Under the Oaks, Beside the Bayou

The Treasure and Its Guardian

It was a surprisingly arduous journey, the trail littered with fallen trees, and areas flooded out. What normally took him one hour by horse, took three. He took the time to pause and hitch chains from the harness on the horse, to trunks, hauling them out of the path of his animal. He needed to make sure he could escort the three, possibly four, members of the Aubert family out in some safety and comfort, depending on the condition of Madam Aubert.

He was sweaty from the rising heat and intense humidity, since the soil was soaked beyond its capacity to absorb it all. He was also nervous. Underneath the sound of birds singing, the buzzing of insects, and the natural sounds of nature, there was nothing. Knowing Aubert, he should have begun to hear the sounds of an axe cleaving fallen trees, or nails being hammered as repairs were being made. But the expected hubbub was not present. If the mother was in labor, he heard no outcries to indicate it. It was eerily quiet. Zen pulled the horse to a dead stop at the top of the small hillock before the Aubert property and stared down at an awful and devastating tableau.

He sat horrified. Below him, in the small hollow, the once cozy cabin was fallen. The logs lovingly cut and notched together had totally collapsed. The shallow bowl it had nestled in was completely flooded. The only thing left intact was a child's tree house, beautifully crafted, high in a tree that curved completely around the trunk that grew up the exact center of the little fort.

Two adult bodies had been excruciatingly pulled to the low bank above and lay face up, caked in mud, gray skin showing beneath the filth.

Nearby stood Yon, a sling with a few belongings hung across his back. He was kneeling with his back to Zen, sunk inches deep in all the muck and mire. He was hanging, on onto the handle of a shovel and had been trying to dig a grave, but the shallow hole he had managed to clear had filled immediately with muddy water from the sodden earth. Both hands gripped the wooden handle, but he was exhausted, and Zen could see his thin shoulders shaking with sobs. He slid swiftly from his mount and waded through the small pond that surrounded the ruins of the Aubert home. The child was deep in a state of despair and heard nothing as the man came behind him and touched his shoulder, He winced and Zen slowly turned Yon around.

He was pale as a ghost, eyes black in pain and hopelessness. Tears streaked down his face and he did not seem to be aware of them. He simply stared.

"Yon? It is Monsieur De Brummette. Yon? Do you know who I am?"

Nothing.

He gathered the boy up and he heard him say, in a voice dry and cracked from hours of screaming, then crying.

"No. I have to bury them. I..."

"I am here to help you, Yon. You do not need to do this alone. Let's go to the top of the knoll where my horse is and make a plan, okay? We will figure out what we can do to help lay them to rest. Alright?"

He said, "Let me move your sling to your chest, so I can carry you better."

The child suddenly came to life. "Be. Careful." He spoke sternly. "It holds my greatest treasure. My father said I must protect it with my life! It was the last thing he told me." He sounded weak but strangely savage.

Zen replied softly. "I will be careful." He gently touched the sling and it moved and made a sound.

"Yon...What...what is in your pack?"

My most precious thing. My little sister."

Zen froze in horror. How...How did this happen to this boy? how had he found the strength? Never mind. The 'how', was not immediately important, the 'what to do now', was vital.

"Yon, if we move the baby to your chest, she will stay warm, and we can open it up a bit so she can breathe even more. Can we try that?"

Yon assessed Zen, then nodded. After the bundle was shifted, Zen carefully opened the sack up and found a pair of dark brown eyes staring at him, calmly and quietly, as if the infant did not want to be a bother as the two tried to decide how to get her to safety. She had a mass of dark hair already, and Zen smiled at the boy.

"She looks healthy. You have done a fine job of protecting her. Can you sit up there on a blanket and hold her a bit? I will wrap you both up, and you can get warm." Despite the increasing heat, Yon was shaking and showed signs of shock.

The exhausted child nodded and allowed Zen to carry them out of the swamp and up the bank. When they sat down and were bundled under the warm woolen blanket, he looked up.

"My Parents. Don't leave them? The animals..."

Zen wanted to cry but swallowed it. "Of course. They will come with us. I will cover them up in the other two blankets> I may have to strap them on to the travois and take them out this way."

Yon spoke up. "We have a horse. He came back after the storm. I tied him up when he came to me looking for oats."

"Where?"

Yon pointed as he cradled his little sister, who had drifted off to sleep.

"Brilliant boy. That makes things much easier. I'll go and get him."

Yon's eyes immediately became panicked. "Don't leave us!"

Zen looked deeply into them. "I promise you. You will not be left alone. I do not break my promises. Do you believe me?"

Again the quiet nod.

"Then wait here. Keep your sister warm. And as soon as I return, we will get ready. Here are several water skins. Drink slowly, with small sips. You need water. Here are some biscuits and a jar of honey. If Sister wakes and fusses, dip a fingertip in the pot and let her nurse the honey of your finger once or twice, no more until we get her into town and find some milk, understand? I will return with the horse."

As Zen strode away, Yon breathed a sign of release. Someone had come. A man, strong and kind, had arrived, and he no longer needed to struggle and try to think. He and his sister were going to be safe. He tucked her closely in and when he heard Zen return, he let go and crashed deep into blessed oblivion.