Scene begins right after Aefflaed finds Hanniumm unconscious and injured in front of her house.
Reason for deletion: out of place with rest of story, distraction seemed too long and out of character, the extra characters - though humorous and memorable - are not pertinent to the story
Reason for deletion: out of place with rest of story, distraction seemed too long and out of character, the extra characters - though humorous and memorable - are not pertinent to the story
After dressing a few more of his larger scrapes, I was confident he was in a much more stable condition. It was time I found help to carry him inside. Jogging down the hill, I headed for the closest neighbor I had. “Hello,” I hollered as I came near. “Palakh, Khannah? I need your help.”
Ashur, their six-year-old son, opened the door and stood on the front porch in his underwear, his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips. “No worries, Gula Nin. I will help you!”
Laughing with my hand over my mouth, I slowed down as I approached their front porch step. Gula Nin was an endearing term the village children called me. Loosely translated, it meant ‘medicine lady.’
Ashur walked up to the front edge of the porch, his hands still on his hips. I knelt down to Ashur’s height. “I believe you could,” I said as I ruffled the hair on top of his head, “but perhaps you should go get dressed first, huh?”
Ashur crossed his arms and pouted. “I don’t want to. Luqa can’t make me.”
Luqa, Ashur’s fourteen-year-old brother, appeared in the doorway, thankfully fully dressed, with his four-year-old sister, Istir, clinging to his legs. “Ashur,” Luqa ordered with his own hands on his hips, “go get dressed, now! I won’t say it again.”
Ashur turned and stuck his tongue out at Luqa. “No.”
Luqa gently disentangled his legs from Istir and stepped out of the house. “Ashur!” He towered over his brother.
“It’s not even light out.”
“Excuse me?” Luqa motioned out with his hand, sweeping out across the landscape behind me.
Ashur silently smoldered as he gazed out, the sunrise almost completely above the horizon. “Well, it wasn’t when you first asked.”
Luqa sighed heavily. “Exactly! That’s how long we’ve been arguing. Now go!”
“Fine!” Ashur stormed back into the house.
Istir reattached herself to Luqa’s legs, so he picked her up and turned toward me. “Apologies, Gula Nin.” With great care, he placed two fingers to his sternum and bowed his head.
“Thank you, Luqa.” I said, placing two fingers to his forehead in turn. “You do your family proud.”
Luqa sighed and gave a short, forlorned glance behind him.
“Where’s your father or mother?” I asked.
“Pa’s over in Gewargis’ field performing weed walking, so Ma left early to open shop.”
I once asked what weed walking was, and apparently that was a silly question. Palakh and his family were maunins, a race known for their essence to control plants. So a weed walking was just what it sounded like, a ritual where the weeds literally look like they jump out of the ground and walk out of the farmer’s field.
I looked back up the hill toward my house. I couldn’t see the aygiff from here.
“Why is Palakh helping out in Gewargis’ field? Is Gewargis short handed or something?” Gewargis was also a maunin.
Ashur laughed as he walked back onto the porch. He still didn’t have anything on his feet, and his shirt was only half-way on, hanging loosely around his neck. His hands on his hips again, he said, “My pa’s the best! He’s the only one who can weed walk within two suns.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as Luqa corralled his brother inside and slammed the door, trapping Ashur inside.
Within two suns, or two-days ride from here. That was impressive. Being essence-less, it always wondered me how those who did have essence, like the maunins, varied so greatly in their ability to manipulate it. They each seemed to have their own strengths and weaknesses and talents in their ability to manipulate essence. For instance, Khannah could will any form or shape to come out of the trees to make wooden tools or trinkets while, apparently, Palakh was among the very few who could manipulate weeds to come out of a garden or a field.
“What did you need pa for, Gula Nin?” asked Luqa.
Urgency returned as I recollected my errand. “Oh, yes. Please, come quick. I need your help.”
“Me?” asked Luqa, frowning as he looked at Istir and then back at the house.
“Please, I need your help.”
Luqa looked down in contemplation and then gazed directly into my eyes. “Okay. Let me just get Ashur in line.”
I had already wasted time here but the next farmhouse was a good six hundred yards away, so I nodded. Seeing as the aygiff was relatively stable, perhaps I could spare a few more seconds.
Luqa set Istir down and went into the house to talk to Ashur. I leaned up against a post and waited. My arms crossed and my foot tapped incessantly.
Istir shuffled over, reached out, and grasped my skirt. “Ashur’s being a butt,” she said.
“Huh.” I shifted my gaze up the hill once more. “Is he now.”
“Yes,” she said emphatically.
Her words registered, and I considered what her parents would say if they heard her. “Maybe so, but you probably shouldn’t be calling your brother a butt.” I playfully tweaked her nose.
“But it’s true,” said Istir.
It was evident from the commotion inside that the argument between the two brothers wasn’t going well and wasn’t going to end any time soon.
Patting Istir on the top of her head, I stood and walked into the house. “Luqa?”
The scene before me was of utter chaos. Food, plates, and utensils were scattered across the floor, along with Ashur’s shirt; Ashur was on top of the dining table on all fours; Luqa had him by the hair; and they were both yelling at each other.
“Luqa!” I hollered over the din.
With a start, Luqa let go of Ashur, straightened upright, and turned toward me. His face went ashen white. “Gula Nin!” He placed two fingers to his sternum and bent low at the waist. “My sincerest apologies.”
Ashur, who had stood up after recovering from his brother’s grip, snatched one of the metal trays still on the table and slammed it over his brother’s head.
As I rushed forward, Luqa recovered and turned on his brother. He seized him and drug him off the table, swinging him around, and half-guided, half-pushed him into the ground.
Ashur slid a few feet and came to a stop as I reached the two. Luqa lunged at his brother, but I got in-between and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me handle this, please. There’s an injured man in front of my house. He needs my help, but he’s too heavy for me to carry. Can you take Istir and go on ahead?”
His face now as red as a beet, Luqa once more placed two fingers to his chest and bowed. “Yes, Gula Nin.”
I sighed in relief that Luqa respected me enough to listen. He had always shown deference to me, though sometimes he treated me with a little bit too much respect. Perhaps it was because I had saved his best friend, Lilis, when she came down with a deadly case of typhus.
Kneeling down, I spoke softly to Ashur as Luqa exited the house. Ashur attempted to follow after his brother with clenched fists, but I placed my hand under his chin and gently redirected his gaze toward me. “Ashur, I need your help. Do you still want to help me?”
Ashur jumped to his feet, puffed his chest out, and flexed his arms. “I’ll help you Gula Nin. Never fear.”
Smiling, I took his hand. “We’re going to run, okay?”
His eyes shone even brighter. “Okay.”
“But when we get back, you are going to have to get dressed, apologize to your brother, and help clean all of this up, okay.”
His posture slumped and his head drooped. “Okaey, fine.”
We raced out the door. I had to half-drag Ashur at first, but it didn’t take long before Ashur was pulling me along. Luqa didn’t have much of a head start, but with Istir dragging him behind, we soon overtook him.
I was relieved to see the injured aygiff hadn’t moved. We ran past him and into the house. Ashur helped me carry a pallet out and laid it beside the injured man.
“What happened to him?” asked Ashur, poking the man in the side of the head.
“Don’t touch him, Ashur,” I warned.
Luqa had caught up by then, and with his help, we gently moved the man onto the pallet.
I took hold of the handles on one side with Luqa on the other. With some effort, the two of us managed to move him safely into the house and onto the spare cot I kept for just this sort of situation.
I began giving orders, preparing materials, and removing the chest wraps from the aygiff. “Ashur, go get your sister and bring her in here. After that, fetch me some water. There’s a bucket out back.”
I was thankful the cotton compresses weren’t completely saturated with blood. That was a good sign. Gently removing them, I observed that the bleeding had slowed down considerably. In fact, they didn’t look like the same wounds as before. Placing new gauze patches on the more bloody sections, I continued to give orders as I pondered this.
“Luqa, I need you to go down to the village and fetch me Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas. Tell them to come here immediately. You got that?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked over to find him staring at the aygiff.
“Luqa!”
The boy snapped to. “What?”
He was clearly shaken. I walked up to him, placed my hands on his face, and forced him to look me in the eye. “Luqa, listen to me. This is important. You hear me?”
His eyes were as big as saucers. He shook his head once, then blinked. His head started shaking up and down like a spring had come loose. “Mh-hmm.”
I moved my hand down and grabbed his chin so he would stop bobbing about. “Luqa, I need you to go get Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas, and tell all three of them to come here immediately. Do you understand?”
He hadn’t blinked twice yet, which was unnerving, but I had his chin, so he didn’t nod his head anymore.
“Mh-hmm.”
“Repeat it to me.”
He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “G-g-go get Quanaya, M-mu-mu-”
I dropped my hands to my side. “Muska”
“M-muska, a-and Caifas.”
“And,” I goaded.
“A-and tell them immediately.”
“And tell them to come here immediately,” I corrected.
“C-come here immediately.”
“In that order.” I reinforced.
“Quanaya, Muska, C-caifas?”
I nodded. “In that order.”
“In that order,” he repeated.
Stiffly, he turned and hobbled toward the door. After dressing a few more of his larger scrapes, I was confident he was in a much more stable condition. It was time I found help to carry him inside. Jogging down the hill, I headed for the closest neighbor I had. “Hello,” I hollered as I came near. “Palakh, Khannah? I need your help.”
Ashur, their six-year-old son, opened the door and stood on the front porch in his underwear, his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips. “No worries, Gula Nin. I will help you!”
Laughing with my hand over my mouth, I slowed down as I approached their front porch step. Gula Nin was an endearing term the village children called me. Loosely translated, it meant ‘medicine lady.’
Ashur walked up to the front edge of the porch, his hands still on his hips. I knelt down to Ashur’s height. “I believe you could,” I said as I ruffled the hair on top of his head, “but perhaps you should go get dressed first, huh?”
Ashur crossed his arms and pouted. “I don’t want to. Luqa can’t make me.”
Luqa, Ashur’s fourteen-year-old brother, appeared in the doorway, thankfully fully dressed, with his four-year-old sister, Istir, clinging to his legs. “Ashur,” Luqa ordered with his own hands on his hips, “go get dressed, now! I won’t say it again.”
Ashur turned and stuck his tongue out at Luqa. “No.”
Luqa gently disentangled his legs from Istir and stepped out of the house. “Ashur!” He towered over his brother.
“It’s not even light out.”
“Excuse me?” Luqa motioned out with his hand, sweeping out across the landscape behind me.
Ashur silently smoldered as he gazed out, the sunrise almost completely above the horizon. “Well, it wasn’t when you first asked.”
Luqa sighed heavily. “Exactly! That’s how long we’ve been arguing. Now go!”
“Fine!” Ashur stormed back into the house.
Istir reattached herself to Luqa’s legs, so he picked her up and turned toward me. “Apologies, Gula Nin.” With great care, he placed two fingers to his sternum and bowed his head.
“Thank you, Luqa.” I said, placing two fingers to his forehead in turn. “You do your family proud.”
Luqa sighed and gave a short, forlorned glance behind him.
“Where’s your father or mother?” I asked.
“Pa’s over in Gewargis’ field performing weed walking, so Ma left early to open shop.”
I once asked what weed walking was, and apparently that was a silly question. Palakh and his family were maunins, a race known for their essence to control plants. So a weed walking was just what it sounded like, a ritual where the weeds literally look like they jump out of the ground and walk out of the farmer’s field.
I looked back up the hill toward my house. I couldn’t see the aygiff from here.
“Why is Palakh helping out in Gewargis’ field? Is Gewargis short handed or something?” Gewargis was also a maunin.
Ashur laughed as he walked back onto the porch. He still didn’t have anything on his feet, and his shirt was only half-way on, hanging loosely around his neck. His hands on his hips again, he said, “My pa’s the best! He’s the only one who can weed walk within two suns.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as Luqa corralled his brother inside and slammed the door, trapping Ashur inside.
Within two suns, or two-days ride from here. That was impressive. Being essence-less, it always wondered me how those who did have essence, like the maunins, varied so greatly in their ability to manipulate it. They each seemed to have their own strengths and weaknesses and talents in their ability to manipulate essence. For instance, Khannah could will any form or shape to come out of the trees to make wooden tools or trinkets while, apparently, Palakh was among the very few who could manipulate weeds to come out of a garden or a field.
“What did you need pa for, Gula Nin?” asked Luqa.
Urgency returned as I recollected my errand. “Oh, yes. Please, come quick. I need your help.”
“Me?” asked Luqa, frowning as he looked at Istir and then back at the house.
“Please, I need your help.”
Luqa looked down in contemplation and then gazed directly into my eyes. “Okay. Let me just get Ashur in line.”
I had already wasted time here but the next farmhouse was a good six hundred yards away, so I nodded. Seeing as the aygiff was relatively stable, perhaps I could spare a few more seconds.
Luqa set Istir down and went into the house to talk to Ashur. I leaned up against a post and waited. My arms crossed and my foot tapped incessantly.
Istir shuffled over, reached out, and grasped my skirt. “Ashur’s being a butt,” she said.
“Huh.” I shifted my gaze up the hill once more. “Is he now.”
“Yes,” she said emphatically.
Her words registered, and I considered what her parents would say if they heard her. “Maybe so, but you probably shouldn’t be calling your brother a butt.” I playfully tweaked her nose.
“But it’s true,” said Istir.
It was evident from the commotion inside that the argument between the two brothers wasn’t going well and wasn’t going to end any time soon.
Patting Istir on the top of her head, I stood and walked into the house. “Luqa?”
The scene before me was of utter chaos. Food, plates, and utensils were scattered across the floor, along with Ashur’s shirt; Ashur was on top of the dining table on all fours; Luqa had him by the hair; and they were both yelling at each other.
“Luqa!” I hollered over the din.
With a start, Luqa let go of Ashur, straightened upright, and turned toward me. His face went ashen white. “Gula Nin!” He placed two fingers to his sternum and bent low at the waist. “My sincerest apologies.”
Ashur, who had stood up after recovering from his brother’s grip, snatched one of the metal trays still on the table and slammed it over his brother’s head.
As I rushed forward, Luqa recovered and turned on his brother. He seized him and drug him off the table, swinging him around, and half-guided, half-pushed him into the ground.
Ashur slid a few feet and came to a stop as I reached the two. Luqa lunged at his brother, but I got in-between and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me handle this, please. There’s an injured man in front of my house. He needs my help, but he’s too heavy for me to carry. Can you take Istir and go on ahead?”
His face now as red as a beet, Luqa once more placed two fingers to his chest and bowed. “Yes, Gula Nin.”
I sighed in relief that Luqa respected me enough to listen. He had always shown deference to me, though sometimes he treated me with a little bit too much respect. Perhaps it was because I had saved his best friend, Lilis, when she came down with a deadly case of typhus.
Kneeling down, I spoke softly to Ashur as Luqa exited the house. Ashur attempted to follow after his brother with clenched fists, but I placed my hand under his chin and gently redirected his gaze toward me. “Ashur, I need your help. Do you still want to help me?”
Ashur jumped to his feet, puffed his chest out, and flexed his arms. “I’ll help you Gula Nin. Never fear.”
Smiling, I took his hand. “We’re going to run, okay?”
His eyes shone even brighter. “Okay.”
“But when we get back, you are going to have to get dressed, apologize to your brother, and help clean all of this up, okay.”
His posture slumped and his head drooped. “Okaey, fine.”
We raced out the door. I had to half-drag Ashur at first, but it didn’t take long before Ashur was pulling me along. Luqa didn’t have much of a head start, but with Istir dragging him behind, we soon overtook him.
I was relieved to see the injured aygiff hadn’t moved. We ran past him and into the house. Ashur helped me carry a pallet out and laid it beside the injured man.
“What happened to him?” asked Ashur, poking the man in the side of the head.
“Don’t touch him, Ashur,” I warned.
Luqa had caught up by then, and with his help, we gently moved the man onto the pallet.
I took hold of the handles on one side with Luqa on the other. With some effort, the two of us managed to move him safely into the house and onto the spare cot I kept for just this sort of situation.
I began giving orders, preparing materials, and removing the chest wraps from the aygiff. “Ashur, go get your sister and bring her in here. After that, fetch me some water. There’s a bucket out back.”
I was thankful the cotton compresses weren’t completely saturated with blood. That was a good sign. Gently removing them, I observed that the bleeding had slowed down considerably. In fact, they didn’t look like the same wounds as before. Placing new gauze patches on the more bloody sections, I continued to give orders as I pondered this.
“Luqa, I need you to go down to the village and fetch me Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas. Tell them to come here immediately. You got that?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked over to find him staring at the aygiff.
“Luqa!”
The boy snapped to. “What?”
He was clearly shaken. I walked up to him, placed my hands on his face, and forced him to look me in the eye. “Luqa, listen to me. This is important. You hear me?”
His eyes were as big as saucers. He shook his head once, then blinked. His head started shaking up and down like a spring had come loose. “Mh-hmm.”
I moved my hand down and grabbed his chin so he would stop bobbing about. “Luqa, I need you to go get Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas, and tell all three of them to come here immediately. Do you understand?”
He hadn’t blinked twice yet, which was unnerving, but I had his chin, so he didn’t nod his head anymore.
“Mh-hmm.”
“Repeat it to me.”
He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “G-g-go get Quanaya, M-mu-mu-”
I dropped my hands to my side. “Muska”
“M-muska, a-and Caifas.”
“And,” I goaded.
“A-and tell them immediately.”
“And tell them to come here immediately,” I corrected.
“C-come here immediately.”
“In that order.” I reinforced.
“Quanaya, Muska, C-caifas?”
I nodded. “In that order.”
“In that order,” he repeated.
Stiffly, he turned and hobbled toward the door.
Before he reached the door, I called out, “Luqa.”
He turned, his face as white as a sheet.
“I saved Lilis. I can save this man. Just trust me and hurry along.”
His muscles relaxed and color returned to his face. “Gula Nin.” There was a hint of a smile as he bowed before heading out.
With that taken care of, I turned to face my patient. I sure hoped I could save him. From what I was seeing, his wounds had already started clotting on their own. With wounds that size, the amount of coagulation told me they were about a day old. Half-a-day, at the very least. It was amazing the man was still alive.
Prioritizing the wounds, I turned my attention to the large splinter. It would need to be removed before his wounds could be cleansed. Retrieving my largest pair of tweezers, I placed one arm across his chest to help immobilize him and to give me a position to steady myself on. I readied my tweezers above the wound.
Looking up into his face, I said, “I’m so sorry. I have no anesthesia here.”
I placed the splinter between the tweezer’s teeth and clamped down, but then stopped and looked up again. “Try not to move. If you’re not paralyzed, that is.”
Then, closing my eyes, I yanked hard, pulling at a ten degree angle, freeing the splinter with the least amount of resistance possible.
The man gave the greatest physical reaction I had seen since meeting him. All of his muscles tensed, and his back arched as he groaned. Then the blood coming out of him doubled.
“What…” Blood began to seep through even the gauze patches I had just laid down.
I scrambled for the clothes previously gathered and pressed them down on his chest.
“What just happened?” There was no reason for the blood to gush out of all his wounds so suddenly like that.
Looking up into his face, it was contorted in pain. His mouth was clamped shut, but his teeth grating from beneath them could still be heard.
“What did I do?” I pressed down on his wounds with renewed vigor, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. Panic and fear took over. I was the little girl in the red district again. Good for nothing.
I wasn’t ready for this. I couldn’t handle this. This had never happened when I was with my lorthew. My training was unfinished. I was panicking. I knew I was panicking. I knew that was bad, but I was too panicked to stop it. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
In the midst of my panic, the aygiff settled down. His muscles stopped convulsing; his face relaxed; and he lay quiet and still.
“Did I kill him? Oh, I killed him.” But he was still breathing. Peeking under the bandages, I saw the bleeding had stopped. With a sigh of relief, I rested my head on my hands.
“He’s dead?”
Ashur and Istir were standing in the doorway with a pail of water in between them. They could barely lift the bucket and the water had sloshed in and out as they shuffled forward.
“Oh, no,” I said as I raised my hands and walked toward them. “He’s not dead.”
But Ashur didn’t hear the last few words. Seeing the blood on my hands, he burst out crying. I knelt down in front of him, then Istir started bawling too.
“Oh, come on. Everything’s alright.” I held my hands out for Ashur to come in for a hug, but he stepped away from me and started wailing louder.
“No, no. Everything’s okay.” I put my hands in the water and made a scene of washing the blood off so Ashur and Istir could see it. “See? It’s alright. Everything’s okay.”
Ashur stood there with his arms at his side, crying, his mouth wide open, and his cheeks wet with tears.
I motioned with my hands once more. “Come here.”
He plodded forward, his hands still at his side, until he was standing right in front of me. I closed my arms around him and pulled him in. Still, his arms hung loose by his side. Then Istir ran to me, her arms wrapping around mine.
I opened my arm and brought her into my hug. “Okay. Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay.” Their cries receded into a whimper. “I have baked wafers and honey in the other room. Would you like some?”
Istir didn’t move, but Ashur looked up, sniffled, wiped his nose, and nodded. “Mh-hmm.”
“Okay, come on.” Taking Ashur by the hand and picking Istir up with the other, I headed into the other room and set the two children up with wafers, honey, and milk.
Before he reached the door, I called out, “Luqa.”
He turned, his face as white as a sheet.
“I saved Lilis. I can save this man. Just trust me and hurry along.”
His muscles relaxed and color returned to his face. “Gula Nin.” There was a hint of a smile as he bowed before heading out.
With that taken care of, I turned to face my patient. I sure hoped I could save him. From what I was seeing, his wounds had already started clotting on their own. With wounds that size, the amount of coagulation told me they were about a day old. Half-a-day, at the very least. It was amazing the man was still alive.
Prioritizing the wounds, I turned my attention to the large splinter. It would need to be removed before his wounds could be cleansed. Retrieving my largest pair of tweezers, I placed one arm across his chest to help immobilize him and to give me a position to steady myself on. I readied my tweezers above the wound.
Looking up into his face, I said, “I’m so sorry. I have no anesthesia here.”
I placed the splinter between the tweezer’s teeth and clamped down, but then stopped and looked up again. “Try not to move. If you’re not paralyzed, that is.”
Then, closing my eyes, I yanked hard, pulling at a ten degree angle, freeing the splinter with the least amount of resistance possible.
The man gave the greatest physical reaction I had seen since meeting him. All of his muscles tensed, and his back arched as he groaned. Then the blood coming out of him doubled.
“What…” Blood began to seep through even the gauze patches I had just laid down.
I scrambled for the clothes previously gathered and pressed them down on his chest.
“What just happened?” There was no reason for the blood to gush out of all his wounds so suddenly like that.
Looking up into his face, it was contorted in pain. His mouth was clamped shut, but his teeth grating from beneath them could still be heard.
“What did I do?” I pressed down on his wounds with renewed vigor, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. Panic and fear took over. I was the little girl in the red district again. Good for nothing.
I wasn’t ready for this. I couldn’t handle this. This had never happened when I was with my lorthew. My training was unfinished. I was panicking. I knew I was panicking. I knew that was bad, but I was too panicked to stop it. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
In the midst of my panic, the aygiff settled down. His muscles stopped convulsing; his face relaxed; and he lay quiet and still.
“Did I kill him? Oh, I killed him.” But he was still breathing. Peeking under the bandages, I saw the bleeding had stopped. With a sigh of relief, I rested my head on my hands.
“He’s dead?”
Ashur and Istir were standing in the doorway with a pail of water in between them. They could barely lift the bucket and the water had sloshed in and out as they shuffled forward.
“Oh, no,” I said as I raised my hands and walked toward them. “He’s not dead.”
But Ashur didn’t hear the last few words. Seeing the blood on my hands, he burst out crying. I knelt down in front of him, then Istir started bawling too.
“Oh, come on. Everything’s alright.” I held my hands out for Ashur to come in for a hug, but he stepped away from me and started wailing louder.
“No, no. Everything’s okay.” I put my hands in the water and made a scene of washing the blood off so Ashur and Istir could see it. “See? It’s alright. Everything’s okay.”
Ashur stood there with his arms at his side, crying, his mouth wide open, and his cheeks wet with tears.
I motioned with my hands once more. “Come here.”
He plodded forward, his hands still at his side, until he was standing right in front of me. I closed my arms around him and pulled him in. Still, his arms hung loose by his side. Then Istir ran to me, her arms wrapping around mine.
I opened my arm and brought her into my hug. “Okay. Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay.” Their cries receded into a whimper. “I have baked wafers and honey in the other room. Would you like some?”
Istir didn’t move, but Ashur looked up, sniffled, wiped his nose, and nodded. “Mh-hmm.
“Okay, come on.” Taking Ashur by the hand and picking Istir up with the other, I headed into the other room and set the two children up with wafers, honey, and milk.
Ashur, their six-year-old son, opened the door and stood on the front porch in his underwear, his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips. “No worries, Gula Nin. I will help you!”
Laughing with my hand over my mouth, I slowed down as I approached their front porch step. Gula Nin was an endearing term the village children called me. Loosely translated, it meant ‘medicine lady.’
Ashur walked up to the front edge of the porch, his hands still on his hips. I knelt down to Ashur’s height. “I believe you could,” I said as I ruffled the hair on top of his head, “but perhaps you should go get dressed first, huh?”
Ashur crossed his arms and pouted. “I don’t want to. Luqa can’t make me.”
Luqa, Ashur’s fourteen-year-old brother, appeared in the doorway, thankfully fully dressed, with his four-year-old sister, Istir, clinging to his legs. “Ashur,” Luqa ordered with his own hands on his hips, “go get dressed, now! I won’t say it again.”
Ashur turned and stuck his tongue out at Luqa. “No.”
Luqa gently disentangled his legs from Istir and stepped out of the house. “Ashur!” He towered over his brother.
“It’s not even light out.”
“Excuse me?” Luqa motioned out with his hand, sweeping out across the landscape behind me.
Ashur silently smoldered as he gazed out, the sunrise almost completely above the horizon. “Well, it wasn’t when you first asked.”
Luqa sighed heavily. “Exactly! That’s how long we’ve been arguing. Now go!”
“Fine!” Ashur stormed back into the house.
Istir reattached herself to Luqa’s legs, so he picked her up and turned toward me. “Apologies, Gula Nin.” With great care, he placed two fingers to his sternum and bowed his head.
“Thank you, Luqa.” I said, placing two fingers to his forehead in turn. “You do your family proud.”
Luqa sighed and gave a short, forlorned glance behind him.
“Where’s your father or mother?” I asked.
“Pa’s over in Gewargis’ field performing weed walking, so Ma left early to open shop.”
I once asked what weed walking was, and apparently that was a silly question. Palakh and his family were maunins, a race known for their essence to control plants. So a weed walking was just what it sounded like, a ritual where the weeds literally look like they jump out of the ground and walk out of the farmer’s field.
I looked back up the hill toward my house. I couldn’t see the aygiff from here.
“Why is Palakh helping out in Gewargis’ field? Is Gewargis short handed or something?” Gewargis was also a maunin.
Ashur laughed as he walked back onto the porch. He still didn’t have anything on his feet, and his shirt was only half-way on, hanging loosely around his neck. His hands on his hips again, he said, “My pa’s the best! He’s the only one who can weed walk within two suns.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as Luqa corralled his brother inside and slammed the door, trapping Ashur inside.
Within two suns, or two-days ride from here. That was impressive. Being essence-less, it always wondered me how those who did have essence, like the maunins, varied so greatly in their ability to manipulate it. They each seemed to have their own strengths and weaknesses and talents in their ability to manipulate essence. For instance, Khannah could will any form or shape to come out of the trees to make wooden tools or trinkets while, apparently, Palakh was among the very few who could manipulate weeds to come out of a garden or a field.
“What did you need pa for, Gula Nin?” asked Luqa.
Urgency returned as I recollected my errand. “Oh, yes. Please, come quick. I need your help.”
“Me?” asked Luqa, frowning as he looked at Istir and then back at the house.
“Please, I need your help.”
Luqa looked down in contemplation and then gazed directly into my eyes. “Okay. Let me just get Ashur in line.”
I had already wasted time here but the next farmhouse was a good six hundred yards away, so I nodded. Seeing as the aygiff was relatively stable, perhaps I could spare a few more seconds.
Luqa set Istir down and went into the house to talk to Ashur. I leaned up against a post and waited. My arms crossed and my foot tapped incessantly.
Istir shuffled over, reached out, and grasped my skirt. “Ashur’s being a butt,” she said.
“Huh.” I shifted my gaze up the hill once more. “Is he now.”
“Yes,” she said emphatically.
Her words registered, and I considered what her parents would say if they heard her. “Maybe so, but you probably shouldn’t be calling your brother a butt.” I playfully tweaked her nose.
“But it’s true,” said Istir.
It was evident from the commotion inside that the argument between the two brothers wasn’t going well and wasn’t going to end any time soon.
Patting Istir on the top of her head, I stood and walked into the house. “Luqa?”
The scene before me was of utter chaos. Food, plates, and utensils were scattered across the floor, along with Ashur’s shirt; Ashur was on top of the dining table on all fours; Luqa had him by the hair; and they were both yelling at each other.
“Luqa!” I hollered over the din.
With a start, Luqa let go of Ashur, straightened upright, and turned toward me. His face went ashen white. “Gula Nin!” He placed two fingers to his sternum and bent low at the waist. “My sincerest apologies.”
Ashur, who had stood up after recovering from his brother’s grip, snatched one of the metal trays still on the table and slammed it over his brother’s head.
As I rushed forward, Luqa recovered and turned on his brother. He seized him and drug him off the table, swinging him around, and half-guided, half-pushed him into the ground.
Ashur slid a few feet and came to a stop as I reached the two. Luqa lunged at his brother, but I got in-between and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me handle this, please. There’s an injured man in front of my house. He needs my help, but he’s too heavy for me to carry. Can you take Istir and go on ahead?”
His face now as red as a beet, Luqa once more placed two fingers to his chest and bowed. “Yes, Gula Nin.”
I sighed in relief that Luqa respected me enough to listen. He had always shown deference to me, though sometimes he treated me with a little bit too much respect. Perhaps it was because I had saved his best friend, Lilis, when she came down with a deadly case of typhus.
Kneeling down, I spoke softly to Ashur as Luqa exited the house. Ashur attempted to follow after his brother with clenched fists, but I placed my hand under his chin and gently redirected his gaze toward me. “Ashur, I need your help. Do you still want to help me?”
Ashur jumped to his feet, puffed his chest out, and flexed his arms. “I’ll help you Gula Nin. Never fear.”
Smiling, I took his hand. “We’re going to run, okay?”
His eyes shone even brighter. “Okay.”
“But when we get back, you are going to have to get dressed, apologize to your brother, and help clean all of this up, okay.”
His posture slumped and his head drooped. “Okaey, fine.”
We raced out the door. I had to half-drag Ashur at first, but it didn’t take long before Ashur was pulling me along. Luqa didn’t have much of a head start, but with Istir dragging him behind, we soon overtook him.
I was relieved to see the injured aygiff hadn’t moved. We ran past him and into the house. Ashur helped me carry a pallet out and laid it beside the injured man.
“What happened to him?” asked Ashur, poking the man in the side of the head.
“Don’t touch him, Ashur,” I warned.
Luqa had caught up by then, and with his help, we gently moved the man onto the pallet.
I took hold of the handles on one side with Luqa on the other. With some effort, the two of us managed to move him safely into the house and onto the spare cot I kept for just this sort of situation.
I began giving orders, preparing materials, and removing the chest wraps from the aygiff. “Ashur, go get your sister and bring her in here. After that, fetch me some water. There’s a bucket out back.”
I was thankful the cotton compresses weren’t completely saturated with blood. That was a good sign. Gently removing them, I observed that the bleeding had slowed down considerably. In fact, they didn’t look like the same wounds as before. Placing new gauze patches on the more bloody sections, I continued to give orders as I pondered this.
“Luqa, I need you to go down to the village and fetch me Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas. Tell them to come here immediately. You got that?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked over to find him staring at the aygiff.
“Luqa!”
The boy snapped to. “What?”
He was clearly shaken. I walked up to him, placed my hands on his face, and forced him to look me in the eye. “Luqa, listen to me. This is important. You hear me?”
His eyes were as big as saucers. He shook his head once, then blinked. His head started shaking up and down like a spring had come loose. “Mh-hmm.”
I moved my hand down and grabbed his chin so he would stop bobbing about. “Luqa, I need you to go get Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas, and tell all three of them to come here immediately. Do you understand?”
He hadn’t blinked twice yet, which was unnerving, but I had his chin, so he didn’t nod his head anymore.
“Mh-hmm.”
“Repeat it to me.”
He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “G-g-go get Quanaya, M-mu-mu-”
I dropped my hands to my side. “Muska”
“M-muska, a-and Caifas.”
“And,” I goaded.
“A-and tell them immediately.”
“And tell them to come here immediately,” I corrected.
“C-come here immediately.”
“In that order.” I reinforced.
“Quanaya, Muska, C-caifas?”
I nodded. “In that order.”
“In that order,” he repeated.
Stiffly, he turned and hobbled toward the door. After dressing a few more of his larger scrapes, I was confident he was in a much more stable condition. It was time I found help to carry him inside. Jogging down the hill, I headed for the closest neighbor I had. “Hello,” I hollered as I came near. “Palakh, Khannah? I need your help.”
Ashur, their six-year-old son, opened the door and stood on the front porch in his underwear, his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips. “No worries, Gula Nin. I will help you!”
Laughing with my hand over my mouth, I slowed down as I approached their front porch step. Gula Nin was an endearing term the village children called me. Loosely translated, it meant ‘medicine lady.’
Ashur walked up to the front edge of the porch, his hands still on his hips. I knelt down to Ashur’s height. “I believe you could,” I said as I ruffled the hair on top of his head, “but perhaps you should go get dressed first, huh?”
Ashur crossed his arms and pouted. “I don’t want to. Luqa can’t make me.”
Luqa, Ashur’s fourteen-year-old brother, appeared in the doorway, thankfully fully dressed, with his four-year-old sister, Istir, clinging to his legs. “Ashur,” Luqa ordered with his own hands on his hips, “go get dressed, now! I won’t say it again.”
Ashur turned and stuck his tongue out at Luqa. “No.”
Luqa gently disentangled his legs from Istir and stepped out of the house. “Ashur!” He towered over his brother.
“It’s not even light out.”
“Excuse me?” Luqa motioned out with his hand, sweeping out across the landscape behind me.
Ashur silently smoldered as he gazed out, the sunrise almost completely above the horizon. “Well, it wasn’t when you first asked.”
Luqa sighed heavily. “Exactly! That’s how long we’ve been arguing. Now go!”
“Fine!” Ashur stormed back into the house.
Istir reattached herself to Luqa’s legs, so he picked her up and turned toward me. “Apologies, Gula Nin.” With great care, he placed two fingers to his sternum and bowed his head.
“Thank you, Luqa.” I said, placing two fingers to his forehead in turn. “You do your family proud.”
Luqa sighed and gave a short, forlorned glance behind him.
“Where’s your father or mother?” I asked.
“Pa’s over in Gewargis’ field performing weed walking, so Ma left early to open shop.”
I once asked what weed walking was, and apparently that was a silly question. Palakh and his family were maunins, a race known for their essence to control plants. So a weed walking was just what it sounded like, a ritual where the weeds literally look like they jump out of the ground and walk out of the farmer’s field.
I looked back up the hill toward my house. I couldn’t see the aygiff from here.
“Why is Palakh helping out in Gewargis’ field? Is Gewargis short handed or something?” Gewargis was also a maunin.
Ashur laughed as he walked back onto the porch. He still didn’t have anything on his feet, and his shirt was only half-way on, hanging loosely around his neck. His hands on his hips again, he said, “My pa’s the best! He’s the only one who can weed walk within two suns.”
I couldn’t help but giggle as Luqa corralled his brother inside and slammed the door, trapping Ashur inside.
Within two suns, or two-days ride from here. That was impressive. Being essence-less, it always wondered me how those who did have essence, like the maunins, varied so greatly in their ability to manipulate it. They each seemed to have their own strengths and weaknesses and talents in their ability to manipulate essence. For instance, Khannah could will any form or shape to come out of the trees to make wooden tools or trinkets while, apparently, Palakh was among the very few who could manipulate weeds to come out of a garden or a field.
“What did you need pa for, Gula Nin?” asked Luqa.
Urgency returned as I recollected my errand. “Oh, yes. Please, come quick. I need your help.”
“Me?” asked Luqa, frowning as he looked at Istir and then back at the house.
“Please, I need your help.”
Luqa looked down in contemplation and then gazed directly into my eyes. “Okay. Let me just get Ashur in line.”
I had already wasted time here but the next farmhouse was a good six hundred yards away, so I nodded. Seeing as the aygiff was relatively stable, perhaps I could spare a few more seconds.
Luqa set Istir down and went into the house to talk to Ashur. I leaned up against a post and waited. My arms crossed and my foot tapped incessantly.
Istir shuffled over, reached out, and grasped my skirt. “Ashur’s being a butt,” she said.
“Huh.” I shifted my gaze up the hill once more. “Is he now.”
“Yes,” she said emphatically.
Her words registered, and I considered what her parents would say if they heard her. “Maybe so, but you probably shouldn’t be calling your brother a butt.” I playfully tweaked her nose.
“But it’s true,” said Istir.
It was evident from the commotion inside that the argument between the two brothers wasn’t going well and wasn’t going to end any time soon.
Patting Istir on the top of her head, I stood and walked into the house. “Luqa?”
The scene before me was of utter chaos. Food, plates, and utensils were scattered across the floor, along with Ashur’s shirt; Ashur was on top of the dining table on all fours; Luqa had him by the hair; and they were both yelling at each other.
“Luqa!” I hollered over the din.
With a start, Luqa let go of Ashur, straightened upright, and turned toward me. His face went ashen white. “Gula Nin!” He placed two fingers to his sternum and bent low at the waist. “My sincerest apologies.”
Ashur, who had stood up after recovering from his brother’s grip, snatched one of the metal trays still on the table and slammed it over his brother’s head.
As I rushed forward, Luqa recovered and turned on his brother. He seized him and drug him off the table, swinging him around, and half-guided, half-pushed him into the ground.
Ashur slid a few feet and came to a stop as I reached the two. Luqa lunged at his brother, but I got in-between and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me handle this, please. There’s an injured man in front of my house. He needs my help, but he’s too heavy for me to carry. Can you take Istir and go on ahead?”
His face now as red as a beet, Luqa once more placed two fingers to his chest and bowed. “Yes, Gula Nin.”
I sighed in relief that Luqa respected me enough to listen. He had always shown deference to me, though sometimes he treated me with a little bit too much respect. Perhaps it was because I had saved his best friend, Lilis, when she came down with a deadly case of typhus.
Kneeling down, I spoke softly to Ashur as Luqa exited the house. Ashur attempted to follow after his brother with clenched fists, but I placed my hand under his chin and gently redirected his gaze toward me. “Ashur, I need your help. Do you still want to help me?”
Ashur jumped to his feet, puffed his chest out, and flexed his arms. “I’ll help you Gula Nin. Never fear.”
Smiling, I took his hand. “We’re going to run, okay?”
His eyes shone even brighter. “Okay.”
“But when we get back, you are going to have to get dressed, apologize to your brother, and help clean all of this up, okay.”
His posture slumped and his head drooped. “Okaey, fine.”
We raced out the door. I had to half-drag Ashur at first, but it didn’t take long before Ashur was pulling me along. Luqa didn’t have much of a head start, but with Istir dragging him behind, we soon overtook him.
I was relieved to see the injured aygiff hadn’t moved. We ran past him and into the house. Ashur helped me carry a pallet out and laid it beside the injured man.
“What happened to him?” asked Ashur, poking the man in the side of the head.
“Don’t touch him, Ashur,” I warned.
Luqa had caught up by then, and with his help, we gently moved the man onto the pallet.
I took hold of the handles on one side with Luqa on the other. With some effort, the two of us managed to move him safely into the house and onto the spare cot I kept for just this sort of situation.
I began giving orders, preparing materials, and removing the chest wraps from the aygiff. “Ashur, go get your sister and bring her in here. After that, fetch me some water. There’s a bucket out back.”
I was thankful the cotton compresses weren’t completely saturated with blood. That was a good sign. Gently removing them, I observed that the bleeding had slowed down considerably. In fact, they didn’t look like the same wounds as before. Placing new gauze patches on the more bloody sections, I continued to give orders as I pondered this.
“Luqa, I need you to go down to the village and fetch me Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas. Tell them to come here immediately. You got that?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked over to find him staring at the aygiff.
“Luqa!”
The boy snapped to. “What?”
He was clearly shaken. I walked up to him, placed my hands on his face, and forced him to look me in the eye. “Luqa, listen to me. This is important. You hear me?”
His eyes were as big as saucers. He shook his head once, then blinked. His head started shaking up and down like a spring had come loose. “Mh-hmm.”
I moved my hand down and grabbed his chin so he would stop bobbing about. “Luqa, I need you to go get Qanaya, Muska, and Caifas, and tell all three of them to come here immediately. Do you understand?”
He hadn’t blinked twice yet, which was unnerving, but I had his chin, so he didn’t nod his head anymore.
“Mh-hmm.”
“Repeat it to me.”
He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “G-g-go get Quanaya, M-mu-mu-”
I dropped my hands to my side. “Muska”
“M-muska, a-and Caifas.”
“And,” I goaded.
“A-and tell them immediately.”
“And tell them to come here immediately,” I corrected.
“C-come here immediately.”
“In that order.” I reinforced.
“Quanaya, Muska, C-caifas?”
I nodded. “In that order.”
“In that order,” he repeated.
Stiffly, he turned and hobbled toward the door.
Before he reached the door, I called out, “Luqa.”
He turned, his face as white as a sheet.
“I saved Lilis. I can save this man. Just trust me and hurry along.”
His muscles relaxed and color returned to his face. “Gula Nin.” There was a hint of a smile as he bowed before heading out.
With that taken care of, I turned to face my patient. I sure hoped I could save him. From what I was seeing, his wounds had already started clotting on their own. With wounds that size, the amount of coagulation told me they were about a day old. Half-a-day, at the very least. It was amazing the man was still alive.
Prioritizing the wounds, I turned my attention to the large splinter. It would need to be removed before his wounds could be cleansed. Retrieving my largest pair of tweezers, I placed one arm across his chest to help immobilize him and to give me a position to steady myself on. I readied my tweezers above the wound.
Looking up into his face, I said, “I’m so sorry. I have no anesthesia here.”
I placed the splinter between the tweezer’s teeth and clamped down, but then stopped and looked up again. “Try not to move. If you’re not paralyzed, that is.”
Then, closing my eyes, I yanked hard, pulling at a ten degree angle, freeing the splinter with the least amount of resistance possible.
The man gave the greatest physical reaction I had seen since meeting him. All of his muscles tensed, and his back arched as he groaned. Then the blood coming out of him doubled.
“What…” Blood began to seep through even the gauze patches I had just laid down.
I scrambled for the clothes previously gathered and pressed them down on his chest.
“What just happened?” There was no reason for the blood to gush out of all his wounds so suddenly like that.
Looking up into his face, it was contorted in pain. His mouth was clamped shut, but his teeth grating from beneath them could still be heard.
“What did I do?” I pressed down on his wounds with renewed vigor, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. Panic and fear took over. I was the little girl in the red district again. Good for nothing.
I wasn’t ready for this. I couldn’t handle this. This had never happened when I was with my lorthew. My training was unfinished. I was panicking. I knew I was panicking. I knew that was bad, but I was too panicked to stop it. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
In the midst of my panic, the aygiff settled down. His muscles stopped convulsing; his face relaxed; and he lay quiet and still.
“Did I kill him? Oh, I killed him.” But he was still breathing. Peeking under the bandages, I saw the bleeding had stopped. With a sigh of relief, I rested my head on my hands.
“He’s dead?”
Ashur and Istir were standing in the doorway with a pail of water in between them. They could barely lift the bucket and the water had sloshed in and out as they shuffled forward.
“Oh, no,” I said as I raised my hands and walked toward them. “He’s not dead.”
But Ashur didn’t hear the last few words. Seeing the blood on my hands, he burst out crying. I knelt down in front of him, then Istir started bawling too.
“Oh, come on. Everything’s alright.” I held my hands out for Ashur to come in for a hug, but he stepped away from me and started wailing louder.
“No, no. Everything’s okay.” I put my hands in the water and made a scene of washing the blood off so Ashur and Istir could see it. “See? It’s alright. Everything’s okay.”
Ashur stood there with his arms at his side, crying, his mouth wide open, and his cheeks wet with tears.
I motioned with my hands once more. “Come here.”
He plodded forward, his hands still at his side, until he was standing right in front of me. I closed my arms around him and pulled him in. Still, his arms hung loose by his side. Then Istir ran to me, her arms wrapping around mine.
I opened my arm and brought her into my hug. “Okay. Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay.” Their cries receded into a whimper. “I have baked wafers and honey in the other room. Would you like some?”
Istir didn’t move, but Ashur looked up, sniffled, wiped his nose, and nodded. “Mh-hmm.”
“Okay, come on.” Taking Ashur by the hand and picking Istir up with the other, I headed into the other room and set the two children up with wafers, honey, and milk.
Before he reached the door, I called out, “Luqa.”
He turned, his face as white as a sheet.
“I saved Lilis. I can save this man. Just trust me and hurry along.”
His muscles relaxed and color returned to his face. “Gula Nin.” There was a hint of a smile as he bowed before heading out.
With that taken care of, I turned to face my patient. I sure hoped I could save him. From what I was seeing, his wounds had already started clotting on their own. With wounds that size, the amount of coagulation told me they were about a day old. Half-a-day, at the very least. It was amazing the man was still alive.
Prioritizing the wounds, I turned my attention to the large splinter. It would need to be removed before his wounds could be cleansed. Retrieving my largest pair of tweezers, I placed one arm across his chest to help immobilize him and to give me a position to steady myself on. I readied my tweezers above the wound.
Looking up into his face, I said, “I’m so sorry. I have no anesthesia here.”
I placed the splinter between the tweezer’s teeth and clamped down, but then stopped and looked up again. “Try not to move. If you’re not paralyzed, that is.”
Then, closing my eyes, I yanked hard, pulling at a ten degree angle, freeing the splinter with the least amount of resistance possible.
The man gave the greatest physical reaction I had seen since meeting him. All of his muscles tensed, and his back arched as he groaned. Then the blood coming out of him doubled.
“What…” Blood began to seep through even the gauze patches I had just laid down.
I scrambled for the clothes previously gathered and pressed them down on his chest.
“What just happened?” There was no reason for the blood to gush out of all his wounds so suddenly like that.
Looking up into his face, it was contorted in pain. His mouth was clamped shut, but his teeth grating from beneath them could still be heard.
“What did I do?” I pressed down on his wounds with renewed vigor, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. Panic and fear took over. I was the little girl in the red district again. Good for nothing.
I wasn’t ready for this. I couldn’t handle this. This had never happened when I was with my lorthew. My training was unfinished. I was panicking. I knew I was panicking. I knew that was bad, but I was too panicked to stop it. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
In the midst of my panic, the aygiff settled down. His muscles stopped convulsing; his face relaxed; and he lay quiet and still.
“Did I kill him? Oh, I killed him.” But he was still breathing. Peeking under the bandages, I saw the bleeding had stopped. With a sigh of relief, I rested my head on my hands.
“He’s dead?”
Ashur and Istir were standing in the doorway with a pail of water in between them. They could barely lift the bucket and the water had sloshed in and out as they shuffled forward.
“Oh, no,” I said as I raised my hands and walked toward them. “He’s not dead.”
But Ashur didn’t hear the last few words. Seeing the blood on my hands, he burst out crying. I knelt down in front of him, then Istir started bawling too.
“Oh, come on. Everything’s alright.” I held my hands out for Ashur to come in for a hug, but he stepped away from me and started wailing louder.
“No, no. Everything’s okay.” I put my hands in the water and made a scene of washing the blood off so Ashur and Istir could see it. “See? It’s alright. Everything’s okay.”
Ashur stood there with his arms at his side, crying, his mouth wide open, and his cheeks wet with tears.
I motioned with my hands once more. “Come here.”
He plodded forward, his hands still at his side, until he was standing right in front of me. I closed my arms around him and pulled him in. Still, his arms hung loose by his side. Then Istir ran to me, her arms wrapping around mine.
I opened my arm and brought her into my hug. “Okay. Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay.” Their cries receded into a whimper. “I have baked wafers and honey in the other room. Would you like some?”
Istir didn’t move, but Ashur looked up, sniffled, wiped his nose, and nodded. “Mh-hmm.
“Okay, come on.” Taking Ashur by the hand and picking Istir up with the other, I headed into the other room and set the two children up with wafers, honey, and milk.