Page 49 of The Last One
“Miasma.” Farmer Gery nods.
Zinnia mutters something and tries to sit up in the bed.
I touch her chest to keep her still. “Don’t. Please.”
She groans, then settles back onto the featherbed.
I look down at the woman with great sadness. “I wish I knew how to heal. If I did, I’d certainly help Zinnia recover.”
Her amber glow is brightening. Won’t be long now.
I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles, not sure how contagious this Miasma sickness is but now not caring at all. “I wish you both peace,” I whisper.
Zinnia’s eyes close. Her hand goes limp. Her heartbeat slows.
I stay beside her as Gery tends to the horses and to Molly. Anytime Zinnia stirs, I whisper, “I’m right here,” until she slips back into the space between life and death. I trace the stones of my pendant and feel its pulse beneath my fingertips.
The work of putting Maford back together again echoes all around me. Hammering and sawing. Chopping. Shouting. My mind wanders as I sit here, and snippets of poems and songs appear in my thoughts.
With healing hands, she gently weaves…
…for the souls she grieves…
…mourns with a heavy heart…
…dawn approaches.
Are these prayers from my homeland? Something to be recited above a sickbed? I say them aloud as reassurance for Zinnia that I’m still here, as a way to force the rest of this poem from the dim spaces in my mind.
…dawn approaches.
Zinnia opens her eyes, and a faint smile tugs at her lips. “Thank you,” she whispers, the words barely audible before sleep claims her once more.
Farmer Gery slips back into the garden and offers me a meat pie.
I thank him. I’m hungry. I don’t recognize the taste of the meat, but it’s not foul.
The farmer completes a few more tasks and finishes by putting out fresh water for Milo.
Zinnia’s breathing is peaceful and unlabored when he returns to her side, and her amber glow wavers, as if death is struggling to keep a foothold.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he says. “But I have these.” He holds out a bundle wrapped with cloth. “More meat pies for later.”
I thank him and make my way back to the cottage. Jadon’s finished hanging the door, and now he’s fixing the fence. He smiles when he sees me, but then his cheer fades at my expression. “That bad?”
“That bad. She’s not broken. Bruised, certainly. The soldier stole her butterfly ring that Gery gave her on their wedding day. But that’s not why she’s weak. It’s Miasma.”
He watches me sit on the only patch of grass in the yard. “She’s one of the first to get Miasma. She’s held on for a while now.”
My heart swells sharply, and I flick away a tear rolling down my cheek.
He tugs at the bandage on his hand, then comes to sit across from me. “Sorry, Kai. Did she pass?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. She continues to hold on, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or…” I shrug and offer him a weak smile. “But that’s not my decision, is it?” At least she was peaceful when I left. I lift the bundle. “Gery gave me meat pies for my time. They’re pretty good. Want one?”
He takes one and bites into it. “It’s good.” He chews for a moment. “I’ll tell the men doing all the burying to look for the ring in a soldier’s pocket.”
I think about those men doing all that burying.
