Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar Read Online Free

Grimya, but the wolf refused to be comforted and at last, relenting, they allowed her to take up a vigil at Indigo’s bedside. She stayed there throughout the sweltering day, constantly watching her friend’s flushed and feverish face, occasionally reaching out to lick tentatively at one of her burning hands.
    For most of the time, Indigo was unconscious, but now and again she would stir and her eyes flicker open, staring with unfocused intensity at the ceiling for a few moments before she began to thrash and cry out in delirium. Grimya had never experienced anything like these bouts, and the wild thoughts that came surging from Indigo’s subconscious like a fire running out of control terrified the wolf. She would rush to the doorway, barking frantically; someone would come running, Indigo’s face and torso would be bathed and another herbal nostrum forced between her clenched teeth. For a while then she’d quieten, but only for a while before the whole ugly cycle began again.
    The women were doing all they could, but by evening it was obvious to everyone in the kemb that Indigo wasn’t responding to their treatment. Her fever was worse, the intervals between bouts of delirium growing shorter, and the women’s limited healing skills were exhausted. Grimya finally understood that they had given up hope of curing her by normal means when, as night descended on the forest, all the adult females of the family came back into the shuttered and stifling room and gathered around the bed. They lit stubby candles that gave off thick smoke and a smell that made Grimya bare her teeth uneasily, and they began to repeat a peculiar, off-key chant while the old grand-dame shook a carved and tasseled stick over Indigo’s head.
    Prayers, or spells ... they had accepted defeat and were trying to help the sick woman by the last resort of an appeal to magic, or to whatever gods or powers they worshiped. Grimya shivered as the monotonous chanting continued. Then, at last, unable to bear it any longer, she slunk away through the curtain to the passage outside, where she lay down with her muzzle on her front paws in abject and helpless misery.
    The women continued their vigil until dawn. Sometimes the chanting stopped for a short while and Grimya would raise her head in a mixture of alarm and hope; but then the droning voices picked up the threads once more and the nightmarish ritual went on. Alone in the passage with nothing but her own thoughts for company, Grimya wondered over and again what was to become of Indigo. She believed that the women expected her companion to die, and she couldn’t convey the truth to them: that Indigo couldn’t die, but was destined to live, as she had done for almost fifty years, without aging and without the threat—or the promise—of death.
    Yet though her fate might have made her immortal, it wasn’t proof against sickness and disease, and Grimya didn’t know what might befall her friend if the fever refused to loose its hold. Would she be trapped in some kind of limbo, reduced to a helpless shell, yet still clinging to physical life? Would her mind be affected, her body ravaged beyond recovery? Grimya didn’t know the answers, and her speculations frightened her.
    She dozed occasionally as the night crawled on, but always there were ugly dreams waiting to pounce and jolt her shuddering out of her sleep. At last, though, she saw the first hint of dawn begin to lighten the narrow window at the end of the passage, and as she stood up, raising her muzzle to sniff the change in the air, the curtain over Indigo’s door shifted and the women came out. They glanced at the wolf but said nothing and moved away toward the main room. Only the young woman who had first befriended Grimya, and who emerged last of all, paused and looked down.
    “ Ussh !” She put a finger to her lips, then crouched to stroke Grimya’s head, speaking to her in a low, calm, but sorrowful voice. Grimya was slowly coming to