The Prologue

The slow, repetitive ticking of the clock's hands seems to be the only things that are moving. The world outside the bedroom window is a frozen picture. I keep waiting for the wind to blow through the trees, to raise some color, rustle up some sound. The harsh winter should be coming any day now, and for once that is a relief. But waiting with the silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock, is suffocating; it makes my stomach turn.

Maybe we shouldn’t have come here, maybe I should have taken her somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Here it is as if though even the animals and nature itself are holding their breath. As if they know the dangerous results that will follow if we are found. Here, even the animals are desperate for the cold winter to come in and hide us all.

I hear her moan behind me and turn on my heels like lightening, I’m at her bedside in less than a heartbeat. I breathe for what feels like the first time in my life. Or is it a sigh of relief? My hand on her forehead is stinging from the heat of her fever. Her moan may be filled with pain, but it is at least a sign of the life within her. A small force of light flickering still, struggling against being snuffed out. With fear, I hope.

Removing the cloth from hear forehead, I drench it once again in the bowl of cool water on the stand next to the bed. I strain the cool water out of the cloth and place it back on her forehead. As I sit down beside her, all I can do now is take her hand into the warmth of mine and whisper prayers towards her.

As day moves into night, finally the winds begin to stir and howl through the trees; the winter is coming. Along with prayers sent out in desperation, I’ve been whispering promises to her. Promises of the winter to come, which will protect us in these forgotten mountains. Promises of relief and recovery. Promises of change, of release.

Perhaps it is the desperation of hope, but it seems as though my words are keeping her fever at bay. As the darkest part of the night approaches and I resist the urge to sleep, my thoughts drift back to the beginning.