Chapter Six – Feelings

Sheeta turned her face to the ground and closed her eyes but it was pointless feigning sleep, he had seen her. And anyway, she'd have to face him some time. Don't see me like this. The simple answer to that was to not let him. Let him see her another way. She propped herself up on one elbow and smiled.

"Morning."
"Hey, sleep well?"
"Not too bad. But my back still hurts."
"Hm, and the ankle?"

He began to lay down his cargo.

"I haven't tried putting weight on it yet."
"Well don't, I don't want you hurting it more. We need to be traveling soon."
"Oh?"
"I need to go to the port and buy some things, all the things I lost over the last few days."
"Well, I think it's a little better."

unlike my heart

"That's good. Breakfast?"
"Well, actually," she found herself blushing, "I need to do something private."
"Uh, oh. Um. I see. Can you stand at all?"
"I don't know. Can you help me?"
"I can carry you. Shall I take you to the stream?"
"All that way? Can you do that?"
"It's not far."

his arms will be around me

"If it's not too much trouble. I hate being like this. A burden."
"You're no burden. Who said you were a burden? Don't be silly. Take the poncho off. Good. Now, sit up."

He squatted next to her, slipped one hand under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. She put her arms round his neck. He straightened his legs, leaned back, let her weight lie against his chest so he wouldn't overbalance.

"Alright?"
"Yes."
"Ankle?"
"Fine."
"Good. Off we go."

She weighed hardly anything at all. He was surprised. How could she be so strong and resilient and have run and jumped and climbed and flown and cooked and fought all these last few days and yet there be almost nothing of her? Sheeta looked down the slope, she preferred to watch where he was taking her, the alternative would have been to lay her head on his shoulder and she didn't want to do that. Or turn her head the other way and find that their mouths were inches apart. She didn't want that either, not right now. Feeling his body against hers was bad enough.

He lowered her so that she sat on a rock at the waters edge. He knew exactly where to take her, a place he'd noticed earlier where dense undergrowth hid the stream from the wagon road. He straightened up, took a step back.

"Pazu, don't go, I need you to help me."
"It's not right for me to see you."

why not? don't you want to? obviously not, if you don't like me why would you want to see me undressed?

"I'm only bathing."
"A boy shouldn't see a girl without clothes on. I mean, they should be married first. That's all."

Her heart gave a little jump of hope. But, no, he was just being nice, being a gentleman. What kind of a boy would agree to look on her after they'd only known each other so short a time?

"Turn your back then."

He did so, hands in pockets, kicking a tussock of grass. Behind him he could hear the sounds of clothing hissing as she took it off. There was a splash.

"Oh! Cold! You said it was warm!"
"It was last night, but that was after I'd been in that cold cockpit all afternoon. Straight out of bed this morning I expect it will feel cold."
"Brrrrrr… this is horrible!"
"Be quick then. Oh, and throw me your clothes, I'll wash them."

The pink trousers, the yellow shirt and a white vest landed at his feet. He gathered them up and went a few yards down stream, around a bush and proceeded to wet the clothes and slap them on a flat clean rock, banging the dirt out of them.

Pazu's mind was turning over and over. He couldn't stop thinking about how she'd felt in his arms, how warm and how frail. He realized what a strong person she was, what she'd done the last few days was as dangerous and risky as anything he'd done for her, yet there seemed to be almost nothing of her. Where did she keep all that spirit and bravery? He could hear her splashing on the other side of the bushes, she began to sing snippets of a tune he didn't know. It was a pretty tune, but melancholy. He stopped and listened to the words but couldn't catch them, they sounded foreign.

Unable to help himself he looked up. Through the leaves and branches he could just make out the whiteness of her form. She had sat down in the centre of the pool and was washing her arms. She had lifted her arms and he could see… Feeling like an intruder, he looked away.

As he worked, rinsing and re-pounding the clothes he felt a terrible urge. It was frightening. It was the same thing he'd felt this morning, only this time it was stronger. That funny feeling, that odd, dirty feeling, a feeling of wanting to do something to her, something that wasn't altogether proper and right. It involved touching and it had got worse when he'd sneaked a look at her through the bushes. He shook his head to drive the feeling away and kept on working at the laundry. It couldn't work out, could it? How could it? If they traveled to her country she'd be met by her friends, no, her subjects, he corrected himself. The people of her town would welcome her back. She was their queen, technically their ruler. And him? He was just some dirty manual labourer, a workman. How could it work out? They'd thank him and be nice to him, maybe let him stay a while. But waiting for her there had to be a nobleman, someone her subjects thought suitable to be her husband. And like Muska, they'd insult him with offers of money and send him away.

Pazu stopped working. He stared down at the white vest in his hands. Before he knew what he was doing he had lifted it and slowly pressed his face into it. There was a hint of her scent on it.

for heaven's sake, stop it!

He slapped the vest back down and continued working. Forget it Pazu, she might like you and you might like her but if you go back to Gondoa it can't last, so whatever this feeling is, just bury it deep and get on with your life. And don't show it to her, if she sees it, she might think there's a future for the two of you.

"Pazu?"
"Yes? Are you finished?"
"Yes, and I'm freezing! Are you done with my clothes?"
"They're clean but still soaking wet. I can hang them on a bush to dry if you want."
"Uh, no, I'll put them back on, they can dry on me at the camp fire."
"Alright. I'm bringing them back. Are you… uh, are you covered?"
"Yes."

He stood up, wrung out the clothing one more time and stepped round the vegetation. She was sat back on the rock at the side of the pool, her back to him, hunched over, her arms folded. She seemed to have kept on a pair of white cotton bloomers or an underskirt or something similar. But the thin garment was soaking and he could see through it. He went bright red and turned his head away guiltily.

"My vest first please."

Keeping his back to her he held the vest out to one side, felt her take it.

her skin. it's so white. so clear.

He cleared his throat, he seemed to have something stuck in it.

"Pazu, my back is quite painful. Would you take another look at it for me?"
"Uh, are you sure?"
"Yes, of course. I don't want the wound going bad, I can't see it myself."
"Um, right. Er. I'm turning round, alright?"
"Yes."

He didn't want to do this. Well, he did, because he cared for her and he wanted her to get well. But he didn't want to look at her again, he knew how it would make him feel.

Time moved in slow motion, he turned his body and his head. Her white back came into view. She held the vest against her front. He saw the shape of her, how narrow her waist was and how her hips flared out where she sat on the rock. He noticed her hair, the deep reddish brown mass, a funny lopsided shape where it had been damaged. She had taken her hair band off. Where she'd washed her shoulders, the hair had got wet at the ends and it lay in damp tangles on her back. Pazu felt his face turning pink again. Sheeta, don't look round. Don't turn. Please don't see me like this, with this look on my face.

Suddenly he had an inkling of what the miners in the Red Cow had been speaking of. Was this love? This hot, urgent, aggressive feeling. He almost wanted to be rough with her, to throw her down on the ground. A quickie behind the tool shed. How could this be love? It still felt all wrong, all bad.

He crouched down behind her and lay the rest of the clothing down. He reached up a shaking hand and brushed aside some of the damp hair. It was thick and springy and even tangled and wet like this he wanted to put his face in it. He coughed and moved it aside. The bruise looked terrible, almost a foot long and curved like a crescent it went from under her right shoulder blade diagonally down to the ribs on the other side of her spine. It was turning yellowish now in places and where the skin was the most damaged there were small scabs forming. With a finger he gently traced the bruise, felt her bumpy damaged flesh. She shivered and let out a giggle.

"Ooh, tickles! Just let me know if it's alright, don't tease!"
"It's fine," he said, marveling at the feel of her, "it looks fine to me. It should heal in a few days, but it'll stay sore. Try to sleep on your side."
"Yes Doctor Pazu. Thank you Doctor Pazu."

Her giggling continued. He thought of summer, and birdsong.

"It looks good, Sheeta. Here."

He held out her clothes. She turned her head, reached and took them. He didn't let go and for a second he pulled one way and she the other. He didn't notice. All he noticed was her eyes. He'd never noticed before how clear and blue they were. He suddenly let go of the clothes.

"I think I saw some more mushrooms up here a little way. I'll go pick them while you get dressed."

He stomped off through the undergrowth until he knew he was out of sight. And he stood and waited, kicking his heel into the damp soil.

no way can we go on like this, camping out. I can't stand it. when we travel I'll make sure we stop at inns and she has her own room.

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4 - 5 March 2007

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