For a brief space of time – a few breaths, drawn and rattling – nothing answered my voice. Fear sparked life into nerve endings otherwise dead, and shuddering upright I stared into the dark. The trees filtered starlight so effectively my glassy eyes could only strain; they picked out the vague silhouettes of trees, the misshapen darker shadows of undergrowth. Any of it could be a predator, another shadow… My fear was answered, seconds later, by an outline: horse, and glowing eyes – all wrong, hanging near the rump and not the head. I stepped back, toes skimming the ground. It was a moment of fear – a heart beat, hard, against the inner curve of my ribs – and then the apparition spoke.

He was no scholar – that I gathered from the coarse noise of his voice. His presence was still welcome; relief overcame me, sucking away all the kinetic tang of adrenaline, and with a sigh I allowed my heavy head to fall. The illness bubbled up then, choking, and my body shook with the cough as it drowned out the stranger’s next words. Something about germs – perhaps he was more knowledgeable than he sounded. With a snort, I finished and peered at him, head tilted. He was little more than vague darkness, but the slim curve of two horns drew my eye above the thicker shadow of his body. And the eyes – yes, glowing, but green. It was some little animal upon his back – like a dragon, maybe. It was not the monster I expected; only that mattered. I was left with processing his words, though why I bothered, I am not sure – I was dying, and content with that a few moments before. How terrible the allure of company often proved.

”Do you want the rest of them coughing, too?” I wondered aloud. The words shook free another pathetic bark of air, and sagging, I moved surreptitiously to lean my side against a nearby tree. It was the only rebuke I could offer; I would not say anything closer to no -- could not afford to. Committed as I had been to my fate, I felt pitiful dying in the presence of so cheerful a beast. I simply didn’t have the strength of will for such a feat.

”It doesn’t matter to me,” I added, quietly. At the moment, it certainly did not, though were I to survive and see others brought low by contagion, I would likely regret the words. But I was too exhausted to care. I nodded my head, briefly, and as an experiment took a step away from the tree. ”But I can only walk slowly.” I was prepared, then, to put myself in the care of this stranger. I had no choice; my world was slowly closing down to the mere desultory terms of existence: breathe, eat, sleep – all soon beyond my limited capability. So I had resigned – but something caught my ears after the last, some muffled noise of air in the trees beyond, and with a startled interest I turned, eyes catching only the dimmest flash of gold.

It was gone in an instant, and I wondered if perhaps the image was a mere hallucination – something brought on by exhaustion, or by hunger. I could do little but stare; the other unicorn would think me mad, but it was better he thought it now than later, when I proved the fact in other ways… A thick wash of air filled my lungs, but my sense of smell had gone, become a dismal wreck; it only rattled sadly. Is nothing there? But something moved beyond, through the trees: hooves, and a noise like song. It trembled in me, defying the memories I had held for so long – blacker memories, dark things. I knew the dragon’s voice before I saw her, but I did not dare believe…

”Evangeline.” It was not a question; I would know her anywhere. Even in the darkness she was autumn and white, fire like the falling of leaves. It may be dim, but it was not the shadow I always expected her to be, when I saw her again… My heart rattled like a thing diseased (appropriate) and hesitantly, I stepped toward her. Parts of my cognition struggled to keep up with the reality; I knew it was she, and yet I could not believe -- where had she come from? Why? Years alone and she was here all along, whole and well? Gods – my legs trembled like the bones were beginning to melt.

”How?” It was the only question left, the only thing turning my thoughts – the other stranger forgotten. I could accept any measure of suffering, could write off all the time wasted in walking, if she would but answer it – and tell me she was not a dream.

Gods, not again.