Vonda McIntyre: Dreamsnake

He lifted Melissa from her shoulder; he held Snake’s daughter in one arm and supported Snake with the other.

“Yes, I’m real. I’m here.”

He helped her across the meadow. When they reached the spot where her gear was piled, Arevin turned to lay Melissa down. Snake knelt by her serpent case and fumbled at the catch. She opened the medicine compartment shakily.

Arevin put his hand on her uninjured shoulder, his touch gentle.

“Let me tend your wound,” he said.

“I’m all right,” she said. “I will be. It’s Melissa—” She glanced up at him and froze at the look in his eyes.

“Healer,” he said, “Snake, my friend—”

She tried to stand up; he tried to restrain her.

“There’s nothing to be done.”

“Nothing to be done — ?” She struggled to her feet.

“You’re hurt,” Arevin said desperately. “Seeing the child now will only hurt you more.”

“Oh, gods,” Snake said. Arevin still tried to hold her back. “Let go of me!” she cried. Arevin stepped away, startled. Snake did not stop to apologize. She could not allow anyone, even him, to protect her: that was too easy, too tempting.

Melissa lay in the deep shade of a pine tree. Snake knelt on the thick mat of brown needles. Behind her, Arevin remained standing. Snake took Melissa’s cold, pale hand. The child did not move. Dragging herself along the ground, she had torn her fingernails to the quick. She had tried so hard to keep her promise… She had kept her promises to Snake much better than Snake had kept her promises to Melissa. Snake leaned over her, smoothing her red hair back from the terrible scars. Snake’s tears fell on Melissa’s cheek.

“There’s nothing to be done,” Arevin said again. “Her pulse is gone.”

“Sh-h,” Snake whispered, still searching for a beat in Melissa’s wrist, at her throat, now thinking she had found the pulse, now certain she had not.

“Snake, don’t torture yourself like this. She’s dead! She’s cold!”

“She’s alive.” She knew he thought she was losing her mind with grief; he did not move, but stared sadly down at her. She turned toward him. “Help me, Arevin. Trust me. I’ve dreamed about you. I love you, I think. But Melissa is my daughter and my friend. I’ve got to try to save her.”

The phantom pulse faintly touched her fingers. Melissa had been bitten so often… but the metabolic increase brought on by the venom was over, and instead of returning it to normal it had fallen sharply to a level barely sustaining life. And mind, Snake hoped. Without help, Melissa would die of exhaustion, of hypothermia, almost as if she were dying of exposure.

“What should I do?” His tone was resigned, depressed.

“Help me move her.”

Snake spread blankets on a wide, flat rock that had soaked up the sunlight all day. She was clumsy with everything. Arevin picked Melissa up and laid her on the warm blanket. Leaving her daughter for a moment, Snake spilled her saddlebags out on the ground. She pushed the canteen, the paraffin stove, and the cook-pot toward Arevin, who watched her with troubled eyes. She had hardly had the chance to look at him.

“Heat some water, please, Arevin. Not too much.” She cupped her hands together to indicate the amount. She grabbed the packet of sugar from the medicine compartment of the serpent case.

By Melissa’s side again, Snake tried to rouse her. The pulse appeared, disappeared, returned.

It’s there, Snake told herself. I’m not imagining it.

She scattered a pinch of sugar onto Melissa’s tongue, hoping there was enough moisture to dissolve it. Snake dared not force her to drink; she might choke if the water went into her lungs. Time was short, but if Snake rushed she would kill her daughter as surely as North might have done. Every minute or so, as she waited for Arevin, she gave Melissa a few more grains of sugar.

Saying nothing, Arevin brought the steaming water. Snake put one more pinch of sugar on Melissa’s tongue and handed Arevin the pouch. “Dissolve as much of this in there as you can.” She chafed Melissa’s hands and patted her cheek. “Melissa, dear, try to wake up. Just for a moment. Daughter, help me.”

Melissa gave no response. But Snake felt the pulse, once, again, this time strong enough to make her sure. “Is that ready?”

Arevin swirled the hot water around in the pan: a bit too eagerly and some splashed on his hand. Alarmed, he looked at Snake.

“It’s all right. It’s sugar.” She took the pan from him.

“Sugar!” He wiped his fingers on the grass.

“Melissa! Wake up, dear.” Melissa’s eyelids flickered. Snake caught her breath with relief.

“Melissa! You need to drink this.”

Melissa’s lips moved slightly.

“Don’t try to talk yet.” Snake held the small metal container to her daughter’s mouth and let the thick, sticky liquid flow in slowly, bit by bit, waiting until she was certain Melissa had swallowed each portion of the stimulant before she gave her any more.

“Gods…” Arevin said in wonder.

“Snake?” Melissa whispered.

“I’m here, Melissa. We’re safe. You’re all right now.” She felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

“I’m so cold.”

“I know.” She wrapped the blanket around Melissa’s shoulders. That was safe, now that Melissa had the warm drink in her stomach, and the stimulant exploding energy into her blood.

“I didn’t want to leave you there, but I promised… I was afraid that crazy would get Squirrel, I was afraid Mist and Sand would die…”

Her last fears gone, Snake eased Melissa back on the warm rock. Nothing in Melissa’s speech or words indicated brain damage; she had survived whole.

“Squirrel’s here with us, and so are Mist and Sand. You can go back to sleep, and when you wake up everything will be fine.” Melissa might have a headache for a day or so, depending on how sensitive she was to the stimulant. But she was alive, she was well.

“I tried to get away,” Melissa said, not opening her eyes. “I kept going and going, but…”

“I’m very proud of you. No one could do what you did without being brave and strong.”

The unscarred side of Melissa’s mouth twisted into a half smile, and then she was asleep. Snake shaded her face with a corner of the blanket.

“I would have sworn my life she was dead,” Arevin said.

“She’ll be all right,” Snake said, to herself more than to Arevin. “Thank gods, she will be all right.”

The urgency that had possessed her, the fleeting strength brought on by adrenalin, had slowly drained away without her noticing. She could not move, even to sit down again. Her knees had locked; all that was left for her to do was fall. She could not even tell if she was swaying or if her eyes were playing tricks on her, for objects seemed to approach and recede randomly.

Arevin touched her left shoulder. His hand was just as she remembered it, gentle and strong.

“Healer,” he said, “the child is safe. Think of yourself now.” His voice was completely neutral.

“She’s been through so much,” Snake whispered. The words came out with difficulty. “She’ll be afraid of you…”

He did not reply, and she shivered. Arevin supported her and eased her to the ground. His hair had come loose; it fell around his face and he looked just as he had the last time she had seen him.

He held his flask to her dry lips, and she drank warm water freshened with wine.

“Who did this to you?” he asked. “Are you still in danger?”

She had not even thought what could happen when North and his people revived. “Not now, but later, tomorrow—” Abruptly, she struggled to rise. “If I sleep, I won’t wake up in time—”