To Kill A God

05. Weak, But Not Fragile

"Devi, what has happened to you?!" the kindly man exclaimed, crouching down to her level. Nila was confused. She looked like hell frozen over, but she didn't think it warranted so much attention.

It was then that she took a good look at herself. Her right hand was bleeding profusely. A large cut snaked down her arm, burning with a vengeance. That explained why she felt so weak. All of a sudden, pain coursed through her once more. The man shouted in a foreign language to someone inside the house, wrapping the towel he had around her hand.

She winced as the towel touched the cut and shouted out loud when he tied it tightly around the top of the gash. The blood flow didn't stop, but it trickled into a stream. A small puddle had formed by her side, slowly cooling into a thick mass.

Fatigue racked every part of her body, and though she tried her hardest, her eyes closed involuntarily. "I'm... sorry, but I'm... just going to..." she slurred as her eyes closed.

"No, no, not now, devi!"

"So... sorry..."

---

Nila had faint memories of waking up and falling asleep again. Once, she saw three — maybe two — people in her periphery who ran to her when they noticed her awake. Their voices sounded heavy to Nila, her vision was blurry and unfocused. All she could understand was that she was on a table and feeling extremely cold.

Her eyes closed just as quickly, and she squirmed inwardly. Though she was unconscious outwardly, her mind was perfectly fine, running a mile a minute. The cold, the unfamiliarity, all of it made Nila anxious. She wasn't equipped to fight these people off when she was awake and she surely won't be able to do it while unconscious.

Her head was muddled and thoughts flew around like birds who were set free. Thoughts about her wound, the place, her anxiety and so on. But the prominent one was the betrayal she had faced.

She wanted to believe that the lady didn't do it out of spite. She wanted to, but she wasn't sure. What if? What if she was truly loath to have Nila stay with her any longer? Nila couldn't bear that. That lady was her only support in a foreign world. What was she to do now? Who could she ask for help from?

It was then that she made a decision. She couldn't trust the people who had just helped her. She wouldn't. She couldn't afford such setbacks once more. From now on, her support was to be herself.

She could do it. She was taught all of it by Visha. Yes, she was strong enough and knowledgeable enough to do that... right?—

Nila woke up to a low murmur. It sounded like a lot of people whispering, or the sound of distant horses. She hissed as her arm stung sharply. It was covered in white cloth, stained green from the medicinal herbs wrapped around her wound. It stank strongly of herbs, making Nila dizzy for a second.

There was no one else in the room with her, except for a bird that sat on a large hoop, suspended from a metal stick. The bird was calm, looking at Nila with its obsidian eyes. She wasn't bothered by it as much as the rest of the room. It was bare, cushions stacked neatly on one side of the floor.

The straw mat she was sleeping on was covered with saffron-coloured cloth, soft to the touch. The walls were made of mud, reinforced on the inside with planks of wood. Set on a low table on the other side of the room, two incense sticks were lit, emitting a light jasmine scent.

Nila could see that some attempt was made to make the room seem homely but barely achieved that. A single window was right above Nila's head, letting in the air from outside. Straining, Nila pushed herself up using her good arm and propped herself up into a sitting position.

From there, if she craned her neck she could see outside. It was nearing dawn, the sky turning a lovely shade of red. It was still dark, but enough to make out the shapes of different elements of the surroundings.

The world was silent, waiting for the sun to rise and start their day. It was a perfectly normal village, but something about it put her off. This was no normal village. But she had nothing to prove it. Brushing it off — albeit uneasily — Nila went back to observing her immediate surroundings. She spied a jug of water on the same table as the incense sticks and her throat reminded her of its parched state.

Getting up easily this time, Nila walked over to the table carefully, treading lightly. The bird kept watching her, moving its head to follow her movements smoothly. She poured the water into the mud glass kept on the side, tilting her head up as she gulped it down.

All of a sudden, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the curtain to the room sway to the side. Setting down the glass quickly, she turned so she was now face to face with the person who had just entered. She recognised him as the person she had first come across before fainting at his doorstep.

However, she was still defensive. She stood tensely, withdrawing into herself as the man talked.

"Sit down, devi. You still need to rest. Not to worry though, you'll be fine by tomorrow." he said, taking a quick sweep of the room as he said this. Nila narrowed her eyes slightly as she tried to remember who this man was.

"Where am I?" she spat, hoping that she had made him wary enough to not try anything funny with her. The man looked at her calmly, no trace of fear on his face. A small smile crept up on his face, the one that creeps up when one sees a child acting like an adult.

"You are in the town of Lokaloka," he said, matter-of-factly. It sounded familiar to Nila, but she couldn't recognize it. He was setting out tonics, and herbs next to her bed and beckoned for her to come closer.

By now, Nila had realised that this man wasn't taking her seriously. She was acting like a child now. So she acquiesced, walking over to the straw mat and sat on it. The man unravelled the cloth slowly, layer by layer until it fell off like a giant snakeskin.

Her arm was an array of colours, green and brown from the herbs and dark red from the clotted blood. The rest of her arm was slightly blue, as though it had been kept in the cold for too long. She couldn't even see where her wound was, She felt a pang of fear in her heart -- this was her dominant hand. Now how was she supposed to protect herself?

The man began to sponge her arm slowly, using warm water and a soft, old cloth. She winced whenever he came close to the area that hurt but when he sponged over it, it only stung. He wiped it down with another dry cloth and bound a new bandage, filled with herbs, around her arm.

All the while, Nila was fascinated. He worked as though this was an art, and her arm the most fragile canvas. It didn't hurt, but only stung even when he wiped close to what she assumed to be the wound.

Once he was done, he collected all the bottles and bowls of pastes and tonics, bundling them up in a small bag. He placed the old cloth in a basin half-filled with warm water and mixed it around with a small stick. He slung the bag around his wrist, carried the basin in his hands and stood up.

"What is your name?" Nila asked, scrambling before he could go away. A familiar face might have been enough for her, but she was determined to stick on like a leech to the first person who helped her.

The man turned around and smiled, as though he was aware of her plans. "My name, devi, is Dhanvantari. Fear not, I shall come again and you can ask me all your questions then. For now, I have other patients to tend to, so I must go now."

Nila nodded dumbly and watched as he pushed the curtain to the side, and that low murmur filled the room once more.