My Wee Mate

53 - More Than Enough

Ailsa

     He stays slanted above me, eyes shadowed with worry as he looks me over. Assessing every piece of me.

     My memories are fuzzy, and I try to make sense of them while I sit up. My head protests. Vision swimming, I groan and Fraser forces me to lay back down.

     "Relax, you must take it easy. You've gone through an ordeal." He instructs, pressing my body into the bed under me. Wait, bed?

     I glance around uneasily, unsure where I am or how I got here. Most concerning is how... clear everything seems.

     I freeze, overwhelmed by how sharp everything looks.

     I can see the cracks in the stones above my head, the splinters in the wooden beams. I easily spot the tiny flecks of dust collecting on the large desk.

     My head turns when the roaring of a fire tickles the inside of my ear. The flames crackle and pop and my throat tightens as tears spring to my eyes. My heart thuds so powerfully in my chest, I fear it might break out.

     I don't know why I'm crying, why the panic is building, but suddenly Fraser is gone. He's in front of the fire, stamping it out with his foot until it's gone. The logs of wood are blackened, and coals scatter across the ground.

    He returned to me, slipping off his boots and crawling into bed with me.

    "I'm sorry, mi cuishle. I should've known, I just wanted you to warm." His fingertips brush my cheek, and I take a good, long look at him. "Truth be told, I thought you'd be asleep longer. I didn't know what to expect. I've never turned someone before."

    His beard is gone. I'm momentarily stunned by that, seeing his clean shaven face, albeit sprinkled with some dark hairs are starting to sprout.

    "Turn? Turn what?" I ask, my own voice sounding strange to me.

    Fraser looks meek, embarrassed. His cheekbones bloom pink. I've never seen him with such an expression.

     "I'm sorry, but you were dying. I had to.. I had to do something. I'm so sorry." His voice light as air, I can't help the momentary confusion as my brain continues to awaken from its fog.

     The horrifying memories come back to me in a slow trickle. I remember the dungeons, Gentry, the fires.

     I shoot up, pushing Fraser away.

     "Gentry!" I yell, trying to escape the bed and startling myself at the strength in my limbs. I stumble, falling into the wall as I look around wildly, trying to find the door.

     "Darling, please, lay down. You need to adjust." He's grabbing me and holding me tight. I fight him, but barely. It's so nice to feel Fraser against me, but not nice enough to distract from the fate of my friend.

     "Gentry. Is she okay? Please, please.." I beg, emotion clogging my throat.

     "She's fine, love."

     I sag in relief.

     "We rescued her too, of course. She's safe." His lips press together in a grimace. "Of course she came out unscathed. I wish I could say the same for you."

     My mouth falls open, and I look down, seeing the angry scars that snake up my feet. Ugly, red marks that will remain on me forever.

    I must have made a face or a sound of distress, because Fraser shakes him head and scoops me up. I'm more aware of our size difference when I'm hefted into the air like this.