Moth ran as fast as she could, over hill and under dale.
She knew, by now, that the Kit would not follow it, so it was not he she ran from.
His were not the hauntingly cruel eyes that followed her every move.
After a time, the eyes seemed to go away- but night was deepening, and colder, hungrier eyes began to make themselves apparent.
It wasn't good for a pretty, fleshy thing like Moth to be alone in the woods at night. That much was obvious even to her, so frightened and lost.
She needed to find shelter, some kind of safety.
Then there it was. Moth stumbled upon the edge of the wood and saw a lovely, well tended garden, placed next to an equally lovely little hut.
She made her way to the door and curled up in front of it, closing her eyes.
Moth was tired, so tired that she wanted to cry, so tired that when a pair of large but gentle arms picked her up she could do nothing more than curl up in them.
Safe
Safety.
Warm.
Tended.
Somehow, she remembered those arms.
When Moth awoke, it was on a grass pallet covered in many blankets.
Her heart was full of peace, and Moth just wanted to bury her face into that feeling of contentment, never to leave her safe little nest again.
"H- Have you woken up?" asked a deep, gentle voice. It was coming from outside the hut.
Moth startled ever so slightly, then gave a sleepy nod. "Yes," she murmured softly, "Thank you."
"It is my pleasure." he coughed slightly, and the rice paper over the door that separated the two of them trembled.
She looked at the outline of the monstrous form against that rice paper door and put two and two together. Timidly, Moth called out to the being outside.
"Please come in," she begged softly.
When he did as she had asked, Moth took one good, long look at the sweet and benevolent Jinenji. Then she started to cry.
Flinching at the sound of her tears, this man who was so like he had been, yet so much stronger, turned to leave before he could frighten her any further.
He looked like a wounded puppy. No amount of strength could hide that.
"No," she begged again, still sniffling, "Please stay."
When he turned, Moth held out her arms in a mute plea for comfort.
Hesitantly, he made his way to her side and gently, as though handling fragile glass, he held her in his arms.
Feeling absolutely guilty, Moth began to sob even harder. Everyone wanted her to be Kagome. But...
"I'm not her," she whispered brokenly, "I'm not Kagome. I'm Moth. I'm me."
He who had been Jinenji nodded solemnly.
"I am the Healer," he said, not stammering any longer, "I will care for your singed wings. You do not need to be Kagome here."
She sighed softly and closed her eyes, surrendering control as tears came afresh.
"Oh thank you," she whispered almost religiously, relaxing, "Thank you, Healer."
For a time, there was silence in the room. She was contented to be held so gently. Quietly, Jinenji coughed, but soon the noise was stifled.
Healer was a kind heart, and she was comforted by such gentleness in the midst of all the crudeness of her world.
He seemed to see that, seemed to know that she needed what he could offer. Very likely, he knew everything about her chaotic life.
There were many rumors, after all.
"If you desire, you could stay here," he said, after a time. "I would be delighted to have someone to help me tend to the garden."
Moth sighed contentedly and nodded. "Yes," she murmured, smiling ever so slightly. "I would love to stay."
So it was. She stayed with him, and together they tended the garden.
It seemed to Moth that Healer was almost a holy man.
Though not a man in the physical sense of the term, Healer possessed the inner calmness and power all men aspire to.
During the day, sometimes, she would wander the woods.
It hurt, but it was good for her to remember.
In all of her wanderings, she had never seen any other huts.
She wondered why his was the only one, why the village she vaguely remembered from long ago was no longer where it had been.
This was a thing that caused her much curiosity...
So, one day while they sat in the sun, Healer distant and Moth thoughtful, she decided to ask.
"Where did your village go, Healer?" she asked softly, timidly.
"They were not my village," he returned almost absentmindedly, "And they all died out long ago."
He coughed, and Moth fell silent. Together they sat while Moth tried to figure out her puzzle, confounding bit by bit.
She did not need to figure it out, Moth began to realize over the next few months.
It was so much better to quietly drink tea, to tend to and harvest the garden, to sit with Healer and watch the sunset.
It felt like they had all the time in the world.
But if Moth had learned one thing in her life, it was that good things never lasted forever.
The end of blissful ignorance came all too soon.
"Healer," she chirped one morning, eyes alight, "Let's go watch the sunrise!
...Healer?"
He lay on the bed with a pale face, eyes closed. Healer managed a gentle smile for Moth, an indulgent one.
"Would you watch it for me?" he asked, coughing again. "That would be best."
Moth froze, and the smile fell from her face. She was by his side in an instant, gently touching a hand to his forehead.
"You're icy cold!" she said worriedly.
"...Yes. I am. But do not worry, it isn't contagious. If it were, I would never have taken you in. This weakness will pass. It is simply the way my kind die."
Moth's hand fell to her side. "Die?"
"Yes, Moth. I'm an old man."
"And- I can't do anything about it?"
"No, Moth. You cannot."
Her eyes set ablaze and Moth got to her feet, sobbing fiercely.
"Damn you!" she screamed painfully. "How could you do this to me? How could you make me care about you when you knew I would lose you?"
She ran from the tent and out to the empty plot of soil they always took care of, just in case an extra crop needed planting.
Vengefully, she ripped out the weeds, not caring when the sharp edges of the grassy blades cut into her palms.
After a tim, Moth was done. Numbly, she washed her hands in the stream, carefully cleaning her lacerations.
There were fewer than she had thought. Much of the pain had been of her own mind's making.
She dried her hands upon her simple shirt and rose, returning to the tiny hut.
Healer sat in front of the doorway, and there was a tear rolling down his cheek.
Moth's heart swelled. She looked at him and smiled weakly, hesitantly. "Are you alright now?" she asked, trembling.
"Yes. Tonight is not my last night. We still have a little more time."
"I see. But soon?"
"Yes. Soon."
Moth wrapped her arms around his oversized neck and sobbed.
Time was more precious after that. She spent all of it with Healer, watching him fade away slowly.
All too soon, it was the end.
"I will die tonight, Moth," Healer murmured calmly, sadly. "I have no more time."
"I understand." She knelt down beside him and took his hand. Silently, they watched the sunset.
"I think I could have loved you," Moth whispered tenderly into the darkening light.
"No time," he responded wistfully.
"I know."
"Will you grant me a boon, Moth?"
"Anything, Healer."
"Do not give up. Live. Breathe. Laugh. Be. Promise me that."
Moth was silent for a long moment, and Healer's hand trembled fiercely in her own.
"Promise," he commanded her desperately, "Please."
Moth swallowed her tears. "I-I promise." she said quietly.
"Good. Now get some rest."
She pulled her pallet to his side and took his hand again. The last hint of day faded from her eyes.
"Goodnight, Moth." he said softly.
"Goodnight, Healer."
When she awoke the next morning, his hand was stiff, and cold as stone.