Chapter 67 - Nyal's Story part 16

Nyala, in the tongue of the River People, meant a blossoming flower. It was fitting, then, that she died at the end of the season, as spring was blossoming into summer. The strange blood her husband had given her—just a drop!—had mended her injuries. It had even helped to quiet the singing of her bones. But Nyal was an old woman, and she had an old heart.

She died in the Siede, on a lovely early summer afternoon. She would not have chosen that day to pass on, for who really says, "This would be a good day to die"? Dying is always better suited for tomorrows, or the day after that, or next season, or next year. She did not die alone, either, as she would have preferred, so that her loved ones were not unnecessarily distressed. But she did die doing something she enjoyed-- looking after her young granddaughters.

She had all three of them that day: Ganni, Maia and Korte-Anthe. Ganni and Maia were busy playing with their new toy, a baby hare their father had brought home three days before, telling them they could keep it for a pet until it was big enough to eat. It was a cute little thing, with brown fur and short, stubby ears tipped with black. They had named it Gub-Gub, which was a baby word for eat. All day long, the girls ran outside to pull grass and fed it to the rabbit, which chomped happily on any green thing they thrust into its snout, its little nose spinning in circles as it chewed. Korte-Anthe, however, was training to be a medicine woman. Of all the things that she could have been, for the River People considered women equal, if not superior, to men-- a wife, a mother, a huntress, a warrior-- Korte-Anthe really only wanted to be one thing, and that was a medicine woman like her grandmother.

Nyal, of course, was happy to teach her.

She was explaining to Korte-Anthe how important it was to use the proper proportions of herbs and roots for the drink the People partook of just before their ritual orgies. If the herbs were not apportioned properly, their spirits would not soar during the ritual. They would not enter the trance, and the visions would not come.

"It will just be a lot of sweaty rutting then," Nyal said with a scowl, watching over her granddaughter's shoulder. "Of no good use to anyone."

She observed Korte-Anthe until she was satisfied, then sat back, stroking her breast through her clothing. She felt dizzy all of a sudden, and she could not seem to catch her breath.

"How much of the chanthum, Grandmother?" Korte-Anthe asked, unwrapping a bundle of dried roots.

"Two," Nyal murmured, "about the length of your thumb."

Korte-Anthe noticed her grandmother's breathlessness and turned to her in concern. "Grandmother, are you well?" she asked.

She really was a lovely girl, with long curly blond hair, just like Nyal once had, before she got old and her hair turned to spider silk.

Nyal tried to speak, tried to reassure the girl she was fine, but there was suddenly a great weight pressing down on her chest. She reclined against the wall of the cave, her strength deserting her, the interior of the Siede brightening, as when the sun peeks out from behind a cloud.

Korte-Anthe had risen, was shaking her by the shoulders, calling "Grandmother! Grandmother!" but Nyal did not answer her. She was looking over her shoulder, watching as Brulde and Eyya ducked through the flap at the entrance of the cave.

They were young again, strong, fit and beautiful.

Eyya put her arm around Brulde's waist as they drew near, leaning her head against his shoulder with a blissful smile.

"Where is Gon?" Nyal asked, rising to join them. She noticed her hands then, held them up before her. They were smooth and pink.

"Our husband will be along, Nyala," Brulde said, "but not for a very long time."

Nyal saw that his scar was gone. The one that zigzagged down the left side of his face. She reached out to touch his unblemished cheek, fearful for a moment that her hand would pass through him, that she was only imagining him in her final moments, but he was there. Her palm settled on his flesh, warm and firm.

"That's all right," Nyal said, lowering her hand. "We will wait for him."

"Yes, my love," Eyya said. "We will."

 END