One morning, between hunts, I knelt by a patch of wild lavender, my fingers gently brushing the delicate purple blooms.Their scent—earthy, clean, and bright—rose into the crisp air, mingling with memories I thought I’d lost.Carefully, I plucked several stems, adding them to the woven basket at my side, and as I worked, my mother’s voice echoed in my heart, naming each plant and its purpose.
“Elizabeth,” Dancing Fire called gently from nearby, his eyes curious as he watched me gather.“Do you understand these herbal mysteries?”
I stood, the leather of my garments rustling—a sound both foreign and familiar, strange yet comforting.Turning toward him, I met his gaze with a quiet pride that surprised me.
“I practice healing alchemy,” I said softly, the words strange on my tongue—strange, yet powerful.Once an identity I had tried to outrun, now it felt like a lifeline.Not a curse, but a calling.
“Ah.”He nodded slowly and thoughtfully, his eyes holding a flicker of respect that warmed me more than the rising sun.“Our healer has walked on to the next life.Many here carry old wounds—aches, lingering pains.Could you… fill that void?”
My hands hovered over the plants in my basket, their scents rich and grounding.“I would love to try,” I whispered, not because I was fearless—but because I needed to believe that healing others could heal something in me, too.
As days melted into weeks, I stepped fully into the role of the tribe’s healer.Women came to me with their children, their eyes shadowed by worry I eased with poultices and warm teas.Warriors sought me out—prideful yet worn by past battles.I stitched their wounds, rubbed salves into scarred skin, and spoke calmly into the hush of night.Every grateful smile, every sigh of relief, chipped away at the wall I had built around my grief, brick by agonizing brick.
But as my knowledge of healing deepened, so too did my belly swell.With every flutter, every kick, the twins within reminded me that life pressed forward.Alone beneath the blanket of stars, I often lay a hand to my womb, wondering if the blood that flowed through my children would doom them to the same tangled destiny that had ensnared me.Would they be Timebornes?Would they be hunted for powers they never asked for?
My past felt like a fading dream—a tapestry woven with loss, sorrow, and love that still haunted me in the quiet hours before dawn.And yet… despite the uncertainty and fear, I found peace in the present.In the laughter of the children I healed, in the strong hands of the warriors I mended, in the clasp of Dancing Fire’s hand over mine—a silent promise that I was no longer just Elizabeth Alexander, cast adrift in the storm.
I was something more now—a healer, a mother, a thread woven into the fabric of this people.And for the first time in a long while, I believed that perhaps… I belonged.
Dawn had barely begun to paint the sky in soft hues of rose and gold when Dancing Fire appeared at the entrance of the teepee, his silhouette stark against the pale light.“We hunt today,” he said—no question, no invitation—just a truth, spoken with quiet certainty.
I nodded, swallowing the nerves fluttering in my stomach.I gathered my quiver, the worn leather familiar beneath my fingers, and slung it over my shoulder.Once foreign and unwieldy, my bow now felt like an extension of my hand.
The forest was alive around us—birds warbling their morning songs, leaves whispering secrets in the wind.The air was crisp and clean, filling my lungs with each step as I moved beside him, moccasins silent against the earth.At that moment, the land felt less like wilderness and more like a living, breathing entity—one I was slowly learning to trust.
We reached a stream, its waters glistening like glass over stone.I knelt, letting my fingers drift through the current, searching for herbs.Yarrow grew in clusters along the bank—good for wounds.Willow bark curled beneath the water’s edge—nature’s relief for pain.
Then, the light shifted.
A shadow passed over me, sudden and immense, eclipsing the sun’s warmth in an instant.
Bear.
My breath caught, the world narrowing to the massive form, stepping into the stream just feet from where I crouched.Its dark eyes locked on mine—curious, calculating.I stumbled back, my heart slamming against my ribs, terror seizing my limbs.Every instinct screamed to flee, to run into the trees, and never stop.
“Elizabeth, don’t run!”Dancing Fire’s voice cut through the panic, as sharp as an arrow’s edge.“Stand still!”
But the bear had seen me.There was no escape.
Its gaze bore into mine—ancient, merciless.
I stood frozen, carved from fear, as Dancing Fire notched an arrow.The string twanged.The arrow flew true, burying itself in the bear’s shoulder.A deafening roar ripped through the forest, shattering the stillness like glass.
The beast turned, fury in its eyes, and charged him.
They collided—force against force, a storm meeting stone.The bear’s paw lashed out brutally, striking Dancing Fire across his side.Blood sprayed, as vivid as rubies, against his tanned skin.He staggered but did not fall.
“Find something, Elizabeth!Fight!”His voice was raw, desperate—a lifeline thrown into the chaos.
His words shattered my paralysis.My eyes darted, searching—a rock, jagged and heavy beneath my hand.I hurled it with everything I had.
The stone struck the bear’s side with a dull thud.It turned, snorting, rage rekindled.Its eyes locked on mine.Time slowed, and my breath snagged in my throat, caught behind ribs that felt like they might crack.
“Elizabeth, move!”Dancing Fire’s voice tore through the haze, but I couldn’t.My legs were stone, rooted in fear.
Then—a blur.A flash of steel.
Dancing Fire, bleeding and battered, had seized his hunting knife.With a warrior’s cry, he hurled it.The blade spun through the air, catching the sun—a silver streak of vengeance—and struck deep.
