thehinterlandonline:thecactusland:shelagh m. rowan-legg_LEARNING TO BREATHE

 

Matthew approached it with cautious curiosity; he could not tell if it
was a man of a woman. Its skin was gray and sickly, but its fingernails
were a beautiful gold. Matthew put his staff down and knelt beside it.
Just as he was about to touch its face, its eyes opened and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to see if you were all right.
Can you move at all?"

It stared at him, then looked around.
"What's your name?" It did not answer. "Mine is Matthew; I'm
a shepherd." He put his hand on its chest.

"Can't you speak?" Matthew held his hand there for a few minutes,
but it did not move. "Can't you breathe?"

It looked around, then back at Matthew; it looked at him with
pain, and tried to stand.
"No, don't move. Just open your lips, and breathe. Take in
some air."

It opened its lips, and a black tongue emerged, licking its red
lips. Slowly, it inhaled, and held it.
"You can speak now. Try, move your lips."

It was barely a whisper. "Wh - where am I?"

"In the hills. Near Galilee. Where did you come from?"

It slowly sat up, and after what seemed an eternity, took another
breath. It looked around, and let out a slow moan. "Such a long way
down, I never really looked before."
Matthew sat back on his heels, and watched as it rose to its
feet and turned around slowly, running its hands through its hair and
along its face. It turned to him and reached a hand out to touch his
hair. "What color is that?"

"Yellow, I guess." Matthew felt his skin tingle as it ran its
hand down his arms, grasping his hands. "What is your name?"

"I don't know anymore." It straightened up, and began to walk
towards the sheep. "What are those?"
"My sheep. Well, not mine. I look after them."

It walked towards them, but tripped and fell after only a few
steps. "How do I do this?"

"Do what?"

"Move."

Matthew couldn't help but laugh a little. "Well, you just put
one leg in front of the other. It's not hard."

It began to move almost like a child, a child who had only ever
danced and did not know how to get simply from one point to another.
It moved faster and faster, and was finally
running before Matthew began to follow. He almost lost it over the hill,
and when Matthew reached the crest, it was lying on the ground, crying.
"If you like, you can stay with me tonight. I have food, and
shelter."

"All right then."

They walked over the next hill, with the sheep close behind.
Matthew had always had to walk behind them before, but they followed
the stranger almost as if they were on a string. When they reached the
spot, Matthew sat down and opened his satchel. "I have some bread,"
he said, breaking off a piece and offering.
It reached its hand out, grasped it and put it to his lips.
After a few minutes, it put the bread down again.
"How often do you do this?"

"What, eat? Well, everyday, of course. How else could I live?"

"How should I know?"

They ate in silence as the moon began to rise. It was barely
a sliver, and Matthew was almost glad for the lack of light, for what
there was made the stranger's skin shine and glisten in a terrifying
way. It stayed awake all night, and so Matthew did as well, afraid
yet too curious not to keep stealing looks at its face.
The next morning it was up and looking over the hills.
"I have to go."

"Where? To your family?"

For the first time, it seemed to smile and laughed, and when
it looked at Matthew, he felt his lungs constrict and his mouth go dry.
"No, I don't think they will want to see me again, though I don't doubt
we will meet often." It began to move away. "Where will I find people?"

"Well, there is a village near by, or the city is a full day's
walk, if you can make it. I've never been, but there are many people there."

"Which way?"

Matthew pointed to the south. It began to walk, and then turned
back. "Thank you. I will see you again."

"When? How will I know you? I don't even know your name."

"You will soon enough."

Matthew watched as it quickly disappeared, and he thought he
heard a laugh and a sigh.


copyright 2000 shelagh m. rowan-legg [reprint only with author's consent]