Chapter Text
Talla is tired. Exhaustion clings to her bones like the snow on the steep sides of the mountain.
She doesn't want to say anything though.
She doesn't want to burden Mama. She doesn't have a Papa and that's hard on Mama. She doesn't want to make it harder.
Mama looks sad a lot. But lately it's been more.
Talla thinks it's cause of Kotallo, the Story Man. Mama hasn't let her talk to him since last week. And she knows Mama hasn't been talking to him much either. She had suggested that Mama kiss him to make him feel better. Mama's kisses always made her feel better. She thought it would help. But then Mama had been upset and now they're not talking. And they must be upset with each other.
But this hadn't happened until she'd said something.
Which really means it's her fault.
She doesn't want to be the reason Mama's sad. Or Kotallo.
And she wants to talk to her Story Man again. He's really nice.
She waits until Mama's asleep and slips out of bed. She knows how to be quiet as her feet pad over the boards in the cabin.
She clutches the doll from Uncle Teb in her arm, the one with the red hair and green painted stones for eyes. It looks like Mama so even when she doesn't want to scramble over to the other room and the other bed, Mama is with her in the night.
Breathing feels sticky. But she can't cough. That would wake Mama. She needs to be quiet.
She pulls out some sketching supplies. A little book and some charcoal pencils. Another gift from Uncle Teb.
It was a while ago now since Mama showed her the pictures. Her aunties and uncles. And Kotallo.
Auntie B visited somewhat regularly. Auntie Zo had come by a couple times with Vala. Auntie Alva lived far away so she'd never gotten to meet her. She'd met Uncle Bear and Mama had told her to call him something else. But he said it was ok.
There were two others in the pictures, and both of them made Mama sad. Uncle Varl, who she knew wasn't around anymore. And Kotallo.
Kotallo isn't one of her uncles, Mama has made that very clear, though Talla still doesn't understand why.
She tries to hold the image of him in her mind and with the rough lines of a child, she draws her Story Man. She draws Kotallo.
She's yawning and blinking hard and heavy when she finishes and she's mostly happy with the results.
She takes her drawing and tucks it away beneath her pillow.
Now she has Story Man with her in the night too.
She wakes the next morning to the typical grey whiteness leaking through the window and she lays there staring at the ceiling until Mama comes to get her. She's so tired, she doesn't want to move until Mama makes an offer she can't possibly ignore.
"Talla, how would you like to go up the mountain?" Mama asks, her voice sunny in a way it hasn't been recently.
Talla sits upright at once, the offer for time with Mama in that place that's theirs and no one else's. She can't say no to that. And she won't miss out on that for anything.
She confirms that Mama really means it, twice. And then she's getting herself out of her tangle of blankets.
Mama presses a kiss to her brow. But then she's pulling away and pressing a hand against Talla's brow.
Talla doesn't like the way Mama's brow is pinching. Like she's worried about something. Again.
'Ok?' she signs, needing Mama to be okay. Needing to know she hasn't caused Mama more grief.
Mama smiles at her and tells her she's fine. "Just thinking about how much I love you, is all."
Talla is up like a rocket then, ready to get on the day, so they can prepare for tomorrow, to go up the mountain.
She trails after her Mama, helping to pick out items from the market, ignoring the whole way how all the voices are almost too much and weighing down her already heavy arms and legs. But, she has to be okay. She'll push through anything to have time with her Mama. To not cause problems.
She even picks out some furs for a cloak to keep her warm. It will help with the chill that is almost as present in her bones as the ache.
She falls asleep in Mama's lap at the back of Uncle Teb's stall. She feels warmer now, nestled against her Mama and under the cloak that Uncle Teb had stitched together. Much warmer.
When she wakes again, she's blinking her eyes open to another morning on the mountain and Mama calling her name loudly.
She's too warm now, sweaty beneath her pile of blankets and she hurts. Where yesterday, it was an ache, now it is a fire. And her breath feels wrong. She curls in on herself, trying to protect against a pain that is inside.
She's still too warm, but now also too cold as the blankets are pushed away.
She opens her eyes and blinks. Mama is there, though she's wavy, unfocused.
"Mama?" Talla asks, her voice croaking even to her own ears.
"Talla, what—"
"M'fine." She tries to say, but the words can't come out of her mouth clearly.
And she's still so tired. She shivers and her eyes close again. She needs to be fine. She needs to not worry Mama.
"You're burning up," Mama says, her voice a sharp whisper growing closer as Talla is gently lifted into her lap, "You're not fine, Talla."
Talla can't make herself talk loudly but she has to get the words out. "I'm ok. Don't worry Mama."
"You're not—" Mama starts and stops.
And Talla feels wretched. They were going to go up the mountain. They were going to spend time together just the two of them, and Talla was going to make Mama happy again. And figure out how to get her to talk to Kotallo.
The tears leak out of her eyes and drop onto her Mama doll and Mama herself, and her pillow where she's hidden her drawing of her Story Man.
"I'm sorry, Mama, I'm sorry I'm a burden." She cries into Mama's chest.
She feels Mama sob beneath her cheek and she whimpers and heaves her own tears.
"No, Talla," Mama cries, her voice that odd sort of strained that Talla has taken to mean she's scared, and she's crushed harder in her Mama's embrace. "No, Talla, you aren't a burden. Why would you—"
Suddenly, everything is too much. It's too much to keep in, if she even had the energy to do so.
Her voice wavers over the apologies as she says them, "I'm sorry you're so tired. I'm sorry I'm a burden. I'm sorry I made—" Her voice hiccups with her tears, "I'm sorry I made Kotallo upset. I'm sorry Mama."
Mama tries to quiet her distress, "You didn't—" but the words stop and she doesn't know what Mama thinks she didn't do.
Talla is struggling to breathe, her tears only thickening the feeling in her throat and the itch in her lungs. She coughs until she's gasping for breath and she grabs onto her Mama with white knuckled fingers.
"It hurts," She whimpers.
Mama gathers her fully into her arms and holds onto her impossibly tighter. "It's going to be okay. It's gonna be alright, ok scrapper? It's gonna be ok."
The world wobbles and spins slightly as Mama stands up, and Talla can't keep her head up anymore; she slumps against Mama's shoulder.
She barely hears Mama give her another assurance.
But she overcomes the desperate desire to sleep as she's taken outside, the cold air blasting against her uncovered face. It would be a refreshing feeling if it wasn't another sensation among the many already assaulting her.
Mama sits with her outside for a long while, until the cold is almost comfortable again and then takes her back inside and makes her tea.
The tea is hard to swallow, but it helps helps the scratchy feeling down her throat.
Then Mama is shuffling her into a bath. And taking her outside again. And then more tea.
She's still too cold and too sweaty and everything still hurts, down deep to her bones. She doesn't even have the energy to feel bad about how she's making Mama worry beyond a distant thought that drifts away as soon as it comes to mind.
Mama puts her back in bed and sits next to her, keeping watch.
The last thought she registers before she falls asleep is that she wants Mama and Kotallo to be friends again. And then maybe Mama will not be alone. She'll have someone to share the burden with.
She's not entirely sure why she knows that deep in her bones.