Bea
Though, the weather is fitting for my mood.
Find out how to kill me, I’d told him. The shock on his face would have been comical, had I not been in the midst of my panic. I'd surprised myself, saying the words aloud, but witnessing that mother kissing her bairn… Knowing one of them would die.
It had nearly broken me.
Once again, the final two items of the spell pop into my mind. I could tell him about it right now. Have him retrieve them for me, and try to send them down the After. Except, I feel more certain than ever that, if the After is to accept me, it must be my hands that find the items.
Because what of my penance? Or is that not the problem at all?
Could it be that maybe now that death is a real possibility, I’m no longer so sure I want it.
I close my eyes, prodding the thought. Do I still want to rest?
Yes, I decide. I do. But I wish to go to my rest on my terms, the spell completed by my own hands and with a changed heart. It is the only chance for Am Breitheamh to judge me well. Every decision in the past century has been taken from me.
I will not allow my final choice to be taken from me, too.
The river laps at my toes, rising higher by the hour.
At least I am not alone out here. My dragon rests on the ridge again, her new perch.
She’s seemingly unbothered by the rain, though I cannot say the same.
It’s been a long time since I've seen a downpour like this, and I curl in on myself, shivers wracking my body.
What I would give to have a longer chain.
To be able to reach the trees or curl inside the hollow log. Anything to give me respite.
The river finds my hem, too fast, and I shift again, scooting back a few hand-lengths, my waterlogged dress heavy and hard to move.
Brennen has disappeared inside his tent, dry and warm, and I envy him for it. He’d been smart to set it up not only out of my reach, but on high ground. He can ride out the storm in peace, safe from both me and the elements.
Though, I do not think Brennen fears me hurting him anymore. The look on his face when I’d told him to kill me had been a mix of shock and frustration, though I’m not sure what had unsettled him more—the desperation in my voice, or the truth lacing every word.
I close my eyes against a gust of wind, and something heavy lands on my shoulders.
I stiffen, my hands coming up to find a wool blanket, thick and sturdy. I suck in a sharp breath of surprise. Not just that he brought me the blanket, but that he left his dry tent to bring it to me.
I turn to look at him standing over me. His muscular chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and his jaw is tight. He’s soaked through now, hair hanging in his eyes and his tunic clinging to his body, emphasizing his corded arms and broad chest.
My fingers tighten on the blanket.
“It’s not much,” Brennen says, his voice rough, hard to hear through the patter of rain. “But I dinnae have anything else to offer.”
“It’s plenty,” I whisper, lifting the blanket, my cold fingers fumbling as I wrap it around me, pulling it up to cover my head. The heavy weight settles over my body, protecting me. At least for now.
It will get soaked, too, if this rain continues much longer, but it’s something. If not shelter, then kindness. A gesture I haven’t experienced in the longest time, and it means more to me than he could possibly know.
“Thank you,” I say, though I’m not sure if he can understand me through the tightness in my throat and my chattering teeth.
“It should end soon,” he says, walking back toward his tent stiffly, but really, he doesn’t know that. It could last days, and the thick blanket will give me relief for an hour at most.
I will gladly take that hour, and the warmth bubbling inside me brought on by his thoughtfulness will last far longer than that.
The sound of rushing water fills the glen, sudden and unexpected, and I turn toward the noise, scrambling back as a surge of water appears from upstream.
“Washwoman!” Brennen shouts. “Bea! Move!” But it's too late. Within seconds, the valley is flooded. Muddy water surges around me and drags me under.
I don’t have time to take a last breath as my head is pulled under, the current carrying me swiftly toward the After. I open my eyes to search for the surface, but the water is brown, full of mud and debris.
My chain snaps tight, and the pain is blinding. I scream as absolute agony rips through my ankle, bubbles pouring from my mouth as I sob. My body forces me to breathe. Freezing water fills my lungs, sharp and wrong.
Memories of drowning fill my mind, and I fight harder. Through my panic, I hope Brennen ran. That he’s high up on the ridge with Lolly, safe.
Trying to push upward, I kick, but my limbs grow cold and my vision tunnels. It is excruciating, the pain surging through my entire being, my lungs desperate for oxygen, pinpricks of torment spreading through my blood until finally, my body gives in, and the world goes dark.
Once again, I am no match for the river.