Juno worked as fast as she could. The wounds on his torso were egregious, layers of skin torn, muscle ripped, and holes as deep as a finger. She dipped the thin cloth in honey and laid it across the wounds, careful not to further irritate. She turned around and grabbed another, the pile seemingly unending. More honey, her hands sticky with it. She wiped her eyes with her arm, clearing away the weakness. She was a healer, not a blubbering fool.

The holes she pulled tight, closing off the entry between two sticks and binding them tightly. The blood stopped oozing. So she moved to his leg, resetting the torn skin, reassembling his thigh before covering it with honeyed cloth as well. Floren had taught her well.

She took a deep breath once she was done, and let it out slowly. Then the tears flowed. Juno dropped to her knees before the bed and buried her head into the straw mattress. It took a moment to swallow the sobs and for the healer to return.

Stiffly, Juno crawled onto the bed near his untouched side. He was taller than she remembered, broader as well. The boy was gone, replaced by a damaged man. He was breathing easy, a miracle that air moved in and out at all. She wiped her hands on her skirts, transferring the sticky honey to the cloth.

She had wished him back so hard. Too hard. She had drawn him back through demons. Juno whispered her sorrows and stroked his arm with softness. Trails of green markings followed her fingers as if she drew them herself. More lines followed her hand as she moved up along the shoulder. A swirl of design. A power she did not know she had.

"What has happened," Juno whispered. "Have I done this to you?"

She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. He smiled.

Everything pulled away, the bed, the room, and Kelton himself.

"No," Juno screamed as she struggled to remain in her head. A futile attempt to hold onto the dream that consciousness was destroying.

Juno fell off her bed onto the floor. She covered her face with her hands and cried.

"Are you ill?" It was Floren who rushed into Juno's room and lowered herself to Juno's care.

"It has happened again," Juno said, looking up. She was exhausted, as she had been the previous days.

"Same dream?" Floren asked as she helped Juno to sit up.

"Aye, mother." Juno wiped her eyes and stood up. She helped Floren to rise. "Always the same. It will not leave my head. It is as if I have not slept." She held out her hands and displayed the tremor that had been growing. "It eats at me."

"You must let the boy go," Floren said. "No more thoughts about him. Your mind wishes to return to the past. It cannot."

"It is different. In these dreams, he is not a boy." Juno looked up at Floren's concerned eyes. "His scar has faded, though the new ones he bears are cruel. He is taller and muscled like a man."

"It is your mind, Juno. Nothing more."

"Still, his hair is red, wilder than before." Juno smiled and held out her hand. "I colored his skin with my fingers." She drew in the air.

"There are circles under your eyes," Floren chided. "This dream must stop. You know as well as I of our shrinking coffers. All must work before the Brother's come for the levy."

"I didn't want to leave the dream," Juno admitted.

"And that is the crux of it. Your mind feeds on itself." Floren's tone was growing in irritation.

Juno sighed and nodded. "There is truth in what you say. I will spend the night thinking of other things. Mayhap, I will rest dreamless on the morrow."

"The All-Father does not want this one," Lin'cy said to Opul. They stood outside, away from Farni's ears. "And now he hinders Farni. She is ready to take the twin-tails, and yet she stalls for him."

"She is bonded," Opul said. "Is that to be ignored because fire-head refuses to fade?"

"Nay," Lin'cy said with resignation.

"I have added honey to the water," Opul said. "His body is losing its meat. I know not what else can be done. Mayhap, stop the leaf."

"It is a dangerous thing to contemplate. I'll confer with the elders when they come next."

"Stop the leaf," Farni said, voicing her opinion. Her appearance startled them both. They weren't as quiet as they had thought. "He is still strong. If you wait, he will surely die."

"My thought as well," Opul agreed. "His skin has healed enough, though how I do not know."

"What is worse, the beast or the leaf?" Lin'cy said. "You are bonded to him. Do you wish this on him?"

"His body dims more each day," Farni said. "Fire-head is a warrior and will face any beast." She turned to look upon her bonded one. "I will have him standing or buried. In between is not for him, not the beast killer."

"It has been nearly two moons," Lin'cy said. "I say his bonded-one is our guide."

"I as well," Opul said.

"It is done then," Lin'cy said. "He will breathe or not - as a warrior."

Juno stroked Kelton's arm, leaving trails of swirls in the wake. Removing the honeyed cloth had revealed mended skin, a miracle for a night's work. Still, Kelton lay unmoving, his breath keeping to its even beat.

"You are in my dreams," Juno whispered. "You and I as one. No curse, no Brotherhood or King's men. Just you and me." She stroked his cheek and caused him to smile.

Consciousness invaded, ripping away the walls. Juno could feel the exhaustion begin to take her as memories returned. It had been moons of bad sleep, a repeat of the same dream. Her hand fell through his imagined body as her heart began to thump in her ears. It was killing her.

"Wake!" Juno shouted. As the last of the dream faded, Kelton's head lifted, and their eyes met. His eyes hadn't aged, Juno thought. It pleased her to know her boy was still in there. She smiled as her body collapsed and a dreamless sleep wrapped her soul. For the first time in many days, her breathing was gentle and steady.

Kelton sat up, which caused more pain than expected. He wasn't in the tavern room as he expected, nor was Juno there. It took a moment to realize it was a dream born of a memory of her care so long ago. It was odd how his mind worked. He was sure she was older in the dream or was the memory of her fading.

He looked around as his mind searched its history, which arrived in batches. He was in Opul's hut, though it had changed some. Another sleeping mat had been added. His stomach knotted, and he grunted as it took a moment to un-seize. He was hungry, his gut swelled at the thought, or maybe not.

Kelton looked down, and the memory of the beast came back in a flood. His right side was scared, smooth skin replaced by patches of jagged pink. His left etched like a Nagada. The designs followed up his arm, which was trembling as he held it up. If this was death, it held no comfort.

Sounds of laughter could be heard, weavers, no doubt. It brought a smile to his face. This wasn't death; it was something else. Reexamining his scars, he wondered why it wasn't death. He tried to ignore the memories of the claws and the pain of the thing's jaws closing on his shoulder. He had to look away from his marred skin to allow them to recede. He trembled as he forced them into a safe home, buried deep in his mind.

Standing was a strenuous task. Twice, he almost teetered back. It was if balance or the memory of it was missing. Overcompensation was rampant, as was his vision, which seemed to roll in waves. He closed his eyes and forced his body to comply. It learned, somewhat.

Kelton decided he had been unconscious for a long time. There was no other good reason as to why he felt scrawny and needed to relearn to stand. His etchings were intricate and not done in a day, or a week for that matter. They did not ask. He wasn't sure why he found that unimportant. Anger should have been the response.

The light outside of the hut was blinding, a beam of pain that reminded his eyes they were alive. He squinted and blocked the direct rays with his trembling hand as he stepped out of the hut.

"Qui'sina!" The shout came from near the central fire. He turned to see the location, and his balance failed. He attempted to place his hand on a tree to maintain, and missed. It was all he could do to fall to his hands and knees, and not become fully prone. The shout echoed from many corners. He could hear running, but it was drowned out by a spasm in his gut.

Nagada words were thrown at him as hands lifted him upright on his knees. It was Farni, her face scarred, marring her innocence. Her eyes were full of concern.

Kelton reached out with a shaking hand and caressed the scars on her cheek. "My sorrows, I was not fast enough." She caught him as his balance failed again. Her words were incomprehensible, but spoken with a softness. He groaned as his stomach tried to tear through his body.

Opul's voice broke through the others. Nagadan orders were given, and he was lifted by his arms.

"I did not wish this on you," Opul said, as she pushed errant red hairs from Kelton's face. "We thought you would meet the All-Father."

"I am dying," Kelton said. A wave of cold chilled his skin, forcing his teeth to chatter. Muscles seized as they struggled for warmth. Farni wrapped her arms around him, sharing her heat. More orders were given, and he and Farni began to move.

"You were given the yellow leaf to ease your way to the All-Father," Opul said. "When you did not go, it was stopped. It is not what we wished."

It took some time for Opul's words to penetrate Kelton's mind. Yellow leaf - Dreamvine. The toes on his left foot locked oddly and the pain drove into him like a spike. He was lifted when he refused to step on it. They carried him toward the fire as the pain climbed up his leg. A mat was pulled near and he was laid upon it. He reached for his foot and his stomach folded into itself, the muscles around it felt like fire. He flatten out and yelled.

Lin'cy and two other warriors came carrying rope. Their purpose didn't register until they began. Kelton's hands were covered with small hide sacks; then, the warriors held him down as he tried to fight the binding.

"It must be," Opul said. Farni was holding Kelton's head, whispering something meant to soothe. It did nothing for the pains racking his body. His hands were bound in front, his fingers imprisoned in their sacks. The binding was wrapped around his waist, immobilizing his arms. They moved to his legs and bound them together. When he opened his mouth to scream, Farni put a thick hide wrapped stick tight to his gums. It was quickly tied to the back of his head. His screams were a garbled mess, doing little to ease the new pains that appeared moment upon moment.

"My sorrows," Opul said. "It is done so you don't harm yourself."

Memories of Freeland and the cure came to the forefront. He now understood why the viners desired death. It was a valid alternative given the horror running amok under his skin. It was not an option that would be allowed to him. Tears spilled from his eyes as he tried to voice his desire to Opul. The words got lost to the thick bit in his mouth.

Farni sat down next to his head and pushed his wild hair out of his eyes. Her fingers wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes. She spoke as a mother speaks to a child.

"I should have been there when you woke," Opul translated. "I was gone only a moment." Kelton felt something new grow in his head. An ache like never before, exasperated by the light of the sun. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished he never woke. A soft hand covered his eyes, followed by more words. "I will not leave you now. We are bonded; your horror is mine to bear."

The cold returned with a vengeance. Farni laid down and wrapped herself around him. It wasn't helping, yet it was. Something inside fought with the pain like a candle against the sun. It would never win, but it fought nonetheless. It was fueled by her care. It was best to die knowing someone cared.

The rain fell, as it did the day before, and the day before that. This time, it did not feel like knives driving into Kelton's skin. He had slept some. A moment maybe, but his mind was allowed to leave the world and find peace in nothingness. Discomfort was now the rule that governed his body, not the impossible pain that reigned for so long. A soft hand wiped the rain from his face. He opened his eyes to Farni, who was soaked, unkempt, and as exhausted as he. She had never left his side. Her smile meant something warmer now. It was only a sleep ago when he envisioned it as a curse, her laughing at his misery.

An older man, his etchings folded in among an incredible amount of wrinkles, approached. There was no hair on his head, and the sides of his face were not symmetrical, the left drooping from eye to lip. He ignored the rain and traded words with Farni, whose responses were given with deference. Farni nodded and walked off.

The man sat near Kelton's head and smiled. It was a distorted thing, the left side of his mouth seemed to struggle to rise as high as the right. He reached out and began to undo the leather bit. His fingers were rough, and had trouble with the knots. He did not relent, nor show signs of frustration. In time, he freed Kelton's jaw.

"I thank you, sir," Kelton said, his words not sounding like they were his. His throat was sore, and phlegm had built up to shape the sounds oddly. He coughed in an attempt to clear the obstruction. A dull pain spread along his chest as if his ribs were damaged. It was quickly decided that coughing would be done with care in the future.

The man said something. Kelton's hands were still bound, and his expressions weren't enough to explain his lack of understanding. It was unnecessary, for Opul had approached unseen by Kelton.

"Elder, Unyvon'ar, asks if you have returned to yourself," Opul translated.

"Aye," Kelton replied. He looked over to Opul with concern. "Will it return?"

"Not the worst parts," Opul said. "There will be aches and trouble holding in food. You must eat, though."

"I wanted to die," Kelton admitted, relieved that the worst had passed. "The lashings I took as property were nothing compared to that horror."

Opul conversed with the elder. When it ended, the elder patted Kelton's head and gave him another warped smile. Then the elder rose and walked away, a steady gait hiding his age. Farni returned and began untying his hands. Opul started to work on the rope about his legs.

"Unyvon'ar will return with others tomorrow," Opul said. "The elders say the words that guide the tribes. What you have done will be recognized, so that you know that they know." She struggled with a knot, then finally freed his feet. "They are the ones who etched your skin. There are stories of others born wrong who have been so marked, though none living remembers such a thing."

"It is all best forgotten," Kelton said as he tested bending his legs. They were sore, and the joints complained about the movement. Everything hurt, but it was mild in comparison to what he had endured. A feather compared to iron.

Opul chuckled and traded words with Farni. His hands were freed from the bags, and he moved his arms to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. It was good to have free fingers again. Had the bags not been there, he was certain he would have clawed whatever skin he could reach. Farni pulled the last of the bindings away and tossed them to the side. Then, she pressed her rain-soaked forehead against his and spoke with tenderness.

"She speaks of what you have done," Opul said. "You have no hope of it being forgotten." Another chuckle. "No hope at all."