Heading back into the jungle when the sun is already starting to set unsettles my nerves somewhat, but it's better to be out here with Regina than worrying that she'd get ambushed in the dark by a bear. She's quiet while walking as usual, but her pace is a little slower, fatigue taking its toll.
"So what are we looking for?" I inquire.
"There's a few possibilities, but elderberries would be the most common. My mother used to make tea and syrup out of them to reduce fever."
"Your mom? But … you don't approve?"
"I didn't go to medical school for many expensive years to start relying on folk remedies. Some of them work, but plenty of them can make someone even more sick." She replies.
Strain edges into Regina's every word, and I reach out to take her hand and offer some comfort. Our fingers brush but she subtly pulls away, eyes adverting from mine to keep scanning the trees and bushes around us.
(Damn it. All we have is each other, Regina. It's not a bad thing if you need to lean on me for a while.)
xxx
Darkness falls by the time we reach a broad meadow, and Regina suddenly dashes forward. I'm alarmed before I see her kneel by a flowering bush, its branches flush with berries.
"Are those elderberries?" I ask.
"That's what it looks like."
Regina reaches under her skirt and I blink in confusion when she produces a folded pocket knife, flipping open the blade and starting to cut through the bunches with quick strokes.
(When did she … did she have that the entire time?)
"Hold your hands out." She orders.
"Oh! Sorry."
She fills my arms with the elderberries until there's barely any left on the bush, wiping her knife off on the grass before standing up.
"This is good, right? There's a ton of them." I say.
"Because we need a ton. I'll have to mash everything up and strain it to make something a bit stronger. Don't mistake this for a cure, Emma. This a temporary fix. Without clean water, without a real cure, we're dead."
The defeat in Regina's voice is painful to hear, as if we're just buying time. I let the berries in my arms fall to the grass before pulling her into a tight hug, my chest pressed against Regina's back.
"It'll be okay …" I state.
"Stop. I can't … I'm not doing this. Not with you. We don't have time."
The last few words crack in her throat, but Regina's untangled herself from me before I can see if she's crying, gathering up the berries that I dropped and walking back through the grass. For a moment I can't move, despair grounding me like I've been turned to stone.
(She's hurting so much and she won't even let me see. Maybe we really are doomed.)
