East

Another week passed. I began to eat normally again and slept curled up beside him. The morning I awoke with his arms around me, I knew the danger was gone. He certainly felt strong, even though he had a ways to go to recover his strength. I lay in his arms for several minutes, relieved and content. I missed this. Whether or not I should have, I wasn't certain. I hadn't spent any time on the conundrum of what I wanted to do about the man I spent a month caring for in a way I had never done for anyone else and risked my life to save. I hadn't thought myself capable of being a nursemaid to anyone. I had neither the skill nor patience, but nothing had mattered aside from seeing Batu recover.

Maybe that's my answer right there.

"How did you not fall ill, Moonbeam?" he murmured in a raspy voice.

I shifted, happier than I thought I should be to be in his arms once more. "I do not get these kinds of illnesses."

"You are fortunate. Next time, take off my head."

"Absolutely not. I'll always take care of you, Batu." I nudged him back. He rolled over obediently, and I sat to check his progress. "How are you feeling?" I lifted one arm to look at the discoloring. He was going to have scars in a few places from where the boils burst, but his skin was clearing up well.

"I am well, ugly one," he said, a thread of his former sense of humor emerging for the first time.

I hid a smile. I had the urge to cry again and this time, it wasn't because I feared for his life. "You need milk."

"I need meat," he returned. "I am not a child."

Grumpy smiled from his place prepping Batu's milk. "We have meat, cousin. If your Moonbeam approves, I will bring you some."

"Do you approve, my Moonbeam?" Batu asked and sat up, gazing at me.

It took me a moment to answer. His eyes were clear and bright, his face marred by several new scars, and his hair grown in enough to make his head fuzzy. The sense he was back made my throat tighten.

Unable to contain the swirling emotions, I hugged him around the neck. Batu embraced me and hauled me into his muscular frame. It was so easy to forget he was weak from his ordeal. I had the urge to sink into him and stay, to sleep off a month of worry and fear.

His body was soon trembling from the effort to support us both. I eased back and released him. "You have a long way to heal, Batu," I told him, concerned. "But I think meat is fine."