Chapter 4: Unsolicited

It felt like an awfully long time before she became aware, slowly, of the warmth of fingertips at her throat. They pressed, gently, and then were gone; then brushed against the tip of her nose and hovered above her lips. Her eyes snapped open suddenly, and she met the startled gaze of Edward Skweyiya. She was surprised to see his eyes were an odd assortment of brown and hazel, as they widened in the shock of contact. He jerked his hand back and spoke deliberately, ‘‘I was checking for your pulse, and to be sure that you were breathing, Miss Matiwane. Forgive me; I have startled you, and you are clearly unwell.’’ 

‘‘Oh,’’ she gasped breathlessly, ‘‘Oh, it’s you...’’ she winced, clutching her head and sitting upright, ever so cautiously. ‘‘I thought I heard...something...’’ she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Embarrassment could not begin to describe her emotions, and she pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly. He made no movement to steady her, she noted with a grim smile- just as well, the man looked more uncomfortable than she felt, twisting his lips into a mien of uncertainty. It suddenly made her furious, that this man, of all men, had intruded upon her at the very moment of weakness in which she would not wish to be seen by her closest friend.

‘‘Why are you here?’’ she demanded of him, straightening herself to the best of her ability. The corners of her vision were still dotted with flecks of dark colour, and she grimaced as it occurred to her that she would not be able to entirely walk the long distance back home without his assistance.

He raised his brows at her, discomfort cascading from his posture with little effort. ‘‘I have as much right to be here as you,’’ he replied pointedly, and turned to face into the rushing air. ‘‘It is this damnable Northern Surge,’’ he muttered, scowling at the open expanse of country laid before him.

‘‘What do you mean?’’ she enquired, coming to stand beside him. She wobbled as she drew near, cursing silently as her companion sighed in exasperation. ‘‘Don’t be ridiculous, Liziwe, there’s no need to stand on ceremony- here.’’ And with that he seized her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow while he stuffed both of his own hands into his pockets.

‘‘Mr Skweyiya, this is indecorous,’’ hissed Liziwe, staring daggers at him; but he barely spared her a peek. ‘‘It doesn’t seem as you’ve any other choice, have you? You can scarcely stand; let alone walk.’’

‘‘But I have not given you consent to use my Christian name!’’ she spat, more riled at the seeming helplessness of her condition than at him, her would-be rescuer.

‘‘Yes, well,’’ he smiled, ‘‘One does tend to take liberties,’’

‘‘You expect me to call you Edward? Or Nkosekhaya?’’ she shrilled incredulously.

‘‘The Northern Surge,’’ he spoke unhurriedly over her, ‘‘is supposedly a terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the undeserving and plucks them from the Earth...’’ He paused, as if remembering something from long ago, before glancing at her with a crooked smile. ‘‘A bedtime story, my brother used to tell me in the dark as children…Was the Northern Surge speaking to you, Miss Matiwane?’’ She turned, ready to accost him for speaking of her episode with such demeaning implications- she was not a child, nor a mere woman- but as she met his eyes for the second time, she was struck by the sincerity of his gaze. It caused a great pang to run through her- and she was not entirely sure what it meant.

‘‘You never said why you were here.’’ she said instead, averting her eyes from the scrutiny of his glare. Always, she felt that he could see her every movement, every motion of her inner workings- and she would keep those to herself as long as she was able.

‘‘Is it a crime to take a walk? Enjoy the forest air and all that nonsense?’’ he rejoined, looking back at the woodland. ‘‘Come; the light is beginning to fade, and your familiarity with the land is of no use to me when you are not in full working order.’’ he said briskly, tugging at her to move alongside him. ‘‘Besides, there’s a dead rodent just up that bit of hill that looks as if it’s been savaged by another wild creature, and I want a better look.’’ She sighed, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she said, ‘‘It was most likely a martial eagle, they are common in these parts.’’ Then, biting her lip and averting her glance, she spoke in a low voice, ‘‘I will accept your help…Edward. Thank you.’’

‘‘The pleasure is all mine, Miss Matiwane,’’ he smirked, and together they picked their way through the gnarled prairie and overturned stones, back along the scarce, muddy track. As their forms retreated, the little folk eyed them and tittered behind their hands, tucked away, as they were, in the secret of Gwadana.