She lay beneath her hide blankets and it came to her that she couldn't remember the last time she had been warm.

The cold, like old age, had crept up inside her and wrapped its icy fingers around her bones.

Seated beside her, was Makaro and she smiled at the sight of him. To her, he was still the boy she had first met. Scared and boastful, though the years and a handful of children had stripped him of the worst of his pride. Tebia had been good for him while she'd lived.

He looked to her and when he noticed her eyes were open; he smiled. That very same smile that had charmed her all those years ago.

"Have you come to say goodbye, my friend?" she asked.

His hand went to hers, his fingers curling around her own. "I have."

"Don't forget me," she said.

He laughed. "How could I?"

She stroked his hand and after a moment he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were pained.

"How am I to live without you?" he said.

"You will never be without me."

"Promise?" he said, then bent and kissed her forehead. "Rest well, my friend."

Rising to his feet, he exited the tent, leaving her alone for a moment. It was getting harder to keep her thoughts in order. When the tent flap opened it again, it was Eshemwa who entered. Even after all these years, her heart still lifted when she saw him.

Solemnly, he took a seat beside her and reached for her hand. She knew him well enough by now to hear the words he couln'd speak.

Four children and more seasons than were countable, they had stood side by side. Woman and Man. Today she would die, and his loss, like his love of her had been, was greater than words would ever be. She tightened her hand on his with what strength she had left.

"Lay beside me," she said, and he did.

Carefully, he tucked his arm below her head until she rested with her head on his shoulder.

"I had a dream last night," she said. "It was of a tree, and below it stood a man."

"Was he a handsome man," he asked, his mouth against her ear.

She slapped him lightly. "Listen to my story, old man."

He laughed softly, but let her continue.

"He was an ordinary looking man," she continued, "but also beautiful beyond measure."

Eshemwa grunted.

"It's difficult to explain," she said. "He, himself was not beautiful, but he was filled with beauty. He was like the summer sun after a long, dark winter."

"What about the tree?" Eshewma asked. "I thought this was about a tree."

"It is about both," she replied, her voice fading as she drifted towards sleep. "He is the caretaker. He tends to it in the hours between dark and light, when it slumbers and dreams of life."

She paused for a while, but Eshemwa said nothing, waiting for her to continue when strength enough allowed her to speak again.

"At first, it filled me with terror, the way it stood against the sky so dark and old, but the man brought me closer where I could see and what I saw was me."

"You?" He pulled her closer, his thumb gently stroking the top of her hand. It soothed her, and she sank deeper towards the calling darkness.

"Yes. Each branch, each leaf, all a part of me." The deep lines of her face furrowed into a frown. "Or maybe I was part of it. I can not remember now."

She felt the light of life slipping away from her and suddenly afraid, she tried to grip his hand. It was not herself she feared for, but him. She wanted to tell him that the tree was eternal and when she died, she would only be returning to herself, her oldest self. She wanted to tell him she would remember him, but now she was uncertain.

It became more difficult to pull air into her lungs, and she felt his lips press against her temple.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, and they were the last words she knew as Ayessa.