Chapter 59: Nothing More
"Boy."
The grey-haired man called out into darkness, voice low.
They had lit small fire inside cave, its faint glow pushing back shadows, pushing back that feeling that back of cave was listening, that drip was counting. For first time in what felt like forever, since before wolves, since gate, they could sit still without worrying about something immediately trying to kill them this second. Wind was outside, snow outside, ash outside, mountain outside. Inside was stone, dry wood they had found half-buried under slab, old root that burned slow with bitter smoke, and flame that kept trying to be smaller than it was but staying alive out of spite, like them.
Cave was not warm, but less cold than path. Fire made difference matter, made circle. It drew small circle of light and they stayed inside it without talking about it, both leaning in slightly, like animals sharing one heat, like two prisoners who only have one blanket.
Danny sat near fire, warming hands, holding close enough that palms stung, skin tight and red. He did not pull them back, sting felt real, felt like something true. Everything else since ridge had felt thin, like it might blow away if wind blew harder, like memory not solid. He watched skin of his hands go pink, then red, then almost white again when he moved, blood coming and going.
"What do you want?" he replied, voice hoarse, cracked from cold, from shouting at prisoner, from screaming when Mirebeast roared. He had not drunk enough water today, waterskin almost empty and he had been sipping it like it might have to last another day, another week, another mountain.
Grey-haired man hesitated before speaking, which was not like him. He was sitting with back against cave wall, broken sword across knees like sleeping child, like he was holding it for safety, not looking at Danny. Looking at fire, but not really at it, eyes moving to cave mouth, then back to flames, then to own hands, restless, old habit of checking exits even inside.
"I was thinking... do you think we’ll survive?"
Danny glanced at him, frown, forehead creasing. Question strange coming from him, strange shape. Grey-haired man never asked questions like that, not out loud. He gave orders. He said move. He said wait here. He said keep your head down. He said keep walking. He did not ask if they would live. That was not thing he said out loud, especially not to kid, especially not after cutting man and feeding beast.
For second Danny thought he had misheard him because of wind keening outside, because fire crackled and ate word.
"I don’t know. But I’m not going to die here. I still have a lot of things to do."
It came out sharper than he meant, defensive, but he meant it, meant it like oath. He had not come this far, through Ravenfall, through wolves, through Mirebeast and sacrifice and watching man be swallowed, to stop on cold mountain because big thing with red eyes decided his path was its path. He had promised himself things, small promises, stupid ones, like getting warm soup at Fort Haven, like finding who sold him, like finding flat land, but they kept him moving, kept feet moving when legs wanted to stop.
"Oh, really? And what could a kid like you possibly have to do?" Grey-haired man tried to make it light, tried smile, tried old teasing tone from before gate, from before prisoner tried to trade boy. It did not quite land. Mouth smiled but eyes did not, eyes stayed tired, far away, looking at something beyond fire, beyond cave mouth, beyond mountain maybe to Haven or beyond Haven.
"That’s none of your business."
He said it way he always did when he did not want to talk about Fort Haven, or about who might be waiting there, or about why he had been on that cart in first place, prisoner cart to mines. It was his one private corner and he kept it locked, even from man who saved him, especially from man who saved him.
Grey-haired man chuckled faintly, but sound quickly faded, broke in middle, like wood that fell and sent sparks up then died, like laugh that had no fuel.
"Well, let me tell you something. I don’t think we’re going to make it with that Mirebeast outside. I don’t think road stays open after one toll."
Danny’s expression stiffened, hands pulling back from fire like burned, even though fire was small, even though cold was worse.
He had been trying not to think about creature, trying to make cave just cave, fire just fire, empty just empty. Memory of its enormous body and three glowing red eyes was enough to make stomach twist, to make hands shake again, to make sleeve taste come back. He had tried to push it to back of mind with fire, with warming hands, with counting breaths, counting drips, counting borrowed holes. Now it was back in front of him, blocking cave mouth even though it was not there, even though it had left down slope, even though ash fell with no footprints.
Image of it swallowing prisoner without chewing came back too fast, soft crunch, hiss, gulp. He swallowed himself, hard, throat clicking.
"So, where are you taking this?" Danny asked, voice low, wary, small but hard. "You want us to turn back? Go around? What? We can wait it out. You said it left. You said empty. You said one borrowed hole until morning."
"I just want to say... you’re free to go."
Danny blinked, not understanding, thinking fire smoke got in ears, thinking tiredness made him hear wrong, thinking maybe old man hit head harder than thought when Mirebeast threw him.
Fire cracked. Piece of wood fell and sent sparks up, brief orange stars, then gone, falling to stone and dying. Neither moved to fix it, sparks died before they hit rock, same as ideas die quick on mountain.
"Huh?"
"You heard me."
Grey-haired man said it without looking at him, looking at fire, at broken sword across knees, that made it worse, if he was joking he would have looked, would have grinned, would have done old soldier joke. He didn’t. He looked at fire like fire was safer than boy’s face.
"What do you mean by that? Go where?" Danny stared at him, sitting up straighter, hands no longer near flame, cold coming back into them right away, like heat left when words came, like circle broke. "After everything, you’re just asking me to leave? That’s it? After you said you’d take me to Haven? After you cut him? After ridge? After you said it won’t be the boy?"