We heal, slowly but surely. Zia says it may take another week for my brother to be able to use his arm, since my father's arrow cut into a nerve. My leg is fine, though it does hurt to walk on. My father attacked his own flesh and blood...he is an honorless coward, and for that I am truly sorry I did not kill him where he stood.
But for some reason, I was afraid when I saw him. Not fear of him, but fear as a general sensation. Fighting him was difficult...as if something didn't want a blow to land. I spoke to Zia, and she says it may just be the peaceful intent of the spirits dwelling here..But that doesn't make any sense and she knows it. I know what she wants to say. I know she wants to blame it on the creature in that story.
My sister, Chumana, says that she dreamed of this thing last night, but that she felt no fear, only welcome. I always knew telling stories in the darkness made thoughts run wild. Just not that wild..