The Trail

Chapter 33 | Evil is blind

When I woke, I did not know how long had passed. Only that the moon illuminated the forest below, its light filtering through the foliage as thin threads of silver silk. The glade was bathed in cold moonlight and warm emberlight from the campfires. Together, they made long shadows dance on the walls of the tent.

Suddenly, I felt something wet against my forehead. Slightly confused, I tried to sit up.

"Easy", I heard the old man's voice, "Not too fast, now."

He helped me sit, supporting my back with a stack of pillows. I met his dark eyes as he worriedly scrutinized me.

"How are you feeling?", he said sombrely.

I coughed when I tried to speak, quickly diverting the blood into my sleeve.

"Like shit", I said and wiped the blood off my lips onto the collar of my shirt. "You really shouldn't sit this close to me, sir. Please."

He only waved his hand at me.

"Drink this", he said and handed me a small cup.

It smelt strong, and bit even harder. It burned down my throat to the point where I wanted to scratch the inside of my trachea.

"It's awful, I know. But it'll help", the old man said. Then, he dipped the already wet cloth in a wooden bowl holding fresh water before he dabbed it onto my forehead.

Then, using another cloth, he wiped the dried blood off my face. My throat burned all the way deep into my lungs, my breaths whistling as the air was drawn in.

"The concoction will take a while before it helps. In the meantime, I have something to clear your airways...", the man mumbled.

He opened the nightstand drawer before he took out a beautifully crafted pipe. Go smoke pipe with, Jiemba, I don't care. Kalinka's voice echoed through my head as the memory flashed before me, and in that instant, I realised the man's name.

"Jiemba", I uttered aloud as I met the vague glance of the man's dark eyes.

The man smiled towards me, as he always did.

"Yes", he said.

He lit the pipe once he was done preparing it before he handed it to me.

"Here", he said.

"Are you sure smoking is such a great idea in my condition?", I said, suspiciously grabbing the pipe with my right hand.

"There's no tobacco, just herbs. The shamanka taught me", he said reassuringly.

I put the tip of the pipe between my lips and took a deep breath. It relieved the scorching pain which the drink had brought me and gifted my lungs with new air. It was as if I breathed in the same wind that whispered through the trees, a thick stream of it that softly flowed through my pipes. It was as if my entire system had been renewed, and I could breathe again.

"Better?", Jiemba asked.

I only nodded, too busy drawing deep breaths.

"Good. If you want, the women have prepared supper. You're welcome to join us", he said and got up from the bed.

"No, I can't—"

"You can, and you will. You must eat", he said and nearly dragged me out of the comfort of the bed.

Then, he threw a large, heavy blanket over my shoulders and led me out of the tent, my hand still clutching the pipe. Juniper followed us out into the adhesive evening air.

"Now", Jiemba said and looked at me intently, "you mustn't speak to anyone unless you are spoken to. These are times of war, and some members of the tribe hold onto tradition harder than others...", he said before he added, with weight in his words, "Meaning they take less kindly to strangers."