April 2020 (Kind of)

(This is an edit and update of a story I wrote for a friend early last year. Honestly, April kind of got away from me… with everything. On the plus side, I am now 1/3 through with the first draft of the last book in the Freedom and Control series, which is kind of chilling and kind of cool. Anyway, enjoy!)

Elena awoke to her usual fits of manic coughing.  A catch in her throat that wouldn’t clear.  She gasped for breath, and when that failed her and she descended into further hacking, she tasted the irony liquid tickling her throat.  She scrambled in the dark for a bucket.  Elena spat the blood into it, and grimaced.  With her teeth, she uncorked the bottle of wine beside the table.  One swig to wash the flavor out, and another in a vain attempt to get back to sleep.  The sky outside her room filled with a meek pink and orange glow. 

It’s today, she remembered.  The scroll, delivered by raven, sat with a ring-shaped wineglass stain on the floor.  She bent down to reach it, then reclined in bed with it clutched between her fingers.  It’s really today. 

Her bag lay packed by the door, hiking boots beside it.  A thin band of the still-rising sun lighted them for her to see.  It wasn’t much, all told, but then her family didn’t have much.  They’d given her what they could, including a length of parchment that a local artisan had sketched their portrait on.  Mom, dad, and her baby brother, Alphonse. 

Alfie. Elena smiled to herself.  Her body shook with fresh coughs.  The tickle of blood didn’t fade with a third slug of the wine.  Somewhere in another room, Alfie started to cry.

“Shit,” she cursed out loud.  Once she said it, she felt a pain on her arm.  Elena bolted up in her bed and saw the line forming.  Another tally.  But only six, that wasn’t bad for a four-year-old.  Four years, since she became accountable, at least.  Nobody really counted age until the Day of Accountability.  Determined not to let the count go up further today, Elena rolled her sleeve back down and shambled over to her boots.  After lacing them, she went to her brother’s room. 

His piercing cries broke the otherwise still early morning.  Elena frowned down on him in the crib, then reached to pick him up.  When he saw her, he stopped crying and lifted his arms to her.  Mourning doves nesting on the roof cooed. 

“Do you hear them?” Elena whispered to Alfie as they moved to sit on a rocking chair in the corner.  “I think their babies are nearly hatched.  You’ll have some company once I’m off.  I wonder if they know you’re here.  You’re certainly loud enough.”

Alfie giggled with the rocking motion.  He grabbed a strand of Elena’s golden hair and tugged on it.  She marveled at the soft, unmarked skin of his arms, before he tugged harder.

“Ow!” Elena hissed. 

Alfie frowned, but tugged on the hair again, giggling.  Elena hissed again, but forced a smile.

“You’re a stinker,” she said.  “But I think I like you.  Don’t try something like that when you’re older.”

Footsteps pounded outside of the door.  Elena’s eyes flashed to the entrance.  Her father stood outside, shadow taking up frame.  His shoulders relaxed when he saw Elena holding the child, even if his gaze didn’t.

“Is he okay?” he asked.

“I think so.  My coughing must have scared him.  It’s robbing both of us of sleep.”

“But he’s okay.”

“Yes, dad.”

“Good.  How are you?”

“Well, I’m up.”

“Are you packed?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Good.  You know, you have until sundown.”

“Mom says it’s barely a four-hour walk.”

“I know, but you don’t want to miss it.  You know what happens.”

“I know, dad.”

“You can put him back in his crib.  He’s okay.”

“Okay, dad.”

Elena rose from the chair and kissed Alfie’s head before lowering him back in the crib.  He wriggled like a worm for a few seconds, then stilled.  Within moments, he was back asleep.

“I wish it was that easy,” Elena said.  Her father hugged her from behind.  She looked down, and saw the lines running up his arms.  But Elena closed her eyes, and melted into the embrace, calmed by the faded but familiar scent of his daily cologne.  There was a warmth there that wasn’t forced or faked.  He understood, that was all there was to it.  His body shook with hers when she started coughing again. 

“I’m sorry it hurts,” he said. 

“It’s alright.  It’s not for much longer.”

Elena forced a smile at her dad.  He dodged her eyes with his, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants.  She frowned.  Her frame shrank before his. 

“You are packed?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Good.  Well, I need to head into work early today.  You’ll kiss your mother for me?”

“Of course.”

“Good.  Good.  I hope you have a safe trip.”

“Thanks, dad.”

He trembled for a moment, and bent to kiss Elena on the cheek.  Suddenly, he was all around her again in a tight embrace.  She felt lifted off of her feet for a moment.  Then he dropped her and left the room.  His footsteps thundered down the stairs.  She heard the door slam. 

The cooing of the doves returned the house to is peaceful state. 

Elena huffed, shrugged, and returned to her room.  She untied her bag, stuck the bottle of wine inside, and retied it shut.  She swung the bag onto her back.  It sloshed and jangled with the odd assortment of items her family helped her shove inside.  Once it was fixed, she took once last look around the room.  Then the light switch was in her fingers.  She closed the door, and moved down the hall towards her parent’s room.

Her mother lay in bed, either freshly awake or trying to feign sleep.  She didn’t move when Elena tapped on the doorframe. 

“Mom?”

The form in bed moved perceptibly. 

“Mom?  It’s time.”

“It’s not morning yet…”

“It is, mom.  The sun’s up.”

“Oh.”

She rolled over in bed. Her half-lidded eyes settling onto her daughter.  Her dry lips cracked open in a smile, showing a few missing teeth.  Her arms, both of them, were covered in small, black lines.  Elena tried not to look at them, and kept her gaze fixed onto her mother’s eyes. 

“Don’t look like that,” her mother said.  “It’s a happy day.  You should look forward to it.” 

“I am,” Elena said.  “It’s just early, is all.  A long day ahead of me.”

“It is!  That’s true.”

Elena smiled in response.  Her breath wheezed out, and she crashed onto the doorframe.  She waved off her mother’s attempt to get out of bed. 

“I’m fine… I’m fine!”

“Alright.  Sorry.”

“Don’t worry.  It’s just… there we go.”

She swallowed the tickling mass, gave one heavy cough, and smiled back at her mother.

“Oh, I made you some tea for the trip.  I thought it might soothe you.”

“Really?”

“Yes!  It’s in a pot by the stove.  Should still be warm.  Try and fit it in that bag of yours.”

“I will.”

“Good.  I hope it goes well for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

Elena blew a kiss over.  Her mother mimed catching it.  They waved goodbye, and Elena turned to go.  She crept passed the open door of Alfie’s room, tiptoed down the stairs, and walked through to the kitchen.  The pot of tea, with two teacups wrapped in brown paper beside it, sat by the wood-burning stove. Her mother had left a note

Elena,

I know these past few weeks haven’t been easy for you, but it’s about to get so much better!  Take these teacups with you, too.  Your grandmother gave them to me before she left, so I think it’s only fitting you have them now.

All my best and love <3

Elena smiled, then folded the note and placed it in between the cups.  She took the warm tea and poured it into an empty bottle, stoppering it with a spare cork.  With some rearranging of the flint and steel, tinder, paper wrapped cut of beef, the re-corked half-bottle of wine, the drawing of her family, and an old wallet filled with coins, Elena squeezed the bottle of tea and the cups inside.  Now set, she left the house.

The squad building sat on the edge of the town center, a circle of dirt surrounding the fire pit that, even though the ground showed signs of rain, grew a plume of smoke like an ashen tree into the sky.  The smoky air was crisp in the early morning, and for once failed to irritate Elena’s lungs.  She breathed as deep as she could, and started for the path out of town.  The dirt, dampened with rain that came at some point in the night, squelched under her boots.  An owl hooted from a tree to her right.  Some deer gazed at her from an open meadow to her left.  Deciding she wasn’t a threat, they returned to grazing.  Elena smiled at them. 

The path out of town wove by the schoolhouse.  Children, still not technically required to be in class, chased each other in the yard before the building.  Their laughed flowed through the sunny air in bright bursts of joy.  Several of them toyed with hoops, either doing their best to keep them circling their waists or chasing them down the small hill that led from the schoolhouse to the creek below.  Elena paused on her walk to watch them.  Several turned, and ran up to her.

“Is it today?” one asked.

“Yes, it is,” Elena said through a smile. 

“You must be happy!

“I am.  It’s going to be nice, once I get there.”

“I hope so.  My mom says you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Some days are better than others.”

“Can I see them?”

“See what?” Elena asked.

“You know…”

The small boy looked away.  Elena felt her face tense

“Oh.”

She rolled up her sleeves, showing the six small lines.

“Only six!” the boy said.

“Hey!” a small girl said, “That’s pretty good.  My mother had lots when she left.”

“We’ll get them too, won’t we?” the boy asked.

“Not if you’re good,” Elena said.  

“I’ll be the best!” he said.  The children giggled.  Elena kept smiling, and then fought off a cough.  They all stepped back from her.  She took a seat on the wet grass, and waited for the fit to be over.  The kids shrieked in disgust when she spat blood onto the path, then ran from her.  Elena watched them go, and shrugged. 

It’ll get better, she thought.  I’ll get better.

She scrambled to her feet, tried to brush the dampness off her rear, and waved to the children.  A few returned the wave, and waited until she went over the hill and out of sight to resume playing.  Their laughter was the last sound of the village Elena hear before she passed the carving of the raven in an old oak tree that marked the border with the wilderness beyond.  The path continued through the stand of trees.  Their leaves tinted the dappled light of the fully-risen sun along the way she walked onward. 

More birds sang from the winding branches of the trees.  The air smelt of damp earth mingled with the floral aromas of springtime.  What pollen drifted in the breeze either made Elena sneeze, or stop to take a coughing break.  The fits sliced through nature’s efforts at a calm façade.  When she stopped, however, the quiet returned and soothed her spirit.  She pressed on, watching the trees grow older and cover the path with their branches.  Where they overgrew completely, the effect was dazzling.  Green line filtering down from the sky, covering the ground with a myriad of emerald flecks.  Beams of pure sunlight stabbed through where they could, and wherever they made landfall grew flowers and small bushes.  Elena stopped, inhaled the heady aromas of a nearby bush, and continued. 

She approached a clearing.  Not a full opening in the woods, but a noticeable gap in the trees.  The spring-fed river that flowed from somewhere beyond the village sliced through the woods and formed a small pool in the center of the clearing before continuing to flow.  Its whispering waters drew her closer.  Elena stopped, dropped her bag, slipped out of her boots, and rested her feet in the cool stream.  She leaned back, and looked up at the sky.

“You were present last night,” she said, aloud to the sky.  “Did you know I was coming today?  I did bring you something, I’m sorry it’s not very good but my village doesn’t have the best vines.”

Elena reached for her bag, and fumbled with the strings.  The half-full bottle of wine had been warmed by the tea.  She rested it in the cold waters until she was happy with the temperature.  Then, again with her teeth, she popped the cork out into the open bag and raised the bottle.

“To you, for helping our crops.”

She took a long swig from the bottle, then poured the rest into the stream.  The inky red wine swirled around in the pool, brushing against her bare legs in wafting tendrils.  Then the current swept them along downstream, and they disappeared into the flow.  Elena stared after them.  A small wind blew up, and the waters grew rippled.  She lost sight of the bottom of the pool, and withdrew her feet.  The small pool became a mirrored surface once more.  Elena nodded. 

“Thank you.”

She waited by the pool a while longer, coughing occasionally but for once relaxing, until the sun dried her legs and feet.  Then, she pulled her boots back on, tied the bag shut, and stood.  She stuffed the empty wine bottle back inside of the bag.  Another gust of wind blew, towards where the path continued on the other side of the stream.  Elena hopped over the water, dusted herself off, and moved on. 

The woods grew darker past the clearing.  The trees grew older. Some were gnarled with age and disease.  Black canopies of leaves challenged the sun to reach the forest floor.  Vines curled up the marred bark.  Creatures rustled in the undergrowth.  A raven cawed from an unseen vantage point, and startled Elena.  Her eyes flitted about more, scanning the trees and their branches for signs that this was indeed the correct path.  When she wasn’t looking, a root snagged her foot.

“Shit!” she cried.  Her ankle twisted in its place, and she tumbled to the ground.  A twang of pain seared up her leg.  Her face slammed into the dirt.  The tickle in her throat throttled the cry of pain, and reduced her to a wheezing puddle on the path.  Through squinted eyes, she saw another line form on her arm.

“Come… on!  That’s… not fair…”

Elena looked down at her leg.  The throbbing refused to cease, even as she tried to stand.  She cursed, in her head, and merely seethed through her teeth.  Another fit of coughing brought her back to the ground.  The raven flitted to a branch above her, and looked down with a mild interest. 

“Hi…” she said, through a shuddering breath. 

The raven blinked at her.

“Alright, then.”

Elena brought herself to sit against one of the twisted trees along the path.  She prodded at her ankle, finding the tender spot the root had snagged.  There was a small gash and a trickle of blood.  She gingerly tapped it to the ground.  Although it gave a throb of protest, it held weight.  Elena stood, putting most of her weight on her other leg. 

Step, and… Throb. 

She hissed. 

One more…. One more step.  Come on. 

With a limping gate, she continued her journey forward.  The raven watched her go, and called after her.

“No, no, I’m good, thanks,” Elena said, waving at the bird without turning around.  It cawed one more time, then flew in the opposite direction.  Its caws grew faint, and then vanished altogether.  Elena limped on, alone, along the dark path.  This time she kept her eyes firmly ahead of her, and refused to be distracted. 

The trees grew closer together.  Their trunks formed nigh impassible walls of twisting wood along either side of the path.  The course of Elena’s walk twisted and bent at the will of the forest until speckles of light reappeared in front of her.  The trees grew apart.  the trail widened.  Sunlight, now a dark amber glow, illuminated the clearing in front of her.  Elena stood on the edge of a wide circle.

The floor was covered in a thin film of ash.  It wafted in clouds with each one of Elena’s steps.  The particles coated her boots and crept up her pants.  She held her breath for fear of inhaling and beginning a fit.  Suppressing a minor cough, she moved to the middle of the circle.  The ash grew thicker, and darker.  In the center of the clearing was a black stone pit, with charred remains of branches and tinder along the perimeter.  Elena knelt beside it, and removed her bag.

After some rummaging, she produced the tinder, flint, and steel from the depths of the bag.  She laid the tinder in the center of the pit, and struck the flint.  Sparks danced in front of her.  They leapt onto the pile of tinder, and snaked inside.  Smoky tendrils swirled from the center of the mass.  Elena inhaled, fought the tickle in her throat, and blew gently towards the center.  A warm glow greeted her breath.  She turned her head to cough, lest the sudden gust kill the sparks.  Once the tinder crackled, Elena rose to search for more wood.

Pieces of bark on all sides of the clearing had been peeled back by previous visitors.  Elena tore some off, when she found some, and gathered twigs from the ground.  She lay the pieces of wood gingerly atop her glowing ball of tinder, and blew on them until real flames emerged.  The flames grew with one small piece at a time until she sat beside a healthy, glowing fire.  The warmth, combined with the spring sunshine, was not unwelcome.  The fires dances in her eyes, and she enjoyed listening to the crackle of the burning wood.  As coals emerged and the heat grew, Elena again returned to the bag.

She dug out the wrapped pieces of beef her family had bought, at a steep price for scraps, from the town’s butcher.  Something in her heart tugged at the thought, and she warded off the tickling the same as avoiding a cough.  She looked down at the thin strips, and sighed.

“It’s not much, again,” she said out loud.  “I know others have probably brought better.  But it’s what we could get, given such short notice.” 

Elena tossed the beef onto the fire.  She watched its warm pink turn to a grey, then brown, then black.  Fat rendered, and splattered into the fire.  Dark smoke plumed skyward.  The smell of cooking meat made Elena’s stomach ache.  She realized, then, that she forgot to pack food.  Something about the smell and the sounds of the roasting meat, nearly completely char now, still tempted her.  Unconsciously, her hand moved forward.  The heat of the flames warned her off.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking to the sky again.  “This is all for you.  Thank you for warding off winter, and helping us thrive.  You’ve been a companion on my trip, too.  I’m appreciative, even if it’s not much.” 

Another gust of wind blew.  It enlarged the flames and spread the smoke in a wide arc across the sky.  Elena coughed as strands of it swirled past her.  The trees around her whispered unintelligible things that nevertheless touched some part of her inside.  The meat was nearly burned away now.  Its smell and sound subsided.  The winds died.  With them gone, the fire dwindled away.  The sun rested atop the trees.  Shadows crept along the ground.

“Alright.  I’m off,” she said at the arrival of a second gust of wind.  She re-tied the bag, slung it over her back and, wincing from the twinge of pain left in her leg, walked through to the path at the opposite end of the clearing. 

The trees thinned out, now.  They grew shorter with the passing steps.  The golden rays of the afternoon sun bent around them at odd angles.  Grass appeared on the path before her.  Small shrubs dotted the woods on either side.  A gentle breeze washed across her face.  It carried a distinctly saline smell.  Something else whispered to her, besides the wind.  The trees parted.  She stood atop a cliff.

Before her stretched a body of water grander than any she’d seen before.  Rolling waves slid up and down an expanse of sand that met the horizon whichever way she looked.  The tips of still-forming waves spread before her, kissed by the setting sun.  The blue waters tinged orange and pink, reflecting the warm colors of the sky. Gulls laughed in above.  They skimmed along the waves, then landed on the sand.  None of them paid her much mind as she clambered down the small cliff, and onto the beach.  Her boots sunk into the sands, and made it a hassle simply to walk.  Elena stepped out of them, and walked on barefoot, heading up the beach to a place where a trickle of water, the stream back home, parted the sand.  At the very end of it was a dock, a boat, and a man.  He waved to her, and she waved back. 

He was older, but not exactly old.  Long, curly black hair, flecked with grey, framed his ruddy face and melded into a beard that reached most of the way down his chest.  He sat on the dock, dressed in a plain white robe, feet in the water, and watched small fish swirl around his toes. 

The boat next to him was small, with a simple sail.  It occasionally bumped the end of the dock, and swirled back out into the water.  A rope tied to the prow stopped it from drifting off entirely.  The very front of it was carved in the shape of a raven. 

The wood of the dock was warm under Elena’s feet, and surprisingly smooth.  She expected something left to the elements would be rough, but supposed the man here maintained it.  He didn’t stand when she approached him, but motioned for her to sit next to him.  She undid her bag, set it down, and took a seat on the dock’s edge.  She dipped her feet into the water, and wiggled her toes to get the sand from between them.

The golden sun set before them, out over the waters.  A dolphin leapt from the almost fiery waters, sending a rainbow spray into the air.  Another followed it.  Elena watched them playing in the water, heading towards the setting sun.  The man pointed to them, and spoke in a voice barely above the water.

“They are like children,” he said, “Dancing and playing.  It is always a happy day for them, they know no better.”

“They’re beautiful,” Elena said. 

“They are innocent, and that lend itself to a kind of beauty, yes.”

Elena turned away from him, and coughed.  A trickle of blood-filed mucus wound into her mouth.  She spat it into the water, and kept coughing.  The man lay a hand on her shoulders.  The tickle in her throat vanished.  She took a deep breath, and heard no wheezing.  There was a purity to the air, tinged with the sweet aromas of the ocean, that she had never experienced before.  She looked to the man, only to find him still staring out across the waves. 

“You’ve suffered a lot,” he said.  “I am sorry for that.”

“Well, it’s going to get better, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure some of the people in the village said that, but it’s not for me to tell you.  It will be different. May I see your arms?”

“Alright.”

Elena rolled her sleeves up, and showed her skin to the man.  He ran his fingers over the lines, with wide eyes.

“That’s not bad,” he said.  “Although, if my friends told me anything, at least one of those is undeserved.”

At his words, a raven lighted on one of the posts on the dock.  It stayed silent, but watched the pair.  The man chuckled, and gentle ran his fingers along its back. 

“So, we can do away with at least one, I think.”

He ran a finger over the last line.  It faded, and became no more.

“That’s a better number, don’t you think?”

“Yes.  Thank you.”

He waved the thanks aside.

“It’s no matter.  I don’t get to decide, but I can help your chances.  I’m happy you made it on time. It’s always longer than people think it is, but it feels fast. You’re quite brave.”

“I don’t know about that.  Hopeful, more like.”

“Too many people are afraid of this.  Some never make it, and I don’t know what becomes of them.  They wind up somewhere, I’m sure.  Fretting their time away until all concept of time is meaningless.  They fall, and something overtakes them eventually.  This, well, I can’t tell you that it will be better, in all truth, but it’s my opinion that it is.  There’s a peace to it, and you’ve had to come to terms with it faster than a lot that never make it here.  Do you have the scroll?”

“Yes, hold on.”

Elena dug around in the bag beside her, and withdrew the rolled piece of parchment.  She handed it to the man.  He unrolled it and looked it over. 

“I don’t get many in the spring, so this was unusual.”

He sighed.  Then, with what appeared to be great effort, stood and stretched.  The sun was halfway down in the waves before them.  Elena stayed seated, and looked up at him.  The robe hung loose around his thin frame.  With a clap of his hands, he nodded to her, and stepped into the boat. 

“Coins?” he asked.

Elena produced the purse, and counted out the appropriate amount.  She leaned over, and placed the cold metal discs into his hands.  He re-counted them.  With a flourish, they vanished from his hands.  He smiled at her surprised eyes. 

“An odd tradition, but one I don’t mind.”

He made as if to untie the boat, and then stopped when Elena didn’t move to join him.  Some of the twinkle in his style faded.

“You won’t be the first to come out here, and not join me.  It’s alright to be afraid.”

Elena stared into the water.  A few hot drops tickled down her cheeks, and splashed into the waves.  The man sighed, and climbed out of the boat.  He embraced her, sideways, and sat back down.

“I don’t understand,” Elena said.  “I don’t get it.  Why?”

“You can ask when you get there, I think.  I’m not allowed to tell you.”

“Why are all the answers over there?”

“It is something to look forward to.”

He looked at her hands.  When she retrieved her purse, she had also taken out the drawing of her family.  He smiled, not that she could see it, and pulled her closer.

“You can take it with you,” he said.  “There are no rules against it.”

“He won’t know me,” she said.  “He won’t remember.”

“Alphonse will.  If not, you will always remember him.  When he comes, you can be with me here, for him.”

“I can?”

“Of course.  You cannot come back, but you can help me bring others, if you know them.  It makes it easier.  If he is anything like you, he will be brave enough to come.”

“He will.  I know he will.”

“The sun has almost set.”

Elena looked up from the drawing, and saw the sliver of light before her growing thinner by the minute. 

“Do we have to leave right now?”

“No.  You got to the dock on time, that is what matters.  We can leave any time you like.  If you need more time to get ready…”

“No, well.  Well…”

“Yes?”

“Have tea with me?”

“What?”

Elena turned to her bag, fumbled around, and took out the bottle of tea and the two cups wrapped in paper.  She unwrapped the cups, and marveled at them.  Bone white china, etched with blue images of ravens and the sea.  She inched over, breaking the man’s embrace, and set the teacups between them.

“I don’t think it’s warm anymore, but my mom made it.”

“I am touched.  Honestly, no one has offered something like this before.”

“I think you deserve it.  Is it a long trip?”

“It will feel fast, but I have made the voyage enough that it has become a bit dull.”

“Well, this should help.  Let me just…”

Elena pulled the stopper from the bottle, and filled the two teacups.  With a trembling hand, she offered it to the man.  He grabbed the small, curved handle, and looked down into the cup.  Elena lifted hers, and tapped the rims together.  She sipped the tea, and for once did not feel the tickle as she drank.  The man turned back to the waves, turning now an inky shade as the sun vanished under them. 

He took a long drink from the cup, and chuckled.

“I never thought I would have a day like this,” he said.  “Honestly, it is rather nice.  People are in such a hurry to get it over with.  But to sit, reflect on it.  That is rare.  Quite rare.  It is good tea.  I will have to thank her, when I see her.”

“Do you know when that will be?”

“No.  I don’t find out who is coming until their day.” 

“It can be short notice.”

“Yes, I agree.  I wish that it did not have to be, but there it is.  You did well, on your trip, they say.”

He finished the rest of the tea, and put the cup back down between them.  Elena took another sip, then lowered the cup.  She felt the tears welling back up, but refused to let them out.

“It is okay to be afraid,” the man said. 

“It is?”

“Of course.  It is all part of it.  But we should get going.  You do not want to lose your nerve.”

“I won’t.  One moment.”

Elena wrapped the teacups back up, and put them back in the bag with the drawing of her family and the bottle of tea.  Once the bag was tied, she stood and walked over to the boat.  She lowered the bag in, and then helped the man climb aboard.  Once he was inside, he offered her his hand. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes.  I am.”

She seized his hand, tightly.  His own grip was soft, and gentle.  His hands were warmer than she expected.  Elena stepped off of the dock and into the rocking bottom of the boat.  She took a seat opposite him, and watched him untie the boat and unfurl the sail.  He raised his hand.  A warm breeze blew up from behind them.  The sail bent, and the boat drifted forward.  Elena turned from him, and looked to where they were heading.  Towards the last flicker of light from the recently vanished sun, where some stars flickered.  She looked back, and could no longer see the shore.