She awoke later in the night from the jarring annoyance of a heat flash. She shifted her weight, trying to expose more skin to cool off, then realized that the heat wasn’t coming from her. Ronon’s skin was even warmer than it had been before and her sweat was mingling with his as she warmed with him. She pulled his head into her lap as she sat up, stroking his hair once more as he slept fitfully. Dawn approached shortly after she awoke and when it was time to work in the fields once more she eased his sweaty cheek back onto the dirt, kissing his opposite cheek and whispering that she would be back with more food and water as soon as possible.

She followed the same routine as the day before except that this time she was able to sneak some of the fruit she was harvesting by slipping some under the fabric that covered her chest. She hastily ate her meal then, though she still had the bowl from the night before, cleaned and filled her new bowl with water, heading straight for the barracks. She pushed the door open with her foot then turned to face the end where she had left Ronon, dropping the bowl of water when she saw that he wasn’t there. She looked wildly around for a moment then crossed to where he had been. The narrow imprint of his side in the dirt and a few sand clumps of bloodstains were all that remained.

Her heart began to race as she looked about again. He surely couldn’t have moved on his own. Was it possible he had been taken somewhere to be treated? The thought was swiftly replaced with more dire possibilities as she shoved back through the door with a rush of adrenaline, her eyes scanning the people milling about. Several drivers were in the distance, once more smoking and chatting. She spied a teenaged girl carrying dirty dishes to the kitchen. Knowing that the slaves who prepared the food worked in the outdoor kitchen, witnessing much of what happened throughout the day, she returned to the barracks to grab her bowl.

She kept her stride casual as she strode up to the girl with her bowl. The girl gave her a small smile as she set her bowl down on the pile and Teyla smiled back then quietly asked, “Have you perchance seen what happened to the injured man who was in the barracks over there?” She marginally nodded her head towards her quarters.

The smile slipped from the girl’s face and her voice matched the whisper of Teyla’s. “The runaway?”

“Yes.”

The girl’s eyes glanced around as she gathered up her load of dishes again. “They took him this afternoon.”

“Where to?”

The girl furrowed her brow and looked away as she noticed a driver approaching with his plate. “To the river.”

Teyla shook her head a little. “Why would-”

“They dump all the dead slaves in the river so they don’t have to waste dirt on a burial.” With that the girl stepped past Teyla to receive the driver’s plate.

For a heartbeat Teyla couldn’t move as the girl’s words echoed through her mind then she turned on her heel and strode back to her empty barracks, sinking onto her knees in the dirt where Ronon once lay, digging her hands into the earth as her breathing quickened, struggling to wrap her mind around a world without her warrior. A tear clumped the dirt below her as she dug her fingernails deeper then let out an agonized banshee wail.

For a second she realized that her loud cries would attract unwanted attention but the thought was quickly forgotten as she pounded her thighs with her fists, struggling to breathe through the lung-crushing weight of her lament.

After a short while a pair of strong hands were on her shoulders and she turned to look behind her as a woman crouched beside her. Though they had never spoken, she knew the other woman’s face well for they shared their hours of servitude and sleep together. Yet Teyla had also memorized her face for another reason -- she was the mother of the child who had died a few weeks ago.

The brown eyes of the women met for a moment and Teyla studied the other’s face through her teary eyes. She guessed that they were around the same age yet the other woman’s shoulders bore the time-earned fortitude of hardship. She kept her hands on Teyla’s shoulders as she spoke and her voice was low yet soothing. “It will pass.” Teyla’s eyes searched hers as she hiccoughed from her tears. The woman continued, her angel bow lips curling in the tiniest encouraging smile. “You will survive and live long for the both of you.”

The other woman pulled Teyla into a hug as the Athosian let out a strangled sob. She clung to the woman whose name she didn’t even know as she wept uncontrollably while the other rubbed her back, humming softly.

When sand coarsely brushed his bare toes he pressed the ball of his foot against it, hauling his flaming and quaking torso onto the rocks and grasses of the riverbank. He heaved a lungful of air, his nose filled with the scent of clay and riparian leaves as he tried to yank himself further upon the shore but only managed to move a few more inches. His head swam and his vision spun but as his pulse slowed the world seemed to quiet.

He lifted his head to look around but night had fallen and all he could see were the silver-bathed blades of grass bordering the bank. His back throbbed with each beat of his heart and a warmth trickled down his sides as his wounds continued to seep and bleed, struggling to heal. He lay his cheek back down on the pebbles, tilting his head at the call of a night bird. The gentle evening breeze kissed his wet skin, chilling away the heat. He stilled his gaze when he caught sight of the star-strewn sky through the gently swaying canopy of leaves. The silent white of the ancient lights was the last he saw before his body shuddered and went limp once more.

Branded Heart

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