Whisper (21 page)

There were some unforeseen effects, though, that manifested from the grudging bonding that inevitably took place between us during that time. I went to sleep at night – or drifted off during the day – and the familiar shores of fantasy that had been my beloved, deserted island, my personal paradise, for so long seemed to have made room for someone else. Jay was there, in my dreams – and not simply my deranged fever dreams anymore. My much more personable fantasies. The ones I had sheltered for so long, where the horses lived.

The ones I had no desire to revoke.

We skipped through a glade together, some foolish waif-like skirt flowing about my calves, and some foolish, waif-like giggle singing through my lips. At the heart of the glade we dipped into the waters of a secret, nestled pond, swimming about like it was a lazy summer's day and we hadn't a care in the world. Then a lovely flea-bitten gray Andalusian came to drink at the water's edge, and the ripples that commenced from his submerged muzzle caressed my body like the tenderest, coolest fingers – like satin sheets – rousing gooseflesh. I looked at Jay, and he was gazing back at me, treading water with slow, smooth motions. I was so used to seeing him covered in dirt, or dust, or grime... He looked beautiful wet.

We climbed out onto the banks of the pond, grasping fist-fulls of the Andalusian's mane for leverage. And then we climbed atop its back – but not as two people set to ride double, back to front. Jay sat a little further back just shy of the equine's hips, and placed me facing him just shy of the swoop of withers. And there, with our knees touching and fingers entwined and resting on the Andalusian's silken back between us, we shared kisses in the cover of the trees. Slow, heartfelt kisses as if we were two people in love, caught in some timeless moment of soul-aligned harmony.

There, Jay's erstwhile silent lips spoke a thousand braille sentiments, and a thousand braille promises.

*

Toby came to see me now and then as well, in the real world – sometimes shirtless and streaked in sooty, smoldering wonder from practicing – but I never dreamed about him. Not even in the embers of my fever dreams, where he would have been well-suited. It was always Jay – that silent oaf illogically transformed.

One day I asked Jay to help me stand, and proceeded to have him help me limp out into the real world for the first time since awakening. It was a dizzying experience, at first, and I had to admit I had not expected to be so light-headed making my first upright effort. Where I now felt decently myself in a horizontal position, being vertical plunged me back a step into a bone-weary, ill-plagued convalescent. So much for feeling as if I had more or less returned to some state of normal, or even made progress. I convinced Jay to leave me at the arena fence, and clung to the bars for support.

It was there that I finally had to face the question: how long would it be until I could ride again? If I could barely stand... I told myself I was just weak from letting my muscles turn to jelly, having done so much lazing around on my back. My body was simply not used to exerting itself, and was not yet re-equipped to do so without it taking a toll.

Of course, there was the other issue as well – my rib itself. How long was it going to take to heal? And would I only go through the same set-backs making the transition from walking to riding, feeling normal on the ground only to discover that riding wrenched my injury in ways I couldn't tolerate? What kind of limits was this confounded injury going to instill in my trade?

Curiosity piqued, I let my fingers wander to the healing rib. And then, against my better judgment, I held my breath and stretched experimentally.

At first, I was pleased with the range I discovered.

Then a sharp hiss of breath escaped through my lips, pulling me into an astonished hunch.
Owwww...

“I wouldn't recommend jumping back on any bucking broncos any time soon, if that's the particular range of motion you were testing for,” came Toby's voice from down the fence line.

Leaning against the bars, I glanced up over my elbow, stifling the pain to address him. “Guess I'll have to settle for bull-riding,” I quipped, and he grinned.

“Good to see you up and around again,” he said, and I nodded. He glanced toward the center of the arena, and his eyes went a little distant. “Annnd...looks like I got my chance to welcome you back just in time. Here comes the mob.”

I followed his eyes, and found that the horses had all taken note of my presence, and were walking eagerly toward the fence where I stood, heads bobbing, some of them barely resisting a trot as they all vied for space and crowded toward their shared target of interest. I couldn't help but smile, seeing them approach as if I were standing there waving carrots through the fence.

“I'll leave you...
aloone
, then,” Toby said with a smirk in his eyes. “I have a feeling it's about to get affectionate.”

“I hardly think this can constitute as 'alone',” I said as the horses reached me and crowded in putting their heads over and through the bars. I moved back a step lest they jostle me against the fence in their enthusiasm, but made sure to keep a hand on the strong bones of one face or another for support. “Do you know where Char is?”

“Back behind the tents,” Toby said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Want me to take you?”

I had no desire to add anyone to the list of people treating me to charity, but I didn't see Jay anywhere and I really wanted to see Char. It felt like there was some kind of unfinished business there, like I couldn't quite be at peace and make a full recovery until I saw him – in one piece, making a full recovery as well. I felt too responsible for him to see exclusively to my own needs without my conscience nagging.

“If you have nothing better to do,” I allowed after weighing the grievances, and he nodded and stepped forward to assist me. I gave the faces of the horses in reach one last scratch before letting Toby spirit me off, holding out my hand to trail my fingers over the rest of the muzzles that were lined up as we left.

“Is this good?” Toby inquired as we started off, not wanting to hurt me.

I nodded, doing my part to assist him.

“There are bets going on in the camp,” he mentioned, and I glanced sidelong at him. “The soldiers are wagering on how soon you'll be back in the saddle.”

My eyes returned to the path in front of me, and I thought over the revelation as I picked my way over the ground. “Well,” I said at last. “They'll all be sorely disappointed, then – seeing as I don't use one.”

A smokey breath of laughter issued through Toby's lips. “It's probably good that it's unfounded, then. Jay's none too happy about it.”

“Why? He thinks I'll take it as some kind of challenge?”

“Or he doesn't like hearing about you as a piece of wagering meat when you're in a critical state of being,” he suggested a little wryly, casting me his own glance. “Why – do
you
see it as a challenge? Because I'm sure he'd be concerned about that too.”

I sealed my lips, realizing it might be in everyone's best interests if I didn't answer that.

Fortunately, “Here we are,” Toby said, and I lifted my eyes to the round pen that was pitched behind the tents. Inside, Char stood dozing. He had a bandage around one leg below the knee and a few nicks and slashes healing up over his coat, but there was a peaceful, indifferent look on his face. A smile of relief swept over my face.

“Hey, handsome,” I murmured, and his ears perked in my direction. Almost as an afterthought he opened his eyes to peer out at whoever had come calling. I dangled a hand through the bars of the fence, leaving the terms of our reunion up to him. He blinked once, and then his legs creaked as he stirred, deciding to come closer. He did not throw his head over the bars like the others, and in fact stopped shy of the fence, but I reached out and he placed his muzzle against the curve of my palm. A peace slackened my shoulders, and I smiled as I gazed in at him. We were both okay. And he didn't hold anything against me.

Toby let me have a moment, and then ventured to inquire, “You okay here?”

“Yeah.” I glanced at him in appreciation. “Thanks, Toby.”

He nodded, glanced once more at Char, and then wandered off to see to his own devices.

I returned my attention to Char, rotating my hand to run the backs of my fingers down the handsome structure of his face. Content to allow me the contact, he went back to dozing under my touch, the occasional twitch of his tail swatting at a fly the only ounce of restlessness he seemed to possess.

Pressing my forehead against the top rung of the fence, I put the rhythmic stroking of my fingers on auto-pilot and gradually let my own eyelids drift shut, content to maintain the therapeutic motions until someone happened by to direct me back to bed-rest.

*

The next day played out much the same in terms of exercising my capabilities, and by the third evening I managed to join the others for the end-of-day meal. Jay had grown adept at babying me, and now did it with an ease that spared me having to look like a coddle-soaked infant. He ascertained I was perched with ample support upon my log bench, and served me before taking his own sustenance.

My appetite still wasn't what it should have been, and so even being served first, Jay was finished before I was.

“I need to put some gear up,” he said.

“Go ahead,” I granted, and he chewed his last bite and stood. I poked another bite into my mouth, getting comfortable to wait for his return.

It was the Lieutenant that made an appearance before I was finished, though. I'd heard she was back in Safeguard for the time being, but I hadn't seen her yet.

“Lieutenant,” I said, somehow failing to expect that she would come to me.

“Alannis.” She sat in her no-nonsense style on the log across the coals from me – the plate of food in her hands the only casual factor that softened her brusque manner. “Good to see you up and around among the living.”

I didn't quite know how to address my situation, in her presence. After all, my suicidal stunt had been one that interfered with
her
battle. And if it hadn't amounted to interfering, well...it surely still counted as putting in my destructive two cents, in a way that could not be commendable. I had mostly moved on from the incident, but I hadn't seen her since it happened, and suddenly I felt awkward at the prospect of having to rehash any of the details and perhaps even be reprimanded now that I just wanted to put it behind me and forget that it happened.

“You're...here to reprimand me, now that I'm healthy enough to receive it,” I hazarded concluding, ducking my head a little shame-facedly. It would be best just to acknowledge it and get it over with.

“Shall I tell you what you did wrong?”

I nodded vaguely, humbling myself in allowance.

“There is no good outcome that can come of what you did. It was reckless, it was foolish, and it endangered your life and the lives of others. You are inexperienced and could end up being a handicap to all of us out there. We got lucky.
You
got lucky.”

The vague nod bobbed again, acknowledging the weight of my mistake.

“But,” the Lieutenant went on, pausing a moment as if for effect before continuing. “I don't need to tell you that. I don't need to tell you that charging toward an oncoming wave of violent beasts and men is reckless, or that killing men can't ever be counted as a 'good outcome' of someone's actions. I don't need to tell you that war –
this
war, all war – is foolish. Also, inexperience has never stopped someone from being a hero, and I dare-say experience is not what typically defines one.”

A frown of bemusement tugged at my brows, and I raised my head slightly, not anticipating this turn in the conversation.

“And,” she went on, “that you
could
be a handicap doesn't mean that you were, and it's not as if I can claim that any one of us doesn't desire to get lucky again.”

My frown deepened, and I had less of an idea of what to say now than when she started. “What...are you saying?” I hazarded.

“Call me a feminist,” she dismissed, “or just some misguided bad sport in this business who likes winning more than she likes losing, but I'm not going to be one of the ones who tells you that you have no business on the battlefield. I will say I
don't
know what you were thinking, but I'm not about to discount what you seem to have accomplished out there as some presumptuous prank to be scolded and nipped in the bud.”

I opened my mouth, but it closed again, at a loss. What she was saying was overwhelmingly not what I expected. And since I could not seem to process it properly, I turned to something else for the moment; “I actually killed?” I asked, icing my nerves for the confirmation lest the answer make me sick to my stomach.