sequel to Given Away

  Nothing. Nothing else can hurt this much. Nothing can fill my emptiness. My body threatens to collapse on itself. Nothing hurts. Nothing is excluded from this pain. It is all the same. Hunger forces me to my feet. I reach into my pack and pull out a chunk of bread. I chew without tasting, but the ache inside grows. Mindlessly, I stumble down the rough path along the cliff’s edge…   I can’t find the Gift-Giver. I never found the Gift-Giver. He found me.   I stumble through foggy dreams, awake yet unseeing. Something rears up through the mist, huge and solid. A rope with a huge knot on one end, the other stretching up to the clouds. I’ve come home. I straddle the knot, letting gravity shove me down the slop till I swing over the sheer drop, the path to my village. It brings back memories, painful thoughts that stab the emptiness between my shoulders. Glancing down, I see the vale dotted with cottages, the homes of my parents, my aunts, my uncles and my cousins. Their voices drift up to my ears. “Is that Azhure?” “Thought she was dead…” “…crazy, always said so.” “Are you sure?” “No one else…Great-Aunt Dazie’s tree swing…” But no one comes up the path to welcome me.   Rain and sun. Fog and clear. Cold and hot. It makes no difference; I remain here, swinging over this valley. Maybe I died on that cliff, died at the Thief’s touch, and am only a ghost. But one day, someone walks up and grabs the rope.   I spin like a waterwheel for several minutes, but my vision clears to reveal an elderly woman in a travel-strained green cloak. Wisps of white hair peep out beneath her hood and sprinkle her cloak. “So, you’re my ‘crazy’ niece.” “Aunt Dazie?” I exclaim as I tumble off the swing. “That’s a nickname. My name is actually Danse, but I like Dazie.” She winks at me. “It rhymes with ‘crazy,’ after all. And they certainly thought I was crazy, talking about the Gift-Giver all day long.” I stare at her. “Dazie…what…” “What did I want?” She answers. “I wanted my family to believe me. I wanted them to understand. But the Gift-Giver showed me a better way. He told me to explain it to them, instead of waiting for an answer.” “I asked for wings.” Sparks of emotion crack my empty shell. Tears drip down my cheeks. “Wings…” The story spills out. The long search…being found…the Thief…the little boy with huge wings…empty. Empty. Dazie hugs me. “Oh, Azhure…” “Is this how his Gifts end? A ‘crazy’ aunt and a broken girl?” I spit on the ground. “What are you asking me?” Dazie raises an eyebrow. “How can he—can he really—was I wrong?” Words I had not meant to say spill out. “Is he angry with me? I loved the Gift, I really did, but the boy—“ “You think he can only give once?” Dazie shakes her head. “No, his gifts are unlimited. You won’t get the same one back, of course, but he’ll give you something even better. You just have to ask, Azhure.” “How do I do that?” “Seek him. Be open to his ways.” “But he found me the last time.” “You need to be lost before you can be found. I’ll go with you, and we’ll be lost together.” “And then…we’ll be found.” I grinned.