Smalls knew he was going to faint before he ever hit any rock-that was only the final stroke. He was truly, absolutely finished. He had no more energy and no will left to expend it even if he had. Frigid water shocked him, and then he watched in a daze as first one, then two, lights went out. The dark stabbed at him, and Heather slipped from his reach before he could prevent it. He registered pain, a sharp one, when he slammed into the rock and the aching from his previous wound. Then all feeling evaporated, and he remembered nothing after.
Smalls startled up, shocked and freezing.
“Easy, easy lad. You need to rest.”
A stabbing pain erupted, hammering against his forehead. He moaned, struggling to orient himself. It was impossible.
“It’s alright. We’re safe for now.”
He opened his eyes. Wilfred was staring at him, but everything was a little blurry. It was night, but even the moonlight seemed too bright for him then. I’ve got a concussion, don’t I, Was the one coherent thought rambling through his mind.
“Lay down. You’ve had a time, go back to sleep.”
“I-”
“Do as I say.” Wilfred’s voice was firm and didn’t allow room for argument. When Smalls didn’t immediately obey, Wilfred asked, “What’s hurting?”
“My head.” Smalls rasped, rubbing his forehead and feeling the scrape there. Not deep. Wilfred gazed at him a moment, and then opened one of the packs. His concern had grown with Smalls’ almost instant reply, clearly. Smalls knew had a bad habit of denying or even concealing injuries, and it was a sure-fire sign he was miserable if he so readily admitted one. He didn’t like being a burden.
“Drink this. Then lay down.”
Smalls obeyed, but kept his eyes open, watching the stars far above. Wilfred watched him, face concerned. He lay a hand on Smalls’ forehead for a moment.
“You don’t have a fever. That’s a good sign.”
“Is everyone alright?” Smalls whispered. If he talked any louder, it was like someone had taken a hammer to the insides of his skull.
“Everyone’s fine. You did well.”
“Tell….tell Picket that. Wouldn’t have gotten out……without….him……” His eyes closed again. The last thing he heard was Wilfred’s quiet chuckle and-
“Ah Smalls, you always push yourself too hard.”
When he opened his eyes again, it was bright sunlight. Smalls stared at the cloud-patched sky for a long moment while his mind struggled to process what was happening around him. He was in a boat. It was relatively warm, That storm yesterday must have been a warm front. Someone was snoring. He felt stiff and sore, but the pounding migraine that had woken him earlier had subsided to a dull ache. Good enough, He decided. Sitting up, he examined his surroundings more closely.
The snoring was coming from Picket, who was soundly out. Beside him, Heather slept fitfully. He hadn’t mistaken her beauty. She was even prettier in full daylight.
“They’ll be alright.” Wilfred assured. Smalls turned towards the front of the boat, where Wilfred was sitting. He became woefully glad that mind-reading was not one of Wilfred’s abilities. “They’re not bad off, I think.”
“No major injuries?”
“Unless you count yourself.”
“I’m alright, Wilfred.”
“Ah, you’re back to your senses. I was worried for a while.”
Smalls rolled his eyes. “Where are we exactly?”
“About five miles off from Decker’s Landing.”
Smalls nodded. “Do we have a plan?”
Wilfred hesitated. “Not quite.” His gaze flitted to his niece and nephew, and the exhaustion in his face was prevalent.
“You didn’t sleep at all, did you.” Smalls accused bluntly. Wilfred waved that off and rummaged in one of the packs, producing a kind of tonic and handing it to Smalls.
“Take that. We have two options, really, stopping at Decker’s or going on to Cloud Mountain.”
Smalls swallowed the medicine and washed the bitter taste out of his mouth. “Cloud Mountain’s most secure.” He stated reluctantly. It was the truth, even if Smalls didn’t particularly like the idea.
“I think we should make for Cloud Mountain-wait it out a little.” Wilfred remarked.
“But it is what they want.” He added.
Smalls was sick of hiding. He wanted to do something! The wolf attack on Nick Hollow had only proven that Morbin was getting bolder, that he was extending his grip to the far edges of Natalia. Stealing more and more for himself.
“That’s what they’ll expect, for us to go to cover, to hide somewhere. Which is why I say we don’t do it. What if we head straight for the First Warren?” He knew the suggestion was ludicrous the moment it left his mouth, but he let it hang there for a moment. Doing that, at least, would get the Citadels’ attention.
Wilfred raised an eyebrow. “The First Warren? I don’t like it.” That was obvious by the look Smalls was receiving. “It would be so dangerous. The Protectorate won’t listen to us anymore. Winslow as good as banished us. Morbin’s been in his ear for months. And anyway, what about these two?”
Smalls was about to protest that the Protectorate had practically no civil authority anymore, that they’d been diminished to a quarreling building of petty politicians all looking to one-up each other. Only Morbin had true authority anymore. If anything-many in the protectorate might welcome them. But they wouldn’t be able to do anything, and Smalls supposed that was Wilfred’s point. “Couldn’t we set them up somewhere-somewhere they can get up the mountain? Wouldn’t Tommy Decker take them up?” Smalls suggested.
“We could leave them at Decker’s and go on, yes,” Wilfred mused. “But no where’s really safe if Morbin’s willing to send wolves this far out.”
Yes, I haven’t been saying that’s a problem for weeks already. But Smalls kept that particular snarky comment to himself.
“I think we’d do best to go up ourselves. There’ll be a Citadel Congress soon, and we should be there.” Wilfred continued. “Anyway, this is my family, these two. I think we’d all be better off to go on up.”
Smalls opened his mouth to protest that the Congress would do nothing, like the other three that had all been held in the last ten years, but Wilfred beat him.
“The Congress is important, Smalls.” He glanced at Heather and Picket, but Smalls knew the silent part. “Because they need to see that you care.”
He wilted. “Maybe you’re right. I want them safe, Wilfred. I really do. But we have more than just them to think of. There’s so much more at stake here.” Wilfred nodded, his expression softening slightly, and he set a hand on Smalls’ shoulder.
“I know.” He said, “You know I’m on-”
Picket snorted, sat up, and yawned, waking his sister beside him. Smalls yawned himself before saying, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“I was already awake.” Picket protested, but the end of his sentence turned into another huge yawn. Heather looked skeptical. Smalls raised his eyebrows, but decided it wasn’t worth it.
“Good morning, shipmates.” Wilfred smiled.
Smalls retreated to the front of the boat with an apple he had fished out of his bag, not particularly keen on hearing Wilfred’s cheery-the-world-isn’t-so-horrid speech for the millionth time.
“Your true sailors now, having passed a night on the water and under the stars.” Smalls sighed, preparing to zone out when-
“Add that to the list of firsts.”
Heather spoke. She was smiling, but there was a weary, hollow look in her eyes. Smalls recognized that look, and he remembered the striking pain of loss. So, he tried to make his smile look real when he stood and held out his hand. She took it. He said,
“You were amazing yesterday, Heather. I’m Smalls. I’m so glad to finally meet you when both of us are awake.”
She laughed, and it was one of the nicest sounds he’d heard in a long time. “My pleasure to meet you, Smalls. How’s your head?”
Smalls blinked and then his smile became real. “Nothing life threatening. I’ve had much worse.” A few of those times dredged themselves up, but he ignored them and shoved them back down.
“Thank you so much for rescuing me, I would have been finished, for sure, without you, and you, Uncle.”
“And Picket was very brave as well.” Wilfred nodded. Picket almost flinched at the words, as if he didn’t believe them at all. Smalls just couldn’t understand him. Yes, Wilfred handed out encouragement as often as he handed out sword blows, but that didn’t make it cheap or less heartfelt.
“You were brave, Picket.” Heather affirmed, and Smalls grew even more confused when he realized that she was equally as baffled at her brother’s behavior as he was. And she’d grown up with the kid.
“Of course.” Smalls agreed. He sat down next to Picket and cuffed him across the back. Picket pitched forward, and hastily righted himself. “You,” He pointed at Picket, “Are my favorite mathematician. When…...” he paused, glanced down, and course-corrected, “Well…... I’d love to see you as an engineer. Building things, solving problems.” This did not have the desired effect, and Picket frowned.
Smalls was completely confused. His childhood had been transitory and lonely, and his interaction with rabbits his age had been limited and awkward. Really, the only friend he had that was even somewhat close to his years was Evan-and he doubted that that counted since Evan was his brother. He had spent some time with the Blackstar twins when he was younger, but, honestly, he didn’t know them well at all. He’d only spent one summer at Kingston when he was twelve, and that had ended in near disaster after a wolf raid. That had been the first time he’d been involved in a real battle, and he had the scars to prove it.
Picket spoke again. “Thank you, Smalls. You saved Heather when I let her down, and I’ll never forget that.” Smalls, suddenly, felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being thanked for his actions, and the odd, quiet tone Picket used only worsened the feeling. It sounded less like gratitude and more like resignation, and something inside Smalls bristled because of it.
“C’mon Picket, you never let anyone down.” Wilfred replied. “We all did what we could yesterday, and it turned out alright.”
Mostly.