Suddenly the airship lurches and drops before steadying again. Arling seizes the railing against which she has been leaning, catching herself so that she does not fall. She feels her heart in her throat, and she is suddenly afraid. The airship jolts and drops a second time, and now she looks to the pilot box for Aphen. But her sister has vanished, disappeared into the ether. Nor are the other Elves still aboard. All are gone, as if they never were.
She is alone.
Terrified, she struggles across the deck as the airship begins to spiral downward, dropping swiftly earthward. She is intent on reaching the controls so that she can slow the vessel’s descent. But even though she fights her way across the heaving deck, she can never seem to get any closer to the pilot box. She is moving steadily, but the deck stretches out and grows longer. The airship drops through layers of clouds, sinking into them one moment and then abruptly falling back out again. Because she is no longer standing at the railing, she cannot tell how far she has fallen or how close the ground is beneath her. She senses that the time left before impact is very short, but she cannot find a way to measure it.
Then the airship catches fire. She screams for Aphenglow, but her sister does not respond. She is truly gone, and Arling cannot depend on her for help. She must save herself. She continues to crawl toward the pilot box, but the flames are everywhere and the heat is too intense. She begins to slide backward toward the railing and then the railing disappears and she falls over the side and …
She is in her mother’s arms. Her mother holds her, cradles her, protects her, and she is safe again. The airship has disappeared and the falling has ended. She lies on soft grasses amid flowers and green plants. Trees canopy overhead, their leafy boughs swaying in a wash of gentle breezes. She stretches out with her head on her mother’s breast and her shoulders in her mother’s lap. She feels comforted and loved, and all of the fear she felt only moments ago has dissipated, replaced with a sense of well-being.
“Child,” her mother whispers in her ear and rocks her gently.
“Mother,” she replies, realizing suddenly that something very good has happened and her mother is herself again, no longer the harsh, embittered woman she became when Aphen went away.
“I have you now,” her mother says. “I have you and will hold you forever. You are mine, and I will never let you go.”
Arlingfant loves hearing these words; she revels in their sweetness. She lies there and does not move, does not think, does not seek more than to be in the moment in which she finds herself.
“Dark skies,” her mother whispers. “Stormy weather. Hold tight.”
The air above them is blackening, the light dying, everything turning gloomy and unfriendly. The trees and grasses and plants disappear. The colors fade. Arling knows they should rise and go inside where it is safe, but she cannot make herself move, cannot make her body respond to her commands, and when she looks up at her mother, her mother is no longer there.
Again, she has been abandoned.
“Mother,” she whispers.
But there is only the darkness and the feel of the earth pressing up against her body, as she lies helpless and alone.
The dream faded, replaced by darkness and silence. She smelled woods and damp, but she could not make her eyes open or her muscles respond. She was wrapped in what felt like yards of cotton wadding and heavy blankets of softest down. A deep, abiding lethargy infused her. She listened and was surprised to hear very close to where she lay …
Voices.
“She cannot be more than a young girl.”
“She wears knives strapped to her waist; she’s no stranger to combat. Look, there is blood on her clothing.”
“But she only sleeps. She’s not dead, is she?”
Hands probe. Fingers explore.
“She is injured. Perhaps she dies.”
“We should help her, Sora.”
“We help ourselves, not strangers. You know that. You speak like a child. What have I told you?”
The voices faded. Arling waited, but weariness overcame her and she slept anew. This time there were no dreams. When she woke again, the darkness and the lethargy were still there.
And the voices were back.
“She should not be left alone.”
“Others have been here with her. Not that long ago. They will return for her soon enough. We should be gone when they do.”
“We cannot know if they will return or not, can we? Those who were with her may have abandoned her. They may think her dead. Or even wish her so.”
“There is nothing to suggest that any of that is true.”
“Why was she left alone, then? Why does she lie here untended? If they are family or friends, why would they go off and leave her even for a moment’s time?”
“This isn’t our business!”
“Helping others is everyone’s business. You sound so cruel when you say such things! Where is your compassion?”
“I have enough trouble looking after you and me! Stop arguing about this. You know we can’t become involved!”
A long silence. This time she did manage to open her eyes, if only a little, seeing loose pants tucked in work boots on one, ragged skirt hanging over worn, scuffed half boots on the other.
Her eyes closed again.
“Well, I won’t let you leave her like this. We found her, and now she is our responsibility. She should be taken to where she will be looked after. This crash was not her fault. Her injuries were not her doing.”
Arling tried to speak then, but the words would not come. Instead, she could only manage a low groan, one that sounded frightened and painful even to her.
“There, you see? She needs us! She is begging for our help!”
“She said nothing; she made a sound, and it could signify anything.”
Help me, Arling thought, suddenly afraid that she would be left alone again—that even as her sister and her mother had left her, so, too, would these unknowns who hovered over her. She did not want that to happen. She did not think she could stand to be left alone again.
Hands touched her once more, this time resting gently across her forehead for long moments before moving away.
“She has a fever. She needs medicine and rest. Leave her here and you are killing her. Deliberately.”
“Her companions will look after her.”
“What companions? Do you see any? Besides, if they were any sort of companions at all, they would be looking after her now.”
“And if you are wrong about them, and if they come looking for her and find her missing? Then what? They will come looking for us! That might not be so welcome as you seem to think.”
“You always expect the worst. Try looking at it a different way. What if we save her life?”
“You ignore reality when you talk that way. You act as if you lack knowledge of the world.”
“I would rather it be my way than yours.”