The snow is coming down in tiny, fine flakes. I add a couple of logs to the embers but the fire is nearly out. I still feel like I’m going to be sick.
Gabriel stirs and sits up. Maybe he wasn’t asleep after all. He wraps his sleeping bag round his shoulders, though he doesn’t move closer to me. We’re a meter or so apart.
I stare at the fire and try to work out what to say, maybe apologize again or maybe say something about how I’m glad he’s still here.
He says, “You’ve been away a long time. Were you lost?”
And I feel like crying because his voice is still hard.
I say, “Wounded, not lost . . . maybe lost too. I dunno.” I turn to him. “But I don’t want you to be. Wounded, I mean. By anyone, especially not by me.”
“Then don’t lie to me. Don’t hide things from me.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t ever spit at me again.”
“I won’t.” And I know I won’t. I couldn’t. Not now. I can’t take back what I’ve done to him but I can behave better and I want to desperately.
He says, “You know I love you. Still. Forever.”
“So . . . I’m forgiven?”
“I didn’t say that.”
We sit and look at the fire, which is beginning to burn stronger. Gabriel says, “You wound me in other ways, Nathan.”
I think of drawing the knife on him, all the times I’ve sworn at him and just been plain nasty.
He says, “When we first met, you told me all about yourself. Recently, you’ve hardly told me anything. I mean, I don’t want you ever to be a chatterbox, but you say I’m your friend. You need to talk to your friends.”
And it’s true, of course; when we first met I did tell him about me, my life.
I shuffle over closer to him and say, “OK. So what do you want me to talk about?”
“Tell me things, important things.”
“Like what?” And I wonder if he means about my father or my visions.
“Tell me about Wales. I want to go to Wales with you one day.”
And I smile and want to cry too. And I tell him about this special place in the mountains that I went to one summer: there was a small lake and I could climb the cliff behind it and dive into the water. And I tell him I’ll take him there when the war’s over. And I watch the flames some of the time and watch Gabriel the rest of the time and I know I never want to hurt him again.
Golden
I’m awake before dawn. The sky is brightening and Gabriel is asleep by me. The camp is still quiet. I’ve got the fire going. And I’m actually looking forward to the porridge when I feel a chill creeping into my bones and the grayness gradually slides over everything that I see. My vision, again.
The golden glow fills half the sky and the forest seems to glow with it. I’m walking slowly through the trees. It’s as if I’m newborn and seeing the world for the first time. The air around me seems alive. It’s all amazing. All beautiful. Every detail is amazing. And the details go on and on. The colors, patterns, shapes, sounds, temperature, air. I turn and see Gabriel. And he is beautiful too. He waves at me to come. He holds his gun loosely at his side. Nesbitt is the dark figure disappearing beyond him. I look back at the beautiful meadow and trees and sun and then turn to go to Gabriel. And I’m flying backward through the air and the world changes to noise and pain and chaos and I land on the ground and look up and see sky and then see Gabriel’s face. And the pain in my stomach is intense, burning, and moving to my heart. It’s killing me and I know it.
I’m dying.
Camp One
Me, Gabriel, Nesbitt, Celia, Adele, Kirsty, and Donna are on the way to Camp One. Celia seems to have taken Adele on as her personal assistant. Donna is being brought so that Van can make up a special truth potion that will give an answer one way or the other as to Donna’s loyalties. Her hands aren’t tied but Kirsty is glued to her side and, as Kirsty is almost twice the size of Donna, I’m fairly sure Kirsty can deal with her if she tries anything. Not that I think that’s going to happen.
We will have to go through two