Standard disclaimers apply – I don't own Valen Shadowbreath, only Anara and the other ancillary characters in this story! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the barn door when Anara roused from her stupor. Too tired to stand, she crawled over to her patient. He was looking much better. She went to move the blankets off his back to check his wound dressings, and his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Fear stilled her hand in the act of removing the blanket. It hung there above his back, shaking slightly. She knew nothing about this creature. His eyes were open and looking at her. There was coldness there, behind the blue of his eyes. A voice croaked out, "Where am I?"

She snatched her hand back from his grasp. "You are in a barn, on my farm. I found you in the forest behind my house, and I brought you home with me. Here, drink some water." He drank greedily from the water skin she held to his mouth. When she tried to pull it back, lest he drink too much at once, he grabbed it from her and finished off all the water. "More," he rasped.

Anara got up and refilled the skin. Again he drained it. The cow mooed and startled her into realizing the animals needed to be tended. She busied herself with her chores, trying to ignore the racing of her heart. Everywhere she moved within the barn, the cold gaze of the man followed her. When she finished, she stood in the middle of the barn clutching a pail of milk, trying to figure out what to do with it. He stared greedily at the milk, and when she held it out to him, he snatched it from her and gulped it down quickly. He looked up at her, his eyes hungry for more.

"You can't have more right now. I don't want you to get sick. I'm going into the village to get Dayfid, the cleric. I'll bring him back and..."

"No," he rasped. "No cleric. Cleric will kill me." Then he collapsed: the effort of those few words having drained what strength he had. Anara thought for a few minutes about what he'd said. Why would a cleric kill him? It didn't do to think too hard about it. However, she was going to have to go into the village and get some healing potions from Dayfid at the very least. Her ward wasn't going to heal all that damage without any help.

The thought of going to the village was abhorrent, but it had to be done. The horse nickered as she saddled her up and mounted her. Anara thought back over her past, since Liam had died. Dayfid had begun bringing her food and necessities 6 months ago when it became evident that she was incapable of caring enough about herself to do that on her own. He had come out two days ago for a visit. The food and supplies he had brought would last for at least a week. Anara couldn't rely on him to come out sooner than that. If she was going to get some healing potions to cure this man-creature, she would have to ride into the village. He would be mightily surprised to see her there. As would all the villagers. The thought of having to endure their smiles, and see the looks of pity on their faces caused a shudder to roll through her body. Almost she turned around. But if she did, then the man-creature in her barn would die for sure. That fever had a hold on him now, and if she didn't get something to fight it, he wouldn't make it. That could not happen. Another death on her conscious could not be tolerated. She would help this man-creature in her barn, as she couldn't help Liam when he had been attacked.

Riding Violet down the main street, the townspeople pointed at her and whispered to each other behind their hands. Some greeted her with smiles, as one would greet a friend long gone: others with looks of pity. Still others greeted her with indifference. The temple loomed large in the center of the street. It was a lavish building in an otherwise impoverished town. Obviously the clerics that ran this temple were wealthy and successful. There was a hitching post outside the steps, and Anara left Violet there.

Walking up the temple steps had always been peaceful for her before Liam's death. Now she felt the weight of all that had happened with every step she took. The door opened easily at her push, and she went inside. The benches were empty, and the room was still. The sun shone through the stained glass windows on each side of the main room. She stood in the stillness and closed her eyes. It had been such a long time. A year ago, she had forsworn the gods for all that they had taken from her. Now she felt defiled and dirty standing in the temple. The peace she used to feel here was gone. Gone with her hopes for a life with Liam.

Behind the alter was the door that lead to the priest's chambers. A few steps took her in front of the plain wooden door. She held up her hand to knock, and for a moment reconsidered. A large sigh escaped from her and she knocked on the door. "Enter," said Dayfid's melodious voice. She squared her shoulders to give the illusion of a confidence she didn't feel. She walked into his chamber, and smiled at him.

"Anara! This is a surprise!" He got out of his chair and embraced her. "I didn't expect to see you coming to town for, well, I don't know if I expected it ever again, to be honest." He said, holding her at arm's length and looking into her face. "I'm glad to see you, truly. What can I do for you?" He still held her arms with his hands, smiling with joy to see her.

"Dayfid, I…" she began.

"Please sit." He gestured to a chair near his desk. She walked over and sat down, crossing her legs and looking around his office. There was only one window, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. The desk sat in the middle of the room, his chair behind it and two chairs in front. She sat in one of these. Dayfid sat in the chair next to her – it was a more intimate seating arrangement, one that a friend would choose.

"I need your help," Anara blurted out, before she lost her nerve. She had realized on the way over here that the man-creature in her barn was right: she couldn't tell the cleric about him. He would think her mad, or come and see for himself and slay the creature on sight. So she had concocted a story in which she needed the healing phial that didn't involve some strange creature she found in the forest.

"I need a healing potion for my cow," She said, her face all earnestness. "I think one of her milk ducts got infected and now she's really sick." She looked into his eyes, pleading with him, "I love that cow. Since Liam..." her voice choked up a little. "I need to save my cow, Dayfid. I'm sure you're not supposed to give me a healing phial for a beast, but I can't have her die! Not now!"

He pulled her close to him and let her cry on his shoulder. He stroked her hair and said, "There, there Anara. It's about time you cried over your lost husband. Of course I will give you a healing phial for the cow." He held her a little away from him, looking at her face. "Do you want me to come out with you, to make sure the cow does get better?"

"No. I can do it myself. I have to do it myself," she said, her voice a harsh croak.

He got up and went over to one of the bookcases. Pulling on one of the volumes released a lever, and the bookcase swung in, showing a secret room behind it. He went into the room. The sound of a chest unlocking was followed by the sound of Dayfid searching for something. He came out a few minutes later with 2 healing phials. He placed a little drawstring pouch containing them in her hand.

"Put the red one in her water and have her drink it all. The pink one is for later, if the red one doesn't work. The pink one must be given within a day of the red one for it to be effective, if it's needed at all." He smiled at her, then drew her to him again and kissed her forehead. "Go, Anara. Make your cow well. And please, return tomorrow or the next day and let me know how it went. It does my heart good to see you in town again."

Anara got up, thanked Dayfid for the phials and went back outside. She got on her horse and started down the street. Passing the butcher's shop, she noticed a few of her old friends standing in front. Violet stopped, and Anara waved to them, tentatively. They smiled and one, Cara, ran up to her. "Anara it's good to see you once more." Cara grabbed at her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Dayfid's asked us all to leave you alone, but we've missed you so. Please tell me we'll see you again soon!"

She smiled down at Cara. Cara had always been a good friend. But when Anara married and moved out to the farm, she and Cara hadn't seen much of each other anymore. Now she was married and expecting a child. "It has indeed been too long," she said. "My cow is sick, and I have to tend her so she gets better. But when she's well, I promise to come back and we'll sit down and have a nice long talk." She smiled and waved at her old friends again, and clicked at Violet. She and the horse left town and went off towards her home.

OOO

The road from the village to her farm wasn't long. As soon as she returned, she checked on the man in her barn. His eyes were closed in sleep. She took care of the animals, and went back into the house to clean up. Her body was covered in dirt and blood from moving the stranger here. A sponge and some water from the well took care of that.

However comfortable the barn was for the animals, it wouldn't do to keep a man out there. Not only would he need to be closer to the house for her to care for him, he was more visible out there if someone stopped by. There was an old cot in the shed behind her house. It was used for visits from her mother, but it would work just as well for the man-creature in her barn. The house was small and consisted of only two rooms. The cot would really only fit in her bedroom. She brought it in and set it up. Then she swept the floors and cleaned the dishes. The rumbling of her stomach told her it had been far too long since she'd last eaten. Then there was the man out in her barn – he was probably ready for something besides water and milk. Anara set a pot on to boil, adding some tubers and meat. Once it had boiled completely down to mush, she prepared a bowl for her unwilling guest.

When she arrived, he was awake. He stared at her with a cold calculating glance, as if he was sizing her up. His head was propped up against a pile of hay that lay next to the wall of the stall. As she walked around the barn, tending to the animals, he watched her. She could feel the cold blue eyes burning into her back as she milked Flora, the cow. She took the bottled milk, the mush and the healing phials and went into the stall where he lay.

"You understand me, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I don't mean you any harm. I'm trying to help you." She held out the bowl of mush with a spoon. "Eat this. It will help you regain your strength."

He took the bowl and ate it hungrily, his eyes on her the whole time. She silently handed him the milk, and he gulped it down just as quickly. The whole time his piercing gaze never left her face. She met his stare with her own. When he'd finished, she moved her hand towards his forehead to feel if the fever was still on him. He grabbed her hand with his own, squeezing it so hard it hurt.

"I just want to see if you still have a fever," she said, wincing from the pain of his grasp. He eased his grasp and let her move her hand to his forehead, but didn't let go of her wrist. She felt his forehead: he was still burning up.

"Look. I need you to roll on your stomach so I can check the wounds on your back. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." He glared at her with as much enmity as he could gather, and then rolled onto his stomach.

"Thank you," Anara said. She lifted up the bandages on his back. His wounds looked better, but a few were starting to pus up and get red and foul smelling. She sighed loudly. "Look, I have to cleanse the wounds on your back. I will have to pour some alcohol over them. It's going to hurt: a lot. But I have to do it to clear out the infection. Then I'm going to give you a healing potion. Ok?" She leaned over to look at his face. He was still staring at her.

"I can see you're not a talkative type. Do you have a name I can call you by, or shall I continue to refer to you as 'you'?" She smiled at him. He glared back. She kept looking at him, refusing to look away until finally he growled, "My name is Valen."

"Well, Valen, my name is Anara. Now, can I cleanse the wounds on your back, or are you going to rip my arm out of my socket?" for he was still holding her by the wrist. His face gave an expression of despair and pain and anger so great that even Anara couldn't fathom it.

He said, "Do your worst, it won't be much to me." He let go of her wrist.

She carefully removed the bandages and threw them into a basket she'd brought out to the barn with her. Then she took some clean strips of the sheet she'd ripped up and soaked them in the alcohol. "This will hurt," she said as she patted the wounds on his back with the soaked bandages. He didn't wince or move or cry out in pain. She cleaned the wounds as best she could – clearing away the infected tissue and dousing it all liberally in alcohol. Then she patted it dry and took clean strips of the sheet and bound them up again.

"Can you sit up?" she asked. Valen rolled onto his side and tried to push himself up. She went to help him and he pushed her away. She held up her hands to show she wouldn't touch him. He sat up. The effort cost him dearly though, and he panted at the exertion. "I need to wrap these bandages completely around your chest," Anara said. She showed him the bandages. He nodded. He tried to hold up his arms, but couldn't. The strain of his injuries made him too tired and weak.

"Put your arm around my shoulder," Anara said. He looked at her, trying to discern if she was going to hurt him. "Look, Valen, if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing now. I'm not going to heal you only to hurt you more later!" she said in exasperation. As she said it, she looked at his face. He looked surprised, like that was exactly what he thought she was going to do. "I won't hurt you, I promise." He put his arm around her shoulder. She wrapped the bandages around his chest and tied them off.

Anara lifted his arm off her shoulder and placed it by his side. He was leaning against the wall of the barn, barely conscious. "Hey, Valen, don't pass out on me yet. I need you to drink this potion." The phial of red liquid caught the light and shone a little bit. He looked at her, the fever burning in his eyes. She uncorked the potion and held it up to his mouth. He drank it, and grimaced. "Tastes awful," he croaked. She gave him the water skin and watched him drink it all. The healing potion would knock him out to do its work. She helped him lie back down on the hay, and then stepped away from him.

He was out. He was obviously in a great deal of pain, and not all of it was physical. He just as obviously didn't trust her, either, even though she hadn't done anything to hurt him. Where had he come from? And why was he so bitter and afraid? She sighed heavily and sat down beside him. "What am I doing?" she asked herself for the hundredth time.

Anara picked up the bottle of alcohol she'd used to clean his wounds and took a swig. She pulled up the blankets over Valen, and then wrapped one around herself. She started thinking about Liam, and the unfulfilled promise of their life together. Drink after drink, memory after memory, and before she knew it, the bottle was empty. The empty bottle distorted everything she saw through it. In a fit of anger and grief, she threw the bottle across the barn and watched it shatter on the far wall. The grief won out, and she cried herself to sleep.