The Wittering Way by Nat Burns Page A

against me and together we tumbled through the opening. I opened my eyes and looked down and saw the barren rocky ground rushing up to
    meet us.
    “Hold us, Afton, Brennen,” I cried out, my numb hands trying to make levitation postures. Our descent slowed and a great stillness surrounded us. I saw Lutis lifting their eyes, watching us. Their uplifted faces were the final sight that filled me before I lost consciousness.
     
     
     
     

Part Two
     
     
     

Book Fifteen
     
     
     
    EXTREME SILENCE CAN be so loud that it’s deafening. I discovered this when absolute silence drew me back to consciousness. Where was I? I saw only a slate gray solidness through my slitted eyelids. My sense was at rest so I knew I was no longer in danger, yet there was still a mild sense of unease. And pain. There was a lot of pain. I quickly made the pain relieving gesture but it wasn’t very effective. My hands were still numb.
    A swishing noise sounded to my left so I opened my eyes completely and carefully turned my head. Strange, lengthy forms floated past, most peering in at me.
    “How are you feeling?” Afton said, arresting my movement. He sounded strange, and I soon realized why. He was surrounding me.
    “Where are we?” I queried.
    “You are healing,” he responded.
    “Ahh, so it is true,” I muttered.
    The Mothers had spoken of the waters of Lake Feidlimed saving lives when Meab were critically injured. I realized then that I was underwater and that Afton was using the lake’s power to keep me alive and to heal me. “Where is Yewsy? Is she okay?”
    “Her injuries were not as severe. She awaits you above,” he answered.
    “Good.” Sleepiness washed across me. “There’s pain...are you helping?”
    “Yes. Rest. Heal.”
     
     
    MY WATERY SURROUNDINGS were brighter when next I awoke, but the pain was worse. I flexed my hands, gratified that the numbness was wearing off somewhat, but I was concerned about the lingering pain that seemed to be twisting my back into knots.
    “Afton?”
    “Yes?”
    “Am I okay? Will I heal fully?”
    “Yes, but you will be disfigured.” His voice was sad.
    “Will I function? Will my wit be intact?” Tears sprouted in my eyes. I had no emotional stamina at present. I’d lost too much.
    Instead of answering, Afton began a slow, nauseating roll. “Stop! Afton, what are—”
    I cried out, bracing my palms against his soft, cloudy form. Suddenly, he became more porous on one side and lake water leaked in against my back. The pain, set off anew by cool water, made me cry out then grit my teeth. Afton lifted me slowly until the bright light of the sun warmed my wet, tunic-covered arms. I could see little through his opacity but sensed our sideways movement. I also sensed other Meab nearby.
    When Afton withdrew, I found myself outside, under a canopy of trees. Although Afton had gentled me onto a raised pallet, the renewed pain almost caused me to pass out. Once free of me, Afton spun himself dry then snuggled against my shoulder.
    “Well, well. Looks like you may live after all.”
    I turned and saw a delightfully familiar face.
    “Oh, Goddess. Broc! It’s been too long.”
    He smiled and toddled over to take my hand and pull up a stool to sit next to the head of the pallet. “It’s good to see you again, Cleome.”
    I would have loved to embrace him, but there was no way I could lift myself from the pallet. Broc was one of Widdershin join’s dearest friends, but I hadn’t seen him for more than a century. He looked good. I remembered suddenly being lifted atop his broad back as we tromped across the greens, waiting for Avapeony to be born.
    Broc was of the Iris clan, the ageless, eternal keepers of the wit. They, the entire small tribe, lived in the village of Ayfowg, which was situated directly on the banks of Lake Feidlimed. Whenever a Meab, as peyton, came for a new atrebud for their join, he or she would approach one of the Iris, who would then intercede with the ancient