Shield

The bullets were gone. So was the medicine.

“I’m too small,” my daughter complained. “I can’t go. I’m just a girl.”

“Your mind is a rifle,” I said, my skin clammy. “Your skin, a shield. Your bones, armor.”

“What good are mind and skin and bones 'gainst a bear that wants meat? ’Gainst snow that snatches warmth with a touch? ’Gainst men who crave both flesh and warmth?

“Books made you think you’re civilized. You’re not. You’re a girl, a human, a beast. As much as the bear with its strength and claws and teeth. The eagle’s flight, vision, talons, and beak. The cat with its stealth. The frog, lover of water and earth, and its tongue, and its leaps. All beasts have their powers, but none as powerful as yours, my girl. Your wits conquer all. They make you more vicious than any other creature.”

“I’ve never gone to town alone,” she said. “A full day’s walk in knee-deep snow. A night alone in the forest....The light dies so early in winter. And the night lasts so long.”

I awkwardly unwound the dressing on my thigh to explain. The pus bubbled a gross green around the wound, a clear message. Help, or I would not live long.

“My love,” I said. “I would not ask this, but at present, I see no options. Though I won't make you, and I won't lie to you. There is danger in the journey. But I wouldn't ask this, if you were not who you are. The young woman you’ve become. You are fierce, sweet pea, like a winter storm. You are a force of nature. Had you a different disposition, with a weak piece to you, I would not let you go.”

She looked at me, fiery and resolute, tempered by my words. My God, I could see her mother so clearly.

She nodded.

“At the wharf there's a place called ‘The Galley,’ owned by a man named Stones. He will give you food and water, and help you procure the medicine I need. Have him come back with you, with more supplies than you can carry. Ask for him by name and tell him I’m your father. As a test of identity, ask him what got caught in our netting off the coast of Greenland?”

“What’s he s’posed to say?”

“A baby seal. White as clouds. We pulled it up and let it out. Fed it some fish and let it play around the deck awhile, then slipped it back in the water. It weren't old enough yet to be wary. Not like you.”

My daughter packed wares, dressed thick, and met dawn in stride.

Stones was a good man. He’d look after her.