by James Murdo
Gil bore no grudge against her brother for her misfortune. He had been equally as distraught as her. His feelings of guilt had only been assuaged, and rightly so, through Gil’s obvious affection and forgiveness towards him. If anything, their bond had strengthened. They had been born at the same time, and despite what had happened, he was highly protective of her. He had grown into a tough and clever young man, and was now one of the most capable in the commune.
The only real grief she had suffered with Tor, had been the loss of their father. Their mother had died giving birth to them, and their father had been their only family besides each other. As was not too uncommon, neither of their parents had been born within the commune. Both had joined it separately. Of all the people currently in the commune, about a quarter of them, mainly adults, came from elsewhere.
Thinking about her father was still painful. With the help of the commune, he had raised them, and they loved him unconditionally. He had been one of the strongest and most able men, and was well-respected. Gil was proud that Tor was such a close reflection of him, especially in looks and how he held himself. Tor’s skin was a little darker, but he had the same strong and agile build. He also had those rare piercing green eyes, the same as Gil and their father.
She knew that her own inquisitive nature, her desire to create and dream, were attributable to their father’s influence. When they had been younger, her father had told them strange and wonderful stories, many of which Gil had unfortunately forgotten or only half-remembered as time passed. Many were about his own travels and experiences, although equally as many had been crafted to amuse and delight his children. She remembered how he said that he had come from a far-off commune, and that he had searched and searched for a better life. After many years of wandering, sometimes with roamer clans, sometimes stopping to stay with other communes for brief periods, and sometimes staying with other groups that Gil did not quite understand, he had found their current commune and made it his home.
Some years ago, a sickness had come. Before long it had taken hold of many of the communers. The unlucky ones who were susceptible to it suffered aggressive fevers and quickly grew dangerously weak. Some, such as Gil and Tor, were unaffected, and some recovered, but many had died. Old or young, it did not matter. At the time, their father had volunteered to go alongside another man, Yul, to travel in search of help. There were rumours that other distant communes were unaffected, but no one knew for sure.
Gil still remembered the day her father had set off. Kneeling on one knee he had hugged them both in turn, told them to behave, and left. Yul had been their father’s best friend, and she knew that neither would knowingly allow anything disastrous to befall the other. Clearly, she had been too young to understand the perils of such a journey.
Neither had returned. Gil was ashamed to remember that she did not even realise as her father’s impressive presence in her sphere had disappeared, alongside Yul’s. No one in the commune, including the wise Bo who possessed the strongest sphere of those left, had noticed, which was awful. Both her father and Yul should still have been close enough to be sensed by many communers. Alongside everyone else, Gil had been so busy tending to the sick that she had been complacent in checking they were safe, as had Tor.
Once the commune had recovered, thankfully, subsequent trips had been made by numerous communers to try to uncover the fate that had befallen her father and Yul. Nothing was found. Gil comforted herself with the thought that, no matter how unlikely, there was a chance they had become lost and disoriented. It had been known to happen, though only in extreme cases. People could usually rely on their spheres to guide them back, as sphere ranges were generally far greater than the other senses. If they had been running from something, a dangerous animal perhaps, Gil was confident they would have been able to outsmart it, although their escape might have involved travelling far away. She often dreamt vivid scenarios in which her father and Yul overcame many different obstacles and trials, and were finally able to begin the long journey home. One day, she wanted to believe, she would see her father again. Tor rarely spoke of their father to her, but she knew that he thought about him often too. She could tell that he moulded himself to be more like him.
The reprieve over, Gil shrugged off her nostalgic thoughts and dreams, and got back to work. Her day’s toil was nearly done, and she was looking forward to finishing.