Finding Peace

by Daniel-Gleebits

An Unexpected Arrival

An Unexpected Arrival

For a short time, she was content to simply sit and watch. The night had been the perfect time for her ritual: Pitch dark, heavy rain falling so thick and hard that the wind was barely able to push it this way and that, and it instead fell in near-perfect vertical sheets. Her small bowls gave off the only tiny radiance over the little stone table behind which she was seated, and was just barely protected from the seasonal rains. She could have stretched out her hand and touched the rain as though it were a waterfall, or the barrier between her small dry world, and the larger, wetter one.

She’d been sitting in silent meditation for untold time, when something in the din of the rain made her eyes slowly open. At first, she couldn’t be sure what it was she was seeing, and even when she knew, she felt no particular compunction to investigate it. She had no want of visitors after all. But then the black figure came close enough for her to see its gait, and to understand that the discordant sound from the rain was that of whimpers and heavy breathing.

And then the figure dropped. Face forward. Into the mud.

Rising from the little table, she made sure to put out the feeble lights, and stepped out of her own small world, into the harsh and driving storm. A rumble of thunder in the distance echoed across the near grassless plain as she approached the figure quickly. As she stooped to heft the body up, a distant bolt of lightning illuminated the flat land all around in stark blacks and whites. Except for the figure’s back, which in the flash of white, glimmered momentarily crimson.

---

The girl felt herself waking, and instinctively tried to remain unconscious. She had absolutely no desire to open her eyes ever again, but no sooner had these gloomy thoughts trickled across her mind, then was there an inevitable series of natural processes that brought consciousness ebbing across her mind like sunlight across the dunes. There was no stopping it.

The girl awoke to an indignant stab of pain. She’d expected that, but still didn’t appreciate it. It was almost enough to put her out of temper. That is, until she spotted the figure nearby.

“I wouldn’t try sitting up,” it said, not looking up from what it was doing.

Despite these words, the girl’s arms automatically reached backwards to try and lever her torso up. That is until the left arm reflexively shot back down as what felt like a bolt of lightning shot through her bones. The girl’s breath caught in her throat and she fell back in a brief rictus of pain.

“Please don’t do that again,” the figure said, still not looking up from its work. “My ability to treat injuries is fairly limited in this environment. Should you bleed out any further than you already have, there may be nothing I can do to help you.”

The girl forced her eyes to open, and she tried to gain a better look at her host. She didn’t have much success. She appeared to be within some kind of dwelling parched of light, leaving most of the interior in shadow. Outside, through two circular windows and a semi-circular doorway, was the clearest and bluest of skies.

“Who are you?” the girl asked faintly.

The figure held up a small bowl and inspected the contents, as though not hearing the question. After a few moments it put the bowl down and leaned over a small, dancing flame, in search of something on the table, throwing her features into sharp relief.

“I call myself Sunset,” this person replied.

In the light from the tiny flame, the girl was able to make out Sunset’s individual features. She might have gasped at what she saw, had she the energy for it, for she’d never seen anyone with quite so striking an appearance. Her skin was a subtle golden colour, her eyes a deep aquamarine. What looked like tattoos, or perhaps merely paint adorned her eyes and mouth. Her hair was mostly short and standing, but several red and gold woven braids of it adorned with simple metal pieces hung more numerously from the right-side of her head than the left, draping her shoulders.

“Is this your house?” the girl asked.

“This is the place where I live,” the other confirmed.

The girl tilted her head a little to one side. “Do you always answer questions like that?”

“Do you always ask questions?”

The girl pursed her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said, lying back. “I don’t really remember what happened between—“ She stopped herself and started again. “I don’t know how I got here, but I’m guessing you helped me.” She touched the cloth that had been wrapped around her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Sunset replied.

A short silence followed.

“Do you want me to be quiet?” the girl asked.

“I have no particular need for you to be quiet,” Sunset said, now taking a small pestle to the little bowl.

“Can I ask more questions, then?”

Sunset paused for the first time in her work, her green eyes flickering to the girl. She seemed to consider a while, or perhaps was choosing the wording of her answer carefully. Maybe she was just drawing out the silence whilst she had it; the girl found it hard to tell what Sunset’s mood was.

“I didn’t mean what I said about you asking questions as a scolding. I’m sorry that my phrasing led you to believe that.” She inclined her head towards the girl apologetically. “Social skills,” she added, returning to the bowl, “are not my forte.”

The girl lay still and quiet, now feeling rather guilty. This person had helped her, perhaps saved her life, and was housing her whilst she recovered. She saw now that her questioning could be construed as suspicion, or mistrust.

“I don’t want to ask anything personal,” she said carefully. When Sunset said nothing to this, she struck upon an idea she thought would be more courteous. “Would you like me to tell you about me? I’m being a rude—“ She hesitated, and then settled on, “guest. I haven’t introduced myself.”

“If you should like to tell me something of yourself, you may feel free to do so. But not now.”

The girl blinked. “You don’t want to know who I am?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.

“You are a young girl I found collapsed and bleeding in the rain,” Sunset said evenly. “That’s all I need to know to help you.”

The girl frowned, genuinely confused. “But, what if I’m dangerous?” she asked. “I could be a thief, or a murderer.”

“Are you either of those things?” Sunset asked, scraping a thick paste from the little bowl onto the contents of a slightly larger bowl.

“Well, no, but—“

“If you were either, it’s unlikely that you’d divulge that information simply because I asked you who you were,” Sunset said, standing up and coming to sit on a stool next to the cot-like bed the girl was lying in. In one hand she held the bowl, which the girl suddenly noticed contained food. “You were running from something, or someone, with nothing to hold onto as you lost yourself in a stormy land. I doubt, from this, that you are anything very terrible.”

“Running?” the girl asked, her organs plummeting within her.

Sunset looked her in the eye for a moment before turning away. “At least, that is how it appeared to me. Perhaps I am reading too much into it. Now eat this,” she said, helping the girl to sit up a little. “It’ll dull the pain a little, and bring your strength back faster.”

The girl sat there, the bowl of food in her hand, and her golden-skinned host sitting patiently beside her. To her horror, she felt her eyes begin to prickle with the heat of tears.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, her voice turning brittle as she stared down into the food.

Sunset frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

The girl looked into Sunset’s smooth expression for a short time, trying to perceive answers from the inscrutable face, the unblinking eyes. She had to admit after a while however, that she could glean no answers there, and so blinking away the moisture in her eyes, began to eat.

Apparently satisfied, Sunset watched the girl eat some of the food for a moment, and then stood up, and walked outside. The girl started.

“W-Where are you going?” she blurted.

Sunset sat down at her little stone table. “To here.”

“Oh,” the girl said, her heart rate decreasing. “That’s cool. Not that I was worried you were leaving.”

“Whoever said that you were?” Sunset asked, crossing her legs and facing the sun-scorched plains.

“I didn’t,” the girl said.

There was a pause.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” the girl said.

“As I said,” Sunset sighed. “I’ve been alone for some time. I’m a little out of the habit of it.”

“Well it’s a good thing I came along, isn’t it?” the girl said, cheerfully.

Sunset arranged a few figures on her stone table, and lit the small burning bowls. Staring out onto the moist but rapidly drying plains before her, she exhaled.

“That remains to be seen.”