The Day My Dream Died

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    Eventually, she is able to force herself up, dripping sweat, the pain has her muscles clenching tight. She sees the medicine box, dropped just to the left of the still-open door. The crawl back feels years longer. Scozel is the only reward for her efforts; three leaves left.

    She hesitates, all three in one palm. It is among the hardest challenges in her life, to consider future pains when the present is so demanding. One too little, two too much, three what I need. She splits one down the stalk and pops half into her mouth with an additional whole leaf. Carefully placing what remains back into the pouch, she slides it into her pant pocket.

    Bitter taste turning sweet with time. The wait for its freeing numbness draws long but at last, it kicks in. It doesn't kill the pain, but it holds it back enough that it won't impair her completely.

    Finding the will to move again is easier than she expects. That Elineal is bleeding out as she lays there is motivation enough—with the scozel's assistance anyway. Medicine case in one hand, Lise begins the precarious crawl over to her, only able to use her left leg and her right arm. Jaw clenched so tight she might crack teeth, she strains against her limits. If she saves one life... just one... please...

    The robe sticks to her gut, soaked in blood, rising faintly with each fading breath. Lise undoes the buttons down the side, fingers slick and shaky. She gives up after it slips from her grasp a third time and tears it open. A wound trickles fresh blood over the woman's pudgy midriff. Angled up, it seems like it was headed straight for her lung, but her breathing isn't impaired—just feeble.

    Lise wipes her hands on the robe and unfolds the medicine case, scrambling for the final bottle of panacea. "Where is it?!" She grabs a bandage and stuffs the wound with it, still rummaging through the case with her right. If only I'd seen where it was kept!

    "...il..."

    She stares at Elineal, watching as she suddenly moves. Just one arm weakly rising, falling limp on her chest, fingers grasping. Leaning in, Lise tries to hear what she is saying...

    "e... evil..."

    Her hopes fall—not that they had far to.

    There might be something she can do to save her, a different medicine... but she knows not what potential the case contains.

    Still, the woman's fingers grab for something, finding only her own skin wrinkling in her grasp. Lise watches as her fingers flutter and go still there. It occurs to her that she might have been reaching for her robe—a pocket, perhaps.

    She sets her arm aside and pulls the robe back over her chest and feels around the place Elineal had been reaching for. Sure enough, a small pocket is sewn just inside the collar. With her first two fingers, Lise draws out a vial of bruise-blue liquid. She isn't sure what to think.

    Fiiso isn't there. She notices it just then, out of the corner of her eye. No! She turns and Fiiso is there.

    The sword swings for her neck. Her arm rises to meet it. Hit; cutting. Shallow. She hardly feels it. The sword falls from his grasp. He runs...