"Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders."
― Light in August, William Faulkner
Ava awoke with a start thanks to a rap on the door. She untangled herself from the mound of blankets she had piled on before falling asleep the previous night in the rickety stuffed chair. Rising, she glanced in passing at her sleeping patient before another knock— this one more impatient than the previous one— resounded.
The moment she swung the door wide open, she was greeted with a dangling bucket, wiggling before her bleary eyes.
"Are we ready to seize the day?" Adan's sarcastic tone was more withering than the chilly air blowing in against the room's stuffy warmth. "The line at the pump is turning around the corner already. I suggest you make like a rabbit and run."
She sighed tiredly, reaching for the bucket handle. Her hand brushed lightly over his and he flinched, his brown eyes blinking, discomfited.
"I will get things started," he stated, entering the room and removing his heavy cloak, "but I will need you to finish. Seeker Pentaghast needs me at the armory as soon as possible…" he announced proudly, a glint in his eye.
Ava smirked, shaking her head. She knew the alchemist hated being forced into the role of apothecary and jumped at any opportunity to show off his alchemical expertise.
"Anything special I should be doing?" she asked, pursing her lips with a twinge of annoyance. This behavior was giddiness on his part. He was eager to take off, she thought, raising the hem of her robe slightly, enough to tug at her sagging stockings as she stepped into her boots.
When she glanced up, she caught Adan's eyes lingering over her legs; a slight blush bloomed on her cheeks.
"Yes..well…" he stammered, clearing his throat. "How should I know? You are the one tending to the physician's orders for the infirmary tents, aren't you?"
"Of course. One of us has to care!" she sniffed.
He disappeared quickly behind the makeshift counter and began to riffle through the assorted packets of powders on the shelf. She secured her cloak and grasped the bucket's handle.
"I am off," she announced.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, his head bobbing up into view, tins clattering to the ground as he did so. He tilted his head towards the old man huddled in the cot. "What am I supposed to do with him?"
"Let him rest. I'll tend to him when I return. If he awakens before then, offer him something warm to drink…Just like most civilized people would," she added with a sly grin, taking a step towards the man, to secure his blanket.
"These are hardly civilized circumstances…" he argued. "I cannot be blamed when…" His voice trailed off when he saw Ava's panicked expression.
She dropped to her knees before the cot, running her hand over the man's neck.
A pulse?
He was beside her in a flash, examining the motionless man, pulling back the covers and reaching for his arm. Something fell from his fist to the ground as Adan clasped his wrist. She backed away, watching helplessly. After a few moments, he released the old man's wrist. His fragile, thin arm hung limply over the side of the cot. Ava stared intently at the floor. There was no need for Adan to tell her.
"I'm sorry, Ava," he said, with unaccustomed gentleness. "He must have passed on sometime during the night."
Oh.
"Poor soul. He was coughing so much. I brought him in from the cold," she said sadly. "And I gave him medicine…" She glanced at his concerned face.
"When did he arrive?"
"He arrived with a band of pilgrims hailing from Redcliffe, yesterday afternoon."
"Any family?… Travel companions… for us to notify?" He crossed his arms, examining her distraught demeanor. "There is nothing you could have done. Whatever infection was festering in his lungs, it was bound to overcome him sooner rather than later."
They stared at the man for a few silent minutes.
"If anything, you made his last moments more comfortable," he told her, as reassuringly as his gruff self could. "Go fetch the water," he said, "and I'll let the physician's helper know."
Ava nodded wordlessly as her eyes focused on the small, round object that had rolled beneath the cot. She hunched down and reached for it, bringing it up to her eyes.
A smooth, white pebble. The kind that has been tumbled down a river bed.
She raised it so Adan could see, bewilderment in her eyes.
"Look! This was in his hand!"
Adan peered at it and then furrowed his brows.
"What of it?"
"It wasn't there last night!" she confided with some alarm.
"How can you be so sure?" he scoffed, grabbing his cloak off the hook on the wall. "Did you search through the man's pockets earlier? I never took you for a scavenger, Ava…"
She brandished it before him again, insistently.
"He did not have this last night! I know!"
"How?" he asked appeasingly.
She looked down again, gazing into the man's peaceful face.
"Because…he hadn't been there…not since she died…" she murmured.
"Been where? Since who died?" he puzzled.
"I…don't know," she admitted, confused.
"Maker, you aren't making any sense! You have to pull yourself together!" he implored. At her silence, he marched up and placed a firm hand over her forehead. "Go get some air," he ordered her.
She nodded again, pocketing the pebble and hauling the bucket off.