The Wandering God

38 Snow On Top Of Frost 3/3

雪上加霜
Xuě shàng jiā shuāng
Snow and then frost.
One disaster after another.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I regretted agreeing to leave the cabin so easily immediately. The sun was setting, and the air was bitingly cold. It nibbled against the skin of my cheeks the second we stepped outside the cabin.

Zakhar draped the bear skin he had grabbed from the kang around my shoulders, then stuck out an arm for me to lean on.

I took it. Zakhar's arm was warm, even through the thick layers of his clothing. No doubt from the exertion of his bout with Kageyama.

Silly man, trying to fight a kitsune.

I saw a red bump swelling on Zakhar's forehead. I wondered if he had done it to himself, when he slammed his head into Kageyama's, or if it was from when Kageyama had pushed his head into the floor.

"How is your head?" I asked, as Zakhar helped me limp down the steps and through the snow with mincing steps.

"Fine," Zakhar mumbled, and looked away.

What is wrong with him?

Zakhar and I stopped before a wide pine tree about a hundred lengths from the cabin. The branches were thick, and less snow had fallen here.

I sat down, back against the trunk. I wrapped the furs closer about me, to keep me warm.

"Tie me," I commanded.

Zakhar bent to do the task, but before he could, he had to untie the knots he had made in the woven hemp rope to bind Kageyama.

We both stared at the rope, the silence between us strained as we watched Zakhar's trembling fingers fumble to undo the knots. It would have been a challenge anyway, with his thick fingers, but Zakhar's hands were shaking so badly on top of that, it became a near impossible task.

I reached out and lay a gentle hand on his wrist. "Zakhar. Let me."

Zakhar passed me the rope and sat back in the snow. His broad shoulders slumped . His eyes stared at his hands, unseeing. He looked defeated.

He would bear this for you, if he could, said a voice in my head that did not sound like my own. It is a gift to have someone who cares for you so.

The voice was right. I knew Zakhar cared for me, too much. Instinctively, I felt the need to chase him away.

What do you want to drive him away for? He already knows who you were, and he has not changed.

The voice was so reasonable. It was definitely not my own. It sounded like something Lu would say.

But still. I should not let Zakhar get too close. For his own sake.

Ao, if you can be nothing else, be kind. Lu's words, for sure this time.

Perhaps I was near death, and that was why I kept hearing a dead man's voice echoing in my head.

Lu always said kindness was a strength, and I had always virulently disagreed. Kindness was a weakness, or something we did to get something in return.

But Zakhar had showed me much kindness, even after I had told him he would get nothing for it.

The rough woven rope at last untangled in my hands. I wound it into a coil, using my palm and elbow as a spool. Then I removed the rope from my arm and set it down in the snow.

"Zakhar," I said softly, reaching out to take one of his limp hands. I squeezed it, my palm cold against his warm one. "I have survived worse things than this. I will survive this too."