Figurehead

twenty-five

Sher, High healer. Daughter to Dren and Ki.

She's been added to the list now. And her parting ceremony will take place as soon as Ki arrives in Anshakim. Dren was killed in a mine collapse when Sher was barely past 2 Dre. So she doesn't remember her afa. Didn't. Didn't remember.

I remember the day we met, in one of the classes we shared at 8 and 9 Dre. Life studies, it was. I was late that day. I was late very often as a child, and perpetually irritating my parents as well as my tutors. When I was a child, my mind wasn't so loud. I slept far more easily. But yes, that day I was late to life studies.

I don't remember the tutor's name now, but she was kind enough to overlook my.. Consistency. Of being late, I mean. But if I disrupted the class at all, she became stern. Well, that day, I slipped through the door while she was crouched at another child's side, her back to me, and I went and sat at the back, like usual. I had failed to notice first that the table was already covered with someone else's things. Things which I puzzled at but pushed to the side- onto the neighbouring desk's surface-, to the annoyance of Nuf, the boy who sat next to me.

"Hey, I'm trying to read," he snapped, pushing the things back onto my desk with one hand. His other hand, with spilt ink splattered on it, shoved his pale golden hair out of his pale blue eyes.

"Well, this isn't my stuff," I defended myself.

"It's not mine, either," he retorted.

"It's mine."

Sher had been at the washroom. The tutor had been displeased at the disruption- the class had been relatively quiet before I'd shown up- and had moved me, Nuf and Sher to the front of the room, the three of us forced to share two desks so we would learn to tolerate each other.

It took a month before Sher and I would bother speaking politely to each other outside of class. She had her friends, I had mine, but after that month we reached some kind of respect, some kind of friendship. It probably helped that I knew she liked Nuf and assisted her in telling him so, to both their delights.

It didn't work out. We were only 9 Dre, after all, so what would we know about relationships? But Sher and I remained friends, in a way. Distant friends, but friends nonetheless. We remained on friendly terms despite changing classes and sharing only one or two every now and then.

Funny how things change. She became a healer, I became a messenger. I moved here to Anshakim after becoming a trusted messenger, she moved here to Anshakim a few months after becoming a High healer. We remained friends; closer than when we were young, but still not as close as I was to Lus, or to Dein, or, briefly, to Nirs. I had wondered if we'd ever become close friends.

Now I know we won't.

She's gone, after all. Gone, gone, gone.

Dead.

And still, all I feel is dull resignation. Still, I don't understand why. All I know is I feel guilty for it.

Fiut taps on the doorframe, and I run a hand down my face before pulling myself to my feet from the chair. It isn't as difficult anymore, now that I've grown accustomed to it and I can more easily balance with the staff. The cut above my right hip, just above my loincloth, has healed fairly quickly. My bruises are mere discomforts now, and it is just my neck and right leg that are of any concern, though they are healing too.

"It's time?" I ask, and it comes out almost like a whisper.

He nods solemnly, and I swallow, gaze flitting to the man asleep in the bed before me. "High healer Ret is here," he says, just as I hear footsteps.