Dreamsnake

Snake remembered the coil of reptiles beneath the branches, and touched the blood on her hand. She wiped it away, revealing the double puncture of a bite among the scratches of the thorns. The wound was slightly swollen. “It needs cleaning,” she said. “I shame myself by falling to it.” The pain of it washed in gentle waves up her arm, burning no longer. She stood looking at the young man, looking around her, watching the landscape shift and change as her tired eyes tried to cope with the low light of setting moon and false dawn. “You held Mist well, and bravely,” she said to the young man. “I thank you.”

He lowered his gaze, almost bowing to her. He rose and approached her. Snake put her hand on Mist’s neck so she would not be alarmed.

“I would be honored,” the young man said, “if you would call me Arevin.”

“I would be pleased to.”

Snake knelt down and held the winding white loops as Mist crawled slowly into her compartment. In a little while, when Mist had stabilized, by dawn, they could go to Stavin.

The tip of Mist’s white tail slid out of sight. Snake closed the case and would have risen, but she could not stand. She had not quite shaken off the effects of the new venom. The flesh around the wound was red and tender, but the hemorrhaging would not spread. She stayed where she was, slumped, staring at her hand, creeping slowly in her mind toward what she needed to do, this time for herself.

“Let me help you. Please.”

He touched her shoulder and helped her stand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so in need of rest…”

“Let me wash your hand,” Arevin said. “And then you can sleep. Tell me when to awaken you—”

“I can’t sleep yet.” She collected herself, straightened, tossed the damp curls of her short hair off her forehead. “I’m all right now. Have you any water?”

Arevin loosened his outer robe. Beneath it he wore a loincloth and a leather belt that carried several leather flasks and pouches. His body was lean and well built, his legs long and muscular. The color of his skin was slightly lighter than the sun-darkened brown of his face. He brought out his water flask and reached for Snake’s hand.

“No, Arevin. If the poison gets in any small scratch you might have, it could infect.”

She sat down and sluiced lukewarm water over her hand. The water dripped pink to the ground and disappeared, leaving not even a damp spot visible. The wound bled a little more, but now it only ached. The poison was almost inactivated.

“I don’t understand,” Arevin said, “how it is that you’re unhurt. My younger sister was bitten by a sand viper.” He could not speak as uncaringly as he might have wished. “We could do nothing to save her—nothing we have would even lessen her pain.”

Snake gave him his flask and rubbed salve from a vial in her belt pouch across the closing punctures. “It’s a part of our preparation,” she said. “We work with many kinds of serpents, so we must be immune to as many as possible.” She shrugged. “The process is tedious and somewhat painful.” She clenched her fist; the film held, and she was steady. She leaned toward Arevin and touched his abraded cheek again. “Yes…” She spread a thin layer of the salve across it. “That will help it heal.”

“If you cannot sleep,” Arevin said, “can you at least rest?”

“Yes,” she said. “For a little while.”

Snake sat next to Arevin, leaning against him, and they watched the sun turn the clouds to gold and flame and amber. The simple physical contact with another human being gave Snake pleasure, though she found it unsatisfying. Another time, another place, she might do something more, but not here, not now.

When the lower edge of the sun’s bright smear rose above the horizon, Snake got up and teased Mist out of the case. She came slowly, weakly, and crawled across Snake’s shoulders. Snake picked up the satchel, and she and Arevin walked together back to the small group of tents.

Stavin’s parents waited, watching for her, just outside the entrance of their tent. They stood in a tight, defensive, silent group. For a moment Snake thought they had decided to send her away. Then, with regret and fear like hot iron in her mouth, she asked if Stavin had died. They shook their heads, and allowed her to enter.

Stavin lay as she had left him, still asleep. The adults followed her with their stares. Mist flicked out her tongue, growing nervous from the smell of fear.

“I know you would stay,” Snake said. “I know you would help, if you could, but there is nothing to be done by any person but me. Please go back outside.”