Chapter 36: Cost of Mercy
Danny’s eyes widened, his breath stopping for a second, a cloud of white frozen in front of his mouth.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Put to good use? Like I’m a tool? Like I’m not a person? Like I’m a piece of bread you trade?
The thin prisoner looked away, unable to meet Danny’s eyes now, the last bit of shame in him flickering, and added the final poison, the excuse he had been holding for just this moment, the one he knew would work on the grey-haired man.
"Besides, he’s from that forgotten clan. You know what they are. What they did in the war. Everyone knows the stories. Cursed blood. Monsters attract monsters. It’s in their nature. So what’s wrong with what I’m saying? It’s... fitting. It’s what people would do anyway. It’s what the Empire would do."[DoD]
Silence. A silence so heavy the snow itself seemed to stop falling to the ground, so heavy Danny could hear his own heart hammering against his ribs.
Danny stared at him. At the same man he had saved two days ago on the cliff.
The same man who had begged him, cried, clutched his arm with frozen fingers screaming "Don’t let go! Don’t let go! Please, boy, don’t let go!" when they were falling down the mountain, his snot and tears freezing on Danny’s hand, his weight threatening to pull them both into the abyss.
And now... now that his feet were on flat ground again, now that he was safe for a moment, he wanted to throw him away like garbage, like the coat they had stolen from the dead guard.
Danny’s teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached and his head throbbed.
Tch.
He remembered that moment on the cliff so clearly it hurt more than the cold. The thin prisoner’s weight pulling his shoulder out of its socket, the tendons screaming. His own fingers slipping on blue ice, bleeding, numb.
His hands gripping the mountain, bleeding into the snow.
The thin prisoner’s weight pulling him down, down, begging him to be his anchor.
He had saved him. He had pulled him up, inch by inch, screaming from effort, his own arms almost giving out, his back scraping against rock.
Not because he liked him. He had never liked him.
Not because he trusted him. He had never trusted him.
Not even because he thought the man deserved to live.
But because the grey-haired man was watching from above, and because if he let go, if he opened his fingers and let the man fall, he would become exactly the kind of monster his clan was said to be. Cold-blooded. Cursed.
Still... he had saved him. When no one else would have. When it would have been easier to let go.
Danny lowered his head, looking at his own scarred hands, small hands, a child’s hands, and a thought came, cold and clear and new, a thought that had never come to him before in his life.
I should have let him fall that time. I should have just opened my fingers. One second. One second and all this would be over. I wouldn’t be standing here listening to myself being sold.
The thought came naturally, without guilt, without the usual voice telling him it was wrong. For the first time in his life, Danny wondered if saving someone could be a mistake, if some people should not be saved, if mercy was just another way to get yourself killed later by the same person you saved.
The grey-haired man suddenly stepped forward, his boots crunching loud in the snow, putting his large frame directly between Danny and the thin prisoner, his back to Danny, shielding him, protecting him.
"You’re talking about sacrificing a child. A boy. A fourteen-year-old boy. You’re talking about feeding a child to a beast to buy yourself ten more minutes of walking in the snow."
The thin prisoner stared back, his own fear turning to anger now, his mask of fake sadness slipping completely, showing the desperate animal underneath.
"And you’re talking about letting all of us die for sentiment! For a DoD brat who will bring more wolves anyway! Be logical! Be a survivor for once in your old life!"
Neither man moved. Neither backed down. The cold wind passed between them, carrying the smell of pine and old blood and fear-sweat.
Then came another sound from the forest, louder than before, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer stalking.
Crunch. Crunch. CRUNCH.
Heavy footsteps breaking through the crusted snow, not trying to hide.
Danny slowly looked behind them, over his shoulder, toward the trees that lined the old path just ten meters down, where the light didn’t reach.
Snow shifted between the trees. Low branches snapped with a sharp crack. Something large was there, standing fully upright now, no longer crouched on all fours. Pale skin almost glowing white against the dark pines, too tall, too thin.
Watching them. Listening to their argument about who gets to live.
The thin prisoner swallowed audibly, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper, his bravado gone.
"See? See! It heard us! It’s here because of him! I told you! It’s marked him!"
The grey-haired man’s hand tightened around his sword until his knuckles were white, finally drawing it fully from its sheath, rusted steel catching the weak morning light with a dull screech.
Danny’s heart began pounding so hard it hurt his ribs, his legs wanting to run but having nowhere to run to on this narrow, snow-covered road with a cliff on one side and a monster on the other.
The wolf had found them, drawn by their shouting, by the scent of fear and blood and argument.
And this time...
It wasn’t going to leave. It wasn’t scouting. It wasn’t playing.
It was hungry than ever, and they had been talking long enough for it to decide to take them all. Without mercy.