The First Jumper (first draft version)

The First Jumper 47: Willow

As Willow continued to fade, her daughter Sprout wiped her hand with cool water on her forehead.  

Other than getting as much water into her as he could, there was nothing Little Bear could think of that would make any difference.

When no one else was there except Sprout, Otter pulled on his father’s arm, and said, "Could you do it again?"

Little Bear frowned.  "Could I do what again?"

"Could you jump into another person?"

Little Bear's eyes opened wide, and he looked down at Willow.  Sprout looked up with wide eyes, but said nothing.

After a few moments, Little Bear turned back to his son.  "I had not thought of that.  Maybe.  Probably, even, but it would be too hard on her.  There is no way I could help her if I did, because I would make her weaker, not stronger, until she could recover."

"That's too bad," said Otter, "because I don't think she'd mind."

Little Bear stared at Otter for a moment, then shook his head.  "I would never have thought I'd hear a person say that."

"You aren't any less Little Bear, are you?"

Little Bear was pulled up short by the question.  He thought about it for a long moment, before answering slowly.

"No," he said, "I'm not.  I'm still Little Bear, as fully and completely as I was before.  Yet I'm also Gerleesh, and the two sides of me are one person, not two."  He looked up, surprised at his own conclusion.  "You are right, Otter.  Little Bear has had a much fuller and better life for having Gerleesh joined with him--and he never had to give up being Little Bear."

He looked at Willow, then back at his son.  "I don't know if Willow would agree, if I did that to her.  There wouldn't be any going back, and ultimately, Otter, she is very close to death as it is.  She will either make it or not make it, now.  I'm afraid she won't make it, no matter what I do.  So yes, it's a very good idea, but I'm afraid she is too weak for it to help her."

A small cough came from below him.  Willow’s eyes were open, and on Little Bear.  She was even smiling, just a little.

“I was right about you,” she said, in a very faint voice.  “but I knew, even then.”

“Don’t speak,” said Sprout.  

“If not now, then when, Sprout?  Marry Otter and be happy.  He is a good man, and you love him the way I loved his father.  Don’t let your father keep you apart.”

Willow’s eyes looked back to Little Bear.  “Keep my children safe, my love.”

“I will,” he said.

“Not just Lavender and Acacia, but all of them.”

Little Bear swallowed hard, and choked, “I will, my love.”

“And don’t try what you were talking about.  I can feel myself fading, even now.”

Her eyes fluttered and closed.

Little Bear leaned over and kissed her, his tears falling on her as he did.

“What are you doing?” hissed Tiger, stepping up beside them, gripping his spear.

“Saying goodbye,” said Sprout through her tears.  Tiger’s knuckles were white on his spear, but he said no more, looking down at Willow.

Little Bear sat up with Willow for several hours, trying to get water into her, but she did not regain consciousness again.  Not long before a midnight that was much colder than any summer night should have been, Willow stopped breathing.

Little Bear thought there might be some way to keep her body going, but he did not know enough about how human bodies worked to do anything to help her.  He had never felt so helpless.

Tiger howled when Willow died, but Little Bear just sat in silence, a gaping hole in his heart.  He had never stopped loving Willow, all through the years.  Even though he had many children of his own--more than anyone else in the tribe--he had always longed to be with Willow.  They had occasionally gotten together over the years, but not often.

He had protected the entire tribe, many times over, but he could not protect Willow from this.  He had even saved her life and her daughter Sprout's life, a few weeks before, but this sickness had happened too severely and too quickly, and there was nothing he could do.

He could tell Tiger what Briar had done.  Tiger probably would not believe it, but at least he could--

Little Bear's thought's were abruptly interrupted, as Tiger yanked him back by his hair.  Little Bear fell back from his knees onto the ground.

Without a second of hesitation, Tiger drove his spear down with all his strength.  The stone spearhead cut down through Little Bear's gut, out his back, and into the ground beneath him.

As Little Bear's eyes bulged out in agony, Tiger said, in a growl that sounded appropriate for his namesake, "I should have done that twenty years go."

Tiger stalked away, leaving his spear stuck into the ground under Little Bear's body, as Little Bear clawed ineffectually at the shaft.

Horrified tribe members gathered around Little Bear in silence.

There was no longer anything Little Bear could do, except die.  Because of the way Tiger had done it, Little Bear’s death would be horribly painful and slow, but certain nonetheless.

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