It might have been an hour or a day or a week. When her eyes fluttered open she found her mouth was parched, her voice cracking. She tried to ask for water, but nothing but a rattling came out. Even so, water came. Had Duin managed to bring her a waterskin? She wondered at this before she fell asleep again.
Later she stirred again and found Duin, indeed, sitting curled up on her stomach, sleeping. A shape loomed over her, and for a moment she thought of straining branches, gripping roots, as the shape leaned in. But a soft, encouraging voice came, instead of crushing death. "Feeling better?"
Slowly Haleth came into focus. Kryssta tried to answer, but still could not, so Haleth gave her some more water. "I took the liberty of bringing you to a more salutatory place for rest. The hidden vault remains open, but the sun-stone has been returned safely to its hiding place." Kryssta noticed that it was no longer held in her grip. She started to try to speak, but Haleth held up a finger. "There may come a day when you will learn the story of this stone, but it is not my place to choose when that day is. For now, you must rest. When you are feeling better, we can work on closing up the vault, though I think you might be well served by taking something from it first. After all, the stock here is meant for the protection of this island, and you have clearly shown yourself to be its chief protector."
Days slipped into seasons while Haleth tended her, and they slowly restored the wreckage of the attack. The trees seemed to have returned to their normal slumber, but she could not shake the sense of uncanniness; she had spent many seasons here and knew every root, every stone, but while another might see only a thin wood just as had always been there, every tree was slightly out of place, and she could not help watch out of the corner of her eye, expecting them to again shift and strain.
Repairing the vault, and burying it again, was the labor of many weeks. Haleth was patient with Kryssta's questions, but answered little, saying only that this cache would be needed in days to come, and when asked why she had never heard about it, Haleth observed dryly, "Even I could not keep my secrets, but anyone can keep safe a secret they do not know."
Before the cracked stone, with half of the seven-pointed star, was fitted into place to close the vault, Haleth picked out a cloak and offered it to Kryssta. "I think it will serve you well. The weave is good. made long ago with skills now forgotten to Men, though perhaps the Elves still know such craft." Though the cloak was simple and unadorned, suited to moving unseen through wooded copse or cobbled street, subtle stitching of gold and silver on the left depicted a pair of shining trees, surrounded by the seven-pointed star. Kryssta stared at this by moonlight, entranced; when she was not watching the embroidery, it seemed almost to vanish, offering no glint to betray the wearer, yet when she focused on it, she was almost sure that it gave off a shimmer of its own.
When at last the healing of both the island and its caretaker were completed to her satisfaction, Haleth gave Kryssta a hearty clap and a firm embrace. "I go back to my own duties. And you to yours. We will speak again, and soon, you will not be alone in your work here. Study your cloak, learn all it can do for you, and make yourself hale and prepared. The threat is only held at bay now, but it will return. It always returns."
