To Paxaria: part 4.2

(Review: Ruelle and Altha just got pulled into an emergency with a local village woman who had been mysteriously injured. When Ruelle tried to help Altha administer an herbal treatment to counteract the poison, she accidentally made things worse by using a poisonous lookalike to the healing herb she was meant to use.
Also, Elfrida is the local woman whose house the injured woman was brought to, and Idylette is the injured woman's daughter.)

By the time everyone had departed who had no further need to remain by the injured woman, Ruelle felt very exhausted. Elfrida had persuaded Idylette to leave her mother’s side to have some tea and a little food, but only when Altha had assured Idylette that her mother’s condition was only growing more stable. This in addition to the younger woman’s own evident fatigue finally coaxed her away from the cot for a few minutes.

When Elfrida had Idylette engaged for the moment, Altha took Ruelle aside to speak to her.

In the flickering shadows cast by the remaining lamplight, she looked gravely into Rue’s face for a long moment. Ruelle wanted to look away, but she forced herself not to do so.

“You made a very grave error today,” Altha said at last.

Ruelle cringed at the directness of her words, but she knew they were true. She nodded miserably.

“I know. I’m so, so sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know about duskwither!”

Altha sighed.

“That’s just the thing. I explained it to you right as we were entering the wood to renew our supply of dawnshade. But now it is clear you were not listening.”

Looking back, Ruelle knew Altha was right. In fact, she did not even need to recall the day’s occurrences to know exactly why she had not been paying attention. She had been too caught up feeling hurt and disgruntled about the task, about the way Altha had shut down her questions about orcs, and about her whole situation in general.

“I know,” Ruelle admitted, averting her eyes. “It is my fault, and I’m sorry. Please believe me. I promise it wasn’t my intention to get the wrong thing!”

“I know, but intention isn’t enough,” Altha said sternly, her gray eyes hard. “A woman nearly died tonight! Your failure to pay attention could be the difference between life and death. Do you hear me?”

Ruelle nodded miserably. Tears pricked her eyes, and she hung her head to hide them. But Altha reached for her face and guided her chin back up until Ruelle made eye contact again.

“I haven’t known you for very long, Ruelle,” she said, her voice softer now. “But if I may make a conjecture, I believe you want to protect others. You want to do something significant, and you think that gathering herbs is a menial task. But you need to be present and pay attention no matter what you’re doing!”

Altha’s tone had dropped to hardly more than a whisper, but it was full of urgency, and her eyes looked into Ruelle’s with searching earnestness.

“You had me to save the day this time,” she continued. “But it is a marvel I acted quickly enough to save this woman, not to mention that my estimation for what kind of antidote I’d need to reverse the error fortunately appears to have worked.”

Ruelle followed her glance to the cot where the woman now at least seemed to be breathing calmly and evenly.

“It might not be that way next time, Ruelle,” Altha said soberly, bringing her attention back. “That is why you need to learn to care, to pay attention to detail. You must learn that every choice you make, every detail you observe or overlook, is vital even in matters you think to be the smallest.”

Ruelle sighed heavily.

“That’s why you are suited to do these things and I am not!” Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

“You do not have a choice, Ruelle,” Altha stated. “You are an apprentice of the kingdom of Paxaria now, and you must do your best in the role you have been given. Anything less would be an injustice to the kingdom.”

“If they wanted me to do justice to the kingdom, they would have put me amongst the warriors training to fight, where I thought I was going to be!”

Ruelle turned away unhappily.

“And yet your responsibility is no less.”

Ruelle tugged on a lock of hair. She didn’t know what to say. But she did not need to, because at that moment, the woman stirred on the cot, opened her eyes, and looked around in confusion and panic.

Altha was at her side in an instant.

“Easy, now,” she said, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. “You’ve just had a major injury, so don’t try to move much yet.”

The woman moaned painfully and tried to raise her good arm to cover her eyes, as if the light in the room were too much.

Ruelle’s heart pounded as hope and fear mingled their powerful streams, the one warm, the other cold, and shot through her like a great geyser.

“Bring some water, Ruelle,” Altha ordered.

Ruelle wasted no time in obeying, and by the time she came back into the room, Idylette and Elfrida had joined the gathering around the cot.

Altha carefully helped the injured woman take a small drink of water.

“Oh, I’m ever so glad you’re awake, Mysie!” Elfrida cried tearfully. She clasped her hands together in relief, but seemed unsure where to look, perhaps afraid the anxiety that still remained would evidence itself in her eyes and betray the weight of the situation.

Idylette just knelt by her mother’s side weeping silently, too overcome with emotion to speak. Rue eyed her warily and stepped around to Altha’s other side. She had begun to worry that Idylette would be angry at her for the mistake with the duskwither.

“What . . . what happened?” the injured woman managed to say in a frail, cracked voice. With her good arm, she had reached up to feel the bandages on her other shoulder, her fingers fumbling to investigate the wrapping that covered the ugly gash left by the stranger’s blade.

“Don’t try to talk too much right now,” Altha soothed, placing a cool, damp cloth on the woman’s forehead. “You’ve already exerted yourself a lot just now. You need to rest and get your strength back.”

Ruelle noticed with relief when Idylette took her mother’s hand and held it, keeping the patient from messing with the bandages.

“Idylette,” the woman whispered, becoming aware of her daughter’s presence. Her eyes searched the other faces around her. “Elfrida? Tell me.”

“Just rest, Mysie,” Elfrida said, still not meeting the other woman’s eyes. “That’s what the physician told you. There will be plenty of time to catch you up on things tomorrow.”

Less than an hour later, Ruelle settled in for a long, anxious night. She sensed an unspoken expectation that she was to stay near the patient the whole time like Altha did, although her mentor never instructed her to do so. But either way, whether Ruelle was told to do it or not, guilt for her grave error drove her to the rejection of her own comfort.