Hauntingly Beautiful Girls

"A Goddesses' Hand (Part 6) "

Some of the women start to murmur and whisper. Holding hands up to their faces to speak to each other (even though most of them have veils or cloaks to hide most of their faces).

One woman appears more revered than the others. Not big or particularly flashy, but the others take guidance that she gives.

Eventually, I am left alone. They are around me a wary manner but ignore me.

I find a pillow against a wall corner and sit waiting.

Hours pass, my mind races to explain things that have been far off. Where am I? Why did that Goddess send me here?

I find myself elated. The man that arrow had hit that walks into the room. The women gather around him and hug him with so many of their strange words. That esteemed woman takes his face and talks much.

He winces at his shoulder being moved.

I grab a decorative cut reed over and attempt to show how deep the arrow had been. Then the trouble I had in removing it. I am sure he needs medical help for a wound like that. A wound I likely made worse in being so clumsy in pulling out the arrow.

I even try to show how I tried to press the wound with my own body.

I feel happy; they seem to understand. He is walking around, but maybe should not be.

That esteemed woman guides him out of the room, and then all the women gather around me.

They inspect my cloak and find dried blood on me.

They take me to a corner that has a floor drain.

They help me bathe with wet cloths. The water has a smell of flowers. I use the cloths to get the most stubborn of bloodstains off.

The clothes they put on me are like theirs (some of them).

That esteemed lady and some other speak to me much. I pantomime seeing a Goddess and standing in a whirling sandy place. Far from home.

They bring paper and show me maps, but nothing looks familiar. They show me illustrations of clothing.

I draw and pantomime the style of dresses we wear. They talk much, but they appear to be as confused as I am.

There is one important fact that they convey. I am with that man's mother and female relatives.

In time, the mother takes me to a pillow near theirs. She pulls off the coil around my arm and anklet off my foot (wrapping them in a fine cloth for me to have). She lays over my head a small chain with a large gem, so the gem rests a little down my forehead.

They women all come to draw a few fingers across my face and hands.

This is an acceptance on their part, in their unknown customs.

Hours later, they sit straight on pillows together.

The scene reminds me of my mother and I missed her and home so very much.

My tears bring confusion and whispers to younger ones. The mother simply comes and hugs me. Speaking words in softness and words to the others.

I think she knows. In all of these ordeals, it has only now become clear.

I might never get home again.