In the morning, the guides dealt out another meager meal of gruel, then everything was gathered up once more and the guides began their day's labor. Atha saw the guide who had helped her before working hard alongside the others to get the giant vehicle moving again. As she watched him and the other men trudge through the knee-high water, sweat soaking what was visible of their shirts, she found herself feeling guilty, again, for not knowing the secret to her immunity.
That night as she scraped the last of the gruel from her bowl, Atha wished she had taken Belon up on his offer back at the Pilgrim's Camp. Having a hardy meal before this long journey would have been nice. She had seen the little boy waving to her every now and then from the wagon-boat just ahead throughout the day. Atha had waved back, until his mother had called him away. Atha wondered if he was as bored as she was. While not having to work for a meal was a welcome change, having nothing to do to pass the time was proving to be difficult.
Ten more days passed. Atha was becoming more and more desperate for the soothing touch of the clear water that surrounded the caravan. Sleeping on the wooden planks beneath her was not much better than the ground. Every part of her ached, and no amount of standing or stretching helped.
Atha itched to throw herself over the side of the wagon-boat. She wanted to swim, actually swim, in the now waist-deep liquid. She gazed at the object of her desire day after day. But she knew that she had to be patient. Soon they would reach the half-way point of their journey, and from there, on to a better life.
On the twelfth day of the crossing, Atha stood at the front of the wagon-boat, once again staring at the water around her.
She looked up into the clear blue sky, wondering when it would rain again. It had only rained once during their journey so far. That had been a welcome reprieve from the monotony. A tiny white cloud hung in the sky. Certainly not enough for it to rain.
A sound brought her out of her reverie, causing her blood to run cold. A high-pitched scream, followed by a splash.
Atha's head snapped up, and her heart skipped a beat. She saw, beside the wagon-boat directly ahead of her own, a circle of disturbed water from whatever had fallen in. A second later a head and two small arms broke the surface.
"Belon!" Atha yelled, causing those around her that had somehow not heard the splash to turn and witness the tragedy. Belon's arms flailed and he screamed again, but then his head sunk back under once more. The water had become too deep for someone so little to stand in, and no one so young would know how to swim.
He would drown before the pain from the burning water could take him.
More screams echoed through the air. Belon's mother, Margaret, leaned out as far as she dared over the side of the wagon-boat, reaching out to her doomed child, her usual stern expression replaced by terror. The guides harnessed to both wagon-boats started struggling out of their restraints. But it would take too long for them to reach Belon, and then they would have to risk the burning water to get to him.
No.
Atha had to help him. Drowning was too dreadful of an end for him.
She quickly hoisted herself up and over the side of the wagon-boat, then dropped down into the water, careful not to splash the still struggling guides harnessed there. The water immediately soaked into her clothing, soothing all of her aching muscles. The guides and Pilgrims looking down from both wagon-boats started shouting at her, but she paid them no heed.
Her entire focus was on Belon.
Atha had misjudged how deep the water had become. What was waist high on the guides, who were all big, tall men, was almost up to Atha's armpits. She waded through the water, and quickly grabbed the child, bringing his head above the water. He gasped for air while expelling water at the same time. Blisters were already appearing on the skin, and he cried out again from the pain, clinging to Atha's arms as he floated in the deadly water.
"It's alright, it's alright, Belon," Atha said soothingly. But she knew that it wouldn't be. He had been completely covered in the burning water. Full-grown men had succumbed many times to full-body contact. All she could do was make his last moments as comfortable as possible. "I've got you," she said as reassuringly as possible, holding him close to her chest.
"My son, my son!" wailed the woman that was still leaning over the side of the wagon-boat. Atha looked up at her, mourning along with her. Then Atha marveled, and thought it a miracle that Belon had fallen in the way that he had. A foot to either side, and he would have been impaled on the spikes. All of his flailing had carried him away from the still moving wheels. But now they were coming to a halt, and a guide had finally extricated himself from his harness.
Atha was surprised to see that it was the same guide that had helped her before. He came up beside her, looking sadly at the little boy who would surely die. But now he was staring at her, with that same expression that Atha didn't know was fear or anger.
"Are you mad!?!" he asked incredulously, waving his arms at her, but being careful to keep them above the burning water.
Oh. He is definitely angry.
"Now you will be lost as well!"
"What was I supposed to do? Let him drown!?!" Atha retorted furiously.She didn't bother explaining to him that she coudln't be harmed by the water. She cradled the crying child close, feeling useless. Looking down at his small face, she saw two beads of water squeeze out of the corner of his eyes. What can I do? She lifted a hand and brushed it across his forehead, willing the water that dripped from her fingers not to harm him, but to help him, like it did for her.
But wait... it did do something. The water touched the skin, and the blisters started to recede. At least, until the water rolled off and began to dry, then the blisters returned. She looked at his neck, which had been under the water the entire time, and saw no blisters whatsoever. A memory came to the forefront of her mind, a memory that she had tried to forget for seven years. But now... maybe it was the answer.
"Belon? Belon, can you hear me?" Atha whispered.
"Yes, Atha," the little boy said weakly, opening his eyes and looking sadly up at her. She felt her heart break even more. He knew this was the end, too. But Atha had an idea and she had to try it. She had to do all that she could to save him.
"I'm going to try something, and I need your help to do it." She kept her voice low, trying to keep him as calm as possible. "Can you hold your breath for me? Take a deep breath, that's it. Now... I'm going to put you under the water, but I'll be holding onto you the whole time, alright? Like this." Atha moved her hands so that she had a firm grip on the front of his soaked shirt. "Now hold on to my wrists, that's right. Now, Belon, when you need to take another breath, you just squeeze my wrist and I'll bring you right back up. Give me a squeeze, that's it. Take another deep breath. Are you ready?" He nodded his little head. "I promise, I won't let go."
Then, she pushed him under the water, making sure that his whole body was immersed.
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