Page 13 of Healer
“Do you want to die, Agnes?”
The golden eyes stared straight into my soul seeing past my bravado. Those golden eyes saw my secrets, my fears and only the truth was possible to utter.
“Yes, Yes I do,” I sobbed, collapsing into Hakkar’s arms.
Chapter 6 – Hakkar
Yes.
Yes, I do.
Her words rang in my ears, chilling and with such foreboding that I shuddered. Agnes collapsed against my chest, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her, heedless of the merihdat blood that drenched us both.
Larger predators existed in this part of the jungle, where the thick foliage aided in camouflage for their hunts. While the merihdat's corpse didn't appeal to me as food, I knew other beasts didn't possess my repugnance.
I shifted Agnes, slipping an arm beneath her knees, and lifted her effortlessly. She weighed nothing. Only the racking sobs that shook her body gave me an awareness of how tightly I held her. That and the discomfort from the cut in my bicep. I ignored the pain, not even reaching for the Medi-unit. My kind healed quick enough.
I headed toward the river, moving us away from the carrion and the stench of blood and death. The air near the water proved sweeter and fresher, hopefully devoid of predators.
Yes. Yes, I do.
She wanted to die.
Why?
Why would this courageous, spirited, beautiful woman seek death so greedily that she would welcome her demise to sharp fangs and claws? It would not be a peaceful way to go.I'd seen warriors ripped apart by lesser beasts. Their screams of agony still echoed in my memory.
What did Agnes fear so greatly that she considered death a better option?
We moved along the river until I found an eddy with a large flat boulder at the edge. The water wasn't deep, only up to my knees. Settling Agnes on the stone, I found a small piece of fur in my pack that I dipped into the cool, clear water. Agnes gasped at the first touch of wet fur on her skin, her wide, frightened gaze meeting mine.
"I need to wash the blood away," I said softly.
She nodded, issuing a hiccupped murmur in reply.
I moved the fur along her arms and legs with gentle strokes. The water around us swirled with a dark green tint momentarily before the current pushed it onward. Her dress appeared to be a lost cause. The fabric was so thin I feared it would fray should I try to clean it.
Her hair proved another issue, the almost silvery blonde-brown tresses were dotted with bits of blood and gore. Cupping water in my hands, I wet the strands, using small amounts of sand to scrub away the more difficult bits.
Under the massage of my fingers against her scalp, Agnes seemed to relax, the heavy sobs devolving into silent tears.
Yes. Yes, I do.
I knew her reasoning might be deeply personal, something buried deep within the recesses of her soul.
I also recognized she might feel her reasons none of my concern. Still, as a healer—as someone who dedicated his very existence to prolonging life—I needed to ask.
"Why do you want to die?"
Agnes didn't respond for a long while. I kept my fingers in her hair, willing a desire to understand... a desire for her toembrace life with my every touch. Finally, she issued a heavy sigh punctuated by a faint sob.
"I'm sick."
Out of habit, my hand went to the Medi-unit hanging on my belt.
"No." She whimpered, grabbing my wrist with trembling fingers.
"If you are sick...." I began, but she shook her head forcefully, chilly water droplets from her wet hair hitting my chest.
