Chapter 6: Haley—Death in Winter

Winter was hard. Uncannily fierce storms brought heavy rain. Streams overflowed, and three huts were washed away. The swamp spilled into the village and contaminated some of the food supplies. The people soon forgot that Haley and Jason had kept their flock safe during the summer. The initial if grudging good will toward the two boys faded from memory. Jason’s family was not sorry when the boy left their hut and moved in with Haley and his Gram. The two boys brought down small game to supplement the root vegetables Gram had grown during the summer. A few village folk still came to Gram for healing, but there were many who blamed the village’s misfortunes on her, whispering the old names of witch and harpy.

Midwinter had passed without the festival usually held to welcome the return of Light. The people of the village were weak from hunger, too weak to celebrate.

“Jason,” Gram said, “you and Haley will have to go much farther to find game, now. The fields and swamp and copses near the village are empty. Stay overnight, perhaps two or three nights. Yes, three nights, and return on the fourth day.” The old woman had become accustomed to treating Jason as if he were her grandson and Haley’s older brother, and both boys seemed happy to accept the relationship.

Jason nodded. He knew that hunger was turning into famine. Too many of the sheep had been slaughtered. All food in the village had been collected and was stored, under guard, to be dispensed by the Headman. An entire family, suspected of hoarding food, had been killed. No food was found in their hut when their few belongings were ransacked. The storehouse where seed was held for the spring planting had burned down, and no seed was found in the ashes. The dogs had been driven away, to fend for themselves in the wild. When the spring came, perhaps they would come back; perhaps they would not be feral. Gram and her charges were given little food from the village stores. If she and the boys were to survive, they’d have to find game. “Take these daggers,” she said. “You may find them of use. May the Light go with you.” She kissed the two boys.

When Haley turned away, Gram and Jason exchanged knowing looks. Jason in his way, and Gram in hers knew that she would not be alive when the boys returned. Gram watched the boys disappear into the ice fog that drifted across the land, and then closed the door to her hut.

The dry summer and cold winter had been no kinder to the game than it had been to the people of the village. Jason, however, was a skilled hunter. He still preferred his sling, but had patiently shown Haley how to make and use bow and arrows. Jason also helped the younger boy make a wood and leather brace for his leg. Although it made walking a little more awkward, it did give Haley greater stability when using the bow, and the boy soon became accustomed to it. After three days of hunting, the boys had a string of rabbits and birds, and Jason carried a small deer over his shoulders. On the fourth day, they turned back toward home.

The boys were still miles from the village, but they knew that something was wrong. They were approaching from downwind, and the wind carried the stink of burning. “Another grain hut?” Haley wondered.

“More, this time,” Jason said soberly. Inwardly, he wondered how much Haley remembered about Jason’s magical talent. Does he remember that I can see a person’s death? Will he ask me if I saw Gram’s death? Will he ask why I didn’t tell him?

Haley tried to run, but stumbled. The smell was stronger, and it was more than wood and straw. The breeze carried a sickly-sweet smell. Burdened by the deer, Jason could not keep up with the crippled boy. He dropped the deer, hoping it would not be stolen by scavengers, and hurried after Haley.

Haley had reached the edge of the village when Jason caught up with him. The younger boy stood transfixed. He stared at the rubble of charred wood where Gram’s hut had stood. Beyond it, there was no village, only more piles of charred wood. Except for wisps of smoke curling into the sky, there was no motion.

After the third or fourth hut, the boys became hardened to what they saw. There was nothing left except bodies, burned to near-skeletons. “They are all in their huts,” Jason said. “They didn’t kill each other. I thought that, at first. No, they were hiding, from bandits, probably. Look.”

Jason pointed to the body of the Headman. It lay, unburned, but with its throat cut, beside the remains of what had been one of the food storage huts. “Perhaps they thought if they let the bandits take the food, they would not be harmed.”

“They would have died, anyway,” Haley said. “They would have starved. But they died in the flames . . .”

The brigands had left little. Here, the boys found a knife, warped by the heat. There, they found a stone bowl, blackened and too heavy to carry, anyway. They had the clothes they wore, the daggers Gram had given them before they left, the blankets they carried as bedrolls, Jason’s sling, and Haley’s bow and arrows.

“We cannot stay here,” Jason said. “Come, we’ll retrieve the game, if the foxes and dogs have left anything of it. We’ll have a meal, and prepare what meat we can for travel.”

“Where will we go, Jason,” Haley asked. “What will become of us?”

Jason took the smaller boy’s hand. “I don’t know, Haley, but we will be together.”

“Did you know that Gram would die?” Haley asked.

“Yes, Haley,” Jason answered. He had been cutting meat into thin strips to be smoked. He stopped when Haley spoke. “I knew and she knew. We talked about it, and she asked me to take you away. I think she saw more than her own death. I think she saw what would happen to the village. She could not warn them. They would not have believed her. So she did what she could. She got you and me safely away.”

Haley nodded. He understood death, and knew that for a Good person like his Gram, it would be the beginning of another life. Perhaps, next time, she will be a princess, the boy thought. Still, there was an empty place in his heart, and tears rolled down his cheeks. He was glad for Jason’s comfort that night.

The unpaved track from the village led south. Three days from the village, it crossed an icy river on an ancient stone bridge. After two more days of travel, the boys reached a paved road. They knew of the road. Soldiers, usually collecting taxes, came from there. Once, a caravan of Rom had come down the track to the village, but they’d stayed only one night, disappointed at how poor the place was. The boys knew that there was more to the world than their village, the swamp, and the mountain meadow where the sheep summered. They did not know, however, how much there was. Resolutely, the boys stepped onto the stone blocks of the road, instinctively taking the direction that led east, toward the rising sun.

By unspoken agreement, the boys avoided other travelers. Jason seemed to know when someone was approaching, and the boys would hide on the verge, behind bushes or high grass. At night, they would go deeper into the woods. There, they would build a small fire and cook whatever game or roots they had found, and then huddle together under their blankets until sleep came.