THE SAME OLD THING
1553 4D
The long snowstorm roared outside. Aoriver sang, and Marra let the croon fill her head with its beauty, its unending softness, its constant shifting into new patterns. Ah! This almost repaid her for tolerating Aoriver‘s fulsome presence deep in her body: the sudden cravings for raw meat, the complaining, the tinkering with Marra‘s hormones and behaviors as if they were toys. Marra tilted her head back and forth in time with the lilting chorus of Aoriver‘s voices, coming to her directly through her auditory nerves.
Across the kitchen, Deen‘s head bobbed rhythmically. Marra froze. “Is Oortonel singing to you right now?”
“Yes – it’s glorious. It never stops changing, and it makes me… wait a minute – is Aoriver…"
“They sing together!” Marra raised her eyes to the ceiling as if addressing someone outside and above her. “Aoriver? Can you and Oortonel sing together without… using sound?”
The music softened. Of course. We are in the same place inside. We stand together and sing on the emerald slopes.
“What emerald slopes? Are you talking about innerspace, like andros?”
Yes. This is another part of our home, just as you are. We sing when–
“When what?”
Aoriver‘s tone shifted abruptly. Marra, go to the front and open the door.
“The door? It’s storming out there! I’d get blown off my feet! The snow is several feet deep already.” The night wind shook their house, rattling the windows and blowing a few flakes of white in through tiny cracks here and there.
Marra, go and open the door.
“Don’t be silly. Go back and sing to me some more.”
“Come on,” Deen urged Oortonel, “Sing to both of us. It soothes me. Oh, Marra, now she’s saying it too.” Deen stomped out to the parlor and reached for the door handle.
“Wait! I’ll help you.” Marra came up behind Deen and they unlatched the door.
The wind blasted at them like a falling wall of rocks, nearly ripping the door from their grasp and slamming it back. Slowly they fought to close it against the tide of snow that gushed inward.
No! Look outside. Look outside. Aoriver‘s voice in Marra‘s head was so loud and urgent that she jumped with surprise.
“The wind – I’ll fall–“
No you won’t. Here. And Marra felt a violent strength flow through her like an electric shock. She strode directly to the doorway and stared into the howling night. Her skin seemed to freeze solid, then glow with an unnatural warmth. Aoriver had to be doing this.
“What is it? I can’t see.”
Go a few more steps. That’s it. Now look down.
The darkness was so complete that Marra had to grope with both hands in thigh-deep snow. Something brushed her left hand, and she grabbed: an arm.
She seized the arm and pulled, gently, then harder.
Careful! You’re very strong right now. Don’t hurt this person.
Marra burrowed in the snow and found a woman’s body lying almost squarely on the front path. She got it lifted, got her shoulders under it, and carried it easily back to the house, where she came back in, slammed the door, and laid the body gently on the sofa. The snow fell off the body in clumps, melting in the heat, and Marra brushed herself off, shaking great clots of flakes from her hair.
“Marra! How did you do that?” Deen came to the sofa and pulled a blanket out, covering the body. “Is she alive?”
“I don’t know. Aoriver? Do you know?”
She is alive. Barely. You must warm her, much more than that, or she will die soon. She is badly hurt.
Marra pulled back the blanket. The woman lay on her back. Her skin was a rich, dark brown, and she looked young. She wore a heavy winter coat that reached her knees. The chest of the coat swelled on one side, and lay flat on the other. Where the chest was flat, a ragged hole marked the center of a spread of russet blood, some of it still undarkened by long exposure to air.
Deen said, “Oh, God. She’s still bleeding. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We have to find whatever made that hole and get it out, if it’s still there. But we’d better get her warm first.”
Let me do it. Just kiss her.
“Oooh, no. You’re not going to mess her up. Are you?”
No, no, it’s not like that. I can give her energy, but I’ll have to feed sooner than usual.
“This is a new reason for the same old thing, isn’t it?”
If you say so.
Deen had pulled back the coat and listened at the woman’s chest. “There’s almost no heartbeat. She’s dying.”
Marra rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right, I’ll kiss her.”
As soon as she did, her mouth filled with a burst of fluid that burned and tingled. She nearly pulled away from the woman’s mouth in surprise, but a No! in her head held her in place for several heartbeats.
When she drew back, the woman’s dark face had lost its gray surface, and seemed fuller. The woman opened her dark eyes.
“It hurts,” she said. A Monford accent.
“You’re in bad shape,” Deen said to her. “We’ll get you fixed up, but you’ll have to stay here for quite a while.”
The woman closed her eyes. “Gotta sleep.”
Marra picked her up bodily and carried her to the bath, wrapped in the blanket. Deen heated water.
Don’t get too accustomed to carrying people around, Aoriver said. Not unless you want to take me out for extra meals.
“Don’t worry,” Marra snapped, “I won’t.” It was going to be a long night.
