XXII

(NaNoWriMo - Day 9)

[Sometime later - from this point on I have jumped ahead in the story]

 Back at the council clearing. Susan very sick. The seed has been found.

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“I wish Susan were awake to see this moment,” mused Vixel. It really is a beautiful seed.

“We must decide very carefully where we are to plant it,” Scaltard pointed out.

Awed silence descended over the group as they gazed at the treasure they had found. After so many years, after so much trouble; they had it at last.

A moan came from the direction of where Susan lay on her soft bed. David and Hedegar rushed over to see if she was waking up, followed by the others, all worried.

There was no change.

“She’s getting worse,” complained David, wondering again whether he shouldn’t risk a trip back to our world. If only he knew the cause of her illness and whether there’d be any cure at home.

“You do realise,” began Hedegar somewhat uncertainly, “That the seed would probably heal her.”

“What!?” asked David.

“No, Hedegar…surely you wouldn’t!...” exclaimed Scaltard at the same time.

Hedegar hung his head, regretting he’d brought it up, but knowing it would be wrong not to let the group decide.

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner? What are we waiting for?” David continued, agitated.

“David,” explained Vixel. “If we use the seed on Susan, that’s it. It’s the last of the breaknut seeds, our only chance at bringing them back and reviving this land. We’ve waited many generations for this. I care about Susan and don’t want her to die, but think about what it would mean…”

“I don’t care,” rebuffed David, getting annoyed. “Isn’t Susan more important than some hypothetical revival of your land? She’s here and now! If it wasn’t for her you would never have begun the search. Maybe you’ll find another seed? But Susan’t life is at stake. We can’t let the chance to save her pass.”

“David, think about what you’re saying,” said Hedegar, trying to sooth him.

“I don’t need to think! I know exactly what is the right thing to do. You’re the ones who don’t seem to be thinking!” With that he stormed off.

The animals watched but did not follow him.

“This is a terrible dilemma,” said Ratel. I wish we didn’t have to make such a hard decision. How do we decide?”

“I think I know how our ancestors felt when they had to choose between the breaknuts began and saving their community from plague and drought” said Hedegar miserably.

The weaver, silently watching the exchange flitted off in the direction of where David sat, some way off, starring at the river.

“David,” he began.

David turned to look, surprised again that such intense eyes could belong to so small and insignificant a bird.

David didn’t reply and silence stretched between the two.

“David,” the bird finally continued, “Your intentions are good, but you’re really thinking only of yourself.”

David turned to him harshly. Who did this bird think he was? He knew Susan less than any of the others. And how dare he accuse him of selfishness? This was about Susan, not him. About her life. All he wanted was to see her get better.

“Oh, I don’t deny your significance. You and Susan are both such very important people. Your being here alone in fulfilment of an age-old prophesy is testimony enough of that.

“But on the scale of the worlds, your lives are really only a small part. Susan is only one person in light of generations who could benefit from the revival of the breaknut trees. Deny the planting of the seed and you deny the future for all those creatures and plants.

“But that’s not where you are wrong. If it was care for Susan alone that motivated you, your concern would be noble. But is it Susan’s health or your happiness that really motivates you? Why do you really want her to recover? And is that really what’s best for her?

“No, please listen. She has suffered so much. You have some measure of understanding for the grief she’s experienced, but it is only a measure. She has lost everything. Every one. This adventure has helped her to begin to heal, but is it enough?”

David held his tongue. He wanted to argue and object, but couldn’t. How did this bird know so much about him and Susan? Who was he?

“I,” he finally began to defend himself, “I thought I could help her heal… I thought in time I could give her something to hope for again… But no. You’re right. I’ve already messed up by keeping the truth from her and letting her think more of me than she ought. She might never forgive me for that. She may not even recover enough to get a chance to….” Here he broke off, holding back tears.