the first humans to die, was another entire skeleton, of a very young Steef, not yet old enough to even have horns… Bailey knew the fate of Jorken’s youngster.
Bailey’s knees buckled and she fell down to them, sobs clawed at her throat and she felt a scream rising in her. Bailey sagged to one side and curled up at the base on one of the trees.
“Bailey?” Bailey shuddered to herself but as she heard Stranger’s voice she looked up slowly, tears stains and dirt marking her cheeks and around her eyes. Stranger stood under the archway. He regarded the boneyard grimly then moved closer to Bailey. He crouched down to her level and looked her in the face.
“Why,” Bailey gulped, “Why did they havta do it? Why couldn’t, they just leave them alone?” Stranger wrapped his arms around Bailey.
“I dunno.” He said, “I dunno…” Bailey sobbed into his chest, shaking. Stranger stroked her back and soothed his human. Bailey clenched at his shirt, letting out all her tears. “How did you know they were here?” Stranger asked after a moment. Between gulping sobs Bailey stammered out her story, of the Steef spirits she had been led by. The ones whose bones stood bleached white in this graveyard.
After a moment Stranger stood, Bailey in his arms. He cuddled the human to him, calming her raw fears. He wanted to get her out of here, and he wondered if Bailey would ever get to live a normal life when things kept happening. Bailey whimpered and clutched Stranger’s shirt, burying her face into it.
“S’alright Bailey, I’ve got yer. Nothing can touch yer now. Yer safe.” He stroked her hair and calmed her fears. Exhausted Bailey leaned against Stranger, occasionally whimpering and sniffling. Stranger gave the boneyard one last, dark look and left, holding Bailey close as an accumulation on fear and weariness drained her and she fell into an uneasy sleep.
¤§¤
Bailey woke up again later, feeling a lot worse then before. Her throat felt cracked and parched and sore, her eyes burned and their sensitivity to light seemed to intensify as the dim lamp of the side table seemed harsh and too bright. Breathing was hard, but Bailey felt that the problem was in her throat not her newly healed ribs. Bailey stirred weakly and found herself still in Stranger’s arms.
“Stranger.” She tried to say his name, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. It felt like her voice was not under her control. She tried again, mustering all her energy to say a single word. “Stranger.” Her voice sounded strange, not her own.
Stranger’s ears twitched and he opened his eyes from the light doze he’d drifted into. He looked down at Bailey and his smile faded when he looked into Bailey’s face, her cheeks were a sickly pale colour, reminiscent of bone and her eyes were bright with fever. Bailey shivered and cuddled closer to Stranger.
“Stranger,” she mumbled, “I feel really lousy…” Stranger put a hand on Bailey’s forehead, it was burning under his touch. He looked into her fevered eyes again and felt the glands under her throat, they were swollen and tender and he could feel Bailey’s overly rapid pulse.
“Yer sick kid.” He muttered, “Bein’ out in tha’ snowstorm musta made yer come down with somat.” Bailey moaned and pressed her aching head against Stranger’s fur. Stranger stroked her hair soothingly. He rose carefully and gently set the small human on the bed, wrapping her up firmly. “I’ll be back inna sec with someone ter see yer.” Bailey only whimpered in response. Stranger stroked back her hair and kissed her forehead but he quickly left the room in search of a healer.
He returned a bare few minutes later with Gershom. Stranger thought it best if it was someone Bailey knew. Behind him and the Healer, standing at the door, were Alika holding Loki, and Daimen and Haigar. They watched, concern for the small human mounting in them.
All Bailey could hear was a dull monotonous booming in place of voices. She felt cold and shivered, but her skin burned with a soaring temperature. The old Steef healer leaned over her and peered into her fever bright eyes and felt her forehead. Bailey shrank away, feeling vulnerable and afraid. Her mind unable to keep her thoughts together and think lucidly, all Bailey wanted was to curl up to Stranger and feel safe and protected, be reassured that she was loved and that Stranger was there for her. She whimpered.
“Where’s Stranger.” She whimpered. Stranger came closer, so he was in her line of vision.
“I’m right here liddle darlin’.” He pitched his voice low and soft so Bailey could hear him, Bailey fixed her eyes on him, pleading. Her expression cut deep into Stranger’s core, he didn’t know what Bailey wanted from him and it hurt his heart. He gathered Bailey into his arms and she nuzzled into his chest, hiding her face, holding his fur with a weak grip. Stranger cuddled his Bailey and pressed his cheek to her’s. “Gershom’s only trying ter help yer, he’ll help yer git better. It’s s’alright liddle one.”
“Stranger, don’t leave me.” Bailey managed hoarsely. Stranger felt another sharp tug on his heart, did Bailey really think he was going to leave her when she needed him?
“I ain’t leavin’ yer, I’m here with yer baby. I’m here.” Bailey loosened her fragile grip on Stranger’s fur and as long as she could feel him close she allowed the old Steef the do his examination. Gershom examined the young human while Stranger sat with Bailey leaning back on his chest.
He felt Bailey’s forehead and cheeks while Stranger held her reassuringly, stroking back her hair and kissing her forehead, murmuring comforts. The Steef healer then gently opened Bailey’s mouth and like Stranger had before, felt her swollen glands and looked down her throat. He asked Bailey to breathe deep while he listened to her chest but as she took in a ragged, laboured breath Bailey choked and began coughing, a coarse, hacking cough that sounded like it tore her throat. Gershom felt Bailey’s tongue, taking her temperature and took her pulse.
“What’s wrong with ‘er?” Stranger asked quietly, holding the worry from his voice in fierce check. The healer finished his examination, he sighed and shook his head.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” He said worriedly, “It must be some kind of human disease.” Stranger’s green eyes went wider and he held Bailey closer to him, Bailey, completely unaware of what was happening around her, murmured painfully, flinching and whimpering, pressing as close as she could to Stranger, on the verge of delirium.
“Whadda ya mean you don’t know!?” Stranger asked, his concern and fear for Bailey rising like a snake, poised to strike. But he bit back his temper and asked with strained calm; “Is she gonna be git better or not?”
“I’m sorry Stranger,” said the healer, shaking his head, “I don’t know. All we can do is wait and keep her comfortable. Keep her warm and stop the shivering, make sure she has plenty of fluids to keep her from getting dehydrated and try to get her to eat something to keep her strength up. It won’t be pleasant for her though, her throat’s swollen and red raw, swallowing will be painful but if she doesn’t eat, she’ll only get worse. She also has catarrh coating the back of her throat, that’s why she can hardly breathe. And the coughing is exhausting her, but I don’t know what to treat it with. It’s some kind of human disease I’ve never come across.”
“Stranger?” Bailey’s voice croaked painfully.
“I’m here, what is it?” Stranger asked tenderly,
“I don’t- don’t wanna die…” Stranger swallowed a lump in his own throat.
“Yer ain’t gonna die liddle one, yer ain’t gonna die.” He looked at Gershom pleadingly. The Steef healer smiled, but the worry shone in his dark blue eyes.
“You’re not going to die.” He said after a pause, “Just get some rest, drink as much as you can, and you’ll get better. I’ll make up some medicine that’ll make you more comfortable.” Bailey made a whimpering-moaning sound and nodded before relaxing against Stranger drifting into an uneasy, fitful sleep.