Chapter 4

I couldn't help it. I burst out into tears. I didn't care about myself -- my wounds would heal -- but if my child had died, I may as well have died myself. What was there to live for?

Arafa immediately reached out and dried my tears. With his free hand, he squeezed my shoulder. "Don't cry, Dera. Please don't cry." He squeezed the other shoulder. "It could be that everything is fine." He tried to sound optimistic. "We Wraeththu are strong, resilient."

He kept on speaking these gentle words of comfort until I finally stopped crying.

"I will call Fafara. He is my teacher, a master healer. We will examine you again and try to determine if there are any problems." He looked at me expectantly. "Will that be all right with you?" he asked.

I smiled. "I would be very grateful."

Before he called Fafara, however, there was dinner. Arafa left me for a few minutes and when he returned, he carried a tray of food and drink.

Despite my days of rest, eating on my own seemed a task beyond my abilities. Arafa fed me as if I were a baby -- a human baby.

It was my first solid food in more than a week and however much I wanted it, it was swallowed down only with difficulty.

Arafa watched me in silence, patiently bringing the forkfuls of food to my mouth, tipping a cup of hot herbs to my lips.

"You must be very hungry," he observed. When I nodded he continued. "I cannot have been good for the child."

I grimaced and turned my head to the side, avoiding the last forkful that had been delivered my way. Once again, I began to cry.

"Oh, Dera," he sighed. "Don't work yourself into such a state. It's not healthy -- for you or the pearl."

For a brief moment, I was terribly angry. I wasn't working myself in a state on my own -- he was pushing me along with his remarks. Still, when I felt his soft touch against my cheek, I knew he was genuinely concerned for me.

He turned my face back to him and he pushed another forkful into my mouth. As I swallowed it, he stood up. "I will summon Fafara. Time for your examination."

Arafa left the room and was gone for about ten minutes. I could only assume he was explaining the situation to Fafara. While I waited, I tried to compose myself. I called out to the pearl as I had earlier. I delivered a message of reassurance. Everything would be fine. We were alive.

When Arafa returned with the "master healer," I could see that Fafara was deeply concerned. His green eyes bored into me as I steadily met his gaze. My pearl and I were much better off than he supposed, and I wanted him to know it.

Arafa brought up the lights as Fafara approached my side. "You are strong," he said to me, hands at his sides, eyes still steady on mine.

Arafa walked over to the other side of the bed. "We will undress you," he announced.

I nodded slightly and lay passive as they pulled aside the blanket and stripped me of my robes and underclothes. I felt so light, almost weightless, as they shifted me with their gentle hands. I had lost weight, no doubt. "We will survive this," I told my pearl.

Finally I lay naked. I looked down and saw the mark where the blade had cut me. To my surprise, it had nearly healed. Also gone were the cuts and bruises I know I must have had. My arms were still reddened where I had been burned by the desert sun.

My waist had thickened with the swelling of my child. I was so slender to begin with, however, that it was not something anyone but myself would likely have noticed. No wonder my rescuers had been unaware.