Audience of One

Chapter Eight

Edwin returned to the cabin an hour or so later. Garnet noticed it was after one at that point. His slacks were covered in mud and his hands were grimy. It was obvious he had been working in the field. Edwin grabbed the nearest linen from the shelf of the wardrobe, the front door hanging open behind him. Garnet saw the path just feet from his meager porch covered by a tattered and worn awning. The road curved and in the distance, she saw the gloomy, dark city walls of Burmecia. She was so close. Edwin pulled his cap from his head and ran the towel through his damp brown curls. He tossed the rag on the floor, probably expecting Selma to pick up after him with no questions. She had come by half an hour before to clear the breakfast from the table. Garnet had been tense in that moment as Selma worked on her task. Luckily, however, she was far too spacey to consider the fact there wasn't a fork. Maybe she assumed he was brutish enough to eat with his hands like an angry, hungry goblin. Edwin knelt in front of the stove and began jamming logs onto the dwindling embers. The muggy, humid summer air wafted into the room and Garnet felt the moisture against her skin. She remained quiet, watching as Edwin reached into an icebox and pulled out a glass jar of frothy milk. Garnet's stomach howled cruelly as she watched him drink it. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than just a sip of mountain tea. Nervously, she ran the river rocks dangling from her neck against his palm. Even if she did get away, how long would she last? She assumed all the food had been rummaged from her rucksack. Garnet worried she wouldn't have energy to carry herself off. She could only hope a burst of adrenaline would hit her with enough force to get her to the Burmecian ports. Edwin set the half empty milk jar on the table and then reached for the Starspice. It made him stamp his foot against the floor as he relished in it. He then turned his eyes on Garnet.

"What do you know about Burmecia?" He asked, nodding his head at her. Garnet tore her eyes away from watching the storm beyond the open front door.

"Quite a lot, actually. I'm naturally curious," she replied with an even voice. "What would you like for me to tell you?"

Tensely, Edwin turned to face her. "Who really started the Airship Revolution?"

Garnet pressed her lips together. "You and I both know that's a long disputed portion of history."

"Well, then, who do you think started it, Miss Naturally Curious?"

She felt her face warm at the comment and she lowered her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. "I'm not sure who to point fingers at. I know there was certainly a lot of hostility between the two. The better thing to focus on is the greater peace it brought the Nations for decades to follow."

"Hmph, yeah," Edwin nodded, helping himself to more Starspice. "Until Queen Brahne sat on a pin after mulling her fat ass over it for those decades."

Garnet looked back out at the open door again. Her heart hammered in her chest and she began to second guess herself in that moment. Why would he be asking her such pointed questions? Did he finally realize who she was and was trying to get her to give herself away by accident? Was that comment supposed to cause a rise within her? Garnet focused intently in her mind. Your name is Rosemary. You were born in Dali. You travel to learn and better yourself. Besides, she told herself, as far as she was concerned, Queen Garnet was dead. Never could she convince herself to be that person ever again. She'd happily be Dagger or Rosemary or any other person on the face of Gaia. Anything but Garnet. She was never her to begin with, anyway. Slowly, Garnet was reminding herself that she never had truly been herself. Or known the totality of her identity. But that's why she did this, right? To prove to herself, to her friends, to Zidane, that there was a life out there for her that was worth fighting for. And she wasn't about to give up on it and lay down to life's cruel ways. Finally, Garnet's eyes darted back to Edwin.

"What did you do during the Mist Wars?" She found herself asking without hesitating.

Edwin paused from lifting his milk jar. Darkly, he looked over his shoulder at Garnet. "I watched my family's four generation old farm burn to the ground. I rebuilt on the embers. It's amazing how the ashes of anguish and broken dreams fertilize the fields now and it actually thrives, like our pain and resentment is necessary to our survival."

Garnet bobbed her head, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Life is pain, so they say…"

"And you?" Edwin asked after a gulp of milk. "What'd you do?"

"I smuggled food to encampments of displaced people," Garnet told him easily. "I stole from transports between Lindblum and Alexandria. No one was ever the wiser."

Edwin shook his head. "I don't know whether to laugh at the idea or cry over it."

In the next moment, a faint buzzing noise was to be heard. There was the sound of boots sloshing through the muddy fields and Selma appeared a moment later, her apron muddy and sopping wet. Rain dribbled from the edge of her wide brim straw hat. "Edwin! An airship in the sky! It must be Lady Freya."

"About damn time," Edwin slammed the Starspice onto the table. He grabbed his javelin and paused at the end of Garnet's boots, glaring down at her. "Just so you know, I don't really care what you think you did during the Mist Wars. I don't care how undecided you stay on the sides of history. Nothing will prevent me from ensuring Burmecia's justice. You'll squeal eventually. Starving is only step number one for a Dragoon murderer." Garnet didn't even get a chance to respond before her marched off, shutting the door behind him. Garnet's breaths were shallow, her shoulders rising and falling as she pressed herself to wall and listened acutely. It really was the sound of an airship. Garnet furrowed her brow. It wasn't just any airship, however. It was smaller, more compact. It was a Dart Ship. Since it's inception two years before, there were only a handful of pilots certified to operate them. If it really was Freya, there could only be one pilot in Alexandria licensed to operate.

Her entire body was a shaking panicked mess now as she turned and planted her boots back against the wall. She groaned as she pulled with all her might to break the tether from the wall. The shack, however, was in better integral shape than she bartered for. As the noise came closer, Garnet's pulls became more forceful, but still, nothing happened. Her fingers squirmed into the side of her boot, producing the fork. With short breaths, she began jamming the prongs into the keyhole around her ankle. "Come on, come on, come on…" She whispered urgently to herself, twisting and bending the fork back and forth. One prong broke off and she cursed, continuing to work with the cutlery. She had never lock picked anything in her life, but she continued with vigor. How did it work? Garnet paused and lifted the fork. If the lock was for a skeleton key, she began imagining the orientation it would be inserted. Garnet took an uneven breath as the engines groaned closer. She stuck the fork back into the shackle, twisting it around almost uselessly. Clink! Garnet pulled the fork from the keyhole. She had broken another prong off, and now, only one remained. "Godsdammit…!" She muttered, holding the fork up before her eyes like it had betrayed her. She ground her teeth together, glancing towards the shut front door. Garnet tossed the fork carelessly to the floor and, again, in a panic, she began trying to pull herself free from the wall. The metal started ripping at the skin of her palms and she fell backwards across the ground, her chest falling heavily, as she stared at the tin roof above her. Garnet could hear the thunks of rain and the airship engine clearly now as she only laid there, thinking about how screwed she was. Garnet squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like the biggest fool ever. She threw herself over a waterfall only to fail this quickly.

Images of Zidane passed by her eyelids. There he was emerging from a river they had crossed, laughing as he pressed his backpack to the top of his head. A scene of him beneath the stars of Madain Sari came forth with his cerulean blue eyes glowing in the moonlight, his shaggy blond hair rustling on his head. She remembered all the times she had been knocked off her feet, only to look up and see his grin behind his outstretched hand. Garnet's eyes shot open as she realized she was reaching out to him in that moment. She couldn't give up. Not when she needed to know so desperately what became of him. What drove them apart? She'd never sleep comfortably again if she simply resigned. Garnet sat up, whisking her dagger from her hip. She pursed her lips tightly as she gripped the handle with a shaking hand. She laid her ankle flat and reared her fist back, bringing the hilt of the dagger against the shackle with great force. Garnet tried not to whimper in pain as the metal ricocheted against the bones in her legs. She did it again and again, her free hand holding her leg down. She didn't care how much it hurt, it was her last chance at freedom. Her ankle was searing in her boot. Garnet let out a sharp gasp as she took a break from the forceful hitting. She then extended her leg out and pulled with all her might. The shackle shattered and fell to the floor. Garnet stared at it in shock for a moment before a wave of relief washed over her. It didn't last long, however, as she heard the pitch in the airships engine change. They must have been landing.

Still wielding the dagger, Garnet stealthily scrambled across the room and snagged her rucksack from the corner. She barely glanced inside at the contents as she buttoned it. Carefully, she pressed herself to the wall and used her palm to smudge the fog away on the window beside the wardrobe. Edwin and Selma were distracted by watching the incoming airship. She darted back across the room, to the opposite corner of the front door. Garnet sheathed her dagger and then began hurriedly fumbling with the lock on the window. She gave it a mighty push and then dug her fingers beneath the panes. She let out a fatigued groan as she pulled at the window, her teeth grinding together. It wouldn't budge however. The mechanism was rusted shut from months, maybe even years, of the constant moisture. Garnet let out a sigh and glanced around the room again, her thoughts jumbled and her movement becoming almost automated. Quickly, she snagged the lonesome tea towel off the table and wound it around her hand. She didn't even think before she formed her hand into a fist and drove it through the window, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces. Garnet looked over her shoulder as she heard the engine cut. She dropped the tea towel to the ground and hoisted herself up into the broken window. Her face was pinched as she felt jagged glass drag through her thigh. But still, Garnet continued to wiggle through the small escape. She toppled out, landing into the soggy ground below with an 'oof!'. Garnet laid there, panting heavily. In the sopping wet dirt, she saw a small pool of crimson blood sifting through the puddles. She didn't know how deep she had cut herself. She didn't spare even a moment to check as she scrambled up in her now mud stained tunic. She took off without another thought.

…

The engines slowly died away and for a moment, Freya and Liam only stood there, staring out through the windshield cascading with rain. The weather pounded against the hollow roof of the control room. Selma and Edwin waited patiently, used to constantly being soaked to the bone. Freya adjusted her hat as she laid her eyes on the man who had written to her. She definitely recognized him. He was the radical voice in the streets, even before the Mist Wars, that touted words of Burmecia's undermining, trying to rile the crowds up to take action on the stage of Nations. He was still the willowy figure he had always been. Freya watched him tensely for a moment before she looked to Liam.

"Hunker down here. Don't watch through the windshield, okay? They should forget you're here entirely," Freya told him, buttoning her cuffs to keep the rain out. "Have the ship ready to take off in a moments notice. If violence breaks out, you're to take off without me."

"But… what about you?" Liam furrowed his brow.

"I'm a Dragoon," Freya replied dryly, casting him a weary look. "I can jump fifty meters into the air."

"Okay, right," Liam ran his sweaty palms along the chestnut wood plated and leather stitched wheel. "Just… be careful, alright?"

"I got it," Freya told him, grabbing her javelin from the corner of the control room. She wrangled the belt over her shoulder and crossed it over her chest. She braced herself for just a moment before she opened the door and stepped into the rain. The warm droplets slid down her silken coat as she clambered off the ladder and placed her feet into the soggy ground. Slowly, she approached the couple. "Edwin… it's been a while," she greeted.

"Welcome home, Lady Freya," Edwin replied. "And thank you for coming on such short notice."

The Dragoon kept her face straight as she observed both their hands continually moving. Selma even swayed a bit beneath the rain. It seemed too early for Starspice to be an epidemic in the season, but anything was possible with these two she was beginning to surmise. "Yes, well, keeping the peace in Burmecia is one of my top priorities as you know. Murder of a Dragoon, hm? That's a pretty hefty accusation. What is your evidence?"

"Her appearance was the first dead give away," Edwin was quick to jump in with his words. He held his arms out at his side. Freya only watched with her light eyes, raindrops gliding off the brim of her olive cap. "She was wearing off-duty Dragoon garb, Lady Freya. She claims she thrifted them from a boutique, but a Dragoon would never willingly give their uniforms away! She also looked like she had been in a fight recently. She had fresh scars on her face and lots of bruising. But the biggest red flag was the contents of her backpack. They were filled with personal, handmade Burmecian items. Clay bowls, tea towels, even the mountain tea was composed of all the characteristic things our ancestors have been brewing for centuries!"

Freya thought carefully about her words, adjusting the strap of her javelin on her shoulder. "You know, off-duty Dragoon uniforms are available at several co-ops across the Mist Continent. Primarily for the traveling Dragoon, yes, but they're not off limits to everyone else." Edwin was silent in that moment, blinking rapidly. "It does seem suspicious she had a backpack full of personal Burmecian household items, however. She claimed she knew me? In what capacity?"

"Just that she met you through her travels."

Freya glanced up at the slow moving storm clouds and then adjusted her hat. "Alright. Well, take me to her."

Edwin was quite excited to lead the esteemed Dragoon to his house. "I just know this is the real deal, Lady Freya," he rambled, as they stepped onto the small porch. "I can smell anarchy and foul play from a mile away. She was drenched with conspiracy. She claimed to be from Dali, but I know better than to believe people when they say they're from such a small village. Especially with the way she looked."

"And how might she have looked?" Freya furrowed her brow as she brushed the lingering droplets of rain from her silk sleeves.

"Fed all too well," Edwin replied. "And far too beautiful to be a daughter of a farmer. Her skin was fair, like she hadn't spent more than a few hours in the sun in her entire life." Edwin then pushed the door open. "Oh, Rosemary, there's a guest here for… you…" His voice slowly trailed off as he entered the room to find a busted shackle and a broken window. The humidity had spread across the room and he felt it plague his skin. Edwin's eyebrow twitched for a moment as he came fully into the small shack, looking around as if she had somewhere to hide. "I… I…" He sputtered, shaking his head. "How the hell?!" Freya brushed past him to the inspect the scene. She paused to stare at all the glimmering shards of glass on the floor. She then knelt down and picked a broken fork up from the floorboards. Freya twirled it between her slender fingers, holding it up for the couple to see. Edwin's hands curled into shaking fists and he turned towards Selma. "You fed her?!"

"I swear, I didn't," Selma held her hands up and shook her head. Her eyebrows then knitted together. "Maybe if you weren't a good-for-nothing lazy dolt and actually cleaned up after yourself, she wouldn't have gotten the fork that you obviously left laying out!"

"That shackle couldn't have reached the table!" Edwin shouted, his cheeks tinging red.

"Never underestimate someone desperate to save their own life," Freya said evenly from where she was still hunched on the floor. In the next beat, she stood, placing the obsolete cutlery on the table. She paused to look at the Starspice. "She obviously could reach."

"Well, we have to go after her," Edwin declared. "She's a danger to Burmecia."

"Anymore dangerous than you?" Freya now turned her eyes on him from beneath the shadow of her hat.

"She wasn't the only-" Selma began, but was cut off as she shrieked. Edwin grabbed her by her arms and spun her into the wardrobe. As he reared his fist back to hit Selma, Freya caught his wrist and used all her might to send him to the ground. Selma panted shakily as Edwin fell against the floorboards, all the air escaping his lungs. Freya was still cool and collected as she straddled over him, grabbing him by his suspenders.

"What did she look like?" Freya demanded. "I want details."

Edwin's face only showed bewilderment by the turn of events. The Dragoon left no wiggle room for him and he swallowed roughly as he stared at her face only inches from his. "She had fair, olive skin…" he began, almost reluctantly. "Long dark hair, all the way down her back. Brown eyes. She was thin, too."

"Oh, godsdammit," Freya shoved him to the ground and stood up, shaking her head as she paced away. She crossed her arms over her chest and roughly ran her hand along her jaw. It had to have been Garnet. So, she was alive after all. Then that meant all the visions Eiko was seeing in her sleep were true. They were actually tethered together. It meant both good and bad things to the Dragoon in that moment as her eyes fell across the shackle left strewn across the ground. They would always know what she was experiencing. But they'd always be a step behind. What was Garnet after? Freya turned back to Edwin, who lamely sat on the floor beneath the jurisdiction of Lady Freya. "Where was she going? Did she tell you?"

"She said… she was heading to Treno," Edwin replied, refusing to make eye contact. "Said there was a card tournament there…"

Freya looked between the deflated Edwin and the horrified, shaking Selma. She could only sigh in that moment. "You both need help. Burmecian's are better than this, you know that. If you want people to take us seriously, then when I leave, I want you to both go out into the field of the rain and smash that Starspice and both watch it dissolve to nothing. If you don't, then that will be what happens to you, eventually. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y… yes, Lady Freya," Selma nodded vigorously.

"You," Freya pointed at the distraught woman. "You should think wholly and clearly about what keeps you here. I'd wager there's plenty for you on the other side of the city walls." Slowly, Freya knelt down in front of Edwin and caught him by his jaw, drawing his eyes up to meet hers. "As for you, that girl was never here, alright? And neither was I. Got it? Should you even open your mouth… you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

He stared intently at her for a moment before he licked his lips. "Crystal… Lady Freya."

"Good," she stood and brushed at the imaginary lint on her pleated pants. Freya glanced around the room once more as she headed to leave. She stopped to look between the couple before she quietly shut the door behind her.

Liam was peering through the rain streaks of the windshield as he watched Freya casually approach the ship. She climbed the ladder and quickly ducked into the control room. She let out a sigh as she wrangled her javelin off and removed her hat to frisk her fingers through her damp ashen hair. The young man could only watch as she unbuttoned her Dragoon coat and shrugged out of it, back into her casual tunic and cotton vest. "So…?" He asked, his hand hesitantly resting on the lever to engage the engines.

Freya approached the sprawling control panel, full of instruments she did not understand. "It was Dagger."

"What…!?"

"She wasn't there," Freya shook her head. "She escaped in the nick of time. Take us back to Alexandria. I must speak with Eiko."

Liam's stomach was unsettled as he went through the motions of starting the engines. They groaned behind him as they warmed up and he pulled a metal chain down from above. He glanced to the side of Freya's stoic hard face as he pulled a long lever attached to the ground back, sending the Dart Ship from the ground and into the sky. For the past week, he had felt sick to his stomach thinking about a world without Garnet. But now, a new feeling was culminating within him. Garnet had survived and now she was on the run. She was abandoning all her rights of the throne she had worked so hard to protect and build. She was willing to throw it all to the wind without a second thought. Liam ran his tongue along the front of his teeth as he navigated the ship over the jagged mountain range drenched in rain.

"You're certain?" Liam blurted out, glancing to Freya. There was a bit of turbulence as they freed themselves from the land of eternal rain.

"It had to have been," Freya replied. "Eiko's vision… what I saw… it all lines up."

"Then… where is she going?"

"I don't know," Freya said, shaking her head. "But Eiko will."

…

Garnet staggered into a muggy, wet, and shadowed alleyway. She fell against the grimy wall and slid down, straight into a puddle. She paid it no mind, however, as she extended her right leg out. There was a narrow tear in her pants, exposing a deep gash in her thigh. Garnet's hands were shaking as she wrangled her backpack from her shoulders and began frisking through it. She found the tea towel that Basil said Mathilda had stitched herself. The little flowers were lopsided and uneven. Garnet pursed her lips before he pressed it into the wound. The dark blood quickly soaked in. Garnet's breath was shallow and she cringed against the pressure. She let out an uneven sigh as she bowed her chin, water gliding down her dark hair. She convinced herself she didn't need stitches as she gazed beyond the edge of the shadow at the bustling streets of Burmecia. People wandered by with parasols and the rickety wheels of wagons creaked by. Luckily, no one noticed the young woman wracked with pain in the alley. Garnet reached for another plain linen. With all her might, and a groan of pain, she ripped it longways. She then wrapped it around her thigh and as she knotted it, she let out a whimper. Garnet pressed her palms into the murky water beneath her, fighting to even her breath. That had all been much too close for comfort. She blinked rapidly and ran her stained sleeve along her sticky face. The pain in her thigh was slowly becoming numb, but a headache was spreading across her forehead, along with the tormenting feeling of hunger in her stomach. Garnet rummaged through her bag, but all the food she had been given was gone. Along with the thermos of Mathilda's tea. Garnet pressed the back of her head against the damp brick behind her. She was so close to what she wanted. The ports were only blocks away at this point. Her head was spinning, though. She was exhausted and at her breaking point. Garnet drew her lips tightly together as she looked back out at the end of the alley.

She pushed aside the pain, the hunger, and the fatigue, as she used the wall to bring herself to her feet. Garnet let out a long sigh as she pulled her backpack over her shoulders again. Her leg throbbed intensely but she tried not to dwell on it. Garnet only focused on the next task on her agenda: getting the hell out of there. Garnet emerged onto the street, doing her best to walk normally. She tied her hair into a ponytail at the crown of her head, beads of water bleeding down her back. Dark onyx locks framed her face. Beneath the shifting of the knotted linen of her thigh, she could feel a warm stream of blood running over her knee. She paid it no mind. Several Burmecian's glanced to her. Garnet knew she was out of place. Not only as a human, but she was sure her bruised and scarred face and stained apparel was quite jarring. Garnet walked with purpose, however, glancing fleetingly over her shoulder. She passed through alleyways of street vendors, showing their wares of hand knitted blankets, pots of all sizes, and ceramic jars sporting prismatic colors. But Garnet kept her eyes forward, not giving anyone the time of day. The knotted linen against her leg burned greatly, but Garnet continued to push forward through all the gleaming cobbled ways, the rain slowly washing the mud from her tunic. Her ponytail swung heavily back and forth off her neck. Garnet squared her shoulders and she walked with the utmost confidence she could conjure. Her right leg was searing, however, and she backed herself into another alleyway to adjust the linen. As she untied it, the wound gushed fully, globs falling into the alleyway stream beneath her. Garnet's foggy mind could only procure curses as she pressed the lopsided flower embroidered tea towel to the gash once more. Her body was shaking as she held herself against the wall, begging the bleeding to stop. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and brought her hand forward, calling all her energy over the wound. However, nothing happened. Garnet sighed heavily, sagging against the wall as the rain continued to pound over her.

Use it or lose it.

Garnet pursed her lips as she found herself sliding to the grimy, wet floor again. She pressed with all her might against the gushing wound. Between her hunger, fatigue, and pain, losing enough blood would surely lead to the end of her journey. Garnet ground her teeth together as she laid her leg straight and attempted to stop the bleeding. She didn't realize she had cut herself so deep. Garnet let out an uneven sigh as more pain wracked her body. She was only two blocks away from the Burmecian Ports. She was so close to what she wanted, it only pained her more. And yet, she couldn't procure an ounce of anything to save herself. Garnet's shoulders curled as she pressed on the wound. Her tears were masked with the unending rain falling over her. She shook her head, onyx hair plastering across her forehead and cheeks. As she ground her teeth in pain, pressing harder and harder on the wound, she tried to remind herself she was capable. There was no giving up. She had already proved that to herself. She gasp sharply, and shortly, as the linen pressed into the depths of her wound. Garnet slammed her head against the wet brick behind her, biting on her tongue. She breathed raggedly, still feeling the warm sensation of blood trickling over her thigh. She let out a sharp gasp as she tore the rag away. It wasn't going to stop. Garnet felt hot tears in her eyes and she squeezed her eyes shut, tucking her chin against her chest. Why couldn't she help herself? Garnet sighed heavily, her empty belly rattling. The blood continued relentlessly. Garnet blinked rapidly as the rain came across her. She stared at the grimy brick wall in front of her, pressing with meager might into the gushing wound.

Suddenly, the sound of a pair of feet splashing through the puddles came around the corner. A tall, slender Burmecian woman appeared. She carried a dainty and quite frilly white parasol settled on her shoulder. In one arm, she hugged a brown bag of goods from the market. What stood out the most was her long white gown with lace sleeves, accented with a large silken black sash with a bow at the small of her back. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw the pitiful Garnet strewn on the floor. "By the gods!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. Garnet's dark eyes shot up to see the bewildered woman and she absolutely froze. It felt like in that moment that Garnet's mind was completely deteriorating. The woman knelt beside her without hesitation, glancing to the gnarly wound on her thigh. "You need stitches." Garnet still only looked at her like a Chocobo caught in the torchlight. "Come on, now," the woman continued. "My sister is a nurse. She can help you."

Garnet pressed herself against the wall and shook her head, her mouth dry. "No, that's alright. I… I do not need help."

"Really, now?" She arched her eyebrows. "You don't look like you're in a good place, sweetheart."

"No, I, uh… I…" Garnet sighed and closed her eyes for a moment as she collected her thoughts. "Enough people have helped me, that's all."

"Oh, dilly-dally shilly-shally," the Burmecian almost scoffed despite her voice being light-hearted. "You don't need a reason to help people." Garnet felt the blood draining through her now as she looked at the clear and friendly face in front of her. She still felt guarded, however. Another helpful family? What were the odds? She felt her head shaking again and her eyes darted down to the blood soaked rag in her hand. The woman licked her lips. "You know, there are a lot of marauders in these parts of the Mist Continent. It's a hard field of work to minimize on. But they certainly do try to take advantage of travelers, who may be unsuspecting, like you. I commend you on getting away, but, dear, you can't let them win in the aftermath."

Garnet leaned her head back against the cool brick, nearly seeing double. "I just want to help myself."

"And you can, by taking me up on my offer," the woman told her, now nudging at Garnet's arm. "Come on, now, get up. You look so pitiful. A good meal and a nap would certainly put some more pep into you after my sister looks you over."

"Really, please," Garnet shook her head.

"My sister would never forgive me if I left you here. Neither would I," the woman continued, hooking her arm beneath Garnet's shoulder and helping her slide up against the grimy wall. "We know what it's like to feel helpless. Trust me, sweetheart, you are not alone…" Together, they walked slowly with Garnet biting down on her tongue as she forced herself forward on her aching, numb leg.

7