by Fleur Le Marc
80824.15
...continued from part two
80824.15
...continued from part two
"I wish I could, Pace," Delle replied regretfully. "But you know that our only medic left camp days ago to travel to Ahnorr. They haven't had a doctor in that village since the storm, and they were desperate,"
Fleur watched the little girl, gasping fitfully for every breath, her ear causing her obvious pain. She had an idea, an old family remedy which at the very least could not hurt, and could very well help until the antibiotics she likely needed arrived with the rest of the cargo in the morning.
*If only...*
"Do you have any food staples left at all? Anything?" Fleur interrupted.
"Miss, now is not the time,"
"Just answer me. Do you have access to salt?"
The very confused Prylar gaped at her. "Salt?"
"Yes, you know, sea salt, or other form of sodium,"
"We may have one tin of sodium left from the last governmental food drop, but-"
"I need it. I also need a metal pan, and a fire." Fleur began rifling through her small bag of belongings, searching out a particular article of clothing.
Both the boy called Pace and Prylar Delle stared at Fleur as if she were crazy.
"Do you want me to help the child or not? Get them!"
The Prylar put her shoes on quickly and disappeared, leaving Fleur with the boy and the still shrieking baby.
"Can you help her?" Pace begged, "I can't stand to hear her cry like this." He rocked her tenderly in his arms, whispering words of comfort to her, but she was crying far too loudly to hear.
"I will try," Fleur replied.
She unmated the pair of cotton socks she held in her hand, and looked around for anything she could burn to start a small fire.
A short while later Fleur moved back into the tent, holding something up toward the young man, and the Prylar.
"The warm salt acts as a dessicant, drawing moisture out of the ear," She gestured for Pace to take it. "Put it to her ear, gently. It will help the pain until proper medicine arrives."
Pace waited for the Prylar to give her nod of approval, and the old woman did so, believing that it could not hurt the child, at least.
"Tressie," Pace tried once again to calm his sister, who had not stopped crying for a moment and had succeeded at last in waking the entire camp. "Here, let me."
They wrestled a moment as Fleur watched, wringing her hands.
Finally, the boy's strength won out over the flailing of the frantic toddler, and the warm, salt-filled sock met the child's ear. Almost instantly, her eyes opened wider, and instead of pulling on her ear as before, her small hand pressed the sock more closely against it.
She began to hum softly instead of crying, rocking back and forth as she continued to suck her thumb.
Fleur realized then that something else in her bag could be of help to the baby tonight.
She rifled around in it and produced the handmade blanket that February had sent, draping it gently over the baby. Feeling the soft material surround her, the baby sighed heavily with contentment.
*Thank you, Bru,* Fleur thought.
After a few moments, Tressie's head began to loll to the side, and Pace sank to the ground, barely able to stand a moment longer.
"Here, let me take her," Delle volunteered, though she was as exhausted as the boy.
"No, let me." Fleur offered, holding her thin arms out toward Pace. "You can sleep in my sleeping bag, boy. Prylar, you sleep too. I will hold her, and when this sock grows cold, I will give her the other one."
Prylar Delle eyed Fleur nervously, still unsure she could be trusted. What if they went to sleep and she took the baby and left?
She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer to the Prophets, asking their counsel. A moment later, she looked into Fleur's eyes again, and realized that she had to begin to trust her, in some small way.
"Do not take her outside the tent."
"I will not, I swear it. I will just hold her." Fleur promised.
By now the baby had dropped off into a deep sleep, so relieved that the pain was lessening and tired from crying so long that she didn't know where she was, let alone who was holding her.
Pace gratefully handed the baby to this stranger, and dropped down on top of the sleeping bag Fleur indicated to him. As soon as his his head hit the ground, the boy was fast asleep.
Reluctantly, Prylar Delle lay down again as well.
"Merr-see," she said to Fleur, attempting to thank the woman in her own language.
Fleur smiled softly. "It is nothing."
-=Daybreak=-
"Prylar! Prylar!"
A frantic voice called out to Delle, piercing the early morning silence. "You must see!"
Delle jumped up and ran, barefoot, out of the tent.
Fleur, who had fallen asleep with the baby still in her arms, looked up. The little girl opened her eyes and her lips parted lazily, making a soft sucking sound as though she were nursing a bottle.
She realized instantly that she was not in familiar arms, and drew in a deep breath to cry.
"Shhh, it's all right, little one. Pace, wake up." Fleur nudged the lad with her toe, in a hurry for him to take his sister back now. Having forgotten where and when he was, Pace groaned, still in a dream.
"Mother, can I please sleep just a little longer? There is no school today,"
"Pace," Fleur repeated softly, sadly. "Wake up now. Tress needs you."
He heard Tress's name and his eyes flew open. He averted his eyes, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Miss," He took the baby, and instantly Tress rested her hair on her brother's shoulder. "Sometimes, when I'm asleep,"
"It is all right," Fleur whispered, blinking to try to hide her emotions. "We all dream, Pace. Your mother must have been a wonderful woman."
Pace nodded, and Fleur hurried outside the tent to hear what all the fuss was about. She had an idea, and could only hope...
*Yes.* She sighed with relief at the sight of the two ships setting down in the distance. "Finally."
"Gather all the able bodied people that you can," Delle instructed the older children, who had come from the tents to see what all the excitement was.
"Tell them to hurry!" She couldn't believe what she was seeing, and as the ships touched down in the distance, she sank to her knees. "Praise the Prophets," she whispered.
Fleur put a hand on her shoulder, and the old woman looked up at her with tears in her eyes. "You spoke truth to me?"
"I did." Fleur assured her. "The supplies are here."
The old woman leapt to her feet with the strength of one forty years younger and hugged Fleur fiercely. 'I do not understand." She drew back, weeping with gratitude. "When so many others have turned a blind eye, why have you done this for us?"
"I love Bajor," Fleur replied softly, "And all of her beautiful people."
"I believe," Delle replied, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her tattered robe, "That the people of Bajor will love you in return, Fleur Le Marc."
-=Hours later=-
Towering stacks of crates containing everything from clothing and non-perishable food items to toys and games for the children were lined up as far as one could see. The sound of laughter, of children and adults alike, as well as animated discussion, filled the air. Activity on this level had not been seen in these streets since before the storms had come.
"I am concerned," Fleur said with all seriousness, "About looting. What can we do to prevent those who are so desperate for aid that they will steal from others coming and taking all of this?"
"I have already reached the man who led the local constabulary here before the storms," Delle replied, having been worried about it in advance of the supplies ever arriving.
"I spoke to him last night before retiring. He will be here shortly, and he and those who were his officers of the law previously will help us. But we must," Delle sighed,
"We must share as much as we can with the other camps. The need is just so great,"
"We will not be able to care for everyone, straight away," Fleur cautioned. "I had a great deal of money to spend, but nowhere near what it would take to completely stabilize and rebuild the Plains overall. Small steps, Prylar. Small steps."
"Where would you begin, if you had to choose a place to start?" Delle asked, suddenly overwhelmed.
"A kitchen." Fleur replied. "A structure where the people can come for a hot meal. Once their strength is built up, they will work even harder to help, and we will make the absolute most of the supplies that we have."
"It will be done." Delle answered. "There is one small building that was spared when the storm came. It stood in the shadow of..." her eyes glazed over again, "Of the Temple. It has underground pipework for water, and if the wiring can be restored, there will be power."
"We can use a generator in the meantime to power the refrigeration unit," Fleur replied. "The stove itself can run on wood."
"There is no stove," The woman clarified, thinking Fleur had somehow misunderstood.
"There is now." Fleur replied, leading the Prylar to a large crate a few meters away. Fleur took a screwdriver from the tool belt she now wore and began to pry the container open.
Upon seeing the stove, Delle clasped her hands to her chest and again thanked the Prophets for their kindness.
"I will need an assistant in my kitchen to get it up and running," Fleur advised. "More than one, actually. But I would like someone to serve as apprentice cook,"
"Pace." Delle replied, instantly. "His parents actually ran a small restaurant for tourists before the storm came. He knows his way around a kitchen, and," Delle shook her head sadly, "He has done nothing but tend his sister since the storm, the boy needs to think about his own future as well."
"Very good."
"What shall we do with the baby?"
"I believe," Fleur said, "That with the use of a proper play-pen now and then, we shall be able to manage her as well, just fine."
Rolling up her sleeves, she began to sort through the closest stack of crates to take inventory. "Now, Prylar Delle if you will permit me to get started, there is much work to be done here."
Fleur Le Marc
Getting to Work
Takesian Plains, Bajor
NRPG: Hurricane Katrina happened three years ago this week (August 29th).
What has become of the survivors, and what happened to those who did not survive it, is something that still weighs on my mind. Daily. ~ZL
Getting to Work
Takesian Plains, Bajor
NRPG: Hurricane Katrina happened three years ago this week (August 29th).
What has become of the survivors, and what happened to those who did not survive it, is something that still weighs on my mind. Daily. ~ZL