19. Purpose
CHAPTER 19
Purpose
ALIA
T hat was eventful.
“Yes. And now I never have to see the werewolf again.”
Ran snorted, shaking her glorious mane. Mhmm.
“Seriously. He’s a pain in the boot. One of those in the sole that you can’t quite get out and was built in so it constantly gives you bruises, ya know?”
Mhmm, she said again. Did he say anything about the puppy?
A grin crossed my face. “I thought you didn’t like the puppy.”
I don ’ t.
“Mhmm. He mentioned Fenbutt.”
She picked up her pace for a few steps and then stopped abruptly. I nearly sailed over her head into the water, but I buckled down.
A laugh bubbled from my lips. “Fine, fine. He said Fenbutt is staying with a friend and doing well. He has other pups to play with and is happy.”
I don’t tell her about the escape attempts.
Heard that.
It’s super amazing to have a pony who reads minds.
Why don ’ t we bring him home?
I froze as she trotted through the trees, nearly bruising my tail end as it bounced against the saddle. “Do you miss the little guy?”
Of course not!
Wow. She was getting soft.
Am not, she said petulantly. She smacked me on the foot with her tail.
Doc’s words were going round in my mind the next day as I helped Dad with chores around the house.
Stress. Can that really cause something so horrible?
“Do you think someone can cause someone else to get sick?” I asked.
Dad paused in washing a large pot. I was sharpening my knives in between drying the pans and plates. “I don’t know. Never thought about it, to be honest. What makes you ask?”
I avoided his eyes. “Just something I heard.”
He grunted. He knew there were things I couldn’t share because of missions. “I understand. I’ve heard of older warriors becoming physically ill because of battle trauma. But I don’t know if someone can make another sick. Is this in relation to your sister?”
I glanced up to find his eyes on me. I gave a slight nod. “When did she begin getting sick?” I asked.
“You were there. It was about a year after Fina’s birth, though she showed signs of sickness much earlier.”
“Why do you think she got sick?”
He scrubbed the pan with extra vigor. “I don’t know. I’m no healer,” he said, his voice hard and unyielding. He paused, shoulders slumping. “Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to yell. I just want my baby girl well and happy.”
I touched his arm, knowing he needs comfort. “Dad, you’re doing the best you can. You’re an amazing father.”
“An amazing father wouldn’t have a sick baby girl,” he said, almost under his breath.
I shook my head. “Terrible dads have healthy kids. Terrible dads have unhealthy kids. The sun shines on both the good dads and the bad ones. Rain also comes to both. Do you really think you’re so special as to control who gets sick or who doesn’t?”
Dad stared at me for a moment. Then he cracked a tiny smile and ruffled my hair. I batted him off and undid the braid of my dark hair that he’d messed up.
“When did you grow up into a woman, kiddo?” he asked, smiling before going back to washing.
I returned his smile, though I was thinking I hadn’t been a kid in a very long time.
“I heard you speaking with your father,” Mom said as I returned inside. She was changing Fina’s diaper. I felt her need and grabbed a clean washcloth from the kitchen and handed it to her just as she opened the cloth. She jerked back with a frown as Fina giggled.
I stifled a smile and a gag. “Glad that one’s yours,” I said.
Mom shot me a look. “Get your hinny back to sweeping before I give this one to ya,” she said. I quickly grabbed the broom and swept up the rushes. “And thanks for the wipes!” she said, still frowning.
I nearly laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“I heard what you said to Dad,” Mom repeated.
I shrugged. “Yeah, it was a stupid idea?—”
She shook her head. “No, hon. I’ve thought the same thing before.”
I stared at her, forgetting all about the rushes at my feet. “What? Why haven’t you mentioned it?”
She shrugged. “I did. Nobody believed me. So I stopped mentioning it.”
I tried to get my mind around that. Mom was a bit… I didn’t know how to describe her. I think she had a Gift, but it was super spotty and difficult to pinpoint. It was often around the things that were bad, too, so people didn’t like to listen to her because she was nearly always the bearer of bad news.
“I believe you. Can you tell me?” I asked, feeling her need to be heard and understood.
She finished replacing the new cloth and throwing the old into a basket before she turned to me with Fina on her hip. Fina stuck a finger up Mom’s nose, making her sputter. Fina giggled.
I tried not to grin.
Mom frowned down at the girl, but then she smiled and tickled her feet.
“Your sister was never the strongest, but she was never sickly. Not until she went through a period where we didn’t hear from her very much. We thought she was just enjoying her new life away from home and loving on her children. But then she came over one night, pregnant and pale, Jess in her arms. She said Rey had told her she was a lying”—Mom glanced down at sweet Fina in consideration—“you-know-what and sent her away. She always tried to smile when I asked her if Rey was treating her right, and she’d say yes, but I saw something different beneath her haunted eyes. I suspected the stress was getting to her. Then she almost lost this little one.” She snuggled Fina closer. “I suspected, but could never prove it.”
I felt a need then. It was odd—almost as if it were a need linked to two separate individuals. Two who needed to be together. Whelp, that was a decently easy fix. “Then why don’t we bring her here?” I asked.
Mom stared at me. “That—is a wonderful idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
I squeezed her arm. “Mom, we’re all running on empty. We originally couldn’t keep her here because of everything going on, but I’m here more now. I can help. Let’s bring Anna home.”