Wings of Creation
“The smell of damp stone and earth seemed stronger for the lack of light. A thin ribbon of dull yellow limned the bottom of the door, barely enough to give form to Marcus’s and Kayleen’s bodies. Marcus had dragged one of the big black chairs from the war room into here, and he lay back in it. I leaned in close to him and whispered, “That’s a Marcus Chair.”
He laughed softly. “Shhhhh. Get ready.”
Folded blankets formed lumpy cushions for Kayleen and I. We sat side by side near Marcus’s head, lean...ing against the cool wall. My left hand found Kayleen’s right hand, and we each touched one of Marcus’s shoulders, forming a bridge to connect us all.
“Follow my breath,” Marcus whispered, his voice so low we barely heard him even in the silence of the cave room. My hand on him rose and fell as he breathed.
In time our breathing matched, long and slow, the out breath the same as the in breath, the sound a faint metronome.
We slowed further, falling into the deep patterns Marcus had taught me long ago, and I had taught Kayleen.MoreLess
He laughed softly. “Shhhhh. Get ready.”
Folded blankets formed lumpy cushions for Kayleen and I. We sat side by side near Marcus’s head, lean...ing against the cool wall. My left hand found Kayleen’s right hand, and we each touched one of Marcus’s shoulders, forming a bridge to connect us all.
“Follow my breath,” Marcus whispered, his voice so low we barely heard him even in the silence of the cave room. My hand on him rose and fell as he breathed.
In time our breathing matched, long and slow, the out breath the same as the in breath, the sound a faint metronome.
We slowed further, falling into the deep patterns Marcus had taught me long ago, and I had taught Kayleen.MoreLess
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