The heat was unbearable, and the dryness of her throat and the ache in her temples forced Kahlan's mind from the cobwebs of her restless sleep.
Low, flickering light, the color of a late sunset, bounced and echoed around the tent.
Tent? Kahlan started awake and sat up anxiously. She was nestled in a pile of intricately woven blankets, facing the embers of a fire.
Was this a dream?
She shivered in spite of the warmth, tiredly drawing herself into a ball and peering around the small space.
A whimper from behind her startled the Mother Confessor into a small yelp. Kahlan whipped around, ready to defend herself, but softened with relief and, if she was being honest, something stronger, as her eyes fell upon the sweaty, mussed form of her companion.
Cara was tucked into the blankets beside Kahlan. The Mord'Sith's hair was unruly and damp, and clung to her forehead and stuck up in odd places. Kahlan smirked, and reached over to gently unstick the blond hairs from Cara's face and reassure herself that her friend was truly there, that this was real, and not some trick or mirage from the desert or its enchantments.
Oh, Mord'Sith, thought Kahlan, you don't frighten me. Not anymore.
Cara moaned feverishly and, still unconscious, pulled desperately at the neckline of her leathers as if there were an invisible, increasingly tight noose around her throat.
The Mother Confessor stroked Cara's forehead once more, endearingly, and forced her tired fingers to release the top clasps of the Mord'Sith's clothing, Cara's hands yanking unseeing at her leathers as Kahlan calmly pushed her hands away and freed the top few toggles.
Under the glow of the firelight, Kahlan observed the gentle thrum and jump of a pulse on the newly revealed skin at Cara's throat. Was this what enchantment felt like? She reached helplessly toward the beating vein, warm pale fingers meeting hot, damp skin. Kahlan pressed her palm gently into the skin, caressing the smooth warmth and allowing the regular beat to soothe her dizzy mind.
Kahlan found she was no longer concerned about Heaven, or Hell, or anything in between. Because here it was quiet.
Her eyes moved to Cara's face. And here was Cara.
The log on the fire crackled, and Cara's eyes opened.
They stared at one another for a long moment, Kahlan's hand still resting flat on the hollow of Cara's neck.
Kahlan was convinced she had never been looked at, or seen, as deeply as Cara had saw her in that moment. Full of surprise, wonder, and gratitude.
Suddenly, a thwapping noise and the deep, loud, gravelly voice of a man; the two women leapt apart as the tent flap slapped closed and a tall, dark man appeared and spoke to them across the fire.
"Ma bhiktilat thalik sapphoristes fil janoob kaman," he intoned, looking curiously at the two of them, his eyes glancing off the undone toggles of Cara's top.
Kahlan edged in front of Cara on the ground.
"Are you...Nawlee?" Kahlan asked.
"Nawlee?" the man said, eyebrows raised. He shook his head, more to himself than to the women, and responded in heavily accented English, with long, round vowels and l's and d's that emanating from his throat.
"Only those west of our lands call us by that name. How did you and your partner," he lifted his chin toward Cara, "come to be in this place?"
Cara, who had been watching from behind Kahlan, green eyes glittering with increasing awareness, rocked back comfortably on her heels and spoke up.
"My 'partner' and I were looking for you," she said, a hint of her usual cockiness coloring her tone.
"And yes, there are sapphoristes among the janoobs as well," Cara added, smirking impishly and brushing an imaginary speck of dust from Kahlan's shoulder.
Cara fixed the man with a smoldering look, and the stranger chuckled in return.
"I...kayf behki...I..admire your spirit, janoobi," he spoke warmly.
Kahlan's growing sense of disconcertion now overwhelmed her. Was she hallucinating? She turned desperately to Cara.
"Do you know this man?" she asked her companion urgently.
Cara turned her easy smile away from the stranger and gave her attention to Kahlan.
"Mother Confessor, we have indeed reached the Nawlee people," she spoke evenly, as if to impress upon the stranger the high and powerful station which Kahlan held.
Answering the question in Kahlan's eyes before it was asked, Cara said quietly, "My Sisters and I learned many languages during our training, and the Nawlee language is closely related to the Cibara I choose to learn."
She lowered her voice another notch and spared a glance for the stranger, who was watching the fire with hands on his hips.
"We can trust them for the time being."
Kahlan nodded, still confused but willing to trust her companion, who was clearly more in the know than she.
"Water and a camel are the desert-traveler's dearest friends," the stranger spoke, "yet you have neither. Let me make offering," the stranger spoke.
"Sevri!" he called over his shoulder.
"Please, take," he said, stepping aside as a small girl, perhaps 10 or 11 years old, skittered into the tent bearing a heavy tray laden with goods. She hesitated visibly several feet away from the two women, and the man shouted, "Ya'khod, Sevri!"
Sevri stumbled forward and gently laid the platter beside the pile of blankets.
Ever in possession of her manners no matter the circumstances, Kahlan looked gently at the girl, smiled, and said, "Thank you, Sevri."
A ghost of a smile crossed Sevri's face, and she straightened and rejoined her father, who was squatting by the fire and piling on several new logs.
"It is late," he spoke.
"You are safe here tonight. I have ordered my people to leave you unharmed. And in return, I ask that you do not wander alone through our camp." He fixed them with a look, as if expecting them to argue.
Cara tilted her head, raised an eyebrow and nodded effortlessly. Kahlan eyed the water skin and foods on the platter.
"I will return in the morning, then," he said.
Thwap - the tent flap closed behind him and they were alone again.
Kahlan reached for a cucumber, only to find her wrist caught tightly in Cara's grip.
"Don't," Cara ordered.
"In Nawlee tradition, once you partake of hospitality, you are blood-bound to repay your debt. And since ours was literally a life-or-death situation, and our weapons are missing - "
Kahlan gasped, reached for her blade and blinked when she realized Cara was right.
" - I would prefer we owe them as little as possible. At least until we get a look around their camp tomorrow."
Kahlan's shoulders slumped in defeat, and the Mord'Sith eyed her.
"Water, however, is a debt we can repay," Cara spoke.
"The Nawlee say that only a devil's servant would withhold water from a traveler in need," she explained, handing the plump skin to Kahlan, who uncorked it greedily and immediately brought it to her lips, sucking intensely at the rim of the container and releasing it with a wet thwip.
Cara watched her, equal parts amused and uncomfortably aroused.
Kahlan tilted her head back, licked her lips, and exhaled a content moan.
Cara approached her companion soundlessly.
"Pain here, yes?" came Cara's voice from close behind Kahlan, as strong fingers rubbed at the knots and aches in the Mother Confessor's neck and the Mord'Sith's legs enclosed her.
"Mmm..." was all the typically wordy Mother Confessor could summon in response.
Kahlan felt herself drifting into sleep under Cara's touch, and she stirred her mind into awakeness once more.
"While that does feel...amazing, surely you must...mmm...have pains that I can ease," Kahlan managed.
Cara said nothing and continued stroking and kneading the heated skin of Kahlan's neck.
The intense heat from the fire and the warmth radiating from the body behind her mingled with the utter relief Kahlan felt as her pain drained away and sleep beckoned.
"Rest, Kahlan," said Cara, and brushed dark locks off her friend's neck and continued her gentle ministrations.
Outside, the stars rotated in the sky, chased by a sun still invisible. Inside, Kahlan breathed deeply under the watchful, intense eyes of Cara, still nestled between Cara's strong legs.
Head nodding forward on the edge of sleep, Kahlan reached behind her to still Cara's hands.
"Thank you."
Cara's hands slid down and off Kahlan's back, resting in the small space between them.
"I am so glad that you're here with me," Kahlan offered quietly, her back still inches away from Cara's chest.
Kahlan breathed, thoughts of Richard appearing and disappearing in her mind. She exhaled.
"I - I should be afraid," said Kahlan. "But you - all I feel is safe. Cared for. Protected," she continued.
She knew Cara was listening by the even, warm puffs of breath on her shoulders, and the stillness with which her companion held herself.
"I - me, too," came the Mord'Sith's quiet admission.
Without being face-to-face, without the eye contact and touches that would mean too much too soon, each woman felt a deep closeness and security, similar to buckling and pulling tight the final strap on a favorite horse's saddle, in anticipation of a ride at once wild and familiar.
Kahlan reached behind her with both arms, finding Cara's hands and pulling them around her body.
In a comforting mirror of their previous embrace of despair in the darkness, when the Mother Confessor had cradled Cara from behind, Kahlan now sat in front of Cara, and pulled long arms around her own waist, heart jumping as Cara tightened her arms and legs around Kahlan wordlessly in response.
They sat pressed together for the second time, resting in the quiet knowledge that in each other they had a sure partner and ally, no matter what tomorrow would bring.