A Place To Bloom

Anyanna

I woke up with a throbbing erection.

There was a girl in my dreams. She was... she was... she was gone.

What remained was the gnawing choice I had before me—an opportunity to save my own life. To stay at the church in Ulum and become a priest. To build a community.

Somehow.

It occurred to me that I talked big but I had no idea how to lead a church.

What would I even say to my friends? What would they say? Could I betray them? Abandon them while they went to die in Carthia?

What if this was God creating another chance with Sarina? A chance to be the man she needed?

The night's air was freezing, but I had enough blankets to keep warm. I opened the bottom corner of the flap over the window and pushed the shutters open, and that bitter cold nipped hard. The world outside was black but for the stars that outlined the jagged peaks of the Terbulin ridge.

I had no idea what time it was, but my body was done sleeping. I needed to know if Dune was still alive.

I got dressed, brushed my teeth and washed my face with ice-cold water from the well in the courtyard, packed my things, and headed out. I guessed my way through the dark corridor to the kitchen where I found some of the stew—I refuse to call it halvystra—we'd had the night before.

Someone needs to show them how to make it properly.

A miracle. That was an understatement. If Dune was still alive, there was no way she'd survive the day. I wanted to be there. I needed to hurry, else Oasis would have to go through that alone.

My tongue found a stray chunk of nice-pepper, and by the time I realized what I'd bitten into, it was far too late. I went about in a frenzy looking for water, a chunk of dried bread, something, anything to mitigate the burn.

Anyanna's voice cut through the night. "Is it true that you'll be staying with us if Dune survives?"

The light from my oil lamp cast her in an orange hue. She stood beside the door wearing a thick, black woolen shawl, leather boots, and a fur hat. Her eyes settled on the flame, which gave enough light to make out her underbite and locks of smooth, dark hair cascading over her shoulders on each side of her face.

I sniffled and my eyes watered. My tongue burned still, and I answered her. "In a word, yes. Father Gerson believes..."

"When are you leaving to check on her?"

"As soon as possible."

"We should go now. The streets get crowded once the sun rises."

We. I hadn't made room in my mind for that word, though the meaning was clear enough. And so, we set out.

She walked quickly, and I struggled to make her out in the cold darkness. Rather than turn left at the end of the noxious goat farm, she kept straight and led us downhill. To the east, jagged peaks looked like a field of black against the bluing sky while stars were being snuffed out. To the west, clouds billowing high above the dark haze were painted with orange and purple highlights.

The streets of Ulum were dark, lined with cold towers where, high above, the occasional window flickered with the faint glow of an oil lamp. Up ahead, Anyanna stopped at an intersection and turned around to wait for me. White breath puffed out before her skinny face.

When I caught up to her, she slowed so that we could walk together.

"We make a lot of tar," she said. "In Ulum. Here, I mean. In Ulum, they make a lot of tar."