Whisper

by Harper Alexander

  The ones I had no desire to revoke.

  We skipped through a glade together, some foolish waif-like skirt flowing about my calves, and some foolish, waif-like giggle singing through my lips. At the heart of the glade we dipped into the waters of a secret, nestled pond, swimming about like it was a lazy summer's day and we hadn't a care in the world. Then a lovely flea-bitten gray Andalusian came to drink at the water's edge, and the ripples that commenced from his submerged muzzle caressed my body like the tenderest, coolest fingers – like satin sheets – rousing gooseflesh. I looked at Jay, and he was gazing back at me, treading water with slow, smooth motions. I was so used to seeing him covered in dirt, or dust, or grime... He looked beautiful wet.

  We climbed out onto the banks of the pond, grasping fist-fulls of the Andalusian's mane for leverage. And then we climbed atop its back – but not as two people set to ride double, back to front. Jay sat a little further back just shy of the equine's hips, and placed me facing him just shy of the swoop of withers. And there, with our knees touching and fingers entwined and resting on the Andalusian's silken back between us, we shared kisses in the cover of the trees. Slow, heartfelt kisses as if we were two people in love, caught in some timeless moment of soul-aligned harmony.

  There, Jay's erstwhile silent lips spoke a thousand braille sentiments, and a thousand braille promises.

  *

  Toby came to see me now and then as well, in the real world – sometimes shirtless and streaked in sooty, smoldering wonder from practicing – but I never dreamed about him. Not even in the embers of my fever dreams, where he would have been well-suited. It was always Jay – that silent oaf illogically transformed.

  One day I asked Jay to help me stand, and proceeded to have him help me limp out into the real world for the first time since awakening. It was a dizzying experience, at first, and I had to admit I had not expected to be so light-headed making my first upright effort. Where I now felt decently myself in a horizontal position, being vertical plunged me back a step into a bone-weary, ill-plagued convalescent. So much for feeling as if I had more or less returned to some state of normal, or even made progress. I convinced Jay to leave me at the arena fence, and clung to the bars for support.

  It was there that I finally had to face the question: how long would it be until I could ride again? If I could barely stand... I told myself I was just weak from letting my muscles turn to jelly, having done so much lazing around on my back. My body was simply not used to exerting itself, and was not yet re-equipped to do so without it taking a toll.

  Of course, there was the other issue as well – my rib itself. How long was it going to take to heal? And would I only go through the same set-backs making the transition from walking to riding, feeling normal on the ground only to discover that riding wrenched my injury in ways I couldn't tolerate? What kind of limits was this confounded injury going to instill in my trade?

  Curiosity piqued, I let my fingers wander to the healing rib. And then, against my better judgment, I held my breath and stretched experimentally.

  At first, I was pleased with the range I discovered.

  Then a sharp hiss of breath escaped through my lips, pulling me into an astonished hunch. Owwww...

  “I wouldn't recommend jumping back on any bucking broncos any time soon, if that's the particular range of motion you were testing for,” came Toby's voice from down the fence line.

  Leaning against the bars, I glanced up over my elbow, stifling the pain to address him. “Guess I'll have to settle for bull-riding,” I quipped, and he grinned.

  “Good to see you up and around again,” he said, and I nodded. He glanced toward the center of the arena, and his eyes went a little distant. “Annnd...looks like I got my chance to welcome you back just in time. Here comes the mob.”

  I followed his eyes, and found that the horses had all taken note of my presence, and were walking eagerly toward the fence where I stood, heads bobbing, some of them barely resisting a trot as they all vied for space and crowded toward their shared target of interest. I couldn't help but smile, seeing them approach as if I were standing there waving carrots through the fence.

  “I'll leave you...aloone, then,” Toby said with a smirk in his eyes. “I have a feeling it's about to get affectionate.”

  “I hardly think this can constitute as 'alone',” I said as the horses reached me and crowded in putting their heads over and through the bars. I moved back a step lest they jostle me against the fence in their enthusiasm, but made sure to keep a hand on the strong bones of one face or another for support. “Do you know where Char is?”

  “Back behind the tents,” Toby said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Want me to take you?”

  I had no desire to add anyone to the list of people treating me to charity, but I didn't see Jay anywhere and I really wanted to see Char. It felt like there was some kind of unfinished business there, like I couldn't quite be at peace and make a full recovery until I saw him – in one piece, making a full recovery as well. I felt too responsible for him to see exclusively to my own needs without my conscience nagging.

  “If you have nothing better to do,” I allowed after weighing the grievances, and he nodded and stepped forward to assist me. I gave the faces of the horses in reach one last scratch before letting Toby spirit me off, holding out my hand to trail my fingers over the rest of the muzzles that were lined up as we left.

  “Is this good?” Toby inquired as we started off, not wanting to hurt me.

  I nodded, doing my part to assist him.

  “There are bets going on in the camp,” he mentioned, and I glanced sidelong at him. “The soldiers are wagering on how soon you'll be back in the saddle.”

  My eyes returned to the path in front of me, and I thought over the revelation as I picked my way over the ground. “Well,” I said at last. “They'll all be sorely disappointed, then – seeing as I don't use one.”

  A smokey breath of laughter issued through Toby's lips. “It's probably good that it's unfounded, then. Jay's none too happy about it.”

  “Why? He thinks I'll take it as some kind of challenge?”

  “Or he doesn't like hearing about you as a piece of wagering meat when you're in a critical state of being,” he suggested a little wryly, casting me his own glance. “Why – do you see it as a challenge? Because I'm sure he'd be concerned about that too.”

  I sealed my lips, realizing it might be in everyone's best interests if I didn't answer that.

  Fortunately, “Here we are,” Toby said, and I lifted my eyes to the round pen that was pitched behind the tents. Inside, Char stood dozing. He had a bandage around one leg below the knee and a few nicks and slashes healing up over his coat, but there was a peaceful, indifferent look on his face. A smile of relief swept over my face.

  “Hey, handsome,” I murmured, and his ears perked in my direction. Almost as an afterthought he opened his eyes to peer out at whoever had come calling. I dangled a hand through the bars of the fence, leaving the terms of our reunion up to him. He blinked once, and then his legs creaked as he stirred, deciding to come closer. He did not throw his head over the bars like the others, and in fact stopped shy of the fence, but I reached out and he placed his muzzle against the curve of my palm. A peace slackened my shoulders, and I smiled as I gazed in at him. We were both okay. And he didn't hold anything against me.

  Toby let me have a moment, and then ventured to inquire, “You okay here?”

  “Yeah.” I glanced at him in appreciation. “Thanks, Toby.”

  He nodded, glanced once more at Char, and then wandered off to see to his own devices.

  I returned my attention to Char, rotating my hand to run the backs of my fingers down the handsome structure of his face. Content to allow me the contact, he went back to dozing under my touch, the occasional twitch of his tail swatting at a fly the only ounce of restlessness he seemed to possess.

  Pressing my forehead against the top rung of the fence, I put the rhythmic stroki
ng of my fingers on auto-pilot and gradually let my own eyelids drift shut, content to maintain the therapeutic motions until someone happened by to direct me back to bed-rest.

  *

  The next day played out much the same in terms of exercising my capabilities, and by the third evening I managed to join the others for the end-of-day meal. Jay had grown adept at babying me, and now did it with an ease that spared me having to look like a coddle-soaked infant. He ascertained I was perched with ample support upon my log bench, and served me before taking his own sustenance.

  My appetite still wasn't what it should have been, and so even being served first, Jay was finished before I was.

  “I need to put some gear up,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” I granted, and he chewed his last bite and stood. I poked another bite into my mouth, getting comfortable to wait for his return.

  It was the Lieutenant that made an appearance before I was finished, though. I'd heard she was back in Safeguard for the time being, but I hadn't seen her yet.

  “Lieutenant,” I said, somehow failing to expect that she would come to me.

  “Alannis.” She sat in her no-nonsense style on the log across the coals from me – the plate of food in her hands the only casual factor that softened her brusque manner. “Good to see you up and around among the living.”

  I didn't quite know how to address my situation, in her presence. After all, my suicidal stunt had been one that interfered with her battle. And if it hadn't amounted to interfering, well...it surely still counted as putting in my destructive two cents, in a way that could not be commendable. I had mostly moved on from the incident, but I hadn't seen her since it happened, and suddenly I felt awkward at the prospect of having to rehash any of the details and perhaps even be reprimanded now that I just wanted to put it behind me and forget that it happened.

  “You're...here to reprimand me, now that I'm healthy enough to receive it,” I hazarded concluding, ducking my head a little shame-facedly. It would be best just to acknowledge it and get it over with.

  “Shall I tell you what you did wrong?”

  I nodded vaguely, humbling myself in allowance.

  “There is no good outcome that can come of what you did. It was reckless, it was foolish, and it endangered your life and the lives of others. You are inexperienced and could end up being a handicap to all of us out there. We got lucky. You got lucky.”

  The vague nod bobbed again, acknowledging the weight of my mistake.

  “But,” the Lieutenant went on, pausing a moment as if for effect before continuing. “I don't need to tell you that. I don't need to tell you that charging toward an oncoming wave of violent beasts and men is reckless, or that killing men can't ever be counted as a 'good outcome' of someone's actions. I don't need to tell you that war – this war, all war – is foolish. Also, inexperience has never stopped someone from being a hero, and I dare-say experience is not what typically defines one.”

  A frown of bemusement tugged at my brows, and I raised my head slightly, not anticipating this turn in the conversation.

  “And,” she went on, “that you could be a handicap doesn't mean that you were, and it's not as if I can claim that any one of us doesn't desire to get lucky again.”

  My frown deepened, and I had less of an idea of what to say now than when she started. “What...are you saying?” I hazarded.

  “Call me a feminist,” she dismissed, “or just some misguided bad sport in this business who likes winning more than she likes losing, but I'm not going to be one of the ones who tells you that you have no business on the battlefield. I will say I don't know what you were thinking, but I'm not about to discount what you seem to have accomplished out there as some presumptuous prank to be scolded and nipped in the bud.”

  I opened my mouth, but it closed again, at a loss. What she was saying was overwhelmingly not what I expected. And since I could not seem to process it properly, I turned to something else for the moment; “I actually killed?” I asked, icing my nerves for the confirmation lest the answer make me sick to my stomach.

  “It's best to leave hits open-ended, Miss Wilde,” the Lieutenant advised, refusing to be that source of confirmation. “The reality in that area can only ever be a harmful pill to swallow, and... Once you start counting...”

  That was enough to make me duly queasy in and of itself, and I nodded in a small state of shock, suddenly grateful that it was her policy not to confirm what I had thought I wanted to know.

  “So,” Sonya said with a much more curt sense of finality. “What I'm trying to say is: rest up. You have some interesting courses of action to consider – none of which very keenly involve being laid-up until further notice.” With that, she stood, her plate finished. “Is someone coming back to help you to your tent?”

  Dumbly, I nodded. It seemed all I had been doing of late. Satisfied, the Lieutenant took her leave. I sat there, reconsidering the challenge of getting back up on a horse as soon as possible. If it was to be expected of me... Jay would just have to get over his concern.

  Not to mention coming to terms with a lot more of it in the weeks and months that followed.

  Nineteen –

  I was content to depend on Jay for everything that I required except for one thing – and that one thing, I took to Toby.

  I had not counted the days since my awakening, but who was counting? When it was time for something, it was time. There was no magic number that I could have used to count down to this moment, and so I simply decided one day that this was the day, instinctively. In truth it might have been 'impulsively', or even 'presumptuously', but there were larger things than my ailments afoot in the world, and certain expectations – unrealistic or otherwise – that had fallen on me and everyone that existed in our time because of it. Luxuries were a thing of the past. As good as fantasy now. Sustaining an injury was inconvenient, but it could not serve as a thing that ruled us. There were battles to be fought. People were dying out there one way or another, and an injured soul could risk his life as surely as a healthy one. After all, where was the sense in letting a perfectly healthy soul take the fall in my place if I was already half-way gone? Might as well suffer the brunt of it if I had to suffer one way or another instead of spreading it around.

  And, anyway, I was dying to get back up on a horse. I felt like a bird who had had its wings clipped, yet hadn't been put in the cage that would have been the final word. Freedom was maddening when you had been robbed of your ability to take flight. It was tantalizing. Cruel. Torture.

  I found Toby in the barn talking to one of the older trainers, and hovered in the shadows until he was finished. Having noticed my loitering, he came over as soon as the conversation wrapped up.

  “What's up?” he asked.

  “I wondered if you could help me.”

  “What are you up against?”

  “I want to ride.”

  He cocked a red-tinged eyebrow. “Are you ready for that?”

  “It can't hurt me to sit on a horse,” I said. “It's not like the thing is going to buck me off – they would never do that. Not to me.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just give me a leg up. I don't want to wrench anything trying myself just yet.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, considering. “Sure,” he concluded in the end, and a flash of triumph lit inside me. I led him from the barn, and out to Char's pen. “This is your beast of choice?” he asked. “Are you sure he's not going to pull any post-traumatic-stress nonsense when you touch down on his back and remind him of what happened the last time?”

  “Don't be ridiculous – he's the most level-headed of any of them.”

  “Alright,” Toby gave in, and I could not help but be grateful that he was so easy to convince. Jay would not have been nearly so accommodating.

  We slipped through the fence – me putting entirely more care into bending and straightening than I ever would have thought I'd have to – and approached Char. Tod
ay he regarded us with more perk, sensing there was more to our visit this time around.

  “Let him smell you first,” I advised, for Char was still particular about his humans – or at least, he had been last I'd known, but of course that had been before my black-out. Still, there was no sense taking any chances of upsetting him if I was planning on getting on his back. And after all, Toby was the Fire Man. But judging by how Char had stared down flame in our sessions, I didn't think that would be an issue.

  Extending a hand, Toby let Char sniff it a moment, but then Char lost interest. Apparently not satisfied being blown off so easily when he was making an effort, Toby moved to stroke the stallion's neck, running his hand underneath Char's mane.

  I ran my own hands slowly over the equine's back, preparing myself for making my return debut onto that pedestal.

  “Ready?” Toby asked.

  “Let's do it.”

  He moved to my side, stooping and linking his hands for my foot to go into. I placed my boot in his grasp, taking a breath.

  “Alright,” I said, and as I shifted my weight off the ground and used him like a step, he tensed and straightened to help propel me upward. “Easy does it,” I urged just for good measure, for he had already cultivated ease into the transition. And then, bracing myself, I cleared Char's back and swung my leg over.

  I let a breath out, smiled.

  Toby flashed his teeth up at me, resting his hand on Char's shoulder. “Easy as pie,” he congratulated. Inevitably, I swelled just a little bit, elated being back in my element. Toby laughed. “You forgot how good it felt to look down on the world, didn't you?”

  “All I've known these past few weeks is how rotten it felt not to.”