After they had found the bodies, with the supply bags that they had so desperately needed, they had continued determinedly forward, one goal in mind. They had made careful shelters each day, piling snow into windbreaks or stacking branches into primitive roofs. They had gone on for two days in this manner. It had been a stressed time, yet an amicable one. They had sung songs and eaten their supplies in proper meals. Asa had been optimistic of finding the walls soon enough. If they carried along this path, dubbed The Great Eastern Trail by Avery, who was more romantic than he would admit, then they surely had to meet the wall at some point. It was in the east, they couldn’t miss it.
Then another snowstorm had hit. They had been convinced of their imminent demise. Together this time, Asa and Avery had crawled into a ditch, huddling under a threadbare blanket. The snow had piled up around them, and they had fallen asleep for what seemed to be the last time ever. However, when they woke the next morning, they were under a small snowdrift and seemed none the worse for the experience. Asa had laughed in sheer relief. The situation was not hopeless. The snow had soon been brushed off and they had clambered out of the ditch to stand upon the white-covered ground once again.
Their food supplies had lasted another day. Without complaining, Asa had eaten the last nut. The evening was relatively balmy and they had slept outside, staring up at the orange-tinted sky above. Asa’s legs twitched with exhaustion, and he kicked out a cramp in the muscles with an irritated groan. Avery turned onto his front, blinking bemusedly at Asa.
“What time is it?” he croaked.
“Mid to late afternoon,” Asa replied.
“Oh.”
“Problem?”
“Nah,” the blond sighed. “I just don’t know.”
“Yeah,” Asa’s voice cracked. “Neither.”
Avery dug his fingers into the thawing mud beneath his body. He returned the expression somewhat mutely. Then his face changed. He looked down in surprise, pulling mud-coated fingers towards his body. Then he dug them back in, pulling back a browny, orange root.
“Look what I found.”
“What is it?” Asa asked.
“A root of some description.”
Asa shook his head. “Funnily enough, I got that.”
“I’m going to eat it,” Avery said reflectively.
“Are you off your rocker?” Asa exclaimed. “What, if anything, are you even thinking?”
“I’m starving,” Avery snorted, wiping the root on his clothes before popping it into his mouth and chewing reflectively. “Mm.”
“You’re going to die,” Asa stated.
“Stop being so morbid,” Avery mumbled, mouth full. He gave a gargantuan swallow. “It appears to be fine. It may be a carrot.”
“A carrot.” Asa’s muscles tensed.
“Maybe not a real one. A carrot of sorts. It sure tasted like it.” Asa hit him on the back of his head. “Ow!”
“Don’t make me worry like that,” Asa hissed.
“Fine.” Avery dug up another. “You want one?”
Asa glared at the offending vegetable. “Of course.”
They turned the smooth turf up as efficiently as the most experienced ploughers, scrabbling fingers grabbing the round roots in handfuls at a time. When at last they seemed to have exhausted the earth’s supply, they both sat back to observe their food with dirt smeared all over their faces. Their stomachs made low sounds, not in protest, but due to their being full. Asa lay down in satisfaction, wiping muddy fingers on his clothes.
“We’ve got so many.” Avery smiled.
“Enough to last us a lifetime.” Asa was sleepy. He lay down on the ground, pulling his blanket around him. He heard Avery counting the roots under his breath and then lie down next to him, cuddling under his own blanket.
“Let’s hope not.” Avery yawned. “We’re getting home, remember?”
“True.” Asa let himself relax, feeling warm and impossibly sleepy. He closed his eyes, aware of his eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks. Avery moved closer to him, their backs brushing. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when he fell asleep, muddled thoughts merging with confused dreams.
They ate a good breakfast that morning, washed down with the thin water. It was surreal to Asa. Yesterday they were on the brink of death, yet now they were preparing to move forward again. Camping drained their high spirits, though, and the two of them struggled with the straps of their satchels as they lifted them over their heads. Asa’s breaths were lighter than usual, shallow and rather sore. It felt as if he was coming down with something, without the actual symptom of being sick. He checked that they had packed everything, pacing the site where they had laid with a restless fervour.
“Give it in,” Avery told him. “You look like a nutter.”
Asa kicked the dirt, anxious to leave as soon as it was possible. Avery rose, stretched his arms out and then led their way back onto the road that they had assumed they would never walk upon again. They followed it in morning silence for a few moments, each deep in their own contemplations.
“We are going to reach the wall today,” Asa announced. “I can feel it.”
“You say that every day.” His companion yawned. “And yet here we are.”
“We’re going to make it.” There was a sudden upsurge in his spirits. “There’s nothing that you can say to stop me believing that.”
“Sure.”
The sun rose as they walked towards it. Asa’s mind was filled with whimsical, nonsensical things. Was it rising, or was the world moving? He shook his head. No one had time for such restless nonsense. A hand pressed at his temple, rubbing away the beginnings of a headache. He smiled at his friend, who averted his gaze.
“Thank you, Avery dear.”
He froze.
“No problem, you just—” Avery stared blankly at him, eyes wide.
Asa swallowed. “Yes, indeed. Thank you.”
He flushed scarlet and pulled his satchel over his shoulder, striding ahead. His breaths came in shallow gasps as the full weight of what he had said dawned upon him. He shuddered. Why had he used such an intimate term?
He was walking in such a strained fashion, eyes somewhere in front of his feet, that he did not notice at all the rather large tree root sticking out onto the path. By the time Avery had shouted, Asa was dragged to the floor. He coughed as the wind was knocked out of his body.
“You’re going to be feeling an idiot now, aren’t you?” Avery smirked.
“Yes,” Asa replied in distraction, heart racing at ten thousand beats per minute, shaking his chest as he gasped for air.
“Oh, fine, I’ll help you up.” Avery held out a hand and somehow managed to haul Asa unsteadily to his feet. Asa swayed, then straightened himself.
“Thank you,” he muttered yet again.
“No problem, love.” Avery stressed the last word triumphantly.
“I’m sorry.” Asa looked down. “I didn’t mean anything by it, promise. It’s not as if I love you or anything. It was stupid. It came out quite wrong.”
“What?” Avery’s eyes darted over Asa. “What did you say?”
Asa looked imploringly at his friend. “I didn’t mean to call you dear. It was an inappropriate pet name, and I feel dreadful about it, honest. I didn’t mean to imply love between us.”
Avery frowned, eyes downcast.
“What?” Asa asked.
“You don’t feel anything for me?”
“No, no, I like you plenty, Avery!” Asa exclaimed in relief. “Erebus, I thought that you meant—”
“That’s it?”
“There should be more?”
“I have travelled around half the country for you, Asa Hounslow. Just for that sake, I should hope that there is more.”
Asa looked around him desperately, panicking. “I—I don’t know.”
“Don’t you feel anything for me?” Avery shook his head, bending down to look into his eyes. “I should have known.”
“I do, Avery,” Asa affirmed.
“You know I do. You’re my friend.”
“But what do you feel for friends?” Avery demanded.
Asa was silent, confused. “You like them, don’t you? It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.”
“I should have known,” Avery swore, tearing at his hair in frustration. “No, Asa, that’s not what you should feel for friends. You should love your friends.”
“Avery, it’s not like I’m . . . I’m not gay,” Asa laughed, disbelief washing over him. “I can’t love you.”
“You don’t need to be gay,” his friend pleaded. “It’s platonic, like a sort of chosen brotherhood. Look into your heart, Asa.”
“I don’t know what I can say.” Asa swallowed. “But I can’t say that. You’re my friend. Loving you would be weird.”
Avery was silent, and his hazel eyes filled with some sort of emotion that Asa thought that he could never, not if he lived to see eighty years, fully understand. He shrugged and set off again ahead of Asa, feet stamping with what seemed to be undue force on the ground. Fragments of frozen dirt flew up and sprayed out behind him as he vented his frustration on the dusty road. Asa’s face flickered with a look of consternation, before he flew to his friend’s side. He grabbed Avery’s shoulder, fingers lingering for maybe longer than they should.
“Avery.”
“Huh.” Avery turned green-gold eyes on him. “What?”
“It wasn’t my intention to offend you,” Asa said mutely, voice trailing off and dying. Avery looked at him with a scathing glint behind his blank face.
“Maybe it was my intention to be offended, then,” he snarled.
“Oh, Avery,” Asa sighed, raking his hands through his hair. “Can’t we just move on?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Avery looked more desolate than Asa had ever seen him.
“No,” Asa said, words tumbling out of his mouth. “I don’t. Why don’t you help me understand, then?”
The blond nodded. “Maybe that would be for the best.”
“Well?” Asa asked, speeding up his gait to match Avery’s longer one.
“I left my family for you, Asa,” he said in response, face shadowing over. “They loved me. I had assumed that you did, too. Otherwise I would have let you go on alone.”
“You’re not leaving me, are you?” Asa’s mouth was dry.
Avery contemplated it for a moment. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” his friend said. “I may not agree with what you think, but I cannot stop my own feelings from getting involved. I will continue and maybe, just maybe, you’ll come around to my way of thinking.”
Asa exhaled in relief. “Maybe.”
“Thank you, Asa.” His eyes, so different in shape and colour to Asa’s, seemed to melt. He gave his friend an awkward smile, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards. Avery shrugged. “Do you want a carrot?”
Asa chuckled. “Yes, I would like that. Toss me one?”
A scramble around in his bag and Avery threw Asa a round orange root. Asa bit into it, rejoicing inwardly at its resonating crunch. He finished it in three large mouthfuls. Avery swallowed his whole, merely biting it once when it was in his mouth. Asa looked at him in astonishment, which made the blond grin.
Lunch over, and the sun shining dimmer than it had ever seemed to have done farther down the road, the two of them stepped in time on their way. Asa peered ahead, anticipation building in his stomach as they approached a tall line of trees. These were giants, even for the oldest trees in the oldest forests in the world. Their branches were as thick as the path was, their trunks wider than both he and Avery lying in line. He looked into the darkness ahead of him with strange excitement. Something was due to happen now. He could feel it. The sunlight grew weaker as they entered the shadows of the trees.
Asa shivered from the illusion of warmth that the light had given him being stripped away. Avery, however, looked complacent, even bored. The trees were set close together, closer than was surely natural for such huge species to grow. It was as if they were entering a tunnel of dim, unsteady light. Avery glanced at Asa’s look of apprehension and chuckled.
“It’s fine, Asa.”
Asa’s voice was higher than usual. “It’s dark.”
“The dark is good,” Avery’s deep, accented voice calmed Asa. “The shadows are where you should be careful.”
“But doesn’t “dark” mean everywhere is in shadow?” Asa swallowed.
“No, Asa,” his friend replied. “The dark is the absence of light. Shadows are where something or someone is blocking it out.”
There was the sound of leaves rustling in the trees behind them, which made Asa wheel around, looking about to see where the disturbance had come from. Avery placed a firm hand upon his shoulder and tugged him along the path without a word. Asa’s breathing was erratic, heart racing in his ears. Avery did not mind Asa’s weight being placed upon him as they trudged along the path together.
Everything was quiet for a few long moments, their breathing the only sound in the otherwise silent forest. It was eerie. Asa had begun to wonder if he had been imagining it, when the sound came again. And again. Something was tracking them through the undergrowth. Asa’s hand whipped up to grasp Avery’s arm.
“Avery!”
“No, it’s fine, Asa,” Avery muttered. There was a low growl from somewhere to their right, and the muscles in his friend’s arm tensed as the blond made for his sword. “There are no wolves in Eodem. We’re quite safe.”
Another growl. Asa’s hand snaked to the gleaming blade hanging unused in its scabbard. He had no idea what he was to do with it, but felt better for having a sharp poky thing than not. They could hear something else breathing near them, but the darkness of the forest was so near complete that they could not see more than two feet around them.
“I feel so safe,” Asa said, more to reassure himself than anything.
“As well you should.” Avery nodded. “Because there is nothing to worry about just so long as we keep moving.”
Asa stiffened and stopped as he heard a snarl. His legs froze and he found that nothing that he could do could get them to move. Avery tugged him but he just swayed, stuck to the ground in dumb fear. His friend took a double take and tried to pull him forward but Asa just couldn’t. He shook with fear as near-silent paw treads approached.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“We have swords.” Avery peered through the darkness with attuned eyes picking up what Asa could not. He withdrew his sword with a theatrical flourish and held it steady, waiting. He braced his feet as the silence grew. Then the creature pounced.
Avery swung his sword upwards in an arc with remarkable aim and strength, considering his inexpertise in the subject. There was a dull thwack of metal hitting flesh, and something large collided with Asa, claws scrabbling. Asa yelped and pulled his sword out, holding it with both hands and trying desperately to hit the struggling creature. The volley of shrieks and growls were human-like, yet the thick black fur covering it told a different story. It batted at them with its broad paws, claws tearing into the ground around them but never quite reaching their limbs.
Avery kept pushing himself protectively in front of Asa, inflicting a well-executed slash down the creature’s stomach. It yelped and hissed at him in a feline way, trying to bite and scratch at them both. They shouted incoherent commands and encouragements at each other as sweat beaded on their foreheads and in their hair. Their attacker was bigger than the largest bear that Asa had ever seen. When it drew itself up from the floor, its shoulder was on a level with Asa’s own. He stabbed at it with his sword, his erratic movements much less effective than Avery’s strong, easy swings. A thick, long tail whipped at their legs as the animal turned in a cornered circle, yowling at them. It attempted to floor Asa with a nasty shove of its front paws. Asa yelled out at it in fear, and in the mild hope of scaring it away. It swiped at him again. Asa plunged his sword in terror into the beast’s chest j
ust as Avery slit its throat.
They didn’t know who delivered the final strike, but the cries gurgled to a halting stop, the creature stilling. Asa bent down in the dark, reaching out to stroke the black fur. It was like velvet beneath his cold fingers. Warmth not having deserted the body of the creature, he petted it as if it had been a yard cat in his own home. That was what it was, he concluded, feeling pointed ears under his fingers. A cat. But what cat reached such proportions? What cat was content to kill people who crossed their path?
He stood up. “It feels late.”
Avery’s head turned towards him. “It’s not yet evening.”
“Are you sure?” Asa looked up to the dark canopy of trees above him. “It surely must be night at the earliest?”
His friend wiped his sword along the bark of a tree, removing most of the blood. Asa copied him, movements slowing to match his. They stood over the body of the huge cat for a moment, both silent in their disbelief and awe that such an animal could exist.
“It can’t be,” Avery assured him. “It’s just dark.”
“Dark?” Asa shivered. “No, this place is more than just dark.”
“It’s so quiet,” Avery said distantly.
“Yeah.” Asa nodded. “Shall we . . . you know?”
“What?” Avery laughed, in his old spirits again. “Go on?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Shall we?”
“Certainly.” Avery picked up a thick stick and leant on it as they stepped over the dead cat. He kept hold of it as they walked, tapping it on the ground as the forest grew darker. Asa stayed close behind him, heart fluttering in his chest. Every creak of the living forest was danger to his ears. There was a snap behind him, and he wheeled around. A small rodent dashed across their path in a couple of fast bounds. Avery snorted, earning himself a clip on the ear for his troubles. Asa huffed in irritation, pulling his satchel close to him. The low thuds of the stick on the ground were all to be heard. Asa didn’t have to wonder why there were no birds in this forest.
It was strange. As they walked along there was a strange illusion of being watched. The trees seemed to lean in conspiratorially as they passed, boughs creaking without any wind. Avery quickened the pace, and Asa followed at an anxious trot, palms sweating as he balled them into tense fists. It should not be that quiet, something was amiss. Their footsteps disturbed rocks on the path, the stones rolling away from their feet. Asa looked around as they hurried on, both of them wishing nothing more than to leave the forest. They reached a particularly large tree, which Avery circled reflectively, examining it. When he saw nowhere to shelter, he cursed and kicked it with a despondent boot.
His Frozen Fingertips Page 11