GABRIELLE SPENT THE HOURS BEFORE NOON in stiffness and pain. She cursed herself
silently, not wanting to upset Raphael any further. Giving in to her grief and loneliness
last night had created all of the elements of restless, unsatisfying sleep. Her muscles
were sore and her emotions were ragged. Worst of all, it hadn't given her time or energy
to explore her nagging sense that Xena's entrapment had an answer.
Usually, she cherished her sleep for the insights it provided in the outlets of her
dreams. On other days, waking up was enough to give her a fresh perspective on things. Not
today. The hours spent recovering from last evening's collapse were filled with
frustration and anger.
It wasn't until she decided to stretch and meditate that she finally felt an ease and
sense of balance steal over her. As her body opened to her muscles and breath, her heart
and mind relaxed and things settled to a peaceful hum. She opened her eyes and spent
several moments staring at the embers of the morning's fire.
She rose to her feet and checked on Raphael. He grazed outside under the overcast sky. It
was much colder than yesterday had been-it was funny how much effect the winter sun had on
the air. There would be no surprise if it snowed, now... this high up on the plateaued
land, with the ocean not many leagues distant, anything could happen. Anything.
The gelding lifted his head and pricked his ears forward. Gabrielle watched as he swiveled
them, tracking something she couldn't hear. He even swung his head around to look
rearward, then flicked his tail, satisfied, and resumed grazing.
She turned back to the interior of the lean–to and decided to light the lantern.
There wasn't enough sunlight today, especially with the shutters closed. She was pleased
that they had held firm through the night. There was nothing to do that didn't require at
least some close–up handwork. She decided to give the scrolls a rest and get on with
minor repairs to the tack and her boots. After that, she planned to inspect her utensils
and foodstores so that her next trip into a town could be used to replenish supplies.
The light of the lantern was strong enough to keep the needlework doable, but when
Gabrielle looked up at the sound of the shutters rattling gently, she had to blink the
blurriness away. It didn't work. She shifted her gaze to the fireplace, then to the door,
then over to her cooking area. There was no blur in her visual field until she found her
way back to the window frame.
"Xena?" she asked.
The hazy outline moved away from the window, then Gabrielle lost track of it. A blur
appeared in front of the fireplace, affording her an opportunity to scan it. No higher
than her shoulders, if she were standing up... the blurry shape shifted and dissolved.
Gabrielle got up and ran to the window frame as the shutters shook again. In a few
seconds, they were still.
She looked down at her arm. A peculiar tingling almost like an itch called for her
attention. She tried scratching it, but through the arm of the coat it didn't work very
well. Ignoring the itch would make it disappear, she knew, so she ambled over to the
fireplace.
I can't believe I've neglected this for two full days. It's got to be cleaned out
before I burn the place down.
With fire tools retrieved from a saddlebag, she bent over to remove the pile of ash that
had gathered during her stay. She froze in place.
The gathering of ashes....
She blocked the thought. Going back to where she'd been last night was not an option. Time
was running out, of that she was sure. She needed all of her wits and strength.
As she scooped the ashes up, her forearm echoed the tingling she'd felt at the windowsill,
though much less intrusive.
I wonder if I've been bitten by something?
Once all the ashes were gathered, Gabrielle headed for the front door, but when she
reached it, she stopped, her feet rooted to the floor. She'd never had so much trouble
cleaning a fireplace before.
Am I losing it at last? Gods, I can't afford to now!
She moved to go outside, but found her feet taking her to the one unused corner of the
cabin. Curious, she followed the feeling, and dumped the ashes into a small rusted
metallic container embedded in the wall. In disbelief and harboring a tiny sense of mirth,
she replaced the tools in the saddlebag.
I think I need some fresh air.
THE SKY WAS A UNIFORM DOME OF GRAY, CASTING NO SHADOWS on the flattened grass of the
clearing. Gabrielle wondered idly if flowers dotted the meadow around the old cottage in
the summer time. There were no flowers in the meadow that she and Xena shared. It was
perpetually summer... the relentless season of that place. Here, it was firmly winter,
even in the absence of snow.
Snow was never Gabrielle's favorite type of weather; even less so after Mt. Amarro so many
years ago. She could still picture the swirling flakes coating her skin and Xena's hair;
she could feel the fire of her broken hands clashing with the chill of the snow as it
gathered in layers on her, mixing with her blood....
The whoop of a marsh bird over the hillside broke her train of thought, releasing her from
the ugly memories of that Solstice many years ago. High and thin, from the opposite
direction, another cry came, almost echoing that of the bird's and forcing a shudder up
through her bones. Every hair on her body prickled.
Fear, hurt and loneliness gave substance to the sound... but what was it that was
releasing such gut–wrenching sounds day after day? Unable to restrain her curiosity
any longer, Gabrielle headed into the underbrush in the direction of the cry, taking
careful note of the landmarks around her.
Another long wail broke the air, and Gabrielle picked her speed up until she was almost
running through the dense growth. She felt the sharp limbs of the bushes poking into her
leggings, but her sense of urgency wouldn't allow her any more caution. It was enough that
she spared some care for maintaining her orientation to the cabin in the clearing.
She stumbled, breaking through a stand of bramble onto a clear trail winding through the
frozen growth of the forest. Pausing to catch her breath, she checked her bearings and
waited for the next cry. It didn't come. There was silence for a long time, and Gabrielle
felt a deep regret in her chest, a heaviness in her legs. She knew she was needed,
somehow... but why? And by whom? Or what?
Quivering from her exertion and sweating under her layered clothing, she bent over and put
her hands on her knees, slowing her breathing and gathering her thoughts.
I'm nothing more than a leaf, blowing in whatever direction the wind blows. I'm swept
up, unquestioning, not knowing where I'll find my next resting place. My life was never
like this until Higuchi. Even if I didn't know what would happen next, I always had a
source of strength, a belief, a mission.
I can't accept 'just surviving' as good enough.
She straightened up to her full height and looked at the trail stretching out on either
side of her.
"It's like my life..." she said to the trees "it doesn't matter which way I
go. For some, that's enough. For me, it's not. I want more."
The gloom grew deeper, filling the spaces in between the branches above with grays and
browns, but Gabrielle couldn't make herself move.
I'll know it when it's right... a few moments longer, that's all.... Xena, I know
you'd stay and wait, no matter how long it took.
The wind shook the trees overhead in a lonely gesture. She realized how unprepared she was
to settle in and wait overnight in a forest, with all of her equipment back in the
lean–to.
What good am I without what I need? Are the woods so very different from the place my
life is in since you died, Xena?
I have to have something to make it all worthwhile—my dreams, my poetry, my life,
all driven by me loving you. I've got to have someone to give my love to, and that someone
is you. It will never be anyone else. You told me on that ship that you'd always be with
me, where you always were... in my heart. But that's still just a memory.
A wail broke the stillness of the cold forest with the force of a thunderclap, giving
Gabrielle gooseflesh. She turned to her right, waiting, moving forward hesitantly, but the
sound did not come again.
"This is crazy. I've got to go back."
She turned, looking for her entry point on the trail. There it was. She wasn't sure how
long it would take to get back since she'd run most of the way in. Before she could take
her next step, she heard a sniffle and sounds of strained breathing.
There, on the trail, in the last vestiges of woodland dusk, stood a small girlchild,
wiping her eyes and pushing her long, matted hair from her face.
Gabrielle dashed over to her.
"By the Goddess, sweetheart, where did you come from? Are you running from that
terrible sound?"
The girl shrunk from her, but didn't flee. Gabrielle moved more slowly, extending her hand
out with an open palm.
"My name is Gabrielle. I can take you to your parents if you'd like. You're lost,
aren't you?"
The girl nodded, but didn't look up. Gabrielle crouched in front of her, digging for the
cotton scarf she carried in her hip pocket.
"Let me wipe your tears for you. Hey, hey... I won't hurt you."
She wiped the child's face, removing grime with the wetness of her tears. Each time she
tried to tilt the child's face up to her own, the girl would jerk free and stand
shivering.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I need to get you somewhere safe, and this place isn't safe. You
can come back with me for now, and I'll help you find your mother or father
tomorrow."
She stood up and held her hand out, hoping the girl would take it of her own choice. The
prospect of carrying a protesting child back through the underbrush was troubling enough
without nightfall being factored in.
"Come on honey."
The child raised her eyes, still refusing to look at Gabrielle's face, but she took a step
forward.
"That's good. Come on, I know you must be hungry and cold, and tired too,
right?"
The girl rushed forward, ignoring Gabrielle's outstretched hand and threw her small arms
around her legs, squeezing with every ounce of her strength.
The tension and upset Gabrielle had been carrying all day long melted into nonexistence
with the gesture. She laid her hands on the child's back and felt her breathing steady and
the tiny convulsions of fear slow, then still. Though the girl had been crying, Gabrielle
never heard her utter a single sound.
THE CHILD SAID NOTHING ON THE WAY BACK to the cabin, and though Gabrielle continued
talking to her from time to time, hoping the sound of a voice would soothe her, not a word
would she say.
The sun had set before they reached the safety of the lean–to, and Gabrielle could
hear Raphael's irritated whinny in the darkness.
"That's my horse, Raphael. I bet he's mad at me for leaving him outside without his
dinner, but once he meets you, he'll understand."
Gabrielle had boosted the girl to her back once they were in the clearing, and now she
swore she could feel a tiny smile on her neck at the mention of her horse.
"Raphael will love you, I'm sure. He might want to know your name...?"
No response.
As they arrived at the front door, the horse registered his concern and discomfort, then
quickly settled. Gabrielle gave the child a few moments to touch him, while he pushed his
velvety nose into her chest with the gentleness of a butterfly's touch, snuffling her the
entire time. The little one showed no fear at all, and appeared delighted and happy with
his attention.
"Let's get inside, both of you. Honey, go ahead while I lead Raphael in after
you."
The girl looked pensive, but took a deep breath and entered the dark interior. Gabrielle
went in, the gelding behind her, and in a matter of minutes she had the lantern burning as
brightly as she could.
Between caring for the horse and the child and making some supper in a hasty fashion, the
evening sped by. At no time did the girl offer so much as a single squeak, and when asked
her name, looked at the floor.
It concerned Gabrielle that she wouldn't make eye contact or speak, but wandering lost and
alone in a tangled, swampy forest would be enough to steal the tongue from most children.
Perhaps when the shock and exhaustion wore off she would open up. In the meantime, she
would need a place to sleep.
"Honey, I want you to crawl into my sleeping furs and go to sleep. When I'm ready for
bed, I'll come over and climb in with you."
The girl proceeded to the furs without any hesitation and dropped to the ground
unceremoniously. Gabrielle heard her breathing steady, then alter into the patterns of
sleep.
"Xena," she whispered "I know you can hear me. What have I gotten myself
into now? This should be nothing more than a routine find–and–seek–out the
parents task, but I get the feeling it's more than it appears to be. Any ideas?"
No answer.
This silence thing is getting irritating. No one answers me anymore! I think my horse
pays more attention to what I have to say.
She lit a few beeswax candles and sorted through some scrolls, remembering to jot down the
lines that entered her head from earlier in the day, adding them to yesterday's.
The sighing of embers
The gathering of ashes
She put the handle tip of the stylus to her chin and closed her eyes.
The cradling tracks of sorrow...
She wrote it down. After spending another hour making notes and recording the events of
the day, she felt it was time to get some sleep. There was no way to know how far the girl
had wandered and what it would take to return her to her home. But which direction to go
in? More questions with no answers.
The wind had risen a notch in the evening hours, but it felt a little warmer and cozier in
the lean–to since.... I've got to give her a name, something, anything...
the child had come to stay the night. She lowered the lantern as far as she could without
extinguishing it.
Gabrielle worked her way under the sleeping furs, trying her best not to disturb her
little companion. She heard the girl sigh deeply as she made herself comfortable.
As Gabrielle drifted off to sleep, she felt a tiny hand on her shoulder.
THE WIND'S FURY HAMMERED THE SHUTTERS, SHAKING THE WOODEN FRAME and causing the door to
groan in sympathy. Gabrielle sat upright, all of her senses jarred awake, her heart
thumping with adrenaline. She lifted the covers and slipped out of the bed, then headed
for Raphael, who was tugging at his rope, upset by the loud creaking of the old, weakened
structure as it fought the wind.
No sooner had she settled him than the shutters banged open and a huge gust of icy air
blew through the cabin, knocking items over and spreading her things in scattered heaps.
Realizing she could do nothing about the situation until daylight, Gabrielle turned her
thoughts to her young charge.
She looked over to the bed, but it was empty. The panic rose through her legs and up into
her torso.
"Where are you...?" she shouted above the wind. "Sweetheart, how did I miss
you?"
She swung around, looking at the door, but it was still closed, though rattling mightily
in defense of its occupants.
The window? There's no way she got out that way. She's not strong enough, she's only
about six years old! I can't even call her back, I don't know her name.
"Damn it all to Hades!" she shouted.
"I—"
She couldn't breathe. Gabrielle's face was somehow covered... she opened her eyes to see
the outline of the little girl above her, one small hand over her mouth.
When the child saw that she was awake, she pulled her hand back and tucked her legs up to
her chest in a protective posture. Gabrielle was embarrassed. She glanced over to the
window, but the shutters were closed. There was no sound of the wind, no rattling of the
door. It was quiet. Raphael's ears were up, but he stood in a half sleep.
Gabrielle moved closer to the little girl. "I'm sorry, little one. I was dreaming,
wasn't I?"
She felt the nod as much as saw it in the darkness of the dimmed interior.
"Did I scare you? I'm so sorry."
The girl shook her head rapidly in the opposite direction.
"You weren't scared?"
She continued to shake her head back and forth, then she took Gabrielle's hand in one of
her own and laid her other hand to her chest. Next, she pointed to Gabrielle's face, then
back to her own heart.
"I wish I could see your face, sweetheart. I'm so lucky you were here to care about
me. Thank you. Will you tell me your name?"
The girl took Gabrielle's hand and turned it over until the palm was facing up, then used
her fingers to trace funny shapes onto it. Gabrielle realized it must be a form of
communication.
"Oh, okay. But honey, I don't know how to read your words that way. I hope you
understand."
The child nodded her head up and down.
"I'm going to have to call you something. How about... hmmm... Vasha? She was a
really brave little girl I used to be friends with when I was your age."
With a shrug and a sigh, the girl indicated her acceptance, then laid herself back down
next to Gabrielle. In moments, she was asleep as only a child can be, and the silence of
the night blanketed them once more.
IN THE MORNING, GABRIELLE AWOKE BETTER RESTED than she'd been yesterday in spite of
sharing her bed with Vasha. Having a child as a sleeping partner was challenging when one
was used to sleeping alone. The girl had tossed and turned most of the night; at one
point, when her limbs twitched a few times, Gabrielle thought she was coming awake, but it
turned out to be a short dream. Never once did the child make a noise.
Despite the many minor interruptions, she felt good. She wondered if it was the first time
since Vasha had gotten lost that she had a good night's sleep. Taking care to pull the
furs back without disturbing the girl, Gabrielle sat up and swung her legs out from
underneath the coverings. The assembled rabbits, squirrels, mice and doves were scattered
on both sides of the furs, some pressed up against Vasha, the others stirring at the foot
of the furs where Gabrielle's feet had been.
"Good morning, friends. I see you approve of my visitor." she whispered.
Vasha woke up and watched them leaving as she lay curled on her side. She wiggled her
fingers in a gesture of farewell, then sat up and waited for Gabrielle to speak.
Gabrielle watched the child to see if she would raise her eyes, but she did not.
"How do you feel this morning, little bit? Did you sleep well?"
Vasha nodded her head.
"I think I'll make us something to eat. Why don't you go on and take a look around
the cabin, okay? It can be a good memory for you when this scary time is all over. Think
of it as your special place, the place that you came in from the cold and dark, where you
could finally relax."
Vasha crept from under the furs and padded over to Raphael. Gabrielle watched her go,
wondering how traumatized she might be. The problem of returning her to her family was
pressing; with the solstice almost at hand, they would be frantic. The time of the longest
night was deeply magical for everyone, and to take part in the solstice rituals when a
loved one was missing was very painful.
On top of all that, Gabrielle wanted to be alone on the day of Standing Still Sun. She
wanted to relive her memories of last year, her last winter solstice celebration with
Xena. Packed with great care in her most precious box were a handful of solstice candle
stubs and the ivory cross she had carved for Xena as a gift.With these was a container of
ashes saved from the oaken log that had burned through the long night, something Xena
claimed was a tradition that should be honored. At the time, Gabrielle had found the idea
charming, but now it resonated painfully.
Surmounting all of those things in importance was the other container: the brown ceramic
pot that held the last remains of everything she'd ever loved in one human being.
Xena's ashes.
NOT LONG AFTER THEY CLEANED UP THE breakfast dishes, snow began falling in insistent waves
of white. Vasha seemed unfazed by it, but Gabrielle hoped for it to slow or stop. When it
became clear that the storm's intensity wasn't abating, Gabrielle left to gather as much
wood and fodder as possible. Vasha had indicated a desire to go with her, but she forbade
it. The child hadn't the proper footwear, nor a good coat. The potential for her to get
hurt or lost simply wasn't worth the chance. Convincing her that Raphael would need her
company proved easy.
Shin–deep in snow, Gabrielle collected extra kindling and firewood, then piled it
right inside the front door. After cutting down and knocking the snow off of the
dried–up grass stalks that served Raphael as bedding, she heaped them by armfuls in
the corner with his tack. Vasha watched her with great interest each time she came through
the door, but when Gabrielle glanced over, she averted her eyes, avoiding the direct gaze.
Back out in the blowing flakes, Gabrielle's thoughts drifted away from Vasha to last year
at solstice— the cabin they had been staying in, Xena on the road into town to get
the necessary greenery, a holiday meal in the planning. It was a time spent in wonderful
isolation from the rest of the world and its problems. Together they had made peace at
last with the terrible solstice spent on top of Mt. Amarro. It was a time of dreaming
about what their future would be like.
The joy of those memories mixed now with the pain of grief striped Gabrielle's heart with
fresh disbelief. It would be so different this year. Two more days, and the sun would stop
its backward track and move forward into the new year. The prospects of a holiday meal
were dim. There were no gifts, no decorations, no spirit of festival; there would be no
one with whom she would share the ritual of beating back the darkness.
When the sun stops languishing... Gabrielle saw Xena's face as though it were
only inches from her own, whispering to her ... and decides to fight back the
night— the memory vanished with the sting of heavier flakes driven by the wind.
I've got to quit daydreaming. I'm not doing Vasha any good if I freeze to death out
here.
She faced the large oak tree growing next to the lean–to. The storm had piled snow
against it and its companion linden, but she was determined to get a limb or branch for
her solstice eve log. She pulled the small hand axe from a deep coat pocket.
I knew this thing would come in handy as soon as I spotted it back in Patara!
A sizeable branch had fallen and was covered in fresh snow, but after brushing it off,
Gabrielle found the perfect places to make her cuts. After many rests, and with sweat
dripping from her forehead, she felt the last resistance in the wood give way. The newly
cut log fell into the snow. She pocketed the axe and hefted the log into her arms. The
short distance to the front door was a struggle, but she was able to thump the door with
the butt end of the log loudly enough that Vasha opened it for her.
The girl closed the door behind her and watched as Gabrielle walked the solstice log into
the corner, near Raphael's tack. It would lean there until solstice eve, drying out. She
shed her clothing by layers, Vasha moving forward to take the wet things from her and
spreading them near the fireplace. Gabrielle smiled in gratitude.
"What a little helper you are, Vasha. Thank you."
After drying off and putting a fresh tunic and leggings on, Gabrielle stoked the flames.
With careful conservation of the wood she'd gathered and banking the fire as early as
possible each night, they could stay warm for as long as the storm lasted. Food, too,
would need to be rationed. Only her own share and not Vasha's would be curtailed.
The warmth of the fire melted the cold from her bones and her thoughts wandered
pleasantly. She was aware of small, regular movements in the corner where Vasha stood with
Raphael—the snapping and popping of the branches as the flames curled around their
lengths and caressed them unceasingly—the regular rattling of the shutters as the
wind swirled around the lean-to— her head jerked upward and she realized she'd dozed
off. The seductive lure of the warm fire danced around the fatigue in her arms and
shoulders and legs—she jerked upward again.
It was still early... a short nap would help things... she drifted off and did not shake
herself awake again. Vasha ventured over and laid the woolen blanket on Gabrielle's prone
form, then returned to Raphael. The gelding obeyed her silent commands, lifting his feet
and moving first one way, then another, as she scooped up his droppings and replenished
his bedding.
Watching her rescuer for any movement, she bundled the used straw and refuse up with the
day's scraps from cooking and washing, then quietly opened the front door and tossed them
along the front of the building as far as her little arms could manage. She closed the
door again, and glanced at the sleeping woman. A light snore erupted from the blanket.
Gabrielle floated in and out of semi-consciousness, imagining she heard the door open,
then the shutters. Always the shutters. A soft nicker from Raphael, a bit of
jingling and rustling, a scraping noise; all of these assimilated themselves into her
dreams. A metallic clank brought her to complete, wakened vigilance.
"Vasha?"
She peered around the room. The girl was sitting near her mostly-dry cloak holding the
chakram. Gabrielle's heart shrank.
"By the Goddess..." she gasped "Vasha, put that down right away! It's very
dangerous."
The child turned it over in her hands, examining it. By the time Gabrielle got to her
side, she'd calmly replaced the chakram where she'd found it. She stared at her feet.
"Please, don't touch that thing, okay? I know it looks really fun, but it's not...
it's... like a sword is. Dangerous."
Vasha continued staring at her feet.
"It's my fault, really. I shouldn't have it where you can hurt yourself with it,
anyway." She paused. "Let me see your hands... are you okay?"
Vasha presented her hands indignantly for Gabrielle to inspect. There were no marks on her
skin. She had an odd-looking bump on the back of each hand and some light freckling, but
no cuts.
"Well, we were lucky this time, honey. Can I have a hug?"
The girl sat without moving for a short while, then climbed to her feet and moved into
Gabrielle's outstretched arms. She hugged her legs fiercely, as she had the first time in
the forest. Gabrielle tousled her hair and decided it was time to change the subject.
Combing Vasha's hair would be a good way to amend the situation. She would look like a
little lady with her hair all shiny and clean, and just in time for dinner.
DURING THE NEXT TWO DAYS THE WIND AND THE SNOW DWINDLED in their vehemence. A heavy white
mantle of silence stilled the lean-to and the clearing, with only the activity of the two
human beings and the horse to disturb it.Twice a day, Gabrielle let the gelding out to
break a path through the thick snow, pawing with his hooves to uncover edible plants and
grasses. The oats and corn she had inside were only a supplemental feed that had to be
rationed until the next stop for supplies.
Her plan was to leave with Vasha as soon as the snow melted enough to ride safely. The
weather was unpredictable on the plateaus of Phrygia; a westerly wind could bring warm,
mild air up from the Aegean Sea and melt everything around them in one day. Gabrielle
figured the next town would be half a day's ride from the main trail without snow to slow
them. Perhaps she might even get some help from Vasha if the girl recognized the
surrounding terrain. With any luck at all, someone in the town would know something about
the missing child.
The hours were spent playing simple games with Vasha while trying to discover if she
understood any writing. Given a stylus, all the child would do was scribble stick figures
of Raphael and other animals. When Gabrielle asked her to draw her mother and father, she
became withdrawn and retreated to Raphael's side.
In the afternoons, Gabrielle worked with her scrolls. After some initial curiosity, Vasha
left her alone. The girl continued to keep Raphael's bedding cleaned, and though she
couldn't reach very far up his body, she insisted on brushing his legs and chest as high
as she could stretch from her tip toes. After she brushed him, she combed out his tail
until it glowed.
On the parchment, Gabrielle wrote of the strange little girl's appearance in the woods,
the wild moaning that had not resumed since her rescue, and the storm. Theories and
conjectures about her situation littered the daily writings, along with snippets of poetry
in the margins and corners. She marveled at the familiarity and sense of ease Vasha
demonstrated around Raphael and wrote about the chakram incident.
On the the third evening, it dawned on her that the girl had consumed so much of her
mental activity that she'd not thought of Xena as often as she usually did. That
realization struck her like a heavy blow. She felt sick to her stomach, and at supper it
was easy to ration her food. She had no appetite.
Vasha watched her closely as they ate, and held her own plate out in Gabrielle's
direction, but Gabrielle could do no more than shake her head. Vasha thereafter ate
without her normal interest and was subdued, catching Gabrielle's mood.
When the clean-up from the meal was complete and the area tidied, Vasha wandered away
toward Raphael. Gabrielle took her folded blanket and sat facing the fire, her back to the
front door. Meditation might open the corridors that brought Xena to her—she could
apologize and explain what had been going on. Xena would understand. She lit a single
candle.
As silent as Vasha was, there would be very little to interrupt her concentration. She
closed her eyes and pressed her hands together in front of her chest in a prayer-like
gesture, turning her thoughts inward. In total awareness, she concentrated on her breath
as it moved into and out of her torso, suffusing her vital organs with feathery
brushstrokes. She felt her body come alive in a wholly different way than in her normal
state of consciousness. The beat of her heart rocked her torso gently as she entered a
full, meditative state.
Xena... I know you can hear me. I want to talk to you. I miss you. I need you. I want
you. Come to me.
The thrumming of her blood filled her ears, mingled in whispers tinged with Xena's voice.
She sat, completely motionless, caught up in the midway point of being two places at once.
Xena... come to me. I'm here, pull me to you.
There were more faint whisperings, gasps, sighs... they whirled about in her head, they
tickled her ribcage. Her heart swelled with hope. Then it was utterly still again. She was
locked in her trance. From somewhere to her right, the shutters were banging open and
closed, wrenching themselves loose from their hinges. A vast rushing of cold air swept
past her shoulders and her neck; she felt her hair stirring in response. The candle flame
bent sideways and almost went out.
Gabrielle, I....
The voice vanished into the sounds of the banging shutters. Gabrielle strained forward,
but the trance held her in its solid grip.
Xena, where are you? Why aren't you here? Is that you...?
The ghostly whisperings continued for several more moments, then the absence of sound
clotted the room around her. She opened her eyes to the flames writhing in utter silence.
Gabrielle....
Not a muscle twitched; she waited, her receptive state pure and firm.
Gabrielle, it's the pain! It's the pain....
Outwardly, Gabrielle made no movement, but in her trance she leaned forward, nearer the
fire.
Xena, what pain? Are you in pain? I don't understand.
She could see a pale shadow of herself lift up from her cross-legged position and go to
all fours. There, only a short distance away, leaping and swaying in the flames, was Xena!
Her outline shifted from red to orange to gold to yellow to white...
Why are you there, Xena? Are you trapped? Are you in pain?
The tiny figure of the warrior waved her arms over her head, making it harder to
differentiate her body from the flames themselves.
No, Gabrielle... your pain, not mine. There is no pain where I am, none. It's all gone
now, inside and out. There is no pain. I had to embrace it, swallow it, accept it, give
myself to it. That's why we chose the way we did that night on Mount Fuji.
Gabrielle allowed Xena's statement to drift into her awareness along with her next
inhalation.
My pain... why are we talking about my pain? It never goes away any more Xena, and it
won't unless I die. Is that what I have to do?
The fire sputtered in the cold air stream, then steadied. Xena's translucent body was
gone. Gabrielle stared closer at the fiery forms weaving their dance in the recess of the
fireplace. She moved her hand forward, fingers outstretched, reaching for them.
You don't have to die, Gabrielle. Life is pain. You know this. Accept life as
I've accepted death and the pain will become a part of you that you can love. It will make
your heart stronger, braver... Love, never forget, is the power that you and I share, the
power that raises us up, that goes beyond our mortal existence....
The need to touch Xena drowned out everything else in Gabrielle's awareness. Her fingers
entered the flames.
Pain is nothing to me, Xena... I love you. I want to touch you so badly....
A searing sensation knifed into her arm, tearing her from her meditation. Unable to make
the gradual transition from inward-being to outward, she gasped, her hands clutching her
throat and then moving of their own volition to her chest. Several quick inhalations
delivered the full shock of her physical surroundings and she opened her eyes, both hands
stretching to the floor for support. There was a painless tingling in her hand and her
heart beat wildly in her ribcage.
Raphael was looking at her, Vasha seated near his front hooves holding something in her
hands, eyes darting from the fireplace to her lap.
The shutters were shut securely, as they had been since they were repaired.
Gabrielle's head pounded with the bluntness of her forced exit from the meditation. The
back of her throat was raw and dry and she felt moisture on her cheeks. She knew she
should say something, but her tongue wouldn't move.
Climbing to her feet was a precarious task. Getting herself a drink of water proved a
little easier. She used the simple act of ingesting the cold water to reorient herself to
the room.
With her senses cleared enough, she looked back over at the horse and child. Raphael had
ceased paying her any attention and stood dozing. Vasha's body language communicated some
of her tension, but she was concentrating on what she held on her lap.
Gabrielle took her time approaching the two of them, still a bit uncertain about her
balance. Vasha looked up only so far, eyes hidden by her ragged bangs falling over her
forehead. It took several moments for Gabrielle to register what it was that the girl was
holding. It was the ceramic urn containing Xena's ashes.
Fighting her immediate impulse to jump forward and wrest the container from the child's
pudgy hands, she inhaled deeply.
Heaven and Earth preserve us all....
She noticed that Vasha had gone taut with apprehension. Inside her head, she heard Xena's
voice again. "I had to embrace it, swallow it, accept it, give myself to
it."
Ah, the pain. It does swallow me, my whole life, and yet I fight it off. Why? Is that
what you wanted me to ask myself, Xena? Why do I fight the pain instead of accepting it,
when all I am really doing is feeding it my energy? Is that the question I've been looking
for?
Vasha hadn't moved a muscle. Gabrielle exhaled, then crouched down to meet the girl at eye
level.
"Tonight is a very special night, Vasha. Did you know that?"
The girl shook her head.
"Do you know what tonight is?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she
said "It's the Solstice, the longest night of the whole year. After tonight, the sun
will come up a little earlier each day and stay with a us little longer to light our way.
It's good to celebrate the day of Standing Still Sun with people you love. The winter
Solstice is a rebirth of hope."
Gabrielle gestured toward the container in the girl's lap.
"Do you know what you have there?"
Vasha's fingers clamped a bit tighter around the urn; she lifted it chest high, then
wrapped her arms about it protectively. Gabrielle wrinkled her forehead, mystified by the
child's behavior.
"You realize that what you're holding belongs to me?" she asked. "Well,
that's silly— of course you do. I want you to know something, Vasha. I'm not mad at
you. Don't worry. What you are holding, though... it's very, very important to me, very
special."
She saw that the child had relaxed somewhat as she talked.
"It's something that is one-of-a-kind. There's nothing else like it in the world. It
can't be replaced. It is mine— and it's not." Gabrielle pondered the meaning of
her own words... belongs to me....
"Maybe it doesn't belong to me," she amended, "but I take it with me
wherever I go."
The girl sighed and set the container down on the floor next to her leg. She folded her
hands in her lap and continued staring through her hair at Gabrielle's hands.
Taking a cue, Gabrielle spread her hands, palms up and open, laying them on the tops of
her thighs. She saw the girl's head tilt, following her movements.
"Right here, in the palms of my hands, I have nothing." She paused. "But
then again, I have everything in the palms of my hands."
Vasha moved forward to get a closer look at Gabrielle's palms.
"In these hands are the ability to love someone, to share with someone all the
happiness and all the pain a person can feel. As long as I'm alive, these hands will
always contain the power to love. That's my promise to you, to Raphael and all the
animals... to anyone I ever loved. That's my promise to myself, and to the whole
world."
Vasha was now sitting cross-legged in front of Gabrielle's palms, bending over and peering
intently at them. The container of ashes was back where she'd set it down, near Raphael's
straw bed.
"You don't see anything there, do you?"
Vasha didn't move.
"Well, I don't think you can. But it's there."
The girl lifted one of her hands and placed her fingers on Gabrielle's palms, tracing them
with the delicacy of a melting snowflake. A smile spread on her face, and she lifted her
other hand, taking both of Gabrielle's hands in her own little ones. She pressed them
together in the praying gesture she'd seen earlier, her hands on the outside of
Gabrielle's, then pressed her cheek against them. A tingle worked its way up her wrists
and into her arms as Vasha touched her hands.
Gabrielle softened her gaze over Vasha's head. When she looked back, the child's face was
upturned. For the first time, Gabrielle saw the shocking blue eyes staring at her with the
burning strength of someone who's seen too much.
She felt tears run down her cheeks for the second time tonight. One heavy, warm drop
splashed on their hands. Gabrielle loosened herself from Vasha's touch and took the
child's head in her hands, pressing the small head to her chest. She leaned over and
kissed her dark hair.
"We can celebrate the Solstice tonight, together. Would you like that?"
Vasha pulled back and nodded solemnly.
"Good, then let's get started. Go get me that container you left back by Raphael,
okay?"
Vasha sprang to her feet and ran to the ceramic pot.
"Carefully, sweetheart." Gabrielle reminded her as she headed toward the front
door.
THE SOLSTICE DINNER WOULD CONSIST OF STALE BARLEY CAKES and strips of salted fish
unless Gabrielle could find something else to augment it with. She upended her saddlebags
and travel packs, attempting to gather anything edible she was carrying. In one pouch, she
found a treasure of dried fruit: dates, apricots and grapes. A small leather wineskin
tucked underneath some odds and ends held a cup's worth of sweet wine; and a sealed packet
of cheesecloth contained a spice and grain mixture for soup making. Vasha offered her help
with business-like eagerness, so Gabrielle set her to fetching fresh snow for water.
The meat of the game bird she'd snared days ago was long gone. It would have made an
excellent addition to the soup. There were a few potatoes and turnips along with the lone
onion left in the food sack, but Gabrielle was sick to death of them. Tonight called for
something fancier than root stew.
There was a sack of nuts hidden among the provisions she'd purchased back in Patara's
marketplace two weeks ago. Where had they gone? Somehow, using just the things she carried
in her travel gear she intended to make solstice magic.
Both of us need it, don't we Vasha?
Gathering her austere assortment of eating utensils, she looked each over in turn,
deciding how best to utilize them. The scrutiny of each item tore away at the wall she'd
constructed around the loving memories of last year's dinner preparations, but now she was
ready to face the pain. In some strange way, she felt a vast burden lifting from her
heart. The pain wrapped her naturally in its folds, no tucking or tailoring needed... and
as each wrenching image presented itself, she gathered it close to her, as if she were
embracing Xena herself.
Vasha spent more and more time at the shuttered window peering through the cracks as the
sun progressed through its afternoon track.
"You'll let me know when it's time, right?" Gabrielle asked her.
Vasha nodded, then turned back to the shutters, fascinated. She raised her hands to them
and explored each slat with her fingers, eyes closed.
Gabrielle had wood piled in modest stacks along the hearth, with the oak Solstice log
leaning against the clay brick face of the fireplace. The pot of soup now hung over the
fire, simmering, filling the air with a pleasant oniony aroma while she sat decorating the
inside lid of a cook pot with dried fruits and nuts. The salted fish she arranged in a
star-shaped pattern around the edges of her one big plate, the center of which would soon
hold a roasted potato cut in half. There was still some butter left in a tiny copper tub,
too.
To the side of where they ate, she'd constructed a small dais of wood scavenged from the
back of the lean-to. Over it she'd laid a cloth previously reserved for cleaning the
chakram. On top of the cloth, she'd placed the ivory cross carved for Xena last year; the
container of Solstice log ashes and the ceramic urn holding Xena's ashes formed the other
parts of the triangular arrangement. In and around these objects she placed new candles,
along with the stumps of last year's candles.
The tiny platform would keep them company during the Solstice dinner. Gabrielle had plans
for a prayer of some sort for Vasha's sake, if not her own. It would be spontaneous;
nothing in her well-rehearsed repertoire fit the unusual circumstances of Solstice this
year. Standing Still Sun. Everything was grinding to a halt. An ending.
And as inevitable as it was, Gabrielle acknowledged that out of endings come new
beginnings. Always.
She joined Vasha at the shuttered window, kneeling so she could peer out along the same
sightline. They watched the sun lever itself down ever closer into the western edge of the
hills, brilliant colors flaring along the edges of the silhouetted peaks. Vasha laid her
hand on Gabrielle's forearm, producing the same curious tingling as she had earlier.
Gabrielle drew back and examined the child's face and eyes. Vasha grew uncomfortable and
looked away.
"I say it's time to eat. What do you think?"
The girl leapt to her feet, smiling eagerly.
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then, Little Missy." Gabrielle extended her hand and
Vasha took it. They proceeded to the hearth in playful ceremony, placing each foot down
with great deliberation, then pausing before taking their next step. Vasha settled onto a
cushion fashioned of spare clothing, waiting for Gabrielle. After ladling the soup into
earthenware bowls and preparing the potato, Gabrielle took her own seat.
They faced each other at an angle, the Solstice feast set out on a low table. In front of
them, the fire crackled in contentment and the tiny altar glowed, illuminated by the
potency of the blaze. The candles stood unlit but ready.
"We need a blessing before we start." Gabrielle said, noticing the hungry look
on Vasha's face. The girl lowered her head, tucked her hands into her lap and sat still.
"For the last half of the year, the days have grown shorter and shorter, and our
nights have grown longer and longer. Then comes a day when the sun decides that this has
gone on long enough. That day is the day of the winter solstice, the day called Standing
Still Sun." Vasha turned her eyes to Gabrielle, rapt.
Visions of another Solstice almost thirty years past floated through her heart, the
upturned faces of orphaned children enthralled by a story reflected in the one before her
now.
"That day is today. The sun is ready to fight back the night, to take its place high
in the sky once again. When the day of Standing Still Sun comes, people know that as the
days grow warmer and longer the lands will come back to life. This warmth and light brings
the springtime, the leaves and the flowers; it brings baby animals and fruit
blossoms."
"Tonight is the longest night of the year, but it signals rebirth and renewal. We are
going to help the sun stand still and then reverse its path by burning these special
candles."
Vasha pointed to the Solstice Log propped against the fireplace.
"I didn't forget." Gabrielle continued. "We'll burn this big, sturdy oak
log for strength and light on this, the longest night of the year. It will burn through
the darkness and when we wake up, it will be nothing but ashes, but from tomorrow morning
forward, the days will be longer and longer. The ending of the sun's retreat is remembered
by people in celebrations all over the world tonight, and candles will be lit, love will
be shared and gifts given to celebrate the new beginning."
Vasha hung her head with a sigh; her stomach growled its emptiness into the room.
Gabrielle restrained a laugh.
"Blessed be Sun Standing Still. We thank the Goddess that the earth will return to
green life and health after many long, cold nights. We promise to help the sun tonight by
sharing our own warmth and light the only way we can. We honor and cherish the rebirth of
the new cycle of life with love."
She took a brittle stick and poked its tip into the fire until it glowed. She took Vasha's
hand and placed it on the stick on top of her own and together they lit the biggest of the
solstice candles on the altar.
"Happy Solstice. Now let's eat."
Vasha needed no further invitation. Both of them had eaten sparingly in the last two days
and now the relative luxury of the solstice dinner emphasized their hunger. In between
bites, Vasha stole glances at the shutters. Gabrielle followed her gaze, but didn't
comment. The child was probably excited at the thought of what might happen on the longest
night of the year, or wondering if the Solstice log would last through the night, though
she never showed the slightest bit of fear in the dark.
"Does it seem that this stuff tastes better than it should?" Gabrielle asked
Vasha. The girl nodded her agreement, wrinkling her eyebrows in bewilderment.
They continued eating, filling their stomachs without worry for the first time in many
days. Somehow, when they reached for more of one thing or another, there was just enough
to make one more serving. Even the wine was stretching beyond Gabrielle's expectations.
Finally, both pushed their plates forward, satisfied.
"That was delicious, I must say. What do you think my little love?"
Vasha reached for Gabrielle's hand and traced shapes onto her palm in great animation. Her
dark locks were combed and tied back with a leather thong. Earlier in the week, Gabrielle
had stitched some fur around the neck of Vasha's dress after washing it. It was hard to
picture the child she found a scant four days ago, lost and filthy, when looking at the
one in front of her now. She smiled, pleased.
The smile vanished at the thought of the task awaiting her tomorrow. The snow had begun
melting and they would have to leave in the morning. She felt a strange reluctance to end
this oddest of interludes in what had become a pointless voyage in her life. It almost
felt like home in a way.
Be here, now.... she commanded herself. Stay in the moment.
Anxiety came from moving out of the present and spending precious mental and emotional
energy on looking forward or backward. Tomorrow would wait. Its problems would still be
there in the morning.
She turned her attention to the child in front of her, wondering where she belonged and
what miracle had kept her alive in the forest, marveling at her courage in the face of
abandonment and loss... but most of all, amazed at her ability to continue forward in
spite of what she'd suffered.
The plates were scraped and stowed; they could be washed later. The rest of the candles
needed lighting. Gabrielle got out some scrolls she had chosen earlier and laid them next
to the altar. Vasha crowded up close, peering over Gabrielle's shoulder to see what was
happening.
"I'm going to light all the other candles now. It will be positively beautiful when
I'm done with that, and then I want to read a few of these scrolls. I know they won't make
any sense to you, so if you want to, you can spend some time with Raphael. I don't
mind."
Vasha looked over at the horse, her demeanor softening at once. She turned back to watch
Gabrielle take the lit candle and move around the dais from east to west, lighting each
candle in its turn with the one she held. The drippings of hot wax held her attention
until they cooled into semi-hard roundnesses, raised in the center like tiny disks.
"Can you see any light left from the sun at all?" Gabrielle asked.
The girl ran to the shuttered window and squinted through the cracks. She rapped her
fingers on the sill, her excitement evident. Gabrielle rose to her feet and went to the
fireplace. Vasha was at her side before she even realized it.
"I bet you'd like to help me put this log on the fire. You have to promise me you'll
be careful. I don't want you to be afraid of the flames and hurt yourself." Vasha
turned a pouty glance her way, insulted.
"I'm so sorry, Princess Vasha." Gabrielle curtsied. "I beg your
forgiveness."
They lifted the log, Gabrielle supporting most of the bulk of the heavy limb, but allowing
Vasha enough weight to feel as though she were contributing. The butt end of the log they
placed in front of the fire; together, they gave it a gentle push forward and it fell
across the well-supported stack of burning wood.
After waiting a minute or two, Vasha wandered away to Raphael's place and Gabrielle took
her seat next to the candle-lit dais. She raised a scroll and opened it. For the next half
hour she read each of the scrolls, mouthing the words from memory, tears blurring her
eyes. Then she threw them into the Solstice blaze one by one.
THE TOUCH OF A HAND ON HER FOREARM BROKE HER CONCENTRATION. It was Vasha looking at her
with those bottomless blue eyes, brows wrinkled with concern. She reached a finger to
Gabrielle's forehead and pushed back a strand of hair. Her gaze resonated with innocent
compassion.
"I'm okay, Vasha. Don't worry. I have to do this. I want to do this. It's time."
Vasha turned toward the fire, drawn by the brighter tendrils feeding from the scrolls. She
moved as close as she dared and squatted, arms wrapped around her knees. She followed the
frenetic dance of the radiant yellow flames as they fondled the blackening parchment
rolls. Edges curled into smoke, the burning ash left behind winking at her with hot red
eyes.
Gabrielle sat in her private emptiness, free at last of the scorching pain she'd been
suffering for so many months. She had no idea how long her relief would last, but the
repose of the moment was almost joyous in its clarity. There was a space around her heart,
fresh air in her chest, and the movement of life with all of its impudent newness calling
her back to its bosom.
"Happy Solstice, Xena." she whispered. "From where I am now, I can see that
I loved you before I ever knew you—that I loved you before I even knew myself, and
that I have loved you forever. I haven't lost you."
She sighed, then continued. "I have loved you, even in death. Now I will love you
again in life, though you aren't with me anymore. It's the only way I can honor the woman
you are—and the woman I've become. It's who we are."
The dais was still bathed in the radiance of the Solstice candles. Gabrielle reached for
the container of ashes saved from last year's solstice log, watching her arm move without
command, herself a passive observer. The lid of the container was removed. She stood,
leaned in to the fire and tossed the ashes on top of this year's solstice log. As they
showered the burning wood, tiny glittering sparks rained down, only to be caught in the
hot updraft and swept up the chimney and on into the night.
Vasha, stooping on the hearth, tilted her head back, tracing their ascent in wonder.
Gabrielle took the ivory cross, kissed it, and tossed it in with the ashes of the scrolls
and last year's oak log. It laid, inert for a moment or so, then began changing color. She
turned away, inhaling deeply.
"Happy Solstice, dearest Love. I remember your words. I wrote them down."
She closed her eyes.
"But when the sun stops languishing" she recited "and decides to fight back
the night, something inside us instinctively knows all is right with the world and it's
time to celebrate... time to reflect on the very best things life has given us.' "
Vasha sat down and faced Gabrielle, entranced by the tone of her voice.
"I know, now... I know. 'The very best things life has given us...'—
life gave me you. And you helped me give myself to myself. As long as I live, that gift
will grow and continue to give. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I
need to be the best thing that ever happened to me. To do that, I have to let you go. I
can't be selfish and be the woman you wanted me to be."
Vasha was beaming at Gabrielle, but Gabrielle continued to stare into the flames, rapt.
The Solstice candles flickered on the dais, as if a clandestine breeze had rippled through
the room. Vasha watched the gyrating flames until they steadied and righted themselves.
The only thing left beside the candles was the ceramic urn.
Gabrielle raised her palms to her face, kissed her fingertips, then lifted the urn holding
Xena's ashes. She caressed the urn for a time, then bent to kiss its lid. With unshaking
hands, she held it firm as she removed the lid. It was snug and didn't come open
immediately, but after a few moments, it was free. She sat the lid on the altar next to
the Solstice candle, then cupped the open container in her palms. Vasha crowded forward,
absorbed by Gabrielle's mood.
With the open container still in her hands, Gabrielle sunk to a cross-legged position
directly in front of the fire, oblivious to the heat and the sparking wood.
"Vasha, maybe you should go see how Raphael is doing."
There was no answer from the girl, nor did Gabrielle turn to see if she had been obeyed.
She contemplated the whirling tongues of flame for several minutes, then grasping the urn
in her right hand, she reached directly through them to place the urn on top of the huge
oaken log. She was vaguely aware of the pain of the heat, but it was nothing more than a
cleansing sensation.
The shutters began to rattle and one banged open with startling fury. Raphael whinnied
from his corner. Though she was aware of the cold breeze permeating the cabin behind her,
Gabrielle didn't move. When she was sure the urn was balanced properly, she withdrew her
arm and hand.
The pain struck at her with incredible force. She fell backwards, across the cushions
they'd used for dining, the hard wooden floor refusing to give way to her head. She felt
herself lose consciousness for a handful of seconds, then the pain reasserted itself. She
careened between the fiery agony shooting up her arm and total blackness.
Both shutters were battering the walls and the winter gale was cutting into the warmth of
the cabin. Mixed in with the howling wind was the broken wailing of the forest creature
that she hadn't heard in days. Amongst everything else, she could hear her own sobbing
moans woven in.
The dull roar of the fire inundated the room until it muffled the other sounds; huge
flakes of snow somehow found their way in through the open window and all the way to where
Gabrielle had fallen. The cool touch of the snow on her cheeks jolted her. She rolled her
head back and forth, a phantasmagoria of voices and faces streaking past her closed
eyes—
Fingers caressed her face, her chin, hands grabbed her ankles, pressed against her throat.
Her early village life sped past in ghostly fashion; her life with Xena until Brittannia;
the time spent in Chin, Illusia, India, and Japan hurtling across her sightline; Xena's
voice whispering in her ears but her words inaudible over the thundering of the
flames—
Xena, listen to me. I love you. You're free now. Go with grace, my beloved. I will see
you soon enough. I love you. You won't forget me.
She felt the touching sensations recede, her rise to consciousness stilling the voices and
the roaring of the fire at the same time. A ragged, rushed breathing now filled her ears,
and she realized it was her own. Somehow, the shutters were still hanging from their
rusted hinges, slamming the wall repeatedly. Raphael was neighing in panic, but she
couldn't move. The cold was creeping along her legs, numbness crawling along with it. She
tried sitting up with no success.
A loud crash came from her right, and the sound of light footsteps. She managed to open
her eyes and found she could move her head. Craning to follow the sounds, she looked
toward the doorway, then to the window. An odd blurring moved with her gaze, so she
squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again.
Where was Vasha? she wondered.
Nothing would come from her stunned throat. She twisted her neck again, seeking the girl.
A scuffling noise reached her from the hearth. She rolled her neck as far as she could,
moving it into her field of vision.
There she was!
The girl was advancing, trancelike, right to the fire's edge.
Vasha! Stop! What are you doing? Please!
Vasha lifted her arms forward, the cloth of the altar now clearly visible to Gabrielle. It
was draped over her left arm and shoulder. In the other hand, she held the chakram.
For the love of the Goddess, Vasha, no!
Gabrielle heard herself groan. Some sensitivity was returning to her neck and shoulders.
She felt her inhalations now, and without any help from her arms, she tried to lift her
torso from her prone position. Pain arced through her chest, but she forced her way up,
cold sweat springing out across her forehead.
Vasha was kneeling in front of the fire, the white cloth a mantle of shocking brightness
in the swirling, storm-filled gloom of the cabin's interior. With her left hand supporting
her, she extended the chakram into the flames much the way Gabrielle had when placing the
cross on the log.
The gleaming metal caught the heat of the huge blaze now fed by the strength of the oak
log in its center and it began glowing orange. Gabrielle winced, expecting a scream of
terror from the child, but still, she made no noise. Her hand took on the peculiar
lambency of the chakram, and in small hops the flames rose up in a crest on her thin
forearm.
There was no light save what was cast by the leaping Solstice fire. Like tricks and
shadows, the flames on Vasha's arms fluttered and ran, streaking up to her shoulders. She
rose to her feet, the white cloth now burning from several places, and stepped forward.
"Vasha!" Gabrielle shrieked. "Stop—!"
Gabrielle realized that it was far too late to do anything to save the child, but refused
to look away. Vasha continued moving into the fire itself, engulfed by the gyrating
oranges and yellows and reds. The shutters came loose from their hinges and crashed to the
floor.
The unnatural wail swelled forth from the fireplace as Vasha's outline blurred and
deformed into a contoured pillar of flame. The high-pitched outburst fractured into
several distinct bands of sound, all eeriely echoing the first. The sounds struck
Gabrielle's ears with such intensity that she screamed, surprising herself.
Feeling her arms for the first time since she'd fallen, she forced them to obedience,
pushing herself to her feet, though she had no idea what she was doing. She stumbled
closer to the fireplace, trying to see what was happening. A great flare towered above the
rest of the flames, whipping in the wind from the window, so bright it made her blink and
squinch her eyes for protection.
She shielded her face partially, palms outward but open so she could see. The huge tongue
of flame was snapping and leaping at the chimney, and she imagined arms and hands reaching
for release.
In the blaze, a log shifted and an earsplitting pop! preceded the metallic clank
of the chakram as it rolled out of the fire on its edge, looped around Gabrielle's feet
and fell flat at the edge of the hearthstone. Her gaze remained riveted on the flames,
convinced that she could see a human outline in them. She fought the urge to go forward,
knowing that the only safety was in regaining control of the blaze before it overstepped
its bounds and spread to the interior of the lean-to.
She could feel tears streaming down her cheeks, the heat and the sorrow dueling for
primacy. The wails receded in volume, reintegrating themselves into one voice, a voice
saturated with poignant joy. As strange as it was, she couldn't deny the exultation in the
cries. She took a step back and dropped her hands.
The shape in the fire coalesced, then darkened. Mesmerized, Gabrielle forgot to breathe,
mouth hanging open, arms dangling at her sides. The flames took on a more normal
appearance, and from their midst, a tall, smoldering form emerged, glowing redly.
Gabrielle took another step back, feeling the edge of a cushion against her heel.
As the contours of the figure in front of her solidified and cooled, the color of normal
fleshtone appeared. The white altar cloth was now a white tunic draped over the shoulders
of a lean, statuesque woman with shining black hair. Her blue eyes scanned the room in
obvious amazement.
Gabrielle fainted.
A HAND BRUSHED HER FOREHEAD, FINGERTIPS IN HER HAIR. Another hand was supporting her neck
and head. After a deep exhalation, she managed to open her eyes. Staring back at her was
an impossible sight: Xena. She felt her eyes roll back once more, but before she could
drift into semi-consciousness again, Xena bent over and kissed her eyelids.
"It's safe, Gabrielle. It's me. You're going to be fine. You're not crazy... you're
not imagining me."
Gabrielle knew the touch too well to believe otherwise. As Xena leaned over her, she was
reassured by the comforting scent of her; her breath, her hair, her skin, freshly forged
with overtones of woodsmoke... but sleep and dreams whispered to her with an alluring
charm.
"Try to open your eyes again. I want you to sit up if you can. I'll help you."
The whispering temptation of sleep wound around her conscious mind, both struggling for
dominance.
"Sit... up?"
"Yes, I need you to sit up. You've hurt your head, I think, and I want to check
it."
"Xena? How?" Gabrielle mumbled.
"Just like you always do. I'll give you my hand—"
"No. That's not what I meant." Gabrielle focused on Xena's voice, pushing the
blissful ignorance of sleep away. "I meant— how? How are you here?"
"Let's get you upright first. I really have no idea, anyway. I was hoping you could
tell me what you did."
Gabrielle strained against the ache in her shoulders and spine, but with Xena's arms
around her torso, she got herself into a sitting position. She still hadn't looked at
Xena's face; a nagging fear of allowing the grief and anger to re-enter her heart held her
back.
"I didn't do anything. I think you did it." She rubbed her forehead.
"Where's Va....?" She caught her breath, then steadied herself.
Xena sat next to Gabrielle, keeping a tiny bit of distance from her, but with one hand on
her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not okay! My whole world is an incredible mess! Every time I think I've
found some relief from it, it changes again! I can't take it anymore!" Tears began
welling up in her eyes.
Xena probed beneath the blond hair for signs of an injury. "I understand, believe me
I do. This must be terrible for you." She kept quiet for several moments. Not sure
what to say and not wanting to upset Gabrielle further, she added "I think your head
is okay after all."
Gabrielle shook her head, jaw set. "This is not 'terrible,' Xena. This is quite
possibly the most miraculous thing that's ever happened to me, and all I can feel at the
moment is anger and confusion. What I want to do is hold onto you and never let go."
She inhaled sharply. "But I can't. I'm sorry."
The tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks. With considerable effort she stood, and
trembling, made it the distance to the sleeping furs where she laid herself down. Xena
watched her without moving. Gabrielle pulled the furs over her head and laid still, her
breathing shallow and irregular. At last, the rise and fall of her body indicated sleep.
For the first time, Xena registered the cold on her skin. She trod over to the furs and
climbed underneath. Gabrielle didn't stir. Xena laid awake for a long time, dwelling on
the cold air as it clamped its icy grip over the foot she'd left hanging out of the
coverings; listening to the beat of her heart in her chest, and the sound of Gabrielle's
breath in slumber. Gradually, the numbness from laying on her side too long created a
tingling sensation in her shoulder, and she flipped over to her other side, then moved
forward, pressing herself into Gabrielle's back and legs. The smaller woman molded her
body rearward into the familiar warmth of her companion without ever waking.
The sound of an owl far off across the clearing and the soft snort of the horse in the
corner lulled Xena closer to sleep, but the sheer pleasure of being uncomfortable on a
cold, hard floor kept her gloriously awake.
Physical pain, that ever-present indicator of life, was once more a fact of her existence.
GABRIELLE OPENED HER EYES TO FIND THE PINK LIGHT OF EARLY morning filling the interior of
the lean-to. Raphael stood drowsing, head drooping, steam rising from his nostrils. The
chill in the air contrasted the toasty warmth of her bed. The fur blanket over her felt
especially heavy.... She stiffened. It was the weight of an arm.
She rolled in place under the coverings, careful not to disturb her bedmate. There was
Xena's face, a perfect embodiment of sleep, her features smooth with serenity. Gabrielle
stared for a time at the impossibility of the sight before her, first smiling then
frowning, unsure of what to think or feel. Xena's arm was still over her waist.
Gabrielle reached for her face, the normal confidence she felt when touching her partner
totally absent. Her fingertips grazed the beautiful, high cheekbones and she was rewarded
with a smile deep from some dreamplace only Xena knew. Gabrielle waited for the moment
when those blue eyes would open, the peace of a thousand lifetimes revealed in one
precious instant before they registered their surroundings, awake and aware.
Who would she be now, this Warrior Princess? Gabrielle wondered. She remained
prone, her head on her right elbow, watching. The woman she knew was so much more than the
'Warrior Princess,' but none of that knowledge helped. Would she bring back some secret
wisdom from the place she was? Or some dark secret better left untouched?
It would all be so new, so different, and yet— so very familiar. Xena's smile faded
back into a blissful mask of innocent sleep, though her arm had pulled at Gabrielle's
waist for a few seconds, as if drawing her closer.
Gabrielle withdrew her hand and put it under her own cheek, resting her head there.
Birdsong reached her from the open window and she could hear Raphael moving in his corner.
She had no idea how long she'd lain staring at Xena when she realized that a menagerie of
animals outlined both sides of the sleeping furs. Their small movements and body heat
created a circle of enchantment around the two women.
"Good morning, my little furry friends."
One by one, they dispersed, leaving her side of the bedding clear, but those resting next
to Xena lingered. Gabrielle snuck out of the covers and found herself already fully
dressed.
She shook her head, remembering the events of last night. Raphael snorted.
"I'm coming, you." she whispered.
As she brushed and fed him, she noticed his attention diverted in the direction of the
sleeping furs more than once.
"You don't know her, do you?" she asked. "Or do you?"
He swished his tail across her coat and dismissed her question. She took the hint and
decided it was time to make a fire. They would need some warmth and a bit to eat before
anything else was dealt with.
XENA SPOONED THE WARM GRUEL OUT OF THE BOWL and ate it with uncharacteristic leisure. When
she was finished, she set the bowl down and lifted the mug of spiced tea, inhaling the
aroma of it, eyes closed in simple delight. Against her will, Gabrielle was charmed by the
sight. This was real.
"Xena? This is so hard for me. Is it hard for you?"
Xena looked at her, the mere turn of her head fresh and uncomplicated. "I'd like to
say yes, but the truth is, it's not. I don't know how I've been chosen to receive such a
gift, but I'm not going to look too hard at it."
Gabrielle bit off a hasty reply. Instead, she stared past Xena to the fireplace.
Why do I feel so irritated when I should be dancing naked in the snow?
"No, I suppose you shouldn't. But it won't stop me from looking."
Xena nodded, agreeing. "No, I know better. When you get your mind set on something,
you don't let it go." She smiled. "It's saved my life more than once."
Again, Gabrielle was annoyed by her ease and lack of affront.
"So, tell me then... are you going to be this sweet and agreeable forever? Because I
can't stand it. I like a little bitch with my woman."
Xena laughed, teeth as perfect as ever.
"I'd say your woman has a little bitch with her already." She chuckled, amused
at her own humor. Gabrielle sat, stunned at the jibe.
"Oh, that was good." she retorted. "You are still there, aren't
you?"
Xena sighed and put her mug down. "Can I just say that for right now, all is right
with the world? From where I'm sitting, nothing can bother me. I'm enjoying the reality
of..." she gestured in a wide arc around the cabin "...all this. It's not even
worth figuring out how it happened. Just living here in this moment, with you... it's all
I need."
Gabrielle— if I only had 30 seconds to live— this is how I'd want to live
them— looking into your eyes.
"I remember what you said to me... in Higuchi... 30 seconds to—"
"When I only had 30 seconds to live... that's what I saw. Your eyes. Now you're
having a hard time showing yours to me. But that's okay. I understand, really I do. And if
you can find someone more patient than I am right this second, I'd be amazed. I can
wait."
Xena stood. "I think I better find myself some clothing or I'm going to stop seeing
this winter weather as charming. Got any ideas?"
Gabrielle's gaze lingered a bit longer on her feet, then she said "Check the pack
over against the wall. I kept a few extra pieces of clothing in there."
"Thanks."
The morning fire was bashful, built off to one side of the enclosure as far away as
possible from where its brazen nighttime counterpart had been. It occured to Gabrielle
that the ashes of the Solstice Log should be gathered and put back into their container
before it was too late.
"Xena... what do you think about the ashes from last night? You wanted me to keep
them from year to year."
"I remember. Well, like I said, it's an old tradition... why don't you think about
what tradition you want to honor and decide from there."
Gabrielle went to the fireplace and poked about with a stick until she had a small black
piece of what had been the oak log separated from the rest of the heap of coals. She
picked it up, feeling its redolent heat in her palms, even though it had lain apart from
the breakfast fire. The container was on its side near the hearthstone, and when she
gathered it up, she used both her hands to roll the chunk of charred oak into ashes,
sifted them in, then closed the lid.
Xena had found some clothing and was introducing herself to Raphael. Gabrielle took the
opportunity to stow the butts of the candles and the container of Solstice ashes in the
saddlebags, unconsciously making room for the other, larger urn. When she realized what
she was doing, she froze in place.
The gathering of ashes....
She walked back over to the fireplace, and with her shovel and tongs she began cleaning up
the ashes and coal. When she finished, she hauled the debris to the bin in the other
corner of the room, dumping it without hesitation. From the pocket of her coat, she pulled
the Japanese urn out and looked at it. She looked over at Raphael and Xena, then back to
the urn. In one unflinching motion, she tossed it into the bin with the ashes.
"I don't need you anymore."
She dashed her palms together, knocking most of the loose soot off, then headed back to
the hearth. Xena met her there, waiting with a cleaning rag.
"Here, give them to me."
Mutely, Gabrielle extended her hands, watching Xena rub them until her skin was pink. Xena
dropped the rag to one side, then turned Gabrielle's hands over, palms up.
"Did you know that a beautiful woman once told me 'I have everything in the palms of
my hands?' And then she told me that as long as she was alive, those hands would contain
the power of love."
Gabrielle trembled as she recalled the conversation with Vasha less than 24 hours earlier.
She felt more tears gathering behind her lids.
Xena continued. "I don't know why I can hear those words so vividly, or when I heard
them, but I can see it... so clearly." She paused, caught up in her curious memories.
"Gabrielle, you contain everything in these hands. My life is in there." She
pressed Gabrielle's palms together and steepled her own long-fingered hands around them.
"To share with someone all the happiness—"
"—And all the pain a person can feel." Gabrielle interrupted. She began
crying.
"You were right Xena, the answer was in my heart all along, but I couldn't get to my
own heart, it was so walled in against the pain...."
She pulled their hands forward and kissed Xena's fingers.
"Xena, can you forgive me? I thought I'd released it all, I'd let go of the
pain— and I did—- but when you came out of that fire last night, on Solstice
night, I—"
"Shhh.... you don't have to explain. I wish I could make some sense of it
myself." Xena pulled Gabrielle close, hugging her to her chest.
"All I know is that it got harder and harder to find you, then... even though I
couldn't reach you anymore, you felt closer to me everyday, until I felt almost as if I
could touch you. But I couldn't, and I didn't understand. I thought I had let go of all my
pain, too, but when I realized you were out of my reach forever, all the pain in my soul
just poured out, over and over again. I was truly lost then."
"Do you remember the fire?"
"No, not really. After I lost you, everything went numb, and I couldn't figure out
why I was still around to observe it. I mean, I was dead, right? The blackness of it all
was immense, but sort of comforting. It was like I lived in a tiny spark of light with all
of that quiet darkness around me, and the spark kept expanding until it filled everything
with heat and light and air."
She lapsed into silence.
"Then what?" Gabrielle prodded.
"Then I stepped out into this room and you fainted."
"I can be such a girl, sometimes, can't I?"
"Never lose that ability. It's quite a treasure in someone as lethal as you. I don't
suppose you'd want to give me my chakram back?"
Gabrielle looked up at Xena, for the first time meeting her eyes fully.
"I have everything I need in the palm of my hands, so I guess the chakram's
yours." She paused. "Welcome back, Xena."
"How good it is to be back. So, where are we headed from here? Weren't we talking
about getting out and seeing new places?"
Gabrielle grinned. "I was heading for Ephesus. No, wait— I know you've been
there before. I figured it was a good jumping-off point to visit Mytilene."
"Ah, yes, the Isle of Lesbos. You'll get no argument from me. The land of beautiful
poetry and equally beautiful women. Not that I don't have all I need right in front of
me." Xena squeezed Gabrielle again.
"Good, now about Raphael... he's mine, so you're gonna have to walk...."