The Trail to Love and Loss

Daya

I wasn't supposed to get caught. Patrick and I hadn't expected his family so soon. My asi hadn't been properly equipped with food. Hunting hadn't gone as well as I had hoped and there weren't enough berries and fruits left for me. I had been forced to steal. Of course, I wasn't actually stealing because I had been the one to fell that deer in the first place.

Patrick's father had caught me off guard by patrolling the cabin, no doubt looking for sign of any "savages" in the area. I had twisted my ankle running for him, and if not for Patrick, I would most likely be joining the deer which had provided the meat I had just stolen, lying dead on the ground, presumably with a bullet in my head.

I leveled a steely glare with as much fury as I could muster at Patrick's father. Patrick stood between us, arms raised protectively at the rifle aimed at his chest. His father's hair was crazy, his breathing ragged and eyes wild with a mad glint. The mad looked completely deranged and psychotic. His eyes traveled from me to Patrick and back to me again. I could see him calculating the risk of striking Patrick if he shot at me now; figuring if the possibility of shooting Patrick was worth it to kill me.

I hadn't seen such raw hate so clearly visible since the white men had invaded my village and murdered my people so long ago. The memory of my old life no longer brought about tsunamis of pain and grief; rather, it washed upon me like the gentle surf teasing the edge of the land: wetting only my feet and bringing with it anger and exhaustion like the silt of the ocean being dredged up by the waves.

I clenched my teeth and tried not to surrender to the rage welling inside me, building much like lava in a volcano just before it belches its contents over the earth. I grasped at my ankle and focused on the pain to subdue the dangerous fury.

I was vaguely aware of Patrick rapidly conversing with his father in their strange, mystical language. What he said seemed devoid of all meaning, but strangely clear in my mind.

Patrick's mother called out in a pleading voice to his father. Reluctantly, his father lowered the rifle and I felt my anger drain out of me, leaving only a weary tiredness about me. I let myself surrender to the welcoming darkness swimming up to meet me. The last thing I saw was Patrick reaching down and encompassing my body in his arms. I curled into a ball, his warmth surging through me. I inhaled his woodsy scent before the blackness captured me.

I woke again in the cabin. This time, however, I was not surprised to be there. I lay in a comfortable state of grogginess for a minute before the events of the previous night came back in rolling waves.

I must have made some kind of noise, because Patrick's mother soon entered the room, speaking quickly to me. I shot her a confused look. What little English I understood from my lessons with Patrick had not prepared me for this encounter. She ceased talking immediately and called Patrick's name.

Relief washed over me as Patrick entered. He smiled down at me and I struggled to extract myself from the thin blankets that encased my legs. Finally free, I leaped from the bed, but stumbled when my foot hit the floor. My legs buckled beneath me and Patrick rushed to catch me before I fell. Worried flooded his eyes as he cradled me on the floor.

I felt the blood and heat rising to my cheeks as I flushed, embarrassed at my lack of strength. I hated to look weak in front of Patrick. His mother frowned and tutted in a motherly way. I was reminded vaguely of Aluli and her soft caress when I was sick or injured. Surprisingly, the memory of Aluli surfaced happy feelings, not the aching pang in my chest from losing her.

I cringed in pain as Patrick heaved me onto the bed and helped to settle me in. He sat by my side as his mother tended to me, bringing me food and plenty of water from the stream in the woods. Once his father appeared at the door to my room. His scowled deepened when he saw Patrick sitting so close to me on my bed. He growled something under his breath and marched away from the room, and out the front door.