Unknown - The_Growing_589064

*

Eyes closed, Koda finds herself floating on a current of…something. Air, water, she can’t tell which, nor does she especially care. It is neither hot nor cold, and the breeze—or at least what she thinks is a breeze—carries with it the scent of spring and sunshine and gentle summer rains.

An undercurrent is the sea, and the earth, fecund and moist as if from a fresh turning. Maternal, almost. Ripe with the promise of birth and rebirth.

Secret smells.

Good smells.

“Must be what it feels like in the womb,” she whispers, loathe to open her eyes lest it shatter the peace she feels.

A warm wave of gentle laughter rolls over her like far-off summer thunder. “Your wisdom grows, Tshunka Wakan Wacignuni.”

Finally giving in to the inevitable, Dakota opens her eyes, and finds herself bathed in the affectionate regard of Ina Maka. “Wandering Wolf?”

The Great Mother spreads her arms wide. “Apt, don’t you think?”

Koda looks around her. An infinity of colors swirl and dance to the rhythm of what she recognizes as the earth’s very heart. Its beauty is far beyond anything she’s ever seen and her very soul aches in sweet recognition. “I suppose,” she murmurs, entranced. “What is this place?”

“It is known to many by many different names. I prefer to call it Thamni Ina.”

“The Mother’s Womb.”

“Exactly. It is a place of healing. And of rest. You are always welcome here, Wacignuni.”

“It’s so beautiful….” Her tone is one of reverent awe, and part of her, raised by man, tries to hide her face, feeling cowed, insignificant, unworthy of such an honor. “Ina Maka, I….”

“Shh,” is the reply as the Mother rests a warm hand over Koda’s eyes, gently closing them. “Rest, Daughter. Regain your strength. You will need it for the journey yet to come.”

Unable to fight against the overwhelming pull, Dakota surrenders into the Great Mother’s embrace. Joy suffuses her as the energies of earth and tide combine to flow over and through her like a river over burnished stones. She cries out in ecstasy, and her voice is swallowed up, becoming one with the swirling energies, her voice, and her joy, now and forever a part of the eternal dance.

*

Hearing a soft moan, Maggie blinks tired eyes and closes the book she’s been trying, for the past hour, to read. A smile transforms her face as she notices Koda’s eyelids begin to twitch—the first sign of life she’s shown in days.

She eases herself onto the bed, touching Dakota’s forearm so that, should she waken quickly, she won’t dislodge the IV snaking from a plump vein in her forearm.

Arctic blue eyes flutter open, their color warming to a deep, vibrant blue as they set upon Maggie’s smiling, handsome face.

“Welcome back,” Maggie murmurs, gently squeezing the wrist in her grasp.

“How….” Clearing her throat of the rusty hinges stuck there, she tries again. “How long?”

“Three days.”

Dakota’s eyes widen slightly, then she looks away, noticing for the first time the body that shares her sleeping space.

Kirsten is curled up in an almost fetal ball, facing away and deeply asleep.

Koda turns startled eyes back to Maggie, who smiles. “We’ve been taking turns keeping watch. How are you feeling?”

Dakota takes careful stock of her body. All in all, she feels much better than she has any right to. Her hands itch like fire, but that’s to be expected, she imagines. All that is left from her battle is a slight sense of tiredness—strange after three days of sleep. Her body is too well aware of the small form pressed against its length, and she fights down the urge to snuggle into it, to give in to the implicit comfort and welcome offered—even with Kirsten turned away. Instead, she blinks, and casts a smile to Maggie. “I’m ok. You?”

“Aside from a few bumps and bruises, fine,” Maggie replies, shrugging. “Same with our intrepid doctor over there.”

“The others?”

Maggie’s expression becomes somber. “We lost ninety eight. About twenty or so sustained serious wounds. Two or three others are touch and go, but the docs think they’ll pull through…eventually.”

“Damn,” Koda whispers, eyes closing against the ache of so many gone.

Maggie strokes the soft skin of Koda’s arm, offering the only comfort she can. Part of her longs to tell the grieving woman how her actions saved the lives of ten times that many, but she stills her tongue, knowing that to Dakota, as with herself, those words would only be useless platitudes falling on deaf ears.

Koda opens her eyes again, emotions trapped behind the stony mask she now wears. “My brother?”

“Is fine. Manny snapped his collarbone and cracked a couple of ribs, but he’s doing okay also. Andrews earned himself a broken ankle and a trip to the OR. Can’t stand his crutches, but he’s gonna have to learn to deal.”

“Alright.” Dakota nods once, an almost savage gesture that flicks the heavy bangs from her forehead and resettles them, haphazard, against her face. Though her palms are still heavily bandaged, her fingers are free, and those fingers reach for the IV tubing at her wrist.

“Dakota, don’t….do that,” Maggie finishes with a sigh as the woman in question sits up and efficiently removes the IV catheter from her arm, pressing down to stop the minute flow of blood dotting the wound.

“I’m fine,” Koda remarks, swinging long legs over the side of the bed and steadying herself for a moment before she plants her feet and stands. There is a brief instant of dizziness as her body once again becomes accustomed to being vertical after three days horizontal.

Once the dizziness abates, she strides around the bed with sure steps, reaching the bureau and pulling out a tattered sweatshirt and jeans with holes in the knees. Dressed, she runs negligent fingers through her thick hair, settling it somewhat as she turns to Maggie. “The bodies. Where are they being kept?”

“They’ve set up a second morgue in one of the hangar bays. You’ll see the honor guard outside. The payloaders are getting ready to dig in a few hours.”

Nodding, Koda circles the bed and stops before Maggie, who is still sitting. Her eyes are somber, set, serious. “Thank you. For keeping watch.”

Maggie’s smile is small, but it’s there. “It was no hardship, believe me.” She pauses, the smile slipping from her face. “Thank you.”

A brow raises.

“For saving our lives. And, very likely, the lives of everyone here.”

The Colonel feels only a brief touch to her shoulder before Koda turns to leave. “I didn’t do it alone,” Dakota replies softly as she exits the room.

“No,” Maggie murmurs to the empty air, “but if you hadn’t started it, it wouldn’t have been done at all.”

*

With the temperature hovering in the lower 50s, Dakota slips out into the fresh air without a coat for the first time in over half a year. For a brief moment, she turns her face up toward the sun, accepting its warmth. Such welcome heat, however, does little to banish the chill she feels in her soul; a chill compounded by each of the lives lost in the battle of the Cheyenne.

As she lowers her chin, her eyes catch the sunlight winking off the top of a hulking aircraft hanger in the near distance, visible over the top of the young pines dotting Maggie’s small lawn. She sets her feet in that direction and begins to walk.

As her long legs take her effortlessly from the tree-lined residential district and into the base proper, she takes in the sights, which include many faces she doesn’t recognize.

Which, she realizes, isn’t all that unusual, given the size of the base and the fact that she’s only explored small parts of it during her short stay here. Still, it’s almost as if with the winning of this latest battle, survivors have started crawling out of the woodwork, feeling just now safe enough to approach and be welcomed into what is swiftly becoming a teeming community.