Rescue

At the edge of the beach, Inara grew anxious. The moment she saw Dessa's dazed expression, she knew trouble had already arrived.

Sure enough, Dessa waved frantically, signaling that the outsider was not dead and that she wanted to take him back.

Inara could no longer hold herself back. She ran over and scolded her. "Dessa, you cannot save him. Do not forget the Lord of Harmony's protection. Outsiders cannot remain on Naath for long."

"I know. I only want to wake him."

Naath had a strange sickness outsiders called butterfly fever. It was said to be carried by the island's butterflies.

The Naathi themselves did not fall ill, but any foreigner who stayed too long would catch the disease, and few survived more than a year on the island.

That was why the Naathi called the butterflies messengers of the Lord of Harmony, and why Naath was known as the Isle of Butterflies.

Dessa's stubbornness left Inara exasperated. Still, when she saw her friend struggling to drag the outsider away, her sharp tongue and soft heart could not let her stand aside.

She helped, though she complained the entire time.

"Dessa, if you delay like this, we truly will be late getting home. Are you not afraid your father will worry?"

"Please. Father will not worry. Since Mother was taken, he cares more for his wine."

"Then are you not afraid of running into pirates or slavers sneaking ashore?"

"Relax, Inara. Our luck cannot be that bad."

"But..."

"Oh, Inara, stop with the buts and help me pull. I can barely move him."

Inara huffed. "You are the one who had to meddle, and now you speak to the person helping you like this. Maybe I should leave."

Dessa saw her friend's expression change and softened at once. "Dear Inara, help me this once. At worst..."

"At worst what?"

A sly smile appeared on Dessa's face. "At worst, I will make him yours. Will that satisfy you?"

"Dessa, have you lost your mind? Is this how you trap your dearest friend? Look at him. Even if he survives, he will be sick within a week and leave."

"Tsk. And if he does not fall sick? Will you agree then?"

Inara was furious. What kind of friend teased her like this? Both women knew it was only a joke. The bickering carried them along until they finally dragged Ronan beneath the shade of a large tree.

Inara climbed a nearby coconut palm with practiced ease, cut down several coconuts, opened them, and handed them to Dessa so she could feed the unconscious man.

The matter was settled now. However unwilling Inara might be, they could not simply walk away.

"We are not getting home today," Inara said bitterly. "Unless you can abandon him."

Dessa hesitated. She had thought he would wake quickly. Hours passed, and he still had not opened his eyes. Now she was beginning to regret it.

Beyond the forest and hills, night was dangerous for the Naathi. If a ship passed by, the people who came ashore after dark were almost always pirates.

The two women could only pray that the Lord of Harmony would protect them and that no pirate ship would pass Naath that night.

After a long struggle, they built a crude shelter. Leaves blocked some of the sand and sea wind, but not the cold. They shivered badly and dared not light a fire, afraid even a small flame would guide pirates to them.

So they held each other for warmth. Dessa looked at the unconscious man nearby, and pity stirred again. If he survived the sea only to spend the night freezing, he might truly die before morning.

She tried to pull him closer between them. The moment her hand touched him, joy lit her face.

"Inara, touch him. Touch his body."

Her exaggerated whisper would have made her look like a shameless flirt if not for the darkness.

Inara ignored the tone and placed her hand on the man's body. Warmth flowed into her at once, spreading through every limb. She shivered, then fell helplessly in love with the feeling.

In cold night air, a living source of heat was a blessing beyond dignity.

Without thinking further, both women clung to him and let the warmth seep into them. It passed through their bodies, loosening stiff limbs and chilled skin. The man was no worse than a fire, and far easier to hold.

Once sensation returned, both women fell silent. Speaking would only make the situation embarrassing. The Naathi were open in some ways, but not quite this open.

They chose to forget the awkwardness. In their minds, this was survival. The night passed without words.

Unconscious, Ronan did not know whether he was alive or dead. Cold, heat, and a strange pressure kept brushing against his body, drawing his awareness back little by little.

Under that constant pull, he recovered. When he opened his eyes, he almost could not believe what he saw.

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