Oskar sat with his back against a tree, looking at Billie’s lifeless figure, bundled up in blankets on the other side of the fire. The trees shielded them from the road, but there were hardly enough of them to be considered a forest. Oskar was so tired. He found himself in a foggy, dazed state of mind, yet oddly sensitive to sound. Every time he thought he heard a horse or the wheels of a cart, he would hide behind the trees. His heart would hammer and he would break in a sweat until the danger, perceived or real, had passed. Occasionally, Billie would moan and shift, but remained mostly unconscious. The loneliness annoyed Oskar. He yearned for a voice to break the silence, and for someone to help him with food and camp. It was heavy work, carrying wood and refilling water. It had only been two days but it felt like two weeks. He hadn’t dared help Billie down from the saddle before today. He hadn’t been able to carry the weight. Billie had tumbled to the ground like a sack of apples. After so much time in the saddle, Billie had peed himself and Oskar had not found it in him to clean him up. It gave Oskar a deeply uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, as if someone had grabbed it and squeezed it hard. It was a feeling he couldn’t get rid of now. It was there at night when he fell asleep, and first thing when he woke in the mornings.
Oskar had almost dozed off when he heard a sound. He sat up abruptly and clutched his necklace. It was cold to the touch. His heart pounded in his chest. At first he couldn’t see anything. He stared into the darkness, hearing nothing but his own heart beat. Then relief surged through his stomach, almost banishing that horrible stomach feel. Billie had raised himself onto his elbows, mumbling incomprehensible words. Oskar leapt to his feet and knelt beside him.
‘Hi,’ Billie said, his voice a thin thread of what it used to be.
‘How are you?’
‘Good, I think, but very thirsty. Do we have some water?’ Billie’s voice was so hoarse, his lips horribly cracked.
Oskar scrambled to his feet to get water. After bringing his face to the cup and slurping like a dog, Billie seemed more clear-headed. Oskar explained what had happened, chaotically jumping around the story, but he didn’t care. He hated himself. All of this was his fault. If he had only been more clever; if he had only known what to do, then Billie wouldn’t have been injured. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t even be here, he should be at home, where he couldn’t mess anything up. Tears stung in his eyes. He stared hard into the fogginess, willing the tears to go away. They did, thankfully, before they could get a chance to roll down his cheeks.
‘I’m sorry I left you behind,’ Billie said, his voice still weak. ‘I should have known you’d follow me.’
Oskar felt the frustration and anger explode within him. Before he knew it, he started screaming insults at Billie. He screamed and screamed until he felt empty. Then he stormed to the other side of the fire, and hid under the blankets. His body felt like it was exploding in a thousand unbearable sensations. It was impossible to stand it. It was all he could do to not scream again, lying there under the blanket. He ground his teeth and put his hands over his ears, unable to feel anything else than the deep knowledge that he hated himself. He knew he shouldn’t have lost control like this. Another unwelcome sensation crept in as soon as he lay down: a secret wish that Billie would come over and comfort him, stroke his hair, just like his father used to do when he was younger. The guilt welled up within him. Billie must still be in great pain, and Oskar was having childish thoughts about comfort!
Oskar sat up the second he woke up the next morning. He must have fallen asleep after his outburst. He turned his head left and right. Billie was rolling up his sleeping mat, slowly and carefully, moving stiffly. Every movement must hurt. He had changed his clothes; the dirty pee-stained trousers were gone. Oskar could tell from the way Billie looked at him from out of the corner of his eye that he knew Oskar was awake.
They didn’t say much to each other, as they continued their journey. Oskar gave Billie the herbs from the old woman. He hadn’t known what to do with them, and they were still intact and untouched in the little cloth he had tied them up in. Billie put them in the tea when they stopped to rest only an hour or two into the morning. He drank the tea with shaking hands, and lay down on his back, not talking. Oskar put his hands into his pants and picked at the scab that was forming on his leg. His fingers came back covered in little specks of blood.
They ventured deeper into the forest. Oskar felt his pendant graze his skin from time to time as he walked. It was a comforting feeling. He reminisced about the day his father had given it to him. It had been a weird day. Oskar barely remembered it. It was so long ago. His father often travelled suddenly without saying where he was going or when he’d return. Sometimes he’d be gone for a day, but often often several. His father had never been in good health, and these journeys seemed to take a toll on him. When he returned, he could sleep for many hours into the day, almost as if he were fading away. But then one day, after one of his long journeys, he had come home, weak and weary but with a strange gleam in his eyes. He had given Oskar the pendent as a gift and said he must take care of it. Oskar should never, under any circumstances, take it off or give it to anyone else, he said, not even for a few minutes. Oskar had been very young that day, and the whole incident was foggy in his memory, but he had followed his father’s wish and had never let the pendent out of his sight. Now it was a part of him, as much as his hair and limbs. Since that day, his father had gone on fewer trips, and gradually he had started to look healthier. Perhaps not perfectly fit, but at least healthy enough to not raise concerning stares from the other villagers. And now Oskar might never see him again.
‘How is your leg?’ Billie asked. Oskar had been far away in his own thoughts. It took him a moment to return to the forest, to Zino moving rhythmically under him, and the sun casting its rays through the leaves above.
‘It’s fine.’
‘Let’s take a break.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we need to rest,’ Billie said.
‘It’s early for a break,’ Oskar said, but slid down from Zino’s back nonetheless. His legs felt bloodless and soft like boneless pieces of meat. He lifted the harness off Zino’s back. The horse lowered his head and started tearing pieces of grass off forcefully. His back glistened of sweat. Oskar petted his neck.
‘Can I take a look?’ Billie said, nodding towards Oskar’s leg.
‘Sure.’
‘Which one was it again?’
‘Left.’
Billie kneeled in front of Oskar and pulled one side of the trouser down to expose the top of the left thigh. Oskar had not had a proper look at the wound himself in days. It looked thick and red and disgusting, but it was not bleeding.
‘It’s not infected. I think it will heal fine, but I bet it hurts still?’ Billie said.
‘A little,’ Oskar said wearily. He didn’t want Billie to bring up his anger outburst yesterday. He sensed that was where this conversation was going. But Billie didn’t. He just squeezed Oskar’s shoulder. His grip was quite strong, almost painful, but it was a comforting kind of pain.
They sat down with their backs again a large tree, Billie slightly out of sight on the other side of it.
‘I keep thinking about Sonktianth. What could he possibly want from your dad?’ Billie said. ‘Do you have any idea? Did he ever say anything suspicious?’
‘He told me about Sonktianth, once,’ Oskar said, relieved to be talking about something that would quench the awkward air between them. Besides, he was pleased that Billie would ask him such a question. Like an equal. It wasn’t really true that his father had told him about Sonktianth. He had mentioned Sonktianth once after Oskar had asked because he had overheard some village gossip. But Oskar wanted to help Billie with any information he could.
‘What did your father say about him?’
Oskar shrugged. ‘The same that you told me. That he was the king’s friend.’
‘I told you he was the king’s adviser. But I suppose it’s almost the same thing,’ Billie mused.
‘What are we going to do once we reach Aiviborg?’ Oskar said.
‘I don’t know,’ Billie admitted plainly. ‘I’m not proud of it, but I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have an old friend in the city, who can maybe help us but…’ his voice became small. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you on this journey. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ Oskar said gravely. ‘I wanted to come. Besides, it’s as you said: maybe those soldiers would have found me back in Karvaby, if I had stayed.’
‘True that.’
It must have been a couple of days later they made it to the top of a hill, where they found an abandoned cabin to camp in. They arrived late. The sun was going down and the light was disappearing fast. But the next morning, in the clear daylight from the top of the hill, Oskar could suddenly see the tips of mountains at the horizon. Billie explained that, when they reached the mountains, they would reach the city of Aiviborg.
‘Maybe just a few days left,’ he said. He was recovering a little more every day, but travelling was still slow. Billie could only move with very slow calculated movements, and they had to camp early so he could rest. Oskar did not mind. He was glad to get more rest too. His but hurt him from long days in the saddle as it was.
Going down from the hill turned out to be tricky. It was very steep and muddy, and trees sprung up in all the most inconvenient places. There was no way they could ride the horses, so they dismounted and let the horses find their own way. Suddenly Zino’s legs gave way under him and he fell forward, skidding several meters downhill before he could find his balance again. When he got his footing back, he first stood still, barely putting weight on his right front hoof at all, before laying down on the ground. Oskar wanted to run to Zino, but he could not move any faster. He had to glide down slowly, his but almost touching the mud under him, before he arrived. Zino tried to stand up, when he saw Oskar, only to lie down immediately again. Billie arrived a few seconds later, kneeled next to Zino and ran his hand down to the hoof.
‘Is it bad?’ Oskar said.
‘Let’s try to get Zino to stand up.’ He pulled gently on the reins. Zino got up, but kept his front right leg lifted, so only the tip of the hoof touched the ground. Zino breathed heavily, his coat slick with sweat even though they had only just started out for the day. His eyes rolled around, his head lifted high.
‘Did he break his leg?’ Oskar said.
‘I’m not a vet, but he definitely injured it,’ Billie said. ‘But let’s try to see if he will be better after some rest.’
Billie made his voice sound hopeful, but Oskar could tell he wasn’t. It wasn’t good, but Oskar let himself believe in Billie’s lie.
They spent the rest of the day at the base of that hill, Zino lying down and rising, sweating and moving as much as he could on his three legs. Oskar spent all day stroking Zino’s muzzle and talking to him quietly, but it didn’t feel like Zino heard him. Billie took several trips to a nearby lake to fetch water, even though he had to take breaks every few steps, lowering the water skin to the ground. But he still kept carrying more water for the horse.
The sun set. Zino stopped moving around as much, he stood quite still, shivering, his head low towards the ground and his breathing rapid. His leg had swollen to double its usual size. Oskar’s feet were hurting, but he stayed next to Zino, stroking him and whispering comforting words. If the horse could stand through all this, Oskar could too.
Billie watched from the campfire, leaning his back against a tree. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep? I will keep watch,’ Billie said.
Oskar wanted to argue, but he was so tired, he almost couldn’t keep his eyes open. He fell asleep the second he put his head on the ground.
Oskar woke with the hint of a headache behind his eyes. He felt like he hadn’t slept much, or at least not very deeply. It was a feeling that reminded him of the times of being alone in the house, when his father had been away. Dew covered his blanket, his skin, his hair and the ground next to him. The sun could not be seen above the tree tops yet, but it was light enough to make out the dead fireplace, tree trunks, Billie squatting next to Zino who lay on his side, like a dark shadow against the ground, still. Oskar didn’t remember himself getting up or moving across to the horse. He stroked the horse’s coat. His skin was cold and hard like frozen water. Oskar pulled his hand away, a wave of nausea and disbelief hitting every part of him at once.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Billie said. ‘There wasn’t anything else we could have done.’
‘It’s okay,’ Oskar said even as drops of tears rolled over his lids and onto his cheeks drawing chunky wet lines on his skin.
‘I know he was more than just a horse to you.’
Oskar nodded. He couldn’t speak.
‘He’s a bit big to burry, but we can make him a headstone. What do you think?’ Billi said.
Oskar croaked something inaudible.
Billie leaned in to hear.
‘Maybe flowers,’ Oskar said a little more loudly.
‘Yes.’
They spent the morning searching for a rock that would work. Billie wouldn’t stop searching even when Oskar said the mediocre rock they’d first spotted was good enough. Finally, they found a flat stone the size of a plate that they rolled over to Zino, together. Oskar picked flowers and put them at the base of the stone. He would have braided them if he’d known how. He remembered how the village girls used to do it every summer. They used to wear them crowns.
Billie and Oskar didn’t have anything to write with, but the end result was better than nothing. Oskar did not exactly feel better, but it was nice to know that he had done something. Billie was right. Zino was not just a horse. He had been a friend.
Billie pulled Oskar closer as they watched the dead horse and the stone.
‘Are you ready to travel?’ Billie asked.
‘What if I’m not?’ Oskar said.
‘Then we can stay a while longer.’
Oskar thought about that. ‘No, that’s okay. We should keep moving. You better ride Sun, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Billie agreed. ‘At least for some time.’
