by Fleur Le Marc
80824.15
...continued from part one
80824.15
...continued from part one
Fleur Le Marc moved quietly and at a distance traced the footsteps of Prylar Delle as the woman moved toward the area of the camp where the children without families were housed.
Fleur's heart sank to her feet as soon as she was within hearing distance of the tents.
So many little voices. Somewhere, in among them, a baby was crying.
How had a baby managed to survive in conditions like this? Had it been born after the storm, or been found as an infant alive in the rubble?
Fleur watched the faces of the children light up as Delle offered them what she could, the energy bars and water packs were eagerly devoured.
Her eyes were drawn to a scrawny teen-aged boy, standing under a the splintered remains of a tree that had been twisted and broken by the storm itself.
He hurried into the tent next to it, and returned with a small bowl and spoon. He took both energy bars he had been given crumbled them into the bowl and added a little of the water from one of the packs. He looked all around nervously, and held on to the bowl tightly, never leaving it for a moment, seeming afraid if he did that someone would take it.
He disappeared into the tent again, and when he returned, he had a toddler with him; a little girl with frizzy ringlets of white blonde hair on her head. She was wearing a little 'granny' gown that stretched down to her bare feet, and the tell-tale shape of her form told Fleur that she was not yet out of diapers.
She could not have been much more than eighteen months of age.
The boy sank to the ground, and with his free arm he hoisted the baby into his lap.
Without taking a single bite of food for himself, he fed the baby everything in the bowl. Looking more closely at the baby, Fleur observed that her eyes were red and realized then that she had been the one crying moments earlier.
After her small belly was full, the boy gave her the rest of the water packet to drink, and then put her over his shoulder, tenderly rocking her to and fro.
Tears streamed down Fleur's face at the sight.
Clearly, this boy was the girl's brother.
*What became of their parents? * She wondered, as she brushed the tears away.
"What are you doing?" Prylar Delle rushed up to Fleur, angry. "I want you to keep away from our children, Miss. Until such a time as,"
"Until I earn your trust. Yes, I understand. I am grateful that they have you to look out for their interests." Fleur assured her. "I apologize, Prylar. I did not mean to overstep my bounds. Tell me please, where would you prefer I put my sleeping bag for the night? My tent will not arrive with the other supplies until morning."
"You brought no other protection from the elements at all?"
"No." Fleur hated the fact that the ships had been delayed bringing in the supplies, the original plan was for them to arrive just before she did.
"You can't just sleep outside, even with repellent, if you have any, the insects will eat you alive."
*Great.*
"You may put your sleeping bag in my tent for one night." The Prylar decided. "As thanks for the food you have given our children. But by tomorrow nightfall I will expect you to have your own provisions in place."
"The Prylar is very kind. Merci." Fleur saw confusion on the woman's face upon hearing the final, foreign word. Fleur apologized, and then thanked Delle in proper Bajoran.
"You speak Bajoran as well as Standard and..?"
"French. It is the language of my family." Fleur explained, continuing in flawless Bajoran.
"Whoever taught you the ways of the Prophets, did they also teach you to speak our language so well?"
"The Vedek," Fleur replied, sadness creeping across her face, "has taught me a great many things."
-=hours later=-
Fleur woke from her dream suddenly, in the middle of it.
The sensation of waking suddenly from such a deeply consuming sleep was jarring, and she felt as if she was physically falling from a great height. She lurched upward and opened her eyes, grateful of the fact there was no chance she could fall out of bed; she was already sleeping on the ground.
The sound which had roused her also stirred her elderly host, and Prylar Delle jumped out from beneath the thin blanket she called her own as she heard someone calling her name.
"What is it?" Delle folded back the flap that served as door to her tent, and allowed the teen-aged boy that Fleur had seen earlier to enter.
He was carrying the baby, who was wailing pitifully.
"Tress is sick," the boy declared, panic stricken. "She keeps pulling on her ear, and she won't stop crying."
The Prylar turned pale, putting the back of her hand to the baby's forehead. "She has no fever, are you certain,"
"Yes, look." He tried to pull the baby's hand away from her ear, but the child fought him. She pulled on her ear forcefully with one hand, while she sucked desperately on the thumb of her other hand to try to comfort herself.
"Has she been otherwise ill?" The Prylar asked. "When did this begin?"
"No, and earlier in the day, it seemed to come and go but now," the boy's eyes pleaded for her help. "She's in so much pain, I don't know what to do. Help me, please, Prylar. Please."
Fleur Le Marc
Civilian Volunteer
Currently on Bajor
Civilian Volunteer
Currently on Bajor