*
Another ten minutes passed with little change, save for Barsch becoming wetter than he ever thought possible. Kingston had laid out their sleeping bags in the driest part below the overhang, and was now gathering the tools he would need to prepare supper. All he was missing was a fire and a fish, but both were looking rather impossible.
And then, just as Barsch began to curse his luck; the gods; and the stubborn fish, fate smiled upon him. The tug had come so fast, so suddenly, he had almost dropped the line in surprise. But something had made him hold on, and with a strong heave, he wrenched the baited fish from its underwater home. After his heart had returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, he was able to see that the fish was rather… paltry. Still, this was his first fish, and it would forever be special to him… until he devoured it.
However, when he brought it over to Kingston, he did not receive the words of praise he had been expecting. Instead, what he heard was, “She’s been gone too long, that girl of yours…”
Barsch was about to reply that she was not his girl, when he noticed that Kingston was right. Given the closeness of the grove and the ease of the task, Alza should have already returned with a bundle of firewood and a placid expression.
“You’re right, I’ll go and check on her.” Barsch said, setting off towards the grove. He reached down as he walked, freeing Kingston’s blade from its hiding place. Even if Alza’s delay was the result of something harmless, he never wanted to be caught unawares again.
“It’s going to happen again. She’s going to die, and it will be my fault… Yumiere… I’m so sorry…”
No! He could not let himself drown in memories of the past. Alza might be in danger, and he was of no help to her if he stood there wallowing in self-pity.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Barsch thundered past the treeline, senses he didn’t know he had straining for any sign of Alza. On the ground lay several discarded branches, now wet from the pouring rain. It was a bad sign, and one that Barsch followed deeper into the grove. He slid from tree to tree, the slippery grass hampering his movements, as he followed the trail of kindling into a large clearing.
There, on the other side, stood Alza, completely unharmed. Save for a strangely shaped rock in the centre of the field, she was alone. Her white hair had been drenched by the rainfall, and her boots were slightly muddied from the undergrowth, but she bore no obvious wounds, nor showed any signs of distress.
And then the rock moved, and Barsch was forced to re-evaluate the entire situation. The beast –for that is what it was- turned slowly, arduously, towards Barsch. Its mottled, grey coat bore numerous scars, and its serrated tusks were chipped and scratched from years of use. Another scar had blinded it in one eye, leaving only one crimson pupil remaining, which was still more than enough to freeze Barsch in his tracks.
Sus Erymanthia, a subspecies of wild boar that had originated after the males had undergone environmental adaptation due to the increasing levels of pollution. They had become more violent and resilient, a dangerous combination, and had caused several deaths before The Great Sleep began. Barsch had heard of them only in passing, but he was well aware of the danger they were in.
“Alza, don’t move,” he whispered, trying to move closer to her while simultaneously moving away from the boar.
“She must be frozen with fear,” he thought, despite all evidence to the contrary. “I’ll distract it while you get Kingston, okay?” he asked, after he had moved closer.
“I do not understand,” she replied, in a level tone, “Should we not just kill the beast?”
“Um, no… I don’t want to risk you getting hurt,” he said, trying to sound compassionate.
“I will suffer no injury, I assure you.”
Her tone was not one of self-confidence, as Barsch thought it should have been. It was simply assuredness. She wholeheartedly believed that she would emerge unscathed, and most likely could not even conceptualize another outcome.
“Be that as it may… I think we should run away this time… okay?”
“Very well, I will comply,” as she turned to leave the clearing, Barsch fancied that he heard her mumble, “This time…”
However, he had no chance to confirm this, as the boar –apparently infuriated by the thought of its meal running away- had decided to charge.
“Alza!” he screamed, trying to warn her of the swiftly approaching danger. But it was too late, the beast was already upon her, sharpened tusks embedding themselves into Al-
When Barsch opened his eyes, ten heartbeats later, he was greeted by a most puzzling sight. Alza was standing beside the boar, a look of disinterest painted on her pale face. As for the boar, it had found itself stuck into a large, withering oak, its murderous rage having driven its tusks deep into the dying wood.
“How did she? How could she have? That’s not possible! It was right on top of her!”
But now was not the time for questions. The boar had already started to struggle free, and Barsch did not want to be anywhere near when it succeeded. Taking Alza’s unresisting hand, he led her from the clearing, towards the distant rock outcrop. The rain was still coming down hard, but Barsch did not feel a single drop, his mind too bewildered by what had happened.
Awakening Page 32