“Stop it, you’re being ridiculous,” I say, half amused and half angry, but Bren persists and I follow, peering out beside him in the blazing midday sun.
A shadowy figure, definitely too big for a caribou, scoots behind an oak trunk.
“I knew it!” Bren lets out an indignant breath. “You know, it’s one thing to do someone favors with collected fruit, but when they start stalking you, that’s where the fun ends.”
I refrain from reminding him that he stalked me, too. “So, fruits aren’t fun for you either.” I watch him withdraw and sit by the fire pit. His hair has grown, making his oval face appear narrower, and he’s certainly lost weight. He looks even more serious than before, even darker, as if the shadows Nashashuk spoke of are visible in his aura.
“We’re lucky to be here…” I begin. “Bren, had I lost you… I don’t know what I…what I would have done…” Crying comes easy, thanks to these past few days, as if my body hasn’t yet realized that the danger is over and that I can relax again. Tired, I collapse next to Bren and he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. I feel how much I need that, his closeness, the certainty that his heart is beating. My soul is so confused, especially because of the ritual and the things that happened in the teepee and inside me during it. I still wonder whether I actually saw a summary of my life and a glimpse of the future, or whether it wasn't rather all a fantasy, perhaps triggered by hallucinogenic herbs and the monotonous rhythm of the tambourine.
“You should have left, Lou. Left me behind, but you stayed,” Bren whispers against my cheek. “I owe you everything.”
A warm shiver of happiness runs through my veins. “Then be patient with Amarok. Darrow says he doesn’t know our world or how to deal with women and rivals. He only knows nature and the stories his parents told him, nothing more.”
“Why is that?” Bren looks at me, irritated. Sure, I haven’t told him that much yet because he’s been sleeping a lot these last two days.
I poke around in the embers with a branch. “His parents raised him alone in the wilderness. They left their reservation before he was born, but they died in a bull moose attack. Amarok survived and was eventually found by the Navapaki.”
“He’s never seen a city?”
“No, and no other village besides this one.”
I wonder what it would be like to only know the wild, rough land, not knowing about money, big cities, luxury, and cars. Wealth and poverty. Police and press. I can’t decide if it’s good or bad that his parents kept everything from him. Is it good to believe in the deer woman or that Bren might lend me to him for the night? Although the latter is probably nothing unusual for people in civilization, either, but I don’t know for certain.
“Maybe we’ll end up like this,” Bren says now, giving me a sideways glance. “Lou, we need to talk about how to continue.”
I avoid his eyes and stare into the licking flames. Before he became so sick, he wanted to leave me or at least gave the subject some serious thought. So far, I’ve repressed that rather well. “Did you know how sick you were?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes.”
The truth is painful and relieving at the same time. “You should have told me instead of plotting like a recluse again.”
He sighs. “That’s the only way I know. I was always solely responsible for myself. Besides, I didn’t want to upset you.”
I nod. “Okay. I accept that.” It’s amazing how many things I can overlook, things that would have hurt me or angered me in the past. I still remember his words well: I will make mistakes with you. I want you to forgive them. But I also made a lot of mistakes. Mistakes that caused his injuries in the first place. “What was your plan?” I ask. “I’m sure you had one.”
“I was hoping for a town along the way. For antibiotics from a pharmacy.”
You might have been caught stealing. Or maybe there wouldn’t have been one! Then what?
“Something like this could happen again, Bren.” I’m reluctant to have this conversation because it can’t end well. There is no solution to our problem. We are wanted and being in the wilderness without backpacks makes it a place of perdition. I have a down jacket, Bren has a lighter, Aquaphor, and a small pocketknife, that’s it, not counting my cell phone and solar power bank.
This realization abruptly yanks me back to reality, which has been more of a floating dream the last few days. I have a down jacket… I almost laugh hysterically, but I put my hands in front of my face and inhale deeply so I don’t have to feel the well-established fear in my bones. Bren survived, but we have nothing.
“If we can’t stay here for now, I don’t know where we should go,” I say after a while. That’s why it would be catastrophic if Bren freaked out about Amarok.
Likewise, it would be a disaster if the cops caught us. I have not yet allowed myself to think in detail about what is to come. The tabloids, the photographers, the interrogations. The psychologists. Every detail would be torn apart by sensationalism-seeking reporters—butchered like a fattened pig until only blood remained. And Bren would be a monster to everyone. No one would see him for who he is, but as they are themselves. And in their worldview, there is only black and white; they are blind to shades of gray. They only see the reality, not the dream within. Perhaps they would make an example of him to discourage copycats.
“I’m scared of what’s to come,” I say quietly now.
Bren pulls me against him as hard as he can. Hug me. My skill. I smell his hair, which smells of warm smoke and sage, and his skin, which tastes salty on my lips. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”
I stiffen immediately. “You want to leave?” I ask, startled and dumbfounded. “But you have…”
“I’ve asked Darrow and the tribe’s eldest if we could work in the camp for provisions, weapons, herbs, and clothing, and then leave,” he interrupts mid-sentence. “I said we don’t want to interrupt our journey because of my illness or your ankle. I guess they believe we’re adventurers or dropouts… I know, I should have checked with you, and if you’re not okay with this, we can proceed differently. I figured if we are going to continue eastward into the wilderness, we’re going to need these things.”
I’m stunned. “When did you have this conversation?” Wasn’t he asleep the entire time?
“Last night. You went to the creek to wash yourself. I’m sorry.”
