Chapter 8 - Disbarred

The village is small, with an awkward combination of wattle & daub houses and more traditional western houses. 

The smell of cooking fires is intoxicating. For a transient moment the actress falters, and the lonely girl I used to be feels a pang of longing that hurts more than my ankle.

Hakota leads me to a modest but well-kept home near the center of the village. A curl of smoke rises from its stone chimney, promising warmth within. He pushes the wooden door open without knocking.

"Elara, I’m home."

A woman with warm, kind eyes and auburn hair tied back in a simple ponytail emerges from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. She smiles brightly at Hakota, a smile that instantly stalls when her eyes land on me. 

"Hakota? Who is this?" she asks, her voice fast and tense.

"Easy, Elara." Hakota says gently, guiding me towards a simple wooden chair by their fire. 

The warmth from the fire is blissful. 

"We found her at the gate. She’s injured. Says a Jougolin was after her in the woods. Her name is Shikara"

I sink into the chair, the exhaustion of the day finally seeping into my muscles. 

Elara’s eyes rake over my muddy torn clothes, my trembling hands, and finally settle on the grotesquely swollen ankle. She must trust her husband’s judgement because her suspicion is immediately replaced by a deep frown of concern.

"Goodness, you poor thing." Her tone softens completely. She moves closer, her fear forgotten in the face of my obvious misery. 

"Hakota, fetch a clean cloth and that basin of water." She kneels in front of me, her expression a mixture of pity and professional focus. "Let me look at that."

She examines my ankle with a surprisingly gentle touch, her fingers probing the swollen flesh. I hiss in pain as she tests the joint.

"Hmph. she grunts, sitting back on her heels. 

She looks up at her husband, who has returned with a wooden basin of water. "I don’t think this is a simple sprain Hakota. The swelling is too severe, and it’s cold to the touch. She needs Clovis."

Hakota’s face grows stern, but nods in agreement. "I was afraid of that." 

He turns to me, his expression serious. "Shikara, we have a person in the village. She’s... good with these kinds of things. It’s not far. Can you make it a little further?"

I nod numbly, not trusting my voice. The idea of more walking is torture, but the promise of feeling better is a powerful motivator. With Elara supporting my other side, we make our way back out into the night.

We stop before a small, quiet cottage set apart from the others. A variety of strange-smelling herbs hang in bundles from the eaves, and the windows radiate with a soft, green light.

Hakota knocks firmly on the door. 

About 10 seconds or so pass before the door opens to reveal a tall slender, woman. Her ears are… 

I can’t believe what I am seeing. Her ears are long and pointy.

My inner voice screams but I don’t dare to utter a word despite my shock. 

Her skin is dark like mine but it is complimented by messy white hair and re-

"S-she has red eyes!" My inner voice implodes, consuming its prior amazement. 

I struggle to keep my reaction to myself so I wince in pain to hide it. 

She looks at Hakota and Elara first, then at me. Her piercing view immediately locks on to my ankle even with my skirt covering the worst of it up. 

She simply nods, as if expecting us, and steps aside to let us in.

The air inside is dense with the scent of dried plants and herbs. Who I believe to be Clovis gestures to a low cot. "Put her down there."

She doesn’t ask for my name or my story. She simply kneels, and pulls up the hem of my skirt to get a clear view.

Her touch is light, almost weightless, yet I can feel an incredible sense of knowledge in her fingers as they trace the lines of the swelling.

"A bad break." she says, her voice a dry rustle. "The bone is twisted."

She looks at me directly for the first time "This will feel strange. I am going to set the bone back into place. Do not be alarmed. I’ll try to keep it as pain free as possible."

I feel trapped in my mind, consumed by the surreality of the situation I find myself in. What is she going to do to my leg? 

Without further ceremony, she places both of her hands over my ankle, not quite touching the skin. She closes her eyes and words begin streaming out of her mouth, too quickly for me to process their temperament.

A silken, turquoise light begins to emanate from her palms, bathing my leg in its luminescence. 

And then I feel it. It starts as a pleasant warmth, much like what I felt in the river. But it intensifies, sinking deep into my flesh and bones. It’s not a burning heat, more like someone applying pressure with their hands. 

There’s an unsettling sensation of movement deep inside my ankle still. A soft grinding as the bones shift around back into their proper place. 

The agony that has been my escort on my journey so far dissipates slightly. I can see the deep bruising is still prevalent but it’s a little more consistent with the tone of my skin once again.

I stare, mesmerized, at the light enveloping my leg, feeling the very fabric of my injury being rewoven. The exhaustion, the fear, the constant performance, it all fades into the background as it’s replaced by the real star of the show.

For the first time since opening my eyes in the forest, I fully realize, with a certainty that chills me to the core. The laws of my old world no longer apply.