[Memory of Trees]

"Emerisse of Gondor, I thank you for your offer of help in attending to Saeryn, but I will now watch over her. I am, from old days, myself a healer and can perhaps do something for her. It might as well be best if those faces she had most recently seen were those nearest her," the innkeep - Bethberry, the called her - said gently. Nodding, Risse bowed and withdrew to the Great Hall, where she was served dinner and weak ale.

But Risse found it hard to eat. Seeing the hurt and confusion in the young woman's face had stirred the healer in her, a part of herself Risse hadn't thought of in a long time. Again, the voice spoke sharply in her mind, No. Don't think of that. It was too long ago. Finding it easier to listen to the whispers in her head than face the memories, Risse tried to concentrate on the plate of steaming food before her.

As she ate, her attention strayed around the room, studying one stranger and then the next. As her eyes wandered, Risse's gaze was arrested by the old man sitting at the table next to hers. He was turned away from her, and seemed to be searching the floor for something. She watched him as he slowly turned, his fingers brushing every inch of the floor around him without success. As he turned, Risse met his eyes.

Deep, deep blue, the color of sea, the color of sky. Sightless, unfocused eyes of flaming indigo burned into her skull, pulling out the memories she had tried for so long to repress. They came unbidden, ly and painfully clear. So long. So long since I saw eyes that stopped me in my tracks. Blue eyes. Indigo.

The panic rose in her throat to find the memory as raw and fresh and painful as the day it had happened. You would think time would heal, she thought bitterly. Why can't I let go? She closed her eyes until the tears and the roaring in her ears receded.

Risse stood and faced the man, who was still searching the bare floorboards. Gently, she placed a smooth white hand on the old man's shoulder. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked Erik.