Chapter 7
A few days after they reached the
cave, Kallan returned from hunting with one small rabbit, barely enough for a
meal.
“That the best you can do?” Growled
Owen from the back of the cave where he sat, arm in a sling, not even greeting
his friend.
Kallan, not in the best mood
himself, threw the rabbit on Owens lap and proceeded to strip off his hunting
gear.
“It was all I could get a shot at.”
Kallan replied back. “I’m not the better hunter, remember?”
Owen only grunted back.
Kallan looked over at him with a
frown. “The least you could do is help cook it.”
“It’s not my fault that I am an
invalid!”
“You could be helpful at least!”
Owen jerked to his feet.
“So I should have just let that
bear plow you down and smash you into the ground, eh?! Then who’d be laying on
the floor, complaining and whining for your next meal?!”
Kallan looked over with fury. “I
should just throw you out into the snow and let you die, you ungrateful little……”
Owen swung his fist right at Kallan’s
head so fast he had no time to react. The knuckles smashed his nose and he fell
back to the ground, holding his face blood poured from his nose. Owen panted
from the exertion, than collapsed on the hard ground. He breathed hard, then
began to cry, holding his head in his hands.
Kallan lay against the wall of the
cave, holding his nose in shock. They sat there for what seemed like forever.
Then the bleeding on Kallans nose slowed and he sat up. Owen looked at him.
“I don’t know what came over me. It’s
just…..” He shook his head, looking at the ground.
“I know. It’s all too complicated.”
Owen pulled himself up.
“We can’t fight. No matter what. We
have to learn to live with our differences.” Kallan nodded.
**************************************************************************
The barbarian camp did not stir
much for the next two weeks, allowing the two boys to recuperate and heal.
Owens ribs were in pretty bad shape, from running and hiking, and neither of
the boys were expert healers, so they worried about whether they cracks would
heal. After two weeks, it was the only serious wound left.
Owen undid the bandages on the
wound. It was almost unnoticeable on the outside, except for a faded bruise and
two small bumps where the bones had grown together. He carefully touched placed
his hand on it, running it across the wound, and then flinched as his hand
rubbed one of the small hard lumps. He stood up carefully, and then stretched
toward the ceiling of the cave, turning his body. He bent down, reaching toward
his toes. He nocked an arrow onto an invisible bow, pulling it back and sending
it into an imaginary deer, then spun on his toes and jumped across the cave.
Kallan raised his eyebrows.
“Feel better?”
Owen grinned.
“Yep! I’m ready now.” He grabbed a
pack off the floor and began to fill it with their supplies. Kallan stood up from where he sat sharpening a
knife and shoved it back into its sheath. He walked to the door and looked out.
“It’s snowing again.” He said.
Owen looked up. “Snow or not, tomorrow
we go pay those scoundrels a visit.”
Kallan turned around again, a
worried look on his face.
“I don’t know, Owen. Just the two
of us can’t take on the whole tribe.”
“I know that. I have a plan. First,
we go down to the camp and get the lay of the land. We can see if there are any
other survivors, and get together.” He slipped the jerky, which they had saved,
into the pack. “Then we form a plan to
either rescue our friends, or, if there’s no one to save, to destroy the tribe.”
He continued packing. Kallan sat down.
“I was all for this, but now, I do
not know if it is wise. You are the better strategist, but I almost feel as if
we are walking into a trap.”
Owen looked up. “We can’t continue
our sheltered existence up here knowing that the monsters that killed our
family are camped only several miles away.” He had a sorrowful look on his face
now. “Kallan, you have to understand. They destroyed everything we ever had,
our lives. We have to try to reclaim that.”
Kallan sighed. “I know. I have felt
hopeless over the past couple of weeks. I could almost pretend that it was just
like old times, you and I camped up here, just us and the wind. But, no matter
what, I couldn’t forget the dying faces of all our friends.”
No comments:
Post a Comment