Lost in Between

Chapter 2 (A)

Kairon sat near the bank of the creek and stared at the surface of the water. Then he turned and looked up at me. "Thank you so much. Did I already tell you that?"

"Don't thank me yet. I still have to treat you first." I leaned on one leg then the other. "Speaking of which, I have to go get my basket and gather the herbs that I need for you wounds. Is it all right if I leave you for a while?"

He smiled. "I won't die in your absence, if that's what you're worried about. I'll be alright. Go."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be quick, I promise." I turned and ran, but added, "You can't die, but it's okay if you cried while I'm away."

He just chuckled.

First I retrieved my basket at the henna's where I left it and dropped its contents to the ground. Then I rushed around the forest as though I was a contestant on a TV show, in a closed supermarket with a timer running. I uprooted two whole fascicles of aloe vera, break off the entire body of an echinacae at the base, and snapped stems after stems of red gumamelas, all without any grace whatsoever.

I ran back to the creek with an overflowing basket of herbs and found Kairon crouched over the water and drinking from his palm. Sweating and panting, I dropped to my butt and pulled out the herbs from the basket. He turned to me and eyed the echinaceas and gumamelas.

"You brought me flowers. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but as I said, I'm not going to die, so there won't be a funeral."

"Haha." I smiled sarcastically and scowled. "I don't think you should be drinking from a creek. You don't know what's in the water. There might be animal s**t under there and you just drunk it."

"It tastes good. Maybe it's the shit." He smirked. "Regardless, s**t or not, it's better than dying of thirst. Don't you agree?"

I widened my eyes. "You must be feeling better already! Regardless," I repeated. "Get under the water, but be careful no to disturb too much of the dirt at bottom."

He stood and fingered the buttons of his coat then stopped. "Should I take my clothes off?"

I flicked my hand. "Leave it on for now. Once the wounds are thoroughly soaked, we can then take them off without peeling the skin."

He gently waded halfway across the creek then slowly lowered his body into the water and hissed when it touched his wounds. He went under and surfaced a moment later with only his head above the water. He splashed his face with with his palms, scrubbed off the dirt and dried blood, then flipped his hair back.

I quickly looked away and search for a flat, wide, and smooth-surfaced basalt rock and then a stone that was round and just the right size. I tore off the gumamela flowers from their stems and plucked each of their petals. I placed five petals on the rocked and softly kneaded them with the stone. I readied another batched of petals and repeated the process.

I glanced at him, and he was watching me. "So, what's the story?" I asked.

He remained silent for a moment. "My sister was cursed. It wasn't my fault because I didn't anything wrong. But she was cursed because of me."

I stopped and gave him my full attention. "I think I understand. What does the curse do?"

"She couldn't sleep long because of nightmares." His eyes dulled, and I immediately missed the mirth in them. "She hasn't had enough sleep for eight nights— nine now I believe."

Gods, I could only imagine how much that must have sucked. "I feel really sorry for her." I tried my best to convey with my eyes my sincerity. "But how did that lead you into being almost roasted alive?"

He wiped a lock of hair out of his face. "Early today we found out about the cure, a flower which grows only in a valley in the Seelie near their north border."

I nodded and thought back to our encounter with the armored feys. The young fey called him a trespasser. "That makes sense. So you're unseelie, then? And you crossed the border to get the cure. Am I right?"

"You are." He nodded and hung his head. "My sister's just twelve years old, and she was wasting away every day she was left uncured. I could no long just watch her suffer even more."

I sighed and resumed kneading the petals. "So you tried to get the cure. I understand, but having seen those three soldiers back there, I assume it was dangerous. Did you really have to do it all by yourself?"

"The borders are always guarded by soldiers the likes of the ones you have encountered. So, yes, it was dangerous. My father could have sent soldiers of our own to acquire the cure, but I objected. I didn't want to jeopardize other people's lives for something that I should be responsible for. So, yes, I did it myself, alone, against my father's wishes."

I looked up and we stared at each other for a moment. Right then I started to believe that I was right to help him, that it was worth Esmé's disappointment and Sarah's wrath that I did. "That's very admirable," I said and broke eye contact.

"Or very stupid." He gestured to himself and smiled weakly. "You know how it turned out."

I finished kneading the petals, which were now a heap of sticky, flimsy sheets on the flat surface of the rock. I stood and approached him. "I'm assuming you failed to get the cure. So what really happened? What went wrong?"

He chuckled. "Would you believe that I planned my every step?"

I chuckled as I waded towards him and gestured for him to stand. "You don't lie. Of course I would believe you."

"I wore black from head to toe and selected the swiftest, darkest steed, both for disguise because it's night there right now. And I chose an entry point that was reported to be frequently neglected by the soldiers. It was supposed to be a come-and-go operation, but of course something went wrong as most things tend to."