Page 124 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
He pointed to himself. ‘Yarran.’
I pointed to myself in return. ‘Atlas.’ He nodded. ‘I have a very bad pain in my chest. I think that my ribs are broken, and I wondered if you might have any remedies for the pain?’ Yarran stared blankly back at me.
Michael stepped in. ‘He doesn’t seem to speak a lot of English, Mr Tanit.’
Yarran pointed at my chest. ‘Yes. Pain,’ I said. Yarran nodded his head, and patted Michael on the back. ‘I think that might be your cue to leave, Michael.’
He looked wary. ‘Are you sure that’s all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, quite all right. Thank you.’
Once Michael had left, Yarran went to place his hands on my chest. ‘Careful!’ I cried, fearful of the pain he could inflict with even the lightest touch. He paused and smiled down at me.
‘Ouch,’ he said.
‘Yes, ouch. Painful,’ I replied.
Yarran nodded again, then inhaled deeply, before once more bringing his hands towards my centre. I braced myself, but his touch was light, and his palms moved softly across my ribs, as if he were gently stroking a cat.
‘Um, please,’ said Yarran, pointing at my mud-caked shirt. I gingerly unbuttoned it and looked down at my skin, which was black and blue. ‘Ouch,’ Yarran repeated. He returned his hands to my chest. He closed his eyes, and his breathing became deeper and deeper.
‘Mmmmm,’ he started to chant, in his deep, melodic timbre. I looked up at him again, and saw that he was frowning.
‘Is everything all right?’ I enquired.
‘Inside, ouch,’ he said once more.
‘I know. Broken ribs, I think.’
‘No. Inside. Deep. Ouch.’
A light wave of panic went through me. ‘Deeper? You think there’s a problem with my heart?’ I pointed to the centre of my chest.
‘Body gonna fix,’ Yarran said to me. ‘Spirit is broken.’ He stared at me with his deep brown eyes, which sparkled like Kilara’s. ‘Ancestors,’ he continued, pointing upwards. ‘Ancestors care.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I...’ Before I could complete my sentence, Yarran had placed his hands on my head, and begun to massage my temples with his thumbs. His fingers gripped my cranium tightly, but I did not feel pain.
What happened next is very difficult to describe, but I will do my best. Yarran’s fingers seemed to grasp harder and harder, until it felt as though he had penetrated my skull and reached into my mind itself. I stress again, the feeling was not at all painful, more like I was somehow being cradled from the inside. The sensation continued to pass down from my head, into my neck, and then into my chest. Suddenly, I felt I was able to breathe easier, as if my lungs had unlocked some extra capacity of which I was previously unaware. The room in front of me faded into a brilliant white. I felt soft, and peaceful. Then I heard Yarran’s voice, which danced and echoed around my head.
‘Your soul is in deep pain,’ he said. ‘The ancestors and I will help you to mend.’
‘You’re speaking perfect English, Yarran!’ I replied euphorically.
‘We are only limited by the world of the physical, Atlas. As I worry you have forgotten, there is much more to this existence than that.’
‘Where are we?’ I asked.
‘Wherever you wish to be,’ he replied.
I thought for a moment. ‘I want to be with Elle. But she’s gone, Yarran. I still don’t fully understand why.’
‘She is missing,’ said Yarran softly.
‘Missing from my life, yes.’
‘Missing from... everywhere,’ he countered. ‘Hmm.’
‘What do you mean?’
