{ VIOLA }
"Viola."
The second I open my eyes a blur of questions shoot through my head: Where's Todd? Is he okay? Is he awake? Todd, oh Todd — and the world comes rushing back to me in a grieving ball of heartache and dim pre-dawn colors. Todd's not awake; he's still lying on the cot at my side. It's Ben who woke me up, his vocal chords still scratchy from their disuse. He smiles sadly at me. No change? he asks. Or at least, I hear him. I'm still getting used to Ben's unique Noise. I groan and shake my head.
"Nothing. Not yet."
Todd is strong.
"I know."
We've said those words to each other many times over the past… weeks? Months? The days have blurred together in my head.
You are strong too, Viola.
Ben's hand is on my shoulder with a tenderness I did not expect. His face is weary, lines in his skin deepened with all he has seen. I wonder what it must be like, watching Todd through Ben's eyes. The new Sky called Todd Ben's "one in particular." Or at least, I think I heard that. There is a certain amount of emotion behind those three words that is hard to place: grief? Joy? Devotion? Maybe a mixture of all those and more. Either way, I don't doubt that Ben is stronger than I'll ever be.
"Thank you."
He smiles at me. You've been here so long. You need to rest.
I look back over at Todd. His wounds have shown improvement, in the Land's circle of healing, but he still lies silent. Noise sometimes comes, in short bursts, never longer than a few words. No steady thought. I remember when Todd was under the Mayor's influence, when he chanted that stupid mantra and controlled men with his mind and I couldn't hear my Todd. And I thought that was painful. Now, waiting for those few snippets of Noise each day is agonizing. And I read to Todd every day. The pages of his mother's journal are well worn around the corners; the leather cover supple and creased. I think I've memorized parts of it.
"Ben, I–"
When was the last time you ate, Viola?
"I don't remember, but–"
Go, Viola.
Ben helps – pulls – me out of my chair, taking the journal, and ushers me out of the circle.
My pain comes to me slowly. Now that I've stood up, my head reels and my vision dances with spots as the blood begins to circulate. Dulled cramping of my calves and feet becomes fierce as I hobble, and my joints protest with loud pops as I straighten myself out. How long has it been since I stood up last? Or since I had a drink of water? Hunger gnaws at my stomach and my throat clenches in an attempt to swallow. I decide to visit the separate tent that the Spackle set up for Ben and me while we were supposed to be staying here. There aren't many people or Spackle around at this early hour, the sun is just now rising. Even though the snow has melted, a cold wind swirls around the winter-hardened forest. I zip up my coat – an old one of Todd's, compliments of Ben. The wind stirs his smell – growing fainter by the day – from the fabric: sheep, hay, dirt, and Manchee. I don't know if my heart could ache any more, but it finds a new hurt for Manchee.
I walk through the clearing that's left of the Land's camp. Most of the Spackle have left, scattered in groups to help heal the land. Further peace talks continue on this hill, in a large tent to my right. Ben, Wilf, and Bradley have been meeting regularly to discuss plans with the spackle. So far the main efforts have been clearing the waste products of war away and making shelters for what's left of the townspeople. It will be a long recovery, but there is a sense of optimism in the air. Perhaps that's because the only people I talk to anymore are Wilf and Ben.
As I walk toward the designated eating tent, the strange mixture of Spackle and man Noise rises from a low grumble to a murmur to a happy bubbling. It's easy to differentiate between: the men's Noise is more visual, with colors and letters popping up in the corner of your eye along with the sounds in your ears. The Spackle's voices are like hormones, moving through your bloodstream in a uniform message. It's changed from tense to more calm now, and the men's Noises bring up fewer images of the war and bombs now. There's even a bit of lightness, of hope.
Since Wilf is up in the meetings most of the time, his wife has taken up cooking duties. She cooks stews and porridge and other staples in huge quantities, stores them, and reheats them. Finding a balance for both human and Spackle tastes took a week or so, but all the inhabitants of the hilltop camp are appreciative. The eating tent is warm with the heat of her fire, even this early in the morning. The cold ache that has taken refuge in my bones starts to thaw.
"Viola!"
Jane rushes over to me and envelops me in a warm embrace. I sag a little against her, smiling. "Hi, Jane."
She holds me out at arm's reach and shakes her head. "Viola it don't do yoo no good to be out 'ere in this dang cold. Yer gonna catch yer death!"
I smile again. "Good to see you too, Jane."
Jane busies herself getting me a bowl of stew to eat – "If yer gonna eat yer gonna eat a hearty meal!" – and I sit by the fire in a nest of blankets. My stomach rumbles as she slides the warm bowl into my hands. "Thank you," I manage, the words sticking in my throat. Jane sets a mug of water near me and it's all I can do not to gulp in down. She watches me carefully as I ladle steamy chunks of meat and vegetables into my mouth.
It's a quiet companionship we have, Jane and I. I eat, she sits with me. We never talk much.
"Been two days since I saw yoo last, Viola."
Has it? It feels like years. I nod wearily.
"Anything new with Todd?"
She already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Small talk. Or really, rather large talk, since it's why I haven't moved or eaten for two days. I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
"He'll come around. He's a tough one, young Todd."
Her hand comes down on my head and ruffles my hair before she moves away to check on the food. My belly swells with the stew in it, and the fire is flickering so warm, and the blankets smell like wool and leaves and…
{ TODD }
Viola…
Ben…
Cillan…
Manchee?
Fire…
Here I come… where am I goin'…
Oh Viola…
Who's Viola..?
I am the circle… No…
Why am I cryin?
Oh there's blood everywhere and fire and-
Viola Viola Viola…
There's a knife –
Oh never leave me, never leave me, never…
Viola…