The funny thing about memories is that they are timeless. Afterward, Vanessa could not have told anyone whether it took a second or an hour for the memory to fill her mind, for her to relive it before it faded back into her past where it must have belonged all this time. 

                She stood with her mother on a craggy coastal shore. The cold wind blew across her neck, wisping tendrils of hair brushing her shoulders. The pebbles were smooth beneath her leather sandals. She held her mother’s hand. A red backed crab skittered by crossing an open space between boulders off to her right unnoticed or unheeded by the big people surrounding her. Her mother’s hand was warm, wet and sticky.

                The big people were speaking but she wanted to chase that red backed crab.  She looked up at her mother; impulsively her mother’s hand tightened its grip around her own. Her mother was crying- tears slid down the parts of her mother’s face that were visible to her down there at her knee. The tears streaked the mud on her mother’s cheeks. She wondered why her mother was so sad and why she did not wash her face like she had told Van to each morning of her life.

                “What will it be like?” Her mother asked suddenly, interrupting the other who was speaking at that moment.

                A familiar voice answered her.

                “Think of it as a ship going out to sea for a long voyage. You will wish her good passage; say your farewells knowing that one day she will return to these shores.”

                “And- and what of me?”

                “It is as you will, my lady, as it always has been.”

                “I will fight until my dying breath.” The big people stirred around her, there was a sound of steel sliding free of scabbards. Then many of the big people surrounding her and her mother knelt. Each of them held up a sword in front of them, by the blades. They held the swords towards her, her mother as if to hand them to her. Her mother’s hand shook but she held on to it. The other speaker stood some feet in front of them, he looked so familiar but her young mind could not place him.

                “The guardians will Sheppard your soul should it come to that.” The familiar voice spoke.

                “What will it cost her?”

                “Cost? There was never any cost, milady.”

                “Thank you.”

                 Her mother turned then and she looked up into her mother’s tear-streaked face.  Her mother’s eyes were a deep sky blue. Her mother let go of her hand and knelt so that they were almost nose to nose. Her mother swallowed and started to cry again but choked it back. She cleared her throat then laid either of her hands on Vanessa’s shoulders.

                Listen to me now, you must go with this man, my heart, my love. This man will protect you until you can return to us, to me- the Father willing.”

                “Yes.” She heard a small voice say. “Yes momma.” She began to cry and her mother gathered her into her arms in a warm tight embrace.

                “Good bye, my heart, - my child, may the guardians keep you safe until we can meet again.”

               

Her mother picked her up and carried her forward to place her in the arms of the familiar man. Vanessa threw her arms around the man’s neck. She looked back at her mother from the man arms. Her mother’s armor and tunic were stained with dark colors. She seemed to stagger slightly under her daughter’s gaze.

                “You need healing, my Queen.” The man said.

                “Will it hurt?” Her mother asked as she readied herself for what was to come.

                “Healing hurts.” The man answered matter of fact like. He took a deep breath and spoke a word.

The world around her shimmered like a pebble dropped into a deep dark well. The pain left her mother’s face as she shivered at the shock of what happened to her body and she cried out.  Then the world came back together and her mother smiled. Then with a nod at the man she waved to her daughter.

                She was not certain that the man had moved but suddenly her mother was out of reach and receding as she waved to her daughter. As the gap grew between them, she saw the other people still kneeling, still holding out their swords to her mother surrounding her like a wagon wheel with her mother as its axle. Her last sight of her mother was so beautiful that words escaped her comprehension. So she turned to look over the man’s shoulder at the sea surrounding the boat in which he stood as it rowed out into the morning mists.