6.

 

When he was sure that she was no longer there, when he knew that he was—for as much as he ever was—alone, Zaifyr took hold of the tether that would return him to his life. It was not physical, yet he could feel it. It was not real, yet it guided him away from the haunt he had hidden in, away from her pain and the dim sense of loss in her. He was careful, his steps that were not steps slow, fearing the calm that had followed Ger’s death would break—as it must. As it must, he repeated to himself, drawn by a truth in the words, though he did not fully understand it. As with the steps that he took, the cord that he held, it was a realization of truth with no easy definition and no physical counterpart. It was not like the tents that emerged around him, forming like huge white waves that threatened to fall over him as he drew closer to his body. For the first time he wondered just what he would do when he reached—

His eyes opened, his breath a startled draw that turned into a cough, that drew the attention of all to him.

It was the elderly healer, Reila, that reached him first.