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Not Alone
“It is a game, Stephen,” his father says while fastening his ties. “And you shall win. I need to know that you will be a warrior who survives if the creatures here should take me from you.”
Stephen is five, and he knows he and his fathers are alone in the world. Everything else is out to eat them, or there to be eaten. But until now, he had not realized his father could be taken away at any moment. His father was strong and forever. Except that his hair got greyer day by day, and his hands, the hands tying Stephen to a tree, a little thinner.
The next days are worse than any creature of Quortoth. Not because of the game, but because of what it made Stephen realize. It could be true. If he played it wrong, if he ever played it wrong or took to long to win, it could become true, and his father would be gone for ever. So he gets rid of the ties as fast as he can, even though that means that instead of trying to unknot them, as his father had shown him, he just uses force to burst them, and that cuts his skin bloody and means he has some Nyarl following his footsteps for a while until he’s healed. He runs and runs once he’s out, trying to follow his father’s footsteps, but the wind is harsh and carries much sand these days, and they soon become invisible. In the first night, he cries, but not after. Nyarls can smell the salt in your tears as well as in your blood, and salt is a rare commodity for them.
After the fifth sunrise, he finds his father again. At first, he’s afraid he played the game wrong, that he took too long and his father will be dissappointed, but that is not what his father’s face says. His father gives him one of his rare smiles, and the pride in his eyes is as tangible as his hands stretching out and touching Stephen’s.
It is the best moment of Stephen’s life, the boy decides. He has won the game and found his father, alive and whole. He is no longer alone.
If he is really good, he never will be again.
“It is a game, Stephen,” his father says while fastening his ties. “And you shall win. I need to know that you will be a warrior who survives if the creatures here should take me from you.”
Stephen is five, and he knows he and his fathers are alone in the world. Everything else is out to eat them, or there to be eaten. But until now, he had not realized his father could be taken away at any moment. His father was strong and forever. Except that his hair got greyer day by day, and his hands, the hands tying Stephen to a tree, a little thinner.
The next days are worse than any creature of Quortoth. Not because of the game, but because of what it made Stephen realize. It could be true. If he played it wrong, if he ever played it wrong or took to long to win, it could become true, and his father would be gone for ever. So he gets rid of the ties as fast as he can, even though that means that instead of trying to unknot them, as his father had shown him, he just uses force to burst them, and that cuts his skin bloody and means he has some Nyarl following his footsteps for a while until he’s healed. He runs and runs once he’s out, trying to follow his father’s footsteps, but the wind is harsh and carries much sand these days, and they soon become invisible. In the first night, he cries, but not after. Nyarls can smell the salt in your tears as well as in your blood, and salt is a rare commodity for them.
After the fifth sunrise, he finds his father again. At first, he’s afraid he played the game wrong, that he took too long and his father will be dissappointed, but that is not what his father’s face says. His father gives him one of his rare smiles, and the pride in his eyes is as tangible as his hands stretching out and touching Stephen’s.
It is the best moment of Stephen’s life, the boy decides. He has won the game and found his father, alive and whole. He is no longer alone.
If he is really good, he never will be again.
