​The man ascended the snow-coated mountain, holding his child close. With the other arm, he dug his walking stick into the ground. The ice cracked under the stick with each step he took. His child shifted under the bundle of blue blankets, coughing. It whined as another icy wave passed, forming icicles along the man’s beard. They were still several hundred feet from the cave, the healer’s house. 

 

The man recited the poem his father had told him, one the whipping winds uncovered amidst the rubbish that buried it: 

 

“Soft snow falls in flakes 

 

Each one filled with woe. 

 

But when one breaks 

 

Will we not grow?” 

 

The child calmed, and its tiny green eyes closed. The man recited the poem again and again, the words opening his lungs. They would make it. 

​

*** 

 

Torches lit the black-painted figures along the cave’s walls. From the entrance to the back, they were spaced out enough that every inch was visible. The man dropped his walking stick.  

On a table-shaped stone slab sat the healer. His robes were so faded that no color but gray was left, and the glimpses of his face that were not shrouded by his hood were covered in scars. He leaned forward but did not get up from the table. 

 

“Healer,” the man said, bowing. 

 

He coughed, dust flying from his mouth like the cover of an old book. 

 

“That I am.” 

 

“Can you heal his lungs?” 

 

“Bring him here.” 

 

The man placed the baby in the healer’s gnarled hands. The healer lovingly unwrapped the layers till the baby’s pale chest was exposed. He placed his hand on it and waited as the child breathed broken breaths. 

 

The healer’s hands and the child’s chest filled with light with each word he spoke: 

 

“Filling with air from Shoel 

 

Breathless lungs in you fall. 

 

But no longer shall this be 

 

For his healer takes it all.” 

 

With the final words, the light faded. The healer breathed deeply, but his breath was not as strong as before, as if his lungs were pierced. 

 

“He will live.” 

 

“Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?” 

 

“Sing it in remembrance of me.” 

The healer laid back on the stone. The man took his child and left. At the mouth of the cave, the healer drew his final breath and died on the altar. 

 

*** 

​

Years passed, and the man continually recited the healer’s words to his child. Till the day came when he asked what they meant. 

 

“By these words, you were saved by the wounded healer.” 

​