The Hunter's Mark Pt. 04

But he stopped himself. This was Sally. He couldn't do this to her. Couldn't to this to Eric. But he couldn't let this stand either. The rush in his back became a burn, as if it was angry that there would be no bloodshed. But there was no solving this by the blade.

Eric was not coming. From behind Sally, his eyes half-hidden by the hood of her coat, he glared at him. But there was something in that glare besides anger. Something good. He didn't look smug, nor content. It was something halfway between.

Safe. He felt safe. Holding Sally's arm as if he never wanted to let go, he felt safe.

Jens stepped back. None of this made sense. It was all wrong. He staggered out of the boat, onto the dock, and when he felt his legs trembling, he sat, letting his feet dangle over the water.

Eric had rejected him. After all the struggle, all that he had suffered and given up, Eric wanted to walk away. Jens did not blame him. He knew how it felt. Knew how tempting it must be for a mere boy to ignore the danger and live as if they weren't cursed.

At something like this, most men from his tribe would have cast themselves off a cliff to erase their shame. But Jens would never do that. His people's obsession with honor was what had brought him and Eric so low in the first place. And wasn't the point of all this to get away from that? But then he asked himself what to do next, and he had no answer.

He stewed for maybe an hour.

There were footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Sally standing over him, waiting for him to notice her.

"Sally! Where is Eric?"

"Come on, don't start that. He's safe, alright? He's safe." She did not sit next to him or kneel down to his level, but looked at him from above. Her stare was as cold as death. "We need to talk about something. A few years ago, before we met, you got run out of your village. How did that really happen?"

"It was my uncle, and the duel."

"No, don't tell it like that, going through it so fast. Pretend we just met and tell me from the beginning."

Jens braced himself to relive that awful memory. "It was just panic. Uncle Stalhi was in another rage, threatening to kill us all. He was cursing at us, and threatening us too, treating us all like enemies. Worse than enemies. We all just stood there and watched. We knew the spirits wouldn't tolerate him forever. We knew some death would fall on him, we just didn't want to be close when it did. It could have worked. We could have waited for his rage to burn out like always so we could just go home." His face darkened. "But then, some dumb bastard challenged him. So he, and me, and Eric, we were all in danger. So we had to run away."

"Are you really going to make me say it? Eric already told me the whole story."

Jens went silent.

"Who challenged your uncle, Jens? Tell me his name!"

Jens almost cried as he thought back to it. He wanted to bury it like a dead enemy and leave it forever, but it wouldn't work that way. The truth was not flesh and bone. It was a ghost. And like all ghosts, there was no getting rid of it. There was nothing to do but let it speak. "It was me. That dumb bastard was me." His throat clenched. Breathing became a struggle, and as he fought to take in air, his breaths became sobs.

"Why did you do it?" Now she was no longer accusing. Her voice was tender again, curious and gentle.

"I was afraid." Jens hugged himself. "Uncle Stalhi, he was out of control, and at first I thought he was getting better, but he wasn't. He was just getting worse. And when he looked at me, he looked at us... he was going to kill us. I had to do something."

"You thought you were protecting someone by challenging him."

"I could feel the tingling in my back. I knew there was about to be a fight."

"But because of what you did, the family split. And your uncle is still there."

"What would you have done? Just let my uncle do murder?"

"I don't know, but you ran away from there, and after a while you wound up with Uncle June where we met. And then you decided to run away again, one more time, to come here. And now you want to run away again. How long are you going to do this? You don't really think your uncle chased you all the way here from the bottom of the world, do you? Do you really believe that?"

Jens strained to tell her about the Hunter's Mark but didn't. It would only make her want to separate the two of them, to keep Eric here and force Jens to wander on his own. And he could never let that happen.

Could he?

"You're ruled by fear, Jens. I've watched you long enough, I see how it is with you. When there's nothing to be afraid of, you come up with something. When there's no disaster, you create one out of thin air. You only know what to do when everything's falling apart. Sometimes, I think you like it that way."

"That's not how it is." And Jens felt shame like a sickness in his stomach, because he knew she was right.

"Are you serious? You really think you did the right thing?"

Jens pressed his lips together. To say 'yes' would be to lie, but if he said 'no,' he would never see Eric again. He would stay with her, and together they would force him off the fleet.

Sally pressed a palm into her eyes. "Ugh. I'm sorry."

She was sorry for his choices, not her own. She was too nice to say it, and Jens knew her well enough that she didn't have to. She walked back to the boat, then off to somewhere else in the fleet with Eric following her. Jens let them go.

He looked down at his reflection in the water. He wanted to listen to the ghosts, but they were gone with the fog. Without them, there was no one to speak the truth to him. No one to point the way forward. To tell him there was a way forward. He saw only himself.

He tried to think of what Annika the sage would say. What his mother would say. But without the ghosts to remind him, he could not remember their voices. Instead, a different memory came to him, unwelcome, unsought, springing into his mind as if put there by a mischievous spirit. He thought of Nomeska, his ancient-law grandmother, and the nasty smile she wore when she looked at him. As he gazed at his reflection, he heard her words again.

'I see you perched like a bird on slats of wood on a cold, cold night, under the moon and the stars, and I see you staring into the face of your worst enemy.'

* * *

Sally woke up. The low sun streamed in through the entryway flaps as someone drew them open, and the golden light washed into the stuffy, stale air of the guard boat. She rose, stretched and tottered out into the sunlight. The gentle lapping of the water on wooden hulls and the mild chill of the dewy air on her cheeks greeted her.

Eric was in the cot next to hers. He had wanted to sleep with her instead of sleeping on other guard boat with Jens as he usually did. And he looked like he was sleeping like the dead.

"A fine morning, Sally." That was Avendanyo, the old soldier who always woke up before her. His eyes wandered over the prickly tops of the trees.

"Did Jens come by here?" she asked.

"He didn't show his face. Someone was watching all night." He turned his wizened face to her. "Did you really think he would come to start something?"

"I don't know. The more you scare him, the more foolish he gets."

"What did you do to him?"

She chose her words carefully. "We had a talk about... how he lived his life. And how he took care of Eric."

"He wanted to take me and leave," said Eric's voice.

They turned to see the boy rubbing his eyes. "Eric," said Sally. "How did you sleep? Were you warm enough?"

"I was fine. But my bandage is wet."

Sally had forgotten he had that. It was for a nasty fall he'd taken a week ago that scraped the hide off his right elbow. Taking a knee, she cradled his elbow in both her hands and carefully inspected it. "You did a good job on this wrapping," she said. "It's soaked through with water, but it's still on nice and tight."

"I didn't tie it. Jens always does them for me."

She looked at him. "Always?"

"Yeah. Even if he's bleeding, he still does me first. I keep telling him it's not that bad, but he doesn't listen."

"I'll do my best. Get a fresh wrapping and a towel, so we can change it." It was short work. When Sally was satisfied that the wrap would keep out the mud and grit, she asked him, "Are you hungry?"

He nodded.

Brightly, she said, "It's Lyjah's turn to cook, and he's making butter squash today."

Eric smiled. Sally knew that squash with a pinch of sugar was one of his favorites.

Halfway there, she saw a slim, ragged figure with a bandage on his head, making his way to the kitchen boat. When Jens saw her, he didn't twitch. He didn't stop either. Something looked different about him today. He seemed almost relaxed, and for him, that was very rare.

They converged, and he spoke first. "Hello, Sally. Eric." He sounded tired, but not in the way he usually did. His voice was lower, softer. As she got close, and he stopped, Sally could see he was carrying himself straighter. His eyes looked sad and far away. But they did not look afraid. "I want to say sorry about last night."

"It's okay," said Eric.

"You know you have a place here, don't you?" said Sally. "The pilgrims like you, and they'd be sad if you left." She stepped a little closer. "I would be sad if you left."

"I didn't want us to get hurt. And I thought that was the way." Which meant he didn't still think it. That was a good sign.

"Jens, look at me."

He leveled his gaze at her.

"It's alright. Whatever happens, we'll face it together, and we'll work together. And I promise we'll keep everyone safe."

She took his hands, and he squeezed them tightly. He didn't use words, and Sally didn't mind, because she knew that was hard for him. His hands spoke for him.

Eventually, he did say something: "You've stuck with us, through everything. You could have just stayed in that town where we met."

"I know, but I'm glad I didn't." She said it with a teasing edge, trying to make him curious.

A little smile warmed his face, a dim reflection of hers. "Eric?" He said. "Go on and have breakfast. We'll be along."

Eric galloped off.

Jens went on, "I'm so glad you're with us. Since we left home, Eric hasn't had anyone besides me. I haven't had anyone."

Sally turned her head away to smile sideways at him. 'Here it comes,' she thought.

"Sally, I want to give you this." He reached for his belt, where his machete hung. But then he reached past it, into a pouch, and drew out a little white sleeve of paper. He went stiff-backed and held his breath as he handed it to her, as if giving her a packet was an epic test of his courage.

She opened it. It was a string, a loop of string, and a little wooden ornament hung from it. It was a necklace. A gift. Then a memory sparked in the back of her mind, a memory of what Jens had told her of the customs of his people. This was a token, a statement written in wood. A statement that he loved her.

This was it. This was the proof she'd been wanting for all those months following him, proof that she wasn't a crazy girl imagining things. He really did love her back.

She looked at him. He was pale and tense, eyes fixed unblinking on the string looped over her fingers. As she studied his face, he started to look sick, and she decided she'd kept him in suspense long enough. So with a smile and a flourish, she lifted the cord over her head and settled it down around her neck. She stepped up to Jens, and it gratified her to watch him start breathing again.

She put a hand on his back. "Come here..."

They kissed. For such a twitchy man, his kiss was as soft as velvet. His arms enfolded her-- didn't grip her, only held her-- and she pulled his body closer.

When they separated, she leaned into him enough that he had to put a foot back to keep from toppling. "You know," she purred, "we've known each other a year and a half, and only now I get a kiss. That's the longest hunt I've ever had."

He laughed, and it still looked good on him. But then something drained the mirth from his face.

She stroked his cheek. "What is it?"

"There is something you should know. The gods of my people... one of them..."

He paused, and Sally summoned her patience as she waited for him to put the words together.

"When a man is a coward, the god Sokere punishes him with the Hunter's Mark. Curses him to be chased forever. I was a coward the day I left. If we marry, you'll be hunted too."

She didn't let go of him. "Your gods want to stop us from being together? From being here?" She shook her head. "Let them try."