Miranda1

Iwander all night. The boots save my feet, and I stumble and push myself to keep on my way. The small moon is up, so I am not in darkness. Everywhere is bathed in silvery light. There are no more people, though, no one but me.

As the moon crosses the sky, I stagger, and soon I’m too tired to move. I know it’s still hours from the return of the sun, so I sit against one of the few trees. I did not mean to sleep, but a moment later, it seems, I wake. There’s a soft, warm body beside me, and I’m so surprised that I yell.

The body beside me leaps to its feet — all four of them — then runs out of my reach and looks at me. In the moonlight, I can see that it’s dark, covered in fur, and one eye is missing. But the one good eye peering at me is intelligent. The creature gently sways its back from side to side, a peaceful motion, and I do not think it means to harm me.

“Do you have a name?” I ask, and the creature tilts its head to listen. How like Mother it seems for a moment!

“My name is Miranda1,” I say. It looks at me, then out of the darkness quietly steps another creature like it, but gray and much bigger. The two creatures wait patiently, looking at me, gently swaying their backs together. Everything about them seems friendly, but they are waiting for something.

“I’ll call you Ariel,” I say to the smaller one without the eye. “And you I’ll call Caliban,” I say to the huge gray one. These are names from the story Teacher has read us from the WillBook, about the girl with my name, the story that I’ve never read to the end. Ariel and Caliban both wiggle their backs like they agree. We look at each other a moment longer, then as one, both creatures hear something in the darkness, and they vanish. But for some reason, I don’t think they’ve abandoned me.

I walk farther, the moon sinks and the sky grows pink again …

… and I find my third person in this world.

It’s a girl, clutching her arm and crying softly. She sits in the road, and I walk up to her. After talking to Grannie, I assume she can understand me.

“Why do you cry?” I ask, and she whips around to look at me, afraid.

“Shove off!” she shouts, and I’m surprised, but I’ve seen this before in younger children when they’re frightened. They yell at you. Although this girl seems my age or older.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, and the girl drops her head and sniffles. “Is it your arm?” I ask, slowly advancing. “I can look at it, maybe I can help? I can set bones.” She still doesn’t answer me, although she shoots me a quick glance.

“I’m Miranda1,” I say, as though it may help. The girl cradles her hurt arm, and I creep a little closer, crouch, and hold out my hand. As gently as I can, I take her arm and prod like Medicus taught us. I assess. No bones broken.

“Can you make a fist?” I ask, and she can. “Can you squeeze my fingers?” I ask, and she does, although it’s a very weak grip.

“You’ve sprained your wrist, I think. Nothing is broken. I need a bandage. Do you have one?” She looks at me.

“A what?”

“A strip of cloth? Or linen?” The girl just stares at me, so I tear another strip off the bottom of William1’s shirt, suddenly thankful that it was far too long for me. I carefully take her arm and tie the bandage in place, then I fashion a sling for her and set her arm in it.

“Don’t use it for seven days, then only for a few hours a day for another seven. It should heal completely.”

I help the girl stand up, and she whispers, “Thank you.” Then three people come out from around the side of a house, and the girl scampers over to them. One boy has a shaved head, and he stares at me, and says, “Who the jigger are you?” He’s a little old to be missing his front teeth, but he spits this out at me.

“I’m Miranda1.” I hold my staff and look at the four people, about my age, two boys, two girls. They look underfed, rough, sad. The girl shows them her arm, and they look at me with suspicion, but their malice fades.

“You a healer?” the boy with the shaved head asks.

“No. I know how to set bones and treat sprains, though.” The boy wants to say more to me, but sud-denly the group grows uneasy and moves away, back toward the house. They disappear around it without a goodbye. When I turn around, Caliban and Ariel stand behind me like Sentries.

“They don’t like you two. I wonder why?” The creatures dip their heads and trot ahead of me, one on either side. I’m about to continue on my way …

“Miranda1!”

I whirl around, and there behind a house, two boys step out from the rubble, one huge, one short, much like the dogs. The bigger boy raises his hand in hello.

“Miranda1, we got a message for you,” the short one calls.

“From William1,” the big one adds. I run toward them and catch them both in an embrace. I don’t care who they are.

“I am found.”