Through the smoke and haze, Bexley found the source of the screaming. An old woman sat crouched on the ground next to an unconscious man. As Bexley began running towards them, Railen grabbed her around the waist, and swung her out of the way, as a flock of emus ran by.
“Well, now I have a motive,” Railen growled in her ear. Because emus weren't native to this region, any farmer that was lucky enough to start a herd, could become rich by selling meat, oil and feathers of this exotic bird.
“You think they're after the flock?” Bexley asked.
Railan didn't respond, instead he walked to the nearest tree engulfed by the hot flames, and laid a hand on the bark. Bexley couldn't make out his words or over the crackling of the fire, but she could see his mouth moving and his eyes closed. Slowly the flames began to die out, first on this tree, then on the next and the next. He slipped off his shoes and crouched, digging his fingers in the dirt. The grass began to extinguish, as if someone had sprayed it with water. Steam rose from the ground creating a mist throughout the forest.
Bexley had heard people of Poeima had this sort of ability, but she always believed it to be rumors. Now, seeing it with her own eyes, she was in awe. But how did Railan now these secrets. Wolfpine was known for its harsh thievery and slave trades. For a moment she had forgotten about the poor man laying there, and the woman that knelt at his side.
She ran to them quickly now, trying to assess the damage. From the first glance painful blisters covered the right side of her face, from jaw to hairline. Her eye was unable to open either from the pain or from melted skin, Bexley couldn't tell, and she couldn't stomach to ask. The man, although unconscious, seemed to have only suffered slight burns on his hands.
“Do you know who did this?” Bexley demanded of the couple.
“I already told you I do” Railan's harsh voice sounded behind her, making her jump.
“My husband,” the old lady cried out in a choking whisper. “Can you save him?”
Railan knelt again onto the ground and rested his hands on the man's chest. Bexely could hear him now, a strange mix of sounds and syllables she didn't recognize streamed from his lips, and slowly the man started to breath in and exhale a pale white smoke until at last his breath was clear.
The woman broke down in sobs over her husband. “Thank you! Thank you!” she cried.
Railan stood back up and walked to where his boots were laying on the ground, barely slowing down, slipping them on, and continued to his horse. Bexely ran after him. “How did you learn that language?” she asked. “I thought it was only the people of Poiema who could speak it. What else can you heal? Can you fix their home?”
He stopped and she nearly ran into him. “No, it only works on what was alive or is still living, and even then there are no guarantees.” An edge in his voice brought her up short.
But she couldn't help herself, “Then surely you could just say those words over yourself and you wouldn't need me at all.”
“Like I said, there are no guarantees.”
Thanks so much for sharing this with me! I was without proper internet for a few days, so this has been a treat to get back to it. For more info on freewrites, vist @mariannewest! If you would like to check out the previous parts, they are linked below!
Much love,
Stacie D
Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay
