“Long ago the word “alone” was treated as two words— all one. To be all one meant to be wholly one, to be in oneness, either essentially or temporarily. That is precisely the goal of solitude, to be all one.” — Clarissa E.

Before leaving the weaver’s building, River saw Lei’la muttering to herself in deep thought “When in search for answers, it’s probably a good idea to start at the museum library.”

River brook no objections. This teenage girl was the expert. She was just along for the ride. In truth, she was relieved to be leaving dark tribe city. It was a place of gloom and doom, and from the looks of tribespeople she had seen, they had exuded such terse attitude. Whether it was truly how they are or the consequence of genuine fear, she wouldn’t know. But given how ruthless, Russ’lo and Holden can be, she would bank on the latter.

Their journey towards the southern sun tribe won’t be as long as River anticipated. It never even crossed her mind to think what tribespeople normally do for basic transport. Once it did, the absolute absence of cars and wagons became sparkling clear. They never had any need of it. Tribespeople strength were massive, so did their speed. She never really processed the enormity of it until now. It had used to be people flashing in and out of appearance, that was easy to see. Easy to shrug off.

Then Lei’la wrapped her in a cocoon of hard blankets, fastened a helmet on and pulled River into her arms like she had weighed nothing short of a feather. Then they sped off to the far distance with the dark tribe city quickly becoming a dot in the horizon as she glanced back. It was like riding on a megahigh-speed train and it weighed on her nerves, belly fluttering wirh unease. The feeling was unnatural.

The exhaustion she felt once they made camp was partly out of dizziness, but at most shock. They have been moving at breakneck speed for what felt like hours. By the time she recovered from it, Lei’la had erected a small camp with a quaint burning fire and a pot of stew over it.

Throat dry, she told her. It’s as if like I blinked and you already had this set-up going.

Embarassed, “If my fire stones are any indication,” she shrugged “then travelling between tribes used to be my favorite pasttime.”

That’s odd. What could have made you forget? She muttered, tugging blankets off her shoulders.

“I don’t know. It’s what scares me. There is so much about my memories that are distorted from how I remember it. A mind-fuck at this magnitude?” She scoffed “I wouldn’t be surprised if the god tribe would have a hand in it.”

You really don’t trust them?

Her stare at the fire instensified, “Not one bit.”

River was struck by her strength. This girl was smaller, thinner and even more sad than who she met at another universe. But it seemed like she was holding on to the whole world by the strength of her own shoulders herself. Hot tears threatened to escape but she managed to hold it back, letting the cool air and chittering sounds of the night to calm her. Let's rest, Lei'la.

She hugged her knees, wrapping both arms around them. "I can't. I'm not tired."

Is there something to help you sleep?

"No. There's nothing. Back in the city, I weave for days straight until I'm exhausted. I'm not even close to tired. How about you, what do you do to help you sleep?"

Stress? Fear? The impropable notion of never coming home again? she thought to herself in irony. Every sad, dreary things in life made her want to sleep and dream of better chances. Lullabies, she said to her. It quiets the wild straying thoughts in me. Helps me focus.

She dropped her knees to scoot closer, "What's that like?"

It's singing but different. Her mind raced to better explain it. There was a strange mix of feeling inside her. A heaviness that pulled to her bones like gravity, tempting her to sleep. Stifling a yawn, Last time we sang because it was empowering, makes us feel alive and free. But lullabies is the opposite of that. It makes you want to retire to someplace safe and secure where no one can touch you.

"I want that." she said in a rush. "Please."

River met her wide open gaze. It was her sunken appearance and small shoulders that carried loads of burden that formed stones in her throat. She breathed past it, and patted her thighs to signal her to rest on it.

She did.

River pulled on her blankets, tucked her in and brushed her yellow corn hair with her fingers. She swallowed past her strong emotions, clearing her throat.

I still watch you when you're groovin'

As if through water from the bottom of a pool

You're movin' without movin'

And when you move, I'm moved

You are a call to motion

Then she began to do the song's deep, resonant humming that felt like a supplication for mercy. Lei'la, with her smart wits about her, quickly followed on to her rythms and they sang together. Repeating the song over and over again, breaths near to running out. Every time they reached the last part, they howled in vocalization like wolves. It was powerful.

Small pebbles of rocks began lifting off the ground, hovering in the air with a glowing intensity of the sun. When their glow died down, rocks dropping haphazardly on the floor, she knew without looking down that the little sun tribe girl was fast asleep.

Carefully, she moved to her own bedroll and gave in to the sleep that has been pulling her for the past hour. It was lights out once her head landed onto the pillow.

The dream was anything but tame.It was filled with shadows that held a millenia's worth of suffering. Its agony tenfold. The shadows were listless, withdrawn, going about their way like they didn't have a direction to follow. River knew to avoid them. Instead, she followed an arched double door, its height so grand that it must be an entrance for a castle.

It must lead to outside.

Its doors pushed open once she got near. Inside was a magnificent throne room wrapped in blue shadows and dim moonlight. A quiet solitude hung heavy in the air and the place looked abandoned. Like the stuff of nightmares. Taking careful steps forward between rows of grandiouse pillars, she readied her mind to face some faceless monster.

At the dais stood a hundred-level staircase to reach towards an upper throne.

Definitely, a new insane nightmare, she thought. Well, the only way out is in.

She climbed up to discover a grand seat made of marble stone covered in the shadows. A man was sitting there, utterly engulfed in midnight haze.

Dr. Malia would have called this a manifestation of her fears. The thought made her heart stop cold. A worm of unease wiggling in her belly but she pushed it away. If she wanted to get rid of her nightmares then she had to know its name, deliver the truth.

“What the fuck?” The man said, soon as she was close to reaching the top. His voice a rich baritone, rough on the edges. It was Holden wearing a peach turtle-neck sweater with blown-up puffy sleeves. Gold rings on each of his fingers twinkling under soft moonlight. “Do you not tremble before me?”

As she kept climbing the massive nightmare of a dais, his irritation grew to anger the moment he recognized who had appeared before him.

“I’m not..” she stopped short from stepping fully into the light, surprised her throat was working well in her dream. Slowly, she formed the words, careful to avoid hurting her wounded throat “I’m not holding anything against you, if that’s what you are asking.” Holding up her arms in surrender. “You’ve heard tales about me. Bad ones. Got scared, and acted out of self-defense. I’ve thought about this long and hard since meeting you. I can’t really blame you. You know I once had a run-in with a wild stray before. Poor beast got spooked and bit me through skin and bones.”

Standing abruptly, “You compare me to a beast?” he held a warm possessive hand over her throat in a blink of a second “I slit your throat until red blood broke through your flesh like floodgates flowing open. A river in blood. I silenced you, made you hurt in ways that no one has ever done before.”

“That is a bit of a stretch.” She murmured, watching his throat bobbing from apprehension.

“I tormented you with the pain of a knifed-open throat.” He said turning back to sit in his throne. Hands turning to fists atop the side arms of his seat. “What does my little bird do when she cannot sing? Hm? Tear away at your feathers until you can no longer fly?”

“Honestly? I’m getting real fucking tired of people touching my throat with no warning or permission. Like, for real, why don’t you just fucking finger me while you’re at it?”

He sneered, rubbing his jaw with an open palm “This isn’t the kind of attitude I was hoping to incentivize. Do all behagthis come broken like you?”

“Pretty much a standard, yeah.” she replied, feeling encouraged that this was all a dream. And if he even were real, he can’t hurt her, can he?

After a derisive snort, he paused. His piercing gaze turning calculating “You come to ask me for something.”

She didn’t.

However, he was a king and owned everything under the moon. Whereas, she had nothing to her name in this universe. “Would you be interested in a trade?”

“You’re the last person I want in my bed, little bird.” he bit out.

“Gross.” Then clearing her throat, she said “Would have thought royalty would have better manners.”

“Would you have me believe that you got anything I’d want? I’m a fucking king. What you see and don’t see are under my power. Innumerable riches beyond what meets the eye. What have you got that I don’t already have? Don’t fucking joke around. You came into this world with nothing.” He said sitting back in his throne.

Rude. She stepped closer and moved even closer to sit across his lap. An arm wounding around his shoulders to rest. “Don’t be silly. I traveled far and wide to come find you. Surely, I’ve got something you absolutely need.”

Both his arms wrapped around her midsection. The bulky strength of him couldn’t be more evident from the size of his rock hard arms, pinning her hostage. Confusion writ on his face, “I hurt you.”

“Believe me.” Her eyes fell half-mast, looking at him with a thousand-yard stare “Others have tried worse.”

He stared back at her for a good long moment “I admit you have me beholden to curiosity. What do you care to trade besides nothing but yourself?” he rumbled, taking an outright shameless palm over the length of her thigh.

She stifled a shudder, “No talk about sex or money. Get your mind off the gutter. You and I are going to begin in the old way like ancient humans do —by trading stories.”

His cynical laugh reverberated through the deep cavernous hall of the throne room, “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“We both came from the same previous universe. It’s actually where I grew up in. And we have no shortage of stories. I believe I have something you would like to hear. It’s possibly the greatest story ever told, would you like to hear it?”

“And what exactly do you want in exchange for your greatest story?”

“So you are interested.”

“Whatever. I’m only curious in seeing how far your insanity goes.”

He grunted when she wiggled into his lap, trying to get comfy before starting. “This story is an old one I heard back when I had some growing up to do. Back when I did something bad, my grandmother used to ask me a question after putting me to bed: if a wounded creature came to you bearing gifts, would you receive it? I remember what I told her the first time she asked that. I said no I won’t. Something must be wrong and it’s not good to rely on broken techology. Hell I won’t even ride on broken wheels or use a glitchy laptop.”

A grim chuckle, “I can’t believe that you’re the only one in this universe I’ll be able to relate to about the 21st century.”

“Oh god. You don’t even know how much I want to gripe about pop culture, my anger about it is just festering in here. I need to tell you all about it.” Tide pods were at the tip of her tongue before he leaned in.

“Not if I tell you mine first.”

She smiled. The arched an eyebrow at him,“So do we have a deal?”

“Hm.” he pulled back, shaking his head “I’m not convinced.”

“This story is a special one.” she huffed “I guarantee you. It’s nothing you have ever heard before.”

“I’m fairly sure this story has been reiterated a hundred times over if not a million times. This is the 21st century of your precious universe. They recycle stories all the time. I hardly think I’ll find them interesting. Let alone trade for them.”

“Woah.” her tone dry, dripping in irony “You liked them that much?”

Tilting his head with a shrug, he said “Did you say you did bad things when you were younger?”

“Yeah. Who doesn’t?”

She could already sense his impatience, “Elaborate further.”

“A little please wouldn’t hurt either.”

With a haughty tone, he tipped his chin up to pin her with a piercing gaze “Do it.”

Looking him square in the eyes, she said “Manners first.”

His grip tightened around her waist, “Now.”

The sharp demand created a cutting sound across the halls. An echo that long-lasted, pushing her awake into the wake of dawn.

Her vision focused overhead, adjusting to the abrupt bloom of colors upon waking. She had been sleeping at a green forest grove. Amber sunlight dripping between tree canopies.

“River!” Lei’la exclaimed, her face appearing right in of front of her as she crouched down to her bedside. Her roughened hands cradling River’s neck in a shot of a second, her worried honey-brown stare glued to her throat.

What is it? she asked the weaver who was shocked still. Her eyes lingering at River’s throat, giving it a searching frisk with the pads of her thumbs.

“It’s gone. I don’t believe it. Severed wounds don’t heal like this.” Lei’la lifted her eyes to meet hers, “You’re healed. Completely.”