Sometimes it was dark and sometimes it was light. Fand felt like her body was a great weight that she wanted to shed. Terrifying dreams came and went. Always there was pain. Something had happened to her, but she could not remember what it was. There was also something wrong with her left hand. A man, a young man, with gentle fingers and a gentle voice kept tending to it.

The smell of spirits filled the room. It was Uncle Wert. He had been drinking again. His voice was steady one time and slurred the next. When he was drunk, he didn’t plead with her, he just sobbed. The sobbing was easier to stand than the pleading. She heard him kneel down beside her bed. His hands closed over her hand. Hard sobs wracked his body. The sobs pulled at her, but not hard enough for her to try to reach out to him. The darkness began to swirl around her and pull her under.

*

Time passed. How much? She had now idea. Right now Resen was with her. Hiis hand touched Fand’s head. The hand was warm and calloused. He leaned so close she could feel his breath. Softly he pleaded, “Please come back to me. I want to marry you.” If she could have, Fand would have put her fingers in her ears. She did not want to hear any plans for a future she did not want. Why was death being so cruel? Why did it not come and take her? Resen took her right hand in both of his. In a low voice he said, “I need you to be okay.”

Why did he need her to be okay? She was obviously not okay, most likely would never be okay? Honestly she did not want to live long enough to find out it she would be okay. She felt his lips brush hers.

In a choked voice he said, “You have got to wake up.”

Why?

The door open and closed. Someone else was in the room.

Resen released her hand and stood. He said, “Her wounds are not healing properly.”

Wounds? How many wounds did she have?

The man said, “She is doing as well as can be expected. It is a miracle she is still with us.” The voice was one she had heard before. It was the doctor who tended to her.

Anger punctuated each word as Resen spoke, “You know Petran could help her.”

Dread filled Fand. She did not want to go to Petran. He might have the power to save her. She did not want to be saved. She just wanted to be free of her heavy, painful body. Why was she still trapped in this body? Her spirit wanted freedom.

The doctor told Resen, "Petran is not strong enough to help anyone."

Resen made an impatient sound in his throat. He said, “She won’t make it on your prescriptions alone.”

The doctor sighed before he said, “You don’t know that and neither do I. But I am certain, that any expression of power from Petran might kill him. I won’t have him die on my watch.”

Bitterly Resen asked, “But, you would have Fand die?”

“You know me better than that. Fand needs time.”

”That’s what the healer said about Leben. She didn’t need time, she was running out of time.”

At the name Leben an image came to Fand’s mind. The small portrait of a beautiful young woman and she recalled Resen’s son Tugg. She saw his bright eyes and heard his laughter. Was that beautiful boy still among the living?

Gently the doctor said, “I think you are worn out and you need rest. You should go home to your son.”

”I will go home when Fand can come with me.”

A moment of silence fell and then the doctor said, “That may never happen.”

Angrily, Resen said, “Then let Petran help her.”

”In time, maybe, but not today. I need to examine her, so please leave.”

Resen who could walk so softly his steps couldn’t be heard, stomped out of the room like an angry child.

After the doctor finished with her, Pyre came. There was always someone with her. If they would just leave her be, maybe she could slip away. She felt Pyre take her hand. Once again, he began to pray.The words he spoke wove themselves into the dark place where she hovered in her pain. She heard him say, "The love of the Keeper comes to warm you, to hold you, to comfort you. Receive these gifts of love..." There were more words but Fand's mind could not latch onto them. Pyre's voice rose and swelled around her. She felt herself drifting.

A door swung open and then snapped shut waking Fand. A woman's voice asked, “Any change?”

Pyre replied, “I don't know. I stare at her so hard, I start to imagine things. See what you think.”

The woman leaned over Fand. The smell of lavender drifted from her. The smell of it reminded Fand of Zolla and of home. How long had it been since she had been home? The woman placed something cold on her chest. She felt the softness of hair brush against her face. The woman said, "Her heart is beating at a steadier rate. That is a good sign Pyre. Your presence and prayers are giving her strength. Keep at it." Gently, the woman lifted Fand's eye lids. There was a white blur of light and a face that would not come into focus. The woman let go of her eyelids. "There seems to be some responsiveness."

Spots drifted across Fand’s closed lids. She heard the woman cross the room and then open and close the door. Pyre began the prayer cycle again. As Fand listened she felt herself being pulled away from him. In fact she felt like she was running. Was her soul running? Where was it going? Heaven? She rushed into a white nothingness full of light. So much light, she shut her eyes. When she opened them the sight she saw caused her to gasp.

By some miracle she was home. This was home. The land, the familiar land that she knew by heart stretched out around her. At her feet was the path to the stream. It had been so long since she had been to her favorite rock. She rushed down the path. Her heart was racing with joy. Someone was on her rock. It could not be. Abruptly she stopped. The man on the rock was Zog. He looked at her and smiled. Such light, light like she had never seen before, filled his eyes. He patted the space beside him. Quickly she ran to him. It took everything she had not to throw her arms around him. She restrained herself, Zog did not like displays of affection and she was too happy to have her feelings hurt by possible rejection. When she sat down, he surprised her by taking her left hand. His strong fingers wrapped around hers. He studied her face for a moment and then said, "You must fight Little One, the world still has need of you.”

Images suddenly came to focus in Fand's mind. Things that had not surfaced before. She smelled the foul wind and saw the swirling lights. There was the memory of intense pain ripping through her body. All the images faded. Only peace remained. She looked at Zog and asked, "Are we in heaven?"

Zog asked, "Is that where you want to be?"

"Yes."

"What about Father?

Irritated by this question Fand said, "You left him. Why should I stay with him?"

"Yes I did. I left both of you and got myself killed because I didn't get what I wanted. Denied my dream, I chose my own selfish path, and I chose poorly. Selfishness is a destructive force. It makes us forget our actions have consequences not only for ourselves but others. Please Fand. Go back. Father and Pyre still have need of you. Think of them. Love them. Let love carry you back to life."

An agitated voice pulled Fand from heaven or was it just a dream? Whatever it was it hurt when she was jerked from it. A bitter taste filled her mouth.

Resen said, “Renate, she needs to wake up. Why won’t she wake up? Isn't there anything you can do?”

The woman who smelled of lavender said, "We are doing all we can. She has to fight too."

A spoon was thrust between Fand's teeth and a honey sweet tea slipped down her throat. She swallowed. Renate said, "Did you see that?"

"What?" asked Resen.

"She swallowed on her own. That is good."

Angrily Resen said, "She needs to do more than swallow. She needs to wake up."

For the first time Fand wondered where she was. She swallowed the next spoonful of tea. She tried to open her eyes but couldn't. Another spoonful of tea touched her lips. She managed to swallow several more before she felt the pull of darkness.

*

The next time she woke, Pyre's hand was in hers. As usual he was praying. In her mind Zog's voice echoed, “Fight, Little One...Let love carry you back to life.” Could love carry her back? Pyre's voice was sad. He had known so much sadness. It would hurt him if she let herself die, if she did not fight to live. Only she didn’t want to fight. She just wanted to go. Her eye lids began to flutter. Light flashed as they did. And then, they were open. Nothing was clear except an orb of light beside her. Was it a candle or a lantern? She struggled to focus. it was a candle. She looked down to where Pyre knelt beside the bed. Though his head was bowed she saw that the left side of his face was discolored and scarred. He had suffered, he ws suffering now. From his eyes tears were slowly slipping. His lips, lips that had given her unwanted kisses were forming prayers. Prayer filled the room and crept into her soul. A tiny flicker of light began to wiggle inside of her. It was small and might soon go out.

With great concentration she formed the word "Pyre" with her lips and from the back of her throat she pushed his name out.

Immediately, Pyre stopped praying. His eyes met hers. He whispered, “Do you know me?”

She stared up at him. He looked so much older. The boy she had known was gone. In his place was this man, this gentle, brave man, who loved her still. She whispered, "Yes."

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. She felt his tears mingled with her own. She tasted the salt of his sorrow and knew she could not leave him.