CHAPTER 78

The sausages arrived with a side of bacon and some toast. Sofia set them down on the table, then handed over a knife and fork.

"Thought you might want something other than just meat, but let me know. I can make whatever."

"Are you the chef or something?" she asked while taking the utensils.

Ratu smirked, and Sofia shrugged.

"I like to be useful. Unlike some people here, I enjoy spending time with everyone, and love to cook. The Library gets lonely."

The Library.

There was a sudden flash of a memory, but it faded away before it could leave a mark. She looked down at her plate and picked up her fork.

Oh well. It was better to be confused on a full stomach. The toast was fine, but the sausage was absolutely exquisite, and when she bit into the bacon, she let out a small purr of delight. The others watched her for a few seconds, and then Sofia offered to make her some more since she seemed so hungry. She nodded, and held up her plate for the cyclops to take.

When Sofia came back a bit later, she had doubled the amount of sausage and bacon on the plate.

"Eat your fill," she said. "We've got plenty."

"Eat your fill, kisa." The old man slid a bowl of soup across the table to her. Her hands were tiny, and her arms shook when she pulled the bowl closer to herself. The over-sized coat she wore was still wet from the snow, and small puddles had formed beneath her elbows on the table. "I've got plenty."

The memory startled her, and she dropped the piece of bacon she had been holding. The others were deep in conversation about something else now, and she picked up a sausage, holding the greasy roll of meat in between her fingers.

Who was that old man? Did he know who she was? She wasn't able to ponder these questions for long when she heard a loud bang from the front of the house. Everyone at the table stood up and ran, and she couldn't help but follow out of curiosity.

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Mike groaned as Zel cleaned away the dry blood on the back of his head. He sat on a table in her yurt, and she was now using tweezers to check his wound. Last night, he had faded in and out of consciousness as the centaurs rushed him to their camp for medical treatment. When he woke up this morning, it was to discover that his head was bandaged so heavily that he had worried that he had died and been mummified, only to awaken years later now that there was a new Caretaker.

It was a silly thought, but he knew he had a concussion and figured it was just par for the course.

"Hmm, interesting," Zel muttered from behind him. He waited, in the hopes that she would say more.

She didn't.

"What?" he finally asked her. "Is my brain hanging out? If so, it serves me right. Try and push only the smart part back in, please."

"Does this hurt?" She did something and he winced as a sharp pain shot through his skull, then faded.

"A bit, but not too bad. What is...oh?" Zel's hand appeared in front of his face holding a twisted wire. "What is that?"

"Those are your stitches. I had to take them out." She moved in front of him and wiped some blood off her hands with a towel, then tossed it into a basket.

"Why? Is something wrong?" He reached a hand back to feel the wound, then thought better of it.

"On the contrary. You had a fairly deep gash back there last night and I used stitches to close it up. This morning, the gash is raw and scabbed over, but it's superficial and doesn't need to be held together any longer." The centaur frowned. "I could have sworn it was worse last night."

"What about my head though? It still hurts like a bitch." He pointed at his temples. "It feels like there's a bag of broken glass behind my eyes."

"Considering you mouthed off to the faerie queen, you're lucky you still have those eyes." Zel shuddered. "I'm just glad you came back in one piece."

"Me too. Do I need these anymore?" He held up some fresh bandages.

"No. I just have some stuff I want to put on there to prevent infections, so don't take a bath as soon as you get back. Wait until this evening."

"Okay." He set the bandages down and looked at the floor. How did he even ask his next question? "Um, how is... Quetzalli? Is she okay?"

The centaur smiled. "That's something you are going to have to see for yourself. I don't even know where to begin."

That was an odd answer, but he accepted it.

After a few more minutes of medical care, Zel released him and he hopped down off the table with a little help from her. They stepped out of the yurt together and he squinted at the cloudy sky, his eyes struggling to adjust.

They walked for a little bit, chatting about nothing in particular, then arrived at the center of camp. The centaurs milled about, ready to perform their daily tasks, and Mike didn't even have to ask where Quetzalli was.

A small basket had been turned upside down to create a stool for the woman, and she sat on it now, surrounded by a small crowd of youngsters. Once they were close enough, he could hear her speaking to them, her voice rich with a Spanish accent.

"...and when Huitzilopochtli defeated his brothers, he cast them into the sky where they became the stars!" Quetzalli dramatically threw a handful of dirt above the youngsters, who let out screams of laughter and then bolted out from underneath the debris. The dragon laughed along with them until her dark, purple eyes met his. The centaur children saw Mike coming and departed, suddenly doing their best to look busy.