A HENRY STORY 2: Trials Of The Fallen Prince

XIII. Perception

As Kismet shook Henry awake the next day, he startled so much that he slapped her in the face with the back of his hand. "Up, up!" she hummed despite the blow, and Henry groaned.

"What . . . How long have I been . . . ?" Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by a long and profuse yawn.

"Four hours sharp!" snarled Kismet. "Refill the water supplies and grab a bite to eat, then make your way back here. A new task awaits." With that, she disappeared, leaving Henry to sit where he had slept, stunned. "Four hours?!" he finally yelled when he had gotten his bearings, but Kismet was long gone. "Four hours," he repeated to himself and yawned again, barely resisting the urge to drop back down and let himself slip into sleep. He wanted to be miles from here. To eat a lavish breakfast, to fight an epic battle . . . and sleep for longer than four hours.

But he was here . . . of his own accord. And so Henry pulled himself to his feet. Eating, drinking, replenishing the water reserve . . . he mechanically carried on. This time, he managed to steer clear of the wall before eventually meeting with Kismet in the central cave.

"If you had sat still for ten minutes, you may have slept for eight hours," Kismet greeted him. "Let's see if you can do better today."

Were he able to see, Henry would have spent the entire time giving her death glares as he hauled boulder after boulder up the wall outside. Apparently, there was a particular kind of rock down there that helped her gauge the condition of the volcano, whether it was still dormant or not. But Henry couldn't see, so he had to rely on trial and error. That was, of course, the whole point. Perhaps after yesterday, she had decided that the parkour was insufficiently unpleasant as a physical activity.

By lunchtime, he was dead on his feet, and not in a good way like the day before. When Kismet finally let him off the hook, he collapsed to the floor beside the supply of Firebeetles, and hadn't she lifted him by his collar, he thought he may have fallen asleep on the spot.

"Oh no, you cannot shorten the duration of the trial by going to sleep prematurely." She shook him. "I have a master hourglass for reference."

Henry groaned.

"You've not brought me the correct rock today, so we'll try again tomorrow," she continued, putting him back down. "Keep at it, and don't worry; unlike that of Sisyphus, your task is at least finite."

Henry refrained from giving her a response. Instead, he reached for the beetles and found that there were only two left. This discovery sufficed to shock him awake.

"We are out of beetles," he said, stuffing one into his mouth. The last one he twisted between his fingers uncertainly.

"Oh well," Kismet replied. "That is too bad, I suppose."

"What do you mean?" asked Henry. "Will you not replenish the reserve?"

"And for whose convenience should I do that?" She cracked a beetle between her teeth, and Henry frowned. Before he could ask if she had more somewhere, she continued: "I eat them where I see them. I do not actually need a stash."

It was then that Henry, for the first time, felt a pang of genuine worry. "And what about me? What am I supposed to eat?" He flailed his hand in the direction from which her voice had come.

"If you need a stash, then catch your own," said Kismet. "You wish to stay, so find a way to achieve it. Who am I to provide for you? Your mother? This is not an all-inclusive lodge here."

"But I am blindfolded!" Henry sprang to his feet. He opened his mouth to resume complaining and cried out when he stubbed his foot on a rock. He let loose a string of curses and reached for the nearest wall, but miscalculated. Had Kismet not caught him, he would have toppled. "How do you presume I am supposed to hunt beetles without my eyesight?" He crossed his arms, hanging limply in her grip.