A blizzard
Started to blow.
The air
Turned bitterly cold.
"There's... a. cave,"
Said my man
So I helped him to rise
From the pool of his blood
Red ice pool.
Red on the ground.
He leaned on me.
He dragged his leg.
He dragged his sword.
I took the weapon in my hand
And I took his weight on my shoulder.
We limped to the cave
Behind the weeping tree.
"I thought... to rest here.
Then that dragon came at me."
That dragon that was now with our daughter.
Did I have the worry of a mother? Aye.
And yet
I realized too
That my wee Blessa
My tiny toddler
Was bigger than me this day.
She had powers, aye.
More than before.
And I knew she'd be my tiny tot no more.
The power was out now
Out in the light.
It would not hide again.
She controlled magic coins.
She healed... dragons?
And now I healed too.
I'd healed my Ragmornaroch.
I looked at my hands
My hands that still pulsed
With the chi.
Would the power stay too, with me?
Or was it linked only to Blessa?
Only time would tell.
My husband shivered.
"Take my cloak."
I covered him
Weak as he was.
Leaned him against the wall.
It was chilly in here
He'd need warmth to heal
I took off my pack
Fetched out my fire-things
Turned to leave the cave for sticks
And stopped.
Blessa, wee Blessa
Was coaxing the dragon in.
Without thought –
Without intention –
I was drawn back to Ragmornaroch
Stood beside him.
Stronger, we were, as two.
But did we need protection from our own daughter?
Surely not.
My mothering hands reached out
Then fell back.
She did not need me just now.
She toddled towards us, coaxing the dragon.
Led him, unresisting, to the other wall of the cave.
"Choranromgar, stay," said she.
I marvelled again
At the long name on her lips
My tiny wee daughter
Who barely spoke yesterday
Today had such power in her voice.
Ragmornaroch and I stared
At the pulsing light in the dragon
His life force, plain to see.
Life force my daughter had given him.
The cave was warmer already.
No need for the fire.
Yet still, 'twas obvious he was injured.
The light pulsed
But clear to see
It was Blessa's light.
'Twas not yet the full life force of the dragon.
Yet it warmed us.
The dragon was injured
Yet that dragon warmed us.
Ragmornaroch's hand squeezed mine.
I squeezed back
But did not tear
My eyes
Away from the dragon
Beside my daughter.
Panting, Ragmornaroch
Leaned on me.
He leaned on the wall.
The adrenaline of combat
Flowed still through his veins.
Panting, the dragon rested, too.
His breath came large, and deep
With effort.
My girl made a small sound and I looked to her.
Blessa stared into my eyes
Then she looked to the sword
And again to me.
She made me to understand
That I should pick it up
And go to her.
She paced before me, led me.
And I with the sword
I drew a line in the sand
On the floor of the cave
To split the space in two.
When I had finished,
I looked back.
The line glowed and shimmered
A veil in the air.
I carried the sword back
To the side of my husband.
Blessa followed.
As I laid down the sword
She took my hand and pulled me
To the side of the dragon.
She stood me in front of his nose
And carried my hand to his face.
His? Or hers?
I knew not.
But the face was warm
And soft, and alive.
And I loved this dragon too.
I couldn't not.
I looked to the dragon's side
To the battering and the blood.
And I looked to my husband,
Too, nearly dead.
His beautiful, bright smart eyes
Were dim. He wanted to sleep, I knew.
The dragon, too.
They panted, and they bled.
They might die yet, ‘less Blessa and me
Could make them live.
