Page 21 of Solivagant

A scent. Familiar.

My Jem.

I could smell him. This was where he lived.

The sound quieted. Soothed. The scream receded to a rumble. To a whimper. Withdrawing back into my hollowed soul.

I could smell him everywhere. The nauseating pulsing eased. My hands were drenched in red and gold.

Jem.

I’d left my Jem.

He was waiting for me.

The Bridge was closed when I returned.

But he was still waiting.

He’d been waiting.

Waiting too long.

I’d been gone too long.

My fingers traced the side of his face slowly. A tremble in them.

Now I could see it. Now I knew why the bite hadn’t worked. I knew why I couldn’t heal him.

He was gone.

His soul was gone.

Eaten.

What remained of him wasn’t enough to save.

Because I’d taken too long.

My sweet Jem.

My hands were gentle as I lifted him. He’d been hurt enough. He’d waited enough. I was here now. I’d never leave him again.

I took him, carried him the way I always carried him. He liked when I did that.

I took him through the woods to our spot. I laid him down by the creek. Our special place.

I had never been here in the day with him.

I could now.

I’d be here every day.

He was far enough that nothing from that awful village could ever reach him again.

The light of its destruction burned brighter than the sun that set over our safe place.

Ruins.