Nyasha wasn’t sure what she had expected. Bron just stood there in the doorway, staring at her, and behind him Calea was working her way over to them and frowning like a thundercloud. They didn’t want her to come.
The smile slowly faded from Nyasha’s face, but it didn’t matter. She was coming.
She thrust the sack of food into Bron’s arms. “Here, take it. I gathered it from my old house. My mama always kept a well-stocked larder.” Bron reached out reflexively to relieve her of the burden, then continued to just stand there as if he didn’t know what to do, the silly man.
Nyasha’s hands ached from digging through the wreckage of her old home. Fortunately, the lean-to larder had been at the back of the house, so she hadn’t had to search where her parents had died. Papa had built that larder himself because the little space that came with the house hadn’t been large enough for Mama’s needs. When the house had collapsed, it had remained partly standing. Papa built things sturdy.
The house had been still and quiet. She hadn’t seen any neighbors. Her hands shook as she approached, unsure of what she’d find. The memory of her mama and papa, wrapped in each other’s arms in the rubble, was sharp and awful in her mind. No one had come to look for her while she’d been trapped. Why would anyone have taken care of…that?
But one of the first things Nyasha noticed, when she was finally able to see through the tears blurring her vision, was something new in the backyard. Nyasha approached, trembling, mind blank. She couldn’t imagine what it was.
Two fresh mounds of dirt, two grave markers made of broken planks from the debris. Someone had carved in the wood with a knife, simply inscribing her parents’ names. Asha and Brand Cormorin.
Nyasha wept for a long time, kneeling between the graves in the damp grass. It was mostly grief and pain, but with a lot of gratitude mixed in, too. Someone had cared. Someone had cared enough to bury them. She hadn’t known that anyone in Averieom gave even that much thought to her family.
It didn’t change her resolution to leave. This tiny village held nothing for her now. Her work at the Medical Sanctuary had just been something to pass the time; she’d always known that. She called no one here her friend, though there were certain folks she was friendly with. She had no reason to stay.
The only person she might really consider a friend…in all the world, really…was Bron. Nyasha knew how pathetic that would sound if she said it aloud, so she didn’t. If Bron was leaving, she would too. And, fortuitously, the Jalseians wanted to go to Thyrion, where her family had come from in the first place. She might have cousins there, maybe even an aunt or two. It was the only place she could think to go, and Bron was already heading there. It was perfect.
So Nyasha had gathered as much food as she could. And she was going.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Calea said, making her way over to the door to frown at Nyasha along with Bron. “You’re not going.”
“You need me,” Nyasha said. She had worked this all out in her head. “Your prosthetics aren’t perfect–not even close. I will bring tools from the clinic and keep adjusting them until they are as comfortable as possible. You need a guide, and I know the way through the mountains. It’s not just one path, it’s many; and I’m no artist, so any map I made would be confusing. Much better for me to come along instead. Besides that, I have the food you need. I’m not just giving it to you. If you want it, you have to take me, too.”
“Oh, dear.” And that was poor Dr. Burdock, coming out of the exam room to look on the proceedings with wide, worried eyes. “Nyasha, you’re leaving me, too?”
Nyasha gave him a sad smile. She truly did like Eman Burdock, and he’d been nothing but kind to her since Bron had brought her back, covered with dust and blank with the horror of her ordeal. She was sorry to leave him, but she had to. “Yes, Dr. Burdock. Please forgive me.”
“Why are you standing there in the doorway? At least come in and talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” But she crossed the threshold and went to him, putting her arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you. You’ve been wonderful to me. But I have to go.”
“Oh.” He drew back and held her shoulders, looking her gently in the eyes. “Yes, I suppose you do. This place holds too much sadness for you now.”
Nyasha sniffed, suddenly overwhelmed, and could only nod.
Dr. Burdock wiped the wetness away from the corner of her eye with his thumb. “I hope someday at least you can visit. I’d be sorry to never see you again.”
“You’ll be all right.” She took his hands and squeezed them. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Even Calea had no more objections.
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