Tula was formerly an emergency physician. Now, she travels doing medical care in the more rural clans. Very little surprises her.

“I saw him during- during whatever happened,” I confess. My face heats up alongside my hands.

Her eyes bug, and she blinks.

“There was so much wind, the floor was shaking, and I thought you and Papa could be hurt, but then he showed up in the middle of it all. “

Tula’s hand in mine lets out a hiss of steam, her ability to form water soothing away my flames.

“Just the facts, little bird.” She insists.

“Right.” Years of training under Tula made my back straighten and my mind clear through the anxiety. Just the facts: you can’t get help if you’re hysterical.

“Something was going on. It felt like a storm or an earthquake. That’s how my room got ruined. “I  move the blanket closer.

“His name is Toren.  He showed up in my room during the worst of it.”

Tula pulls out her healer’s kit to check me over as I talk. “So, he was the one causing it all?’

I shake my head. “He was as confused as I was. I told him my name, but he was afraid. He thought I’d brought him here to me. The twisters were me, but the earthquakes…”

“You’ve never displayed ground gifts,” Tula mutters, rummaging in the gray oblong box. She pulls out a stethoscope. “Move your Gin-Dori, please.”

I push aside the pendant hanging on the thin gold chain, a piece of glass in the same swirls as the river our Clan, Riverbend, is named for. The necklace I was given at birth is now a foreign weight around my neck since it began to softly pulsate this morning, like a second heartbeat accompanying mine.   

“Tula, what’s wrong with me? I know I didn’t imagine it, but-”

“Is there anything else you can remember?” She asks, neatly sidestepping the question. I jump when the cold head of the stethoscope presses into my chest.

“He said he’s been seeing me everywhere.” She slides the chest piece over to a different spot.

“Have you seen him before today? Deep breath now.” I oblige, then let it out slowly before answering. She’s not going to like this.

“I’ve been drawing him…more often.” Understatement of the century. I was up half the night making sixty-three different sketches. “How much is more often?” She takes my wrist, pressing her thumb in the center, and counts under her breath.

“A few nights work.” Being vague isn’t a direct lie.

She stares hard at me, mouth drawn in a firm line. “You know better than to hold back facts from your physician. I’m offering medical attention, which makes me the attending. So, what aren’t you telling me, Zara?”

I think back to this morning when I first got up. I woke up from a dream covered in a cold sweat, heart pounding, and on the verge of puking. My hair stuck to the back of my neck when I scrambled out of bed. My legs were shaking, and I tried to catch myself on the bedside table, missing by inches and bruising my knees in the process.

And then I started drawing again.

“Something is different.” I begin. She frowns at her hand and then reaches into her med kit again. This time, she pulls out the pulse tracker, a navy slap bracelet that she wraps around my wrist and presses the button, letting it check my pulse rate and oxygen flow. “How come you’re rechecking my pulse?” Tula could check my vitals in her sleep; something must be off for her to pull the tools out.

“I wanted to be sure I was getting the correct rate.” She shrugs, and this is no less alarming. “Say Ah.”

“Ahhh-“I stick out my tongue while she checks my throat and holds the thermometer to my temple. “You’ve got a fever too.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. “I didn’t know that me not feeling well would turn into this.”

“Sick or no, tired or no, you must be prepared, Zara. Always.”  In my Clan, children as young as three begin to learn self-defense to protect themselves from the real monsters that go bump in the night. “A coanje won’t care if you’re off your game or coughing with a chest cold. We’ll talk more later.” 

She scolds me a bit longer, but I’m tucked in and fed broth before being left to rest. After a nap, I wake up cold and nauseous. I take a hot bath, then try some easy stretches to loosen up.  They don’t do much good, I’m still tired and push up’s don’t work on my noodle arms right now. Instead, I flop over and watch the window make shapes out of the setting sunlight.

Toren. You’ve messed up my head.

I’m still on the rug when Tula comes in with a mug of cocoa and a bowl of soup. Something is weighing on me. It has been since I saw Toren earlier.

“Out with it.” She says, setting up the dinner tray.

“I’m different today,” I say. Since day one, I have been my father’s mini-me. I am his carbon copy, from the wiry black curls that refuse to be tamed to the too-round face and sharp chin. I’ve got his button nose, his ridiculously long feet, and the Rueben death stare that makes a grown man squirm. But something has changed; there’s something new there, too.

 “And my mate is different. He’s not like my old drawings Tula. I think he’s hurting.” Without permission my hand going to my Gin-Dori.. I tug it from underneath my collar and let the pendant lay in my palm. The river's colors glow faintly, with green, gray, and blue hues. “And when I woke up this morning? Before this all happened, my Gin Dori was alive,” I admit. Her eyes smile, though her mouth does not move. Together, we watch it beat.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. My heartbeat syncs up with its pace.

“That counts as holding back the facts,” Tula tells me.

“It- I didn’t think it was supposed to hurt. No one ever said it hurts,” I say. She tilts her head and watches me and my necklace. “For a little while, it did. But when he was here, all of that went away. Tula, I was so- everything was so empty. And now, suddenly, it isn’t.” Tula smooths my hair.

“I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a case like yours. But I know this: The journey to the one you are meant to be with differs for us all.” Tula reminds me. “But rarely is it painless. Deep feelings, different experiences. That is what Bonds you together. That is why we call this your Bond mate.”

Her words serve their purpose, reassures the idea I wouldn’t let myself hold onto for too long.

“Today. I was feeling his gifts, seeing him. We- we’re connected now. Maybe.” She says nothing, but her eyes are shining. “My gifts are acting weird, and the drawing and the feelings- And my Gin Dori!  It’s woken up.” My chest feels tight, like my lungs can’t expand fast enough.

Tula smiles now, and I swear I can see a tear, but I think her stubbornness pushes it back behind her eyes. “Meaning what, Youngling?” I smile back. In fact, I’m grinning like an idiot.  The earlier fear is forgotten, excitement is taking hold.

“I’m ready to take the journey, my Gin Hai!”

For years, I’ve prepared for this, as members of the Clans do. Of course, I felt torn; of course, it was confusing. I didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, but I would soon. The other half of my soul is out there, and now, we are ready to find each other.