CHAPTER 4
The heat woke her; the sun seared her face. But this burn was different. It flowed with her, hid under covers and bit at the tiniest movement. The place was different, too. Her body did not lie on rocks and roots but instead rested on cushioned softness, until she moved, and then it all sharpened to broken glass.
She slowly unpinched her eyes from the glare of sun, only to find no reason to squint. There was no sun, only a room not quite light and not quite dark. She touched her cheek, the stinging pain immediate. She did not touch it again.
Her fingers rounded against the smooth white covers, the outline of her feet stuck out in front. There was a small window with pulled curtains. Furniture, large and dark, pressed against the walls. In currents too subtle to notice, the room shed its gray. She lay there awake and burning and tried not to move.
The door creaked, drew a triangle of light across the bedcovers. A blond woman stepped noiselessly across the rug and sat on the edge of the bed, sinking the mattress. “Your name?”
The woman waited, then thumped her chest. “Elsa. My name Elsa.” She cocked her head to one side. “Can you say? El-sa.”
No response. Elsa patted the white sheet. “It all right. Will come. Time. Time.” The words sounded like the ticks of the clock that sat next to the bed.
Elsa reached a hand toward her, cautiously, and she could tell her burns would not be touched. The woman stroked her hair with her fingertips, tucking it behind her ear, the sensation more breeze than touch.
“You stand?” Elsa asked. “All right for you?”
She pushed the covers off. The nightgown she wore was new and reached all the way to her bare feet. She turned onto her belly and slid to the edge of the bed through the fire and let her feet drop to the wooden floor. It hurt but could not compete with the flames of her face.
Elsa crouched until their eyes were level. The woman’s were wet but not sad; she was smiling. “Goot. Very goot.” She stood and extended a hand. “Come. We eat.”
The little girl took the hand offered. No matter that another hand drew her to a place of suffering only a few days ago. No matter that the pale, outstretched hand calling to her now was unfamiliar. She took the hand because a child does not have a choice.