Thank you for responding, Sammy and Songbird!  I will try to get the post out tomorrow.

Morning sunlight streamed across the floorboards of the sleeping room.  The two mattresses on the floor were neatly made.  Very little else was in the room.  A small closet next to the door and a chest under the windows at the foot of the mattresses.  On the wall across from the door ran a long shelf with a few jars, books and other assortments.  In a corner was a small nightstand on which was placed a bowl of water and a folded cloth.

Mila pinned her short hair back with a gold clip and tightened the strings of her apron as she walked out of the sleeping room.  The wide legs of her pants swished against each other.

She stopped in the doorway, surprised.  The healer sat in the midst of several stacks of books, her head rested in the table and she appeared to be asleep.

"H-healer Kathryn?", Mila asked.

When she received no answer she walked quietly to the healer's side and asked again, louder this time.  No answer.

Mila's pulse quickened.  No. Mother Nature, don't let it be so.  Healer Kathryn cannot be sick.  But even as she thought this she knew it wasn't true, the healer could be sick.

If she is sick, we are doomed.  I don't know enough about healing.  How can I live without her?  How can the village live?  Who will help me find my memories?

As Mila sank to her knees, overwhelmed by the sense of panic that flooded her, she knocked a book off one teetering stack.  The healer started at the thud and sat up, smoothing her loose strands of hair back from her face.

She glanced down and say the hunched figure of the despairing Mila on the floor.

"Mila!  What happened?"  She reached down towards her.

Mila jerked her head up and looked into the concerned face of the healer who was feeling her pulse.

"You aren't sick!", Mila said after a pause, evidently relieved.

The healer smiled slightly and shook her head.  "No, tired is all.  I read late."

She frowned and placed a hand against Mila's forehead.

"Why are you on the floor?", she asked.

Mila's cheeks reddened, embarrassed at her sudden despair.  You didn't even check her temperature!  How can you be a healer if you panic and don't think first?

"I thought you were sick", she muttered.

The healer nodded understandingly.

"I am not, there is no need to worry.  Let us bring the books back to their proper places."

Mila stood and smoothed her apron.  She joined the healer in carrying the stacks of books to the self.

After she had relieved her arms of the last stack of books Mila pried the wax remains of the candle off the table.  Her eyes caught sight of a worn piece of parchment as she did so that she had not seen before.  She bent over it, the twisted candle  held loosely in her hand.  She read and her hand began clenching the candle in excitement.

Finished reading she straitened and turned to the healer who was sliding the bookcase panels closed.

"You found the cure", Mila's eyes glimmered excitedly.  "When are we going?"

The healer walked to the table and lifted the parchment.

"No one is, Mila.  The risks are too great.  The village needs a healer and you are not yet experienced enough."

"I could go.  I need to learn how to survive in the wilderness.  Every healer must have a good understanding of Nature's wilderness.  You have said so before", Mila argued.

"This is not a healer's learning quest.  The world's edge is far from here and the way is far from easy.  You cannot go alone", the healer answered.

"I will bring friends!  Together --"

The healer broke in.  "You will not bring friends into the unknown dangers.  They have people who care for them as do you."

"So you are throwing away the only chance to save Grayingwell", Mila said flatly.  An edge had crept in to her voice.

"Not throwing away.  I am still considering what we have read", the healer's voice was calm.

"You read the parchment.  The writer was the only one living.  The only one.  That could happen to us!  Grayingwell could die!  We don't have time to consider!"  Mila's voice was rising.

"The effects of sicknesses vary from village to village.  We do not know if this illness will end Grayingwell."  The healer's eyes never left Mila, her voice didn't change.

"So you will wait until we do know?  What if it does end Grayingwell? What are you going to tell those who have lost or are loosing loved ones to this sickness?  That we have found the cure and the way is too risky for anyone to go?", Mila demanded.  "We don't have time to wait!"

"It would be dangerous to rush blindly into things."

Mila clenched her hands, her nails digging into the candle she still held.

"It would be devasting to wait", her tone was icy.

Not waiting for the healer's response she turned away and left the house.  The door thudded shut behind her.

- - - -

I don't feel this is the best of scenes and I think it needs a lot of work.  This one is a little rough and I would really like some tips on.  If I change it and it makes a difference in the story I will post the rewritten version. 

Chapter 6 (continued)

Poppy lay on her back, red rimmed eyes pointed upward but seeing nothing.  Her tangled curls forming a mat under her head.  She felt hollow and fragile.  Like a tempest had stormed through her leaving nothing but a shell behind.  A shell that might break at the slightest touch.

Anne.  Even Poppy's tears had ceased.  She no longer wept when she thought of Anne.  No longer railed against her death.  It wasn't that she cared anymore.  She did.  But her heartbroken anger and rage at the seemingly pointless death of Anne had left her.  Leaving behind a wish to not exist.  To disappear.  To not be.

Poppy closed her eyes and drifted.  Her thoughts were unfocused, lost.  They never stayed in one place.  Moving -- always moving.  But slowly and in no direction.

She wasn't sure how long her mind wandered but she heard soft footsteps entering the sleeping room in which she lay, and the quiet swish of fabric against fabric and someone wended their way around the many mattresses that were scattered across the floor.

"Poppy."  It was Mila's voice, and though it was gentle Poppy could sense a current of excitement beneath the gentleness.  This excitement was the only thing that made Poppy open her eyes and roll to face Mila.

Mila's face was flushed, as if she had been angry or upset, her eyes were kind but with suppressed excitement in them.

"I have something to tell you.  Drink this while I do so."  She thrust a clay cup into Poppy's hand.

Poppy propped herself on an elbow and sipped at the sweet tea inside the cup.

Mila watched her, seemed to hesitate, then began abruptly.  "There's a chance."

Poppy looked at her.

"A chance to cure the sickness", Mila continued.

She glance at Poppy and saw a spark of hope in her eyes.  Emboldened by this Mila went on.

"It would require a journey."

Poppy nodded.  "It would be worth it.  Even if it may not succeed."  It was the most she had spoken in days.

"But Healer Kathryn says it's too dangerous.  She said she wouldn't let any one go." Mila frowned and pressed her lips together.  Without Poppy asking she began to explain in detail.  Her discovery of the parchment, her argument with the healer.  "It's as if she doesn't care about anyone in Grayingwell at all!", she finished.

"I don't think so", Poppy began.  "I think she cares for everyone in Grayingwell so much she doesn't want anyone to put their life at risk for a chance that may not possibly work."  She was sitting up fully now.  Empty cup held in both hands.  "She thinks -- hopes -- she can save everyone with her skills.  No one would risk their life if she could.  But nothing she does seems to work."  

Poppy paused, then added hurriedly looking at Mila: "No offense to Healer Kathryn of course.  I know she is doing what she can.  Just, this illness is new and the old ways don't seem to be working."

Mila nodded to show she understood.

"She hasn't talked to someone who has lost another to this sickness", Poppy said.  "I won't wait to see what this illness will do to Grayingwell and I think she won't either if I talk to her."

Mila nodded again, this time excitedly.  "I knew you would.  I think the same.  One thing though, you mustn't say anything to the village about this.  It would be terrible if we got their hopes up only to dash them to pieces."

- - -

I am so sorry about missing last week's part.  I hope you enjoy this part and that it makes up for my missing a week.

Chapter 7

Secrets can not be kept in a small village for long.  Everyone in Grayingwell knew a cure to the sickness had been found.  But everyone was suppressing the hope that swelled in their hearts.  It was only a chance after all.

* * *

Silas nudged his uneaten meal around his plate with his fork.  His meat was coated with mashed tubers and his peas, dyed red, mingled with the beets.  He hadn't taken a bite since the beginning of the meal.  Nor had he spoken.

His father set his fork on his now empty plate and sat back in his chair.  He glanced across the table to Silas, then turned his gaze to the window.  His son would speak when he was ready.

One clockwise circle of his food around the plate later and Silas dropped his fork onto the plate.  He looked up and shook a black curl of hair from his face.

"Father, I would like to go on the journey to find Mother Nature.  May I?"

His father turned his gaze from the window to Silas.  Suddenly nervous, Silas poured out the reasons he had for his request.

"I want to help Healer Kathryn for what she did for -- for Mother.  I want to -- to test myself, to see what I can do.  I --", Silas paused, then continued slowly and with an apologetic note.  "I wan to do something other than pottery, Father.  I want to do something new."

There was a few moments pause after this confession.  Then his father spoke.

"I have another batch of pottery to be fired.  Let us begin that.  I think the journey will not begin before then.  You may go.  I felt the same way you do when I was your age."

- - -

Have a nice week! 

I am so very sorry about missing tthe last two weeks' (is it two weeks?  I've lost track) posts.  I have lost some motivation and haven't had a lot of time.  Or rather I have spent the little time I usually write in with reading.  Again, I apologize.  I can't saya when the next post will come out but it will.  I just don't know if I will be able to keep up weekly posts.

~ The Chronicler