by J Seab
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Willow ran after Rick as best she could, still trying to adjust the straps on the pack that bounced on her shoulders, hoping she had gathered everything she needed to tend the dolfina’s wound.
She was worried—deeply worried.
Her dolfina first-aid skills were weak even though she had spent more time studying dolfinas than anyone else had in Etus. Dolfina-human contact was rare outside Dolfina Beach, a fishing village south of Oak Cove. Rarer still was Oak Cove’s resident dolfina, Misti, who spent much of her time in the pond beside Hevens Inn on the outer circle.
Although it wasn’t really a pond, she thought as fond memories slipped into her mind while she ran along the familiar path. That’s just what everybody called it. It was more like a basin that bulged off Chilly Creek. And it was a favored swimming spot for the town’s kids, especially when Misti was there to give rides.
Willow thought back to her first ride. She was maybe five or six, still felt oddly confused and withdrawn after she’d been found in a small reed boat washed ashore on the west coast of Ten Sees. Med Servitor Arla had taken over her care and she’d lived with Arla ever since. Willow’s origins were never discovered and her memories of before remained a blank. Med Servitor Arla, for all practical purposes, was her mom.
Twine Farlow had suggested that Misti might help with her recovery. He took Willow to the pond, holding her hand tightly. At first she was scared but Twine soothed her fear with tales about the many hours he and Misti spent together and her gentleness. Misti, chatting friendly sounding encouragement, floated close by.
Twine led Willow into the water, showed her how to straddle Misti behind her dorsal fin and told her to hang on as he stepped back. With a big-eyed look at Twine, Willow grasped Misti’s fin tightly in her little hands.
Misti turned and swam toward the center of the pond, gaining speed, the water sluicing around Willow.
Suddenly, Willow’s fears evaporated as if they never were. She laughed and cried from the joy of wind and wave washing over her, from the warmth of the sun on her skin and the fresh smells and splashes of the cool pond water, from the rhythmic beat of the dolfina’s tail and the brush of smooth skin against her legs.
That was the moment that Willow awakened to the beauty of life, that she learned to move beyond the mysteries of her birth, and that she learned to love dolfinas and all the creatures of sky, sea, and land.
It was her beginning.
Willow slowed, her breaths coming sharp and insistent. She had run only a few miles but already she was winded.
Little Rick danced in front of her, running backwards, the anxiety and impatience plain on his face. Willow wasn’t that athletic. Even a ten-year-old could outdo her. She sighed.
Willow didn’t suit her name well. Rather than thin and nimble, she was rugged and strong—sturdy, most called her. Although some labeled her beautiful, it wasn’t because of her physical attributes. Her short-cropped hair was just a shade too dull and wispy to be called golden, her hazel eyes too deep-set to be compelling, and her lips too thin and determined to be alluring. Willow’s name never came up when young men gathered to brag about their experiences of the sweetness and charm of the town’s female inhabitants.
Willow rarely seemed to notice this lack of male attention.
It wasn’t because she didn’t like it, sometimes. She even had a special friend but she didn’t like to think of him as a boyfriend. He was just a good friend to share things with, someone to whom she felt a special attachment, someone she had grown up with. Med Servitor Arla kept her too busy studying the healing arts these days to do much else. In another couple of years, maybe, she would have more time for socializing. Besides, she was barely twenty, still trying to sort her physical yearnings from male emotional bonding. At least, so Arla kept telling her.
Suddenly, as if her thoughts summoned him, she heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Wait up.”
Willow rumbled to a stop, glad for an excuse to suck in a few deep breaths as she turned around. Geldane ran up to her, breathing easily even though he must have raced to catch up.
“Hey, Willow, what’s up?”
“Hey, Geldane,” Willow panted. Placing one hand on Geldane’s shoulder, she took a final deep breath and then smiled up at him. The warmth of companionship passed between them.
Gesturing at Rick, she said, “Mel and Rick found a stranded dolfina at Salty Flats, wounded, Rick says.”
Geldane bounced on his toes, the questions popping out in rapid fire. “Wounded, how? Is it bad? Do we know her? Maybe I could help?” He continued to bounce.
“Geldane, settle down,” she said putting both hands on his shoulders and pressing down lightly. “I don’t know but I’m sure we could use some of your brawn,” she teased, glad of the offer. “You and Rick go on ahead, help Mel keep her wetted down. I’ll catch up.”
“Can I take your pack?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said pulling at the straps again. “Go,” she waved.
“Yup hup,” he agreed and then turned to Rick. “Race ya.”
With that they were off. Willow plodded after them and was quickly left behind.
It’s not that she was physically inept or flabby. She frowned. Maybe she could lose a few pounds but it wasn’t enough to be incapacitating. She just didn’t have much stamina. She started off strong but quickly faded. She couldn’t remember a time that she could keep going without a rest.
Not that it mattered much these days. Most of her time was spent with her studies or helping at the Doma’s clinic. There were always a few farmers and crafters trickling in from the surrounding communities who needed cuts mended or infections treated.
Even with this consuming most of her day she still made it a point to spend at least a couple of hours tending Hevens Inn’s gardens. Twine took advantage of her skills to grow most of the fresh spices and herbs that he used for cooking. The shorter the time between the ground and the pot, the better the stew, he’d say. Willow suspected that Twine had a copy of a copy of an ancient text of famous sayings that he borrowed liberally from, but he’d never admit it. Didn’t matter much, Willow thought. They were always good points to ponder.
But it was more than the tilling and care she spent on her plants. She had a knack for growing things. It was almost as if she could sense the plants’ needs—how much water or nutrients they required or when insects or parasites plagued them. Whatever the case, her gardens were the best in the community. Her herbs and spices were always robust and flavorful, her medicinal plants more potent than others. She didn’t understand exactly why. She’d tell people she just listened better to what the plants said.
A few were starting to believe her.
As Willow neared Salty Flats, she slowed to a fast walk. Breathing heavily, she looked about for the others. She quickly spotted Rick standing atop a distant rise waving his arms.
She started to run toward him, apprehension clutching her heart, making her forget, for the moment, the heaving of her chest. I hope it’s not too bad, she thought. Maybe I should have asked Arla to come. A deep gash can be dangerous. She must be suffering. Did I bring the cleansing potion? She almost stopped to check and then realized how silly that was. She had everything she needed.
She ran faster.
Rick, seeing her coming, turned and started pointing down the other side of the rise with one hand waving her on with the other.
After huffing to the top of the rise, she saw Mel and Geldane working a short distance below. They were busy soaking cloths in the water and squeezing them out over their shirts which were draped across the dolfina’s body. Rick said something to her but she was too preoccupied to answer just now. She ran down the slope.
Geldane saw her first and tapped Mel on the arm.
“Hey, Mel, Geldane. How is she?” Willow asked coming to a stop before them, her apprehension muted by the demands of her responsibilities. She heard a rattle of loose rocks as Rick came down behind h
er.
“Don’t know for certain,” Mel said, scratching at his chin. “She’s mostly quiet now, but a moment ago she was thrashing around. It seems to come and go.”
“All right, let me take a look. All of you,” she instructed, “stand over there and try to shade her as much as you can. You, Rick, make certain there’s no sun in her eyes.”
Shucking her pack, she knelt before the dolfina who stirred feebly, watching. Stroking her gently, Willow looked into her eyes. Beyond the layer of pain and exhaustion she found a depth of angst so intense that it startled her. Blinking back a sudden empathy that moistened her eyes, she fell back on her heels, momentarily dazed.
“Willow, you alright?” Geldane demanded insistently, his voice penetrating through her daze.
“Oh, sure,” she said but unsure it was true. This was no ordinary dolfina. And the gash in her side was not some incidental scratch obtained from a dolfina squabble.
Willow, now fully engaged, scooted over and removed the shirt covering the wound. She winced when she saw the extent of the injury. A deep gash about thirty centimeters long ran along her flank. It was a bite mark, Willow sensed at once, maybe a shark’s.
Willow slid closer to the dolfina’s head. Making hand signs to accompany her words she said, “Hi. I Willow. I healer. Help you. Understand?”
The dolfina nodded and twittered a yes, her life pulsing dully to Willow’s senses, like waves of heat dissipating in the air.
Willow, her voice thick with concern, said to the others, “She’s not doing well.” Placing a hand gently on the dolfina’s head she tried to convey a sense of solace and calm. “At least she understands dolfina-speak, maybe she’s from the Dolfina Isles.”
“Do you think we should send someone down to Dolfina Beach to ask around?” Geldane asked, standing quietly for once.
“That’s a good idea but first let’s see if we can get her name.” She signed again to the dolfina, “You, name?”
The dolfina twittered, “Swiik. I Watcher.”
Willow glanced up at Geldane. “Swiik. Her name is Swiik. And I think she said she was a Watcher. I’m not sure what that means.” She turned back to the dolfina. “You Swiik. Correct?”
Swiik responded with a yes twitter.
Willow glanced at Geldane. “Our first priority is to stabilize her. We’ll try to find where she’s from later, that alright?”
“Yup hup.”
Willow smiled her thanks and then scooted back to her pack. She pulled out a stoppered vial and washed the wound with a tincture of goldenseal root, comfrey, and garlic. Satisfied that it was clean, she reached into her pack and removed a jar of lanolin and a cube of beeswax wrapped in tissue. She also took out a small wood mixing board with a hollow carved into its surface. Placing this on the ground she proceeded to mix the tincture, lanolin, and beeswax, making a thin paste.
“Whatcha doing now?” Rick asked, leaning closer from his position at Swiik’s head.
“I’m making a paste to pack into the wound until we can get her to the pond.”
“The pond? We’re going to take her to the pond?”
“Yes, we need Misti’s help to care for her.”
“Is she going to die?”
“I don’t know, Rick,” Willow responded with a renewed twinge of apprehension. The angry pulsations from Swiik’s wound were beginning to ease but her energies remained depleted and weak. “I’m doing everything I can to keep that from happening,” she said, hiding the distress she felt as she finished blending the ingredients. “Rick, I need you to do something really important. I need you to run back to the village. Go to Twine. Tell him about the dolfina and then ask him to get a couple of people to bring us a fishing flat and some rope so we can tow her up Chilly Creek.” She looked over at Rick. “Can you do that for me? Can you go really fast?”
“Sure I can,” he said, jumping up. “I’ll be an eagle.”
Willow watched him race up the slope and disappear over its crest, screeching and flapping all the way. Certainly no shortage of energy there, she thought with a wry grin. She turned back to her work. As she scooped a blob of salve from the board with her spatula she told the dolfina, “Swiik, I put medicine on wound. You feel little hurt. Sorry.” With that, she quickly smeared a thick bead of salve into the wound. Swiik trembled slightly but otherwise lay still.
“Swiik good?” Willow asked, stroking her along her flank.
“I good,” Swiik twittered raising her head. “Feel better. I Watcher. Need talk.”
Medicine vials clinked and smells of ointments drifted in the still air as Willow returned her things to the pack, her thoughts focused on her tasks. “We talk later. I promise. First we go little water in Oak Cove. You know?”
Nodding once, Swiik lay back again.
“We need to wrap a shirt around the wound. I’ll need both of you to put your hands under her and lift. Mel, you come over to this side.”
Geldane and Mel lifted her enough for Willow to wrap and tie the makeshift bandage.
“Now the hard part,” Willow said, standing. “She’s small but still probably weighs a hundred kilograms. We need to get her back into the water as soon as possible. Do you think we should wait for more help?” she asked, looking at each in turn.
“We can do it if we take it in stages,” Mel said.
“Once we get her off these rocks,” Geldane said, pointing, “it’ll be easier. We’ll just have to lift her enough to slide her along that sandy track.”
“Let’s give a try, anyway,” Mel suggested.
Willow nodded an uncertain assent. “Swiik?”
“Yes, do. Willow help Swiik. Need talk.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Willow nodded at Mel and Geldane. “Let’s try. I’ll protect her flipper as you two roll her on her stomach.”
Geldane and Mel moved into position.
Willow raised her eyebrows. “Ready?”
“Yup hup, let’s do it,” Geldane said.
“Go, then. Easy and slow,” Willow said.
The two men rolled Swiik to her stomach as Willow eased the weight against her flipper.
Willow placed a hand on Swiik’s head in front of her blowhole. She felt hot and dry. Mel’s shirt, draped over the dolfina’s back, was barely damp. “We must hurry. Slip your hands beneath her, lift and slide to move her. I’ll straddle her tail end.”
They quickly moved into position.
“Ready?” They nodded. “Go.”
Working in small steps, they half slid, half carried Swiik the twenty meters to a shallow finger of Knok Gulf that poked into the shore. Once in the water the process became easier. A short time later Swiik was floating in deeper water.
“Swiik good?” Willow asked.
“I better,” Swiik said, followed by a long breath. “Need talk. Have made-thing?”
“Made-thing?” Willow looked around, then at Mel. “She’s asking about a thing?”
“Tell her I have it. I’ll show it to you later,” he said, patting his belt pack.
“Mel,” she said, pointing, “has made-thing. Talk soon. In pond, in little water.”
“Soon.” Swiik’s breaths still came more rapidly than usual, two or three a minute. And Willow didn’t like the sound of them: ragged, uneven. Even her speech was growing more labored. I’ll give her some white willow bark tea, she decided. That will help with the inflammation and pain.
“Stay with her,” she said, scrambling back to shore. She ran back to her pack, picked it up, and, while dashing back, rummaged within to get the tea. Splashing over to Swiik, she shrugged on her pack and removed the stopper from the vial. “Drink tea. Feel better.”
Swiik responded by lifting her head and opening her mouth. Willow poured a small amount of tea into the back of Swiik’s throat. Swiik swallowed then took another deep, ragged breath and lay still, her head supported by the two men standing on either side.
“Let’s start moving her toward the creek inlet,” Willow said. “That will hel
p cool her.”
“What about the fishing flat?” Mel asked. “How will they find us?”
Squinting up at the sun, Willow judged that the morning was well advanced. The onshore breeze had stilled, and it was warming up enough to be uncomfortable. There were a few high, wispy clouds but they did little to blunt the sun’s heat. “They’ll find us. It won’t be long. It’s more important that we get her as quickly as possible to shelter. I’d like Arla to take a look at her too,” she said as raw edges of panic began to nip at her mind. Swiik might not survive.
“Let’s do it then,” Geldane said. “We won’t get there by standing around talking about it.”
“Point taken,” Mel said.
Willow looked into Swiik’s eyes, her concern evident. Signing, she said, “Swiik rest. We move you.”
Mel touched Willow’s shoulder. “You’re doing fine, Willow. She’ll be fine.”
Eyes moist, Willow took a deep breath. That was one problem she always had with her chosen career—she empathized too much with her patients. She worried that she wasn’t doing enough, that she couldn’t heal them with a touch. All her potions and ointments worked too slowly and sometimes didn’t seem to work at all. Arla told her she must be patient, learn everything she could, and, always, do her best. Often, all that was needed was that she care. “Maybe. I hope so.”
They turned to their task.
A short while later, they heard shouting from the shore. Almost a dozen people had showed up. Four of them were carrying a small fishing flat into the water. They had already removed the two benches and storage box from its surface leaving just the logs lashed together with thick hemp. Another person followed with a tall pile of blankets. With all the help it didn’t take long to lift Swiik onto the flat, pad her with moistened blankets, and tow it upstream toward the pond where Misti, Twine, and Med Servitor Arla waited anxiously.
Willow knelt at Swiik’s head as they traveled, her hand resting lightly against the dolfina’s fevered skin and her thoughts tumbling with disjointed fragments. What else? The wound must be sutured. What more could she do?
Willow slumped, her stomach in a knot.
And what was a Watcher? Where did she come from? That brief rapport Willow felt with Swiik told her that Swiik was more than an ordinary sentient dolfina, that she was more like Misti—a dolfina with an extraordinary depth of life-awareness. What message did she bring that was more vital than her life?
Willow could not let Swiik die, could not let her ordeal pass in vain.
Chapter 2