The days have passed with a terrible slowness. When I have not been required to move in order to check on Arugru or Minalmano, fetch food and water for myself or prepare sustenance for my patient, I have been sat at his side just waiting for a sign that he will recover. It has been difficult, harrowing even, to watch the man I love - a man usually so vibrant and strong - lie abed unconscious. His breathing shallow, his skin almost as pale as my own, he lies still alike a corpse already. The only thing to convince me that he is not are the infrequent ramblings, hushed and nonsenical.
I have sat here day after day, force-feeding him soup to keep up his strength and denying myself the luxury of crying. For his sake, my tears cannot spill. For his sake, I must remain strong. To weep now is to admit defeat. To weep now is to admit to the world that I may yet lose him and I cannot envision a life without him in it. I will not do so.
Where now does his spirit wander, I ask? Can he see me here awaiting his return? Does he hear the whispers of encouragament and affection I lavish upon him so often? Does he feel the cool cloth I place upon his brow or know my tender touch as I brush the hair away from his face? I know not, but I hope that it is so.
He awoke today. He spoke, and although his eyes were fever bright and his body weak, he was lucid and rational. This bodes well, leading me to dare believe that the worst is over for now. He will recover, he will regain his strength and then...
And then the nightmare will begin again.
It is not over, this I know. Having been injured so, Cyfier will not give up now. I have no doubt that he believes his actions vindicated in light of this attack but I cannot help wondering if this entire thing is not woefuly self-perpetuating. Had he walked away in the beginning, perhaps all would have been well. Perhaps we would now be building that house within Far Chetwood. The reality is, however, that the scorpion stings and the spider bites back. Who started this is no longer relevant; both will seek to end the altercation and nothing short of death will do. I wish death upon no man, but I cannot help hoping that my love will be the one to stand tall when all is said and done.
He knows my disapproval of his methods. He knows my distaste for this conflict. What I cannot tell him of is my fear. Perhaps it is egotistical to assume that my opinion may weight so heavily upon him, but I cannot allow my worries to affect his judgement. I must support him as best I can. I must be patient in seeking to achieve a peaceful life by his side. I cannot allow him to know that everytime he leaves, I become so scared that it will be the last time I see him...
Today, though, none of that matters. Today, I am simply so very glad to see his eyes opened and a smile upon his lips. Today my beloved awoke and there is hope yet for us.
