Halius slowed his pace, Charis in step with him did likewise until he stopped. Both catch their respective breaths.

“I have been thinking and it seems to me that you could journey with me to the city,” Halius stated, with clear determination.

Charis grabbed his arm at the wrist and motioned him to look at her.

“As what, may I ask mighty Halius?” Charis replied, lifting a single eyebrow. He infuriated her, why suggest this now, his Mother would object. Judge take his Mother for her scheming.

“You would only need a Letter of Introduction, either from my father or perhaps the Priest of Judge and then travel to the city and present yourself. Think about your future and I am sure I could convince one or both…”

Her head swayed slowly side to side as he spoke each word until no more, cutting him off, ending his folly with a single, snapped out word. “No!”

Halius stepped away in response, jaw suspended, agog. Charis instantly regretted the sudden outburst, quietening her voice before explaining.

“I doubt your mother would allow me to travel with you. Let alone allow a Letter of Introduction to be scribed in my favour. Or am I supposed to travel behind you and your escort or perhaps ahead?”

He didn’t answer immediately, mouth opening and closing several times until finally facing Charis.

“You could disguise yourself as a stable boy.” He stood beaming at her, a wide smug smile, waiting for her praise. Her face instead pulsed bright red, jaw set and then unset.

“I hide amongst you then. Skulking about and given I am so ugly I could easily be mistaken as a boy? Is that it … is that your suggestion? Is my salvation so obvious and easy at hand?”

“Well, your breasts are smallish, and you walk and run like a man…”

The sting of the slap across his face woke him to the reality of the foolish suggestion. While rubbing the red mark, her steely gaze challenged him to speak any more stupidity. Charis spoke first, barking out the words, slowly, one at a time, her finger stabbing his chest after each word.

“How would I be able to pee while travelling in your entourage?”

Halius thought there would be another more pressing issue with a female, although not brave enough to mention it or really keep talking anymore, really, nope, silence is safe for now as any additional thoughts spoken could see him slapped again.

Hands on her hips, Charis squawked, “So, you are back to silence again.” Halius nodded slowly. “Probably for the best.” Charis stormed off, walking briskly emotional outrage driving her

Halius hastened to keep pace with her, although suspiciously trailing behind.

“I appreciate the thought,” Charis offered, eventually. She appreciated his heart; she understood the machinations of his Mother better.

“I admit my foolishness, I apologise. You have an unusual beauty and no one else appreciates it because all look at your hair first. I have noticed you, Charis, although we are brother and sister. As your brother, I see no harm in telling my sister she deserves true love, she will find true love.”

Neck stretched out, he sheepishly glimpsed her face, then stared as silent tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Stumbling, he ran forward to regain his balance. As he recovered Charis threw her arms around his neck, reaching up on tippy toes.

“I apologise for slapping you, I know you meant no offence, only offering help if somewhat misguided. I am just worried brother.” Hearing him declare the absolute truth of their relationship, brother, and sister, confirmed her false dreams could finally be laid to peaceful rest. Then his firm belief she deserved love, his good heart saving her, she couldn’t deny him the same.

“We will trust our luck and continue on the trail.” He squeezed her slightly and then separated. Swapping reassuring looks, they needed to continue and hope; searching each other’s eyes for confirmation, agreement. Their separation this time, not awkward; two companions, akin to brother and sister, plainly accepting and even cherishing their relationship, no longer any false possibilities or misunderstandings.

Charis wiped the tears from her sunlit sparkling blue eyes, leaving enough moisture by accident to reward Halius with an everlasting magical memory.

---

As Halius and Charis rounded a sweeping corner, he glimpsed him first, extending an arm across her path, both stopping immediately. This signal was adopted and understood by the young hunters years ago. The stream still bubbling and gurgling beside them perhaps covering any noise they made. They took a couple of steps back, cautiously, quietly.

Halius hunting signed what he witnessed and then pointed to himself and then the trail. He pointed to Charis and then the forest, his large hand in a curving motion she knew well.

Charis disagreed, shaking her head, gesturing with her hand and pointing back up the path. They needed to discuss options. Halius’ head tilted, questioning, he agreed though and followed Charis, backtracking a considerable distance.

“We don’t know this stranger Halius, we must be careful. Who would be in this forest and friendly?” Charis considered animals unpredictable at the best of times, strangers in this forest could be anything.

“He could know the way out or at least know where this trail goes.”

Charis’ hands open and pleading demonstrated before him. “We have travelled this well used trail for most of the morning and we find a single stranger and no game.” Her head then snaked to gain his attention. “We could go around him, you push through the forest perhaps,” Charis offered, challenging his certainty and perhaps desperation to trust. With an effort she suppressed her worry, it wouldn’t help.

Halius, arms folded said, “You can worm your way through my small companion, whereas I would have difficulty and the noise I made would easily attract him if he had a mind to and then he may consider us bandits or robbers.”

Halius stood resolute, her hero protecting her and commanding as he always did.

“Stay well away from him when you talk to him,” Charis said, resigned to his determination.

Halius returned a sure broad smile, head nodding in agreement. She wished she could slap the silly look from his square-jawed face, instead concerned, she grabbed him by the arm and as he reacted, Charis stared directly into his noble eyes, never wavering.

“If you can keep working your way past him, I will work my small body through the forest.” Her chin set then. “I will be following your lead and if I am delayed wait as long as you can. If he chases you, run and I will follow. Stay away from him, yes?”

“Yes, I will stay away from him.” His eyes holding hers, no doubt, no deviation from the plan.

He leant forward and kissed her forehead. He could see the pleading in her eyes. She deserved more so he wrapped her in a bear hug, a short pause as he realised it comforted him also, his brotherly love for her, returned as her sisterly love for him, true, unconditional, and forever.

Charis strung her bow, smallish to suit her height and strength, crafted with her own hands after many previous failed attempts, which made up the learning process. Father didn’t support such foolish behaviour, outwardly at least, inwardly though proud of his only child and her tenacity. She knew her father well enough by now to know this as a truth.

She drew an arrow and nocked it loosely, one of only seven left in her self-crafted quiver, the leather cured from several early kills, functional, certainly not pretty although better than carrying additional arrows by hand.

Halius dedicated several waiting moments to appreciate Charis’ actions: smooth, well-practised and always instilling him with confidence, trusted partners, stronger together. His spear was already to hand an heirloom of sorts, long held in keeping by extended family, being a gift from an uncle and held in trust by his father until his second born came of age. They exchanged a glance, confirming their readiness and crept along the trail.

“You circle wide and get into position. When set make the usual call?” he whispered.

“Of course, different from our deer hunts though,” Charis scoffed, after all, she advocated caution this time. Placing her backpack and water skin beside the trail she moved into the forest proper. If necessary, both would be left behind. The talking she realised was unnecessary, yet somehow reassuring.

“I will be extra careful with this animal as agreed,” he whispered. Unsure if she heard him or not, always uncertain about her ears and hearing. Sometimes she heard him and sometimes not regardless of any other factors. He always wondered why her mother cut her ears. Charis didn’t know. Now not the time to ponder, focus he told himself.

He tried to listen for her as she slid her way through the bushes and trees, not a footfall to be heard. After numerous heartbeats, he heard the bird call. His turn. Strong hands gripped and released the shaft of the heirloom several times, searching for courage. If things went bad, as a Noble he could offer a ransom. Before that, he would trust in his strength. Take the first step he told himself … and then he did.

Holding the spear more like a walking stick, leather jerkin loose and casual, backpack hanging from his left shoulder Halius strolled along the game trail as naturally as possible. The butterflies in his stomach tapped a merry dance, settling with each step as he cloaked himself within the lost traveller story they agreed to.

Turning the bend, the bulky man remained where Halius first glimpsed him, sitting on a large fallen tree. Given the longer examination as Halius made his approach, he realised his mistake, the stranger sat upon a large hollow log, a minor detail. The man continued staring into the forest, chewing cheese instead of bread, oblivious and undisturbed by Halius’ presence. Halius didn’t know if he cautiously approached stupid or total confidence.

He halted a couple of man heights from him. Still, no acknowledgement as he continued chewing and staring into the forest.

“Hello Sir, my name is Halius.”

Nothing, no reaction, the Sir kept eating his cheese, a large square jaw defeating the yellow block with every bite. So Halius circled about as planned edging to the point of no return.

“I ask, what is your business in my father’s lands?” Halius is polite once again, although by his tone, expecting an answer. He never really perfected the noble right to rule and right to command sneer though. Probably Charis’ influence he realised. His father’s land was probably a bit of a stretch, although needing to say something to wake this stranger up, or did he? Could Halius simply slip past?

The stranger slowly craned a pale face up to stare at Halius. His large pallid head, odd seeming now, thatched with wisps of black hair grabbed Halius’ attention. A large, calloused hand then motioned to Halius, four fingers curling and uncurling, finally pointing to his large crinkled ear, the attached blockhead shaking slightly.

Halius eyed the distance, could he pretend to sit on the stranger’s other side and bolt instead? Halius slowly stepped closer, circling still, judging his chances, easing around the stranger. The stranger leant forward, startling Halius, causing the second son to stumble closer.

Catching himself, Halius glanced up at the stranger, imagining the worst. He gawked at the creature before him searching for a reaction finding instead a realisation. The stranger no stranger after all. A familiarity, a sense of knowing swept over him, any caution relaxed without truly knowing why. He heard Charis' warning in his mind's eye, trying to heed it. He promised didn’t he, yet it slipped away from him like an echo in a cave, fading to silence.

His new acquaintance wore a new leather jerkin over a well-worn shirt; the attire familiar to Halius in some way. His pants were threadbare although made from soft leather and seemly only weeks old. Now Halius remembered, one of his father’s old friends although he couldn’t remember exactly which one. No, not quite right, his clothes told a different story, perhaps a past servant then.

Halius plopped down on the most grandiose hollow perch easily, a comfortable warmth welcomed him as he shared company with this friend of the family. He considered himself so fortunate, a chance meeting people would say.

“Have you met my father?” Halius asked, eyes questioning, trying to figure out who this new, old family acquaintance could be. Who would have thought he could meet a friend of his father, here!

“Have you sat at my father’s table, is that where I have seen you?”

---

Charis released her grasp on the knocked arrow in disbelief. Halius sat beside the stranger, why would he and so quickly. Did he know him? It could be the only explanation. If he did, perhaps the stranger could lead them out of the forest and save them. Her heartbeat increased in anticipation, due to the certainty of her belief in Halius’ judgement. No! This didn’t make sense. On the trail she stared into his eyes, he promised he wouldn’t get so near, edge his way past if possible and the scene before her, plainly everything the opposite of that, total trust. Wrong! This is wrong! She wanted to yell and shout, run to him, warn him. She couldn’t though, what if the stranger turned vicious when surprised, Halius becoming a hostage or worse.

Not dropping all caution, she crept as quietly as possible forward, easing herself through the forest. She could now overhear Halius asking the stranger questions. The stranger not answering, or too quiet for her to eavesdrop at least. She needed to hear, so she crept further forward.

Eyeing the stranger, she recognised him from somewhere. An acquaintance or customer of her father’s possibly? Sure, and certain now, no wonder Halius sat beside him. She recalled his face now, a friendly fellow easily picturing him in her father’s Smithy, so of course, Halius would feel comfortable enough to talk to him! Relief washed over her.

Before her eyes seemingly in slow motion, her father’s friend placed one hand in Halius’ long sandy brown hair and pulled his head back. Using his other hand, he strongly gripped a thin-bladed knife and swiftly drew it across Halius’ throat, both actions well-practised and swiftly coordinated and at odds with the stranger’s large body and unflattering head shape. Halius’ eyes flung wide open, mouth agape as her hero’s life left him, gurgling on his blood.

“No!” screamed Charis, jolted from whatever delusion gripped her. She swiftly nocked her arrow and released it in one smooth motion to save her lifelong companion knowing her release to be too late.

Halius lent forward, both hands futility grasping at his throat trying to staunch the life fluid flowing from the deep, thin, and neatly made ear-to-ear wound. With no possibility of stopping the escaping blood, the reality shocked him. His body fell forward onto the hardened dirt of the trail, laying prone and still. The stranger then planted the bloodied knife into the log he sat upon and continued to chomp on the block of cheese, ignoring bloodstained hands and unknown to Halius or Charis, ears deaf to all noise by design.

An arrow pierced his left eye.

Interrupted, fingers uncurled, and the cheese hung slack. Then the stranger tried to stand and promptly dropped down. His head swivelled about nonplussed, looking, and not seeing, the right eye blinked, the left eye tried. The block of cheese tumbled to the ground as both hands tried to grasp the arrow shaft.

Bolting from cover, Charis leapt in front of him, rock in hand, ramming the arrow further into his head, grieving insanity driving her to action. The loss of her dear brother and his love dismissing the delusion, this inhuman creature deserved only death, no friend of theirs! The stranger’s body tittered on the log for an agonizing moment and after, in slow motion, crumpled at the waist and fell backwards. Charis stretched out a hand to hold the corpse in place without knowing why, reflex perhaps, to prevent something falling, no more.

Her hand grasped air and then in the final instant, fingers tips caught a large loop in an ear lobe. For an eerie moment, the heavy body balanced in place, the ear flesh elongating, and then a tear. The stranger quickly toppled heels over head down the steep embankment behind the hollow log tumbling into the stream with a splash. Charis watched the stranger float and bob down the fast-running stream, while frozen in place herself; she killed. He truly deserved death she convinced herself, evil, and he stole Halius from her. Justification in three quick thoughts, and then she threw up, knees bent, hands flat on the log and projecting down the steep bank.

Charis recovered, wiping her mouth on her sleeve turning away from her sick and in doing so stared at Halius’ thin crimson throat smile, red blood dribbling, pooling, and radiating outwards. So much blood, too much blood, and all from Halius’ now still body, folded over forward, head on the ground, both hands painted red although no longer around his gullet. Charis skirted around the blood, hand stretching to reach Halius’ shoulder and nudge him awake. Halius’ body toppled over in response, arms and hands unfolding and spreading, throat smile gapping.

Scream upon scream, with tears flowing freely, Charis eventually turned away blubbering. Jelly like legs soon buckled, bringing body and genteel sensitivities crashing to the ground, her hoarse voice strangling further screams to silence. Unable to comprehend. Unable to make sense of what happened. Why didn’t Halius carefully edge around the stranger? Why friendly and relaxed beside him? The pit of her stomach churned before the thought; the moment before his …, she refused to acknowledge the moment, name it, she believed in her heart of hearts the stranger to be her father’s friend, wasn’t that part of her thinking? The little hairs rose on the back of her neck, suspicion, perhaps the stranger played a trick on them? Halius was the closer, the more vulnerable and therefore totally surprised. Distance must have saved her? If they both approached the stranger, would they both be slaughtered now? Unknowingly Halius’ sacrifice saved her. She was now the sole survivor of the horrific encounter. Question after question and then guilt nibbled at her sanity.

Able to avenge his death, for what? It won’t bring her Halius back. The happiness, the joy they shared, together for longer than she could remember, now forever gone. Her first and only friend, his smile and company gone, never again to be appreciated. She shared his classes in the Keep, a special favour the Baron granted to his Blacksmith. They shared their mischief and punishments. Random memories floated around, disconnected within Charis’ shocked mind.

She remembered convincing Halius to turn their restless energy into something positive, become hunting partners, were partners, she needed to think that way now; were partners. Another loss, another river of tears when she thought her mother’s leaving cried her out. Halius and her now in the past, a lifelong friendship lost in an instant and she didn’t know why. She didn’t understand! Her face distorted to reflect her confusion and her anguish. How could she think Halius sitting next to a stranger in the forest anything other than suspicious! Stupid, stupid girl playing at being an adult. Her failure costing her companion dearly, Halius slain, her punishment apt, loneliness. The Scales of Judge would weep for balance, would demand justice, Charis the outcast, the ugly, the common must make amends. The pain of her fingernails cutting into the palms of her hands woke her momentarily from her torment.

Charis turned to face … the body, stand witness, she needed to, he deserved the recognition and attention. Halius’ face remained locked in a look of surprise, Charis trapped and mesmerised by the horrific visage for many heartbeats.

“Why didn’t you keep walking?” she shouted at his corpse, waving her fist, tears and mucus flying from her face. Dropping to her knees both hands struck his chest. Then she realised what she did, blood draining from her face, her hands hovering around Halius’ body trying to apologise, take the violent undeserving strike back.

“I am sorry Halius, so sorry,” she whispered. The palms of her hands finally decided to pat his chest, somehow thinking the action would heal the dead or make amends to the dead no longer able to appreciate her repentance.

“Why didn’t I release earlier?” she mumbled, a shaking fist raised to the sky in defiance. The blue sky refused to reply, fluffy white clouds floating overhead free of her troubles and ignorant of her pain and guilt.

With tender care, she closed his eyes, so much blood. The tears wouldn’t stop and worse her nose ran to accompany her sobbing, which also refused any attempt to be controlled. Charis needed to accept her friend lost, no, taken from her. Why did she deserve life? Why did he deserve death? She needed to continue, where there is life there is hope, their chant and now hers. She needed to tell his story, their story even and to do so would require escape from here and then, did it matter?

How would she face his father? What of the Baron, she a nothing, her friend the second son of a Lord of this Land? Her lifelong friend dead, thinking the word or saying the word aggravating the ache in her heart, a dull thumping heartbeat haunting her, forever tallying their moments of separation. Their companionship, friendship and love were forever gone, she felt guilty thinking of herself, her side of the loss.

Then she realised without her other half, she would remain truly alone, a small nothing girl in a large unexplored forest and beyond if she escaped. A sense of dread throttled her, alone, lost, gasping for air, needing to breathe. Whereabouts unknown, no direction to run to and could she really outrun the reach of a Lord? Her father would defend her of course, until death, she again the one responsible. Trapped under a crushing weight of hopelessness she ripped her shirt open, away from the neck to breathe, hyperventilating, rapid heartbeat thundering in her chest until light-headedness overwhelmed her.

---

A piercing screech penetrates her growing insanity, snapping her back to reality, a chattering chorus of birdsong praises her return. The stream bubbles and gurgles nearby. She realised in that moment nothing else around her cared; about her, about Halius or about the stranger. Only she knows and cares, the other certainties, dusk would fall, the next day would dawn, the sky and its clouds would float by, regardless and in ignorance of her grief. His death, like a part of her dying, a dear companion, the childhood hero she shared most of her life with now lost to her. Only her father truly knew her as well or longer. Her Halius gone, the corpse undeniable proof although avenged, a worthless token of compensation when compared to the forever loss. She could remain impotent, squashed by her grief, remorseful and guilt-ridden and allow everything around her to determine her future or remember her brother Halius, and knowing him, be certain he would want her to fight and survive.

Late morning, Charis stopped sobbing and wiped her face with a new determination and then slapped her cheeks. Halius would encourage her to overcome this hardship. Her father would want her to think. Think; wake up from your grief stupid girl she thought to herself, there is only you now to ensure you survive. So somehow, survive the forest, face the Baron, and explain the slaying of his second son. Certain Halius would understand she needed to look out for herself now and she needed to believe sharing the truth was the only way forward.

She survived and needed to keep living. A pain from squeezing something forced her to open her clenched fist. The stranger’s ear lobe and attached metal ring, instinctively she motioned to flick the disgusting remains into the stream to follow the former owner. Pausing mid-throw as curiosity seized her, allowing her to escape back to reason, she needed to examine the ear and the attached ring of the stranger laying in her hand. Staring at the contents she realised if, given the chance to tell their story and more importantly to be believed, evidence would need to be collected. Facts can’t be denied; a favourite saying of her father.

Examining the gruesome remains, ear flesh, and metal melded somehow; maybe melted together like metal in her father’s forge. Hardly any blood and the metal not exotic or special, perhaps bronze she thought, the circle band thicker than a ring, more some sort of loop, like used in a horse bridle. The inspection a convenience to gather the required courage before the next step she confessed to herself.

She averted her gaze from his wound as she placed the bronze loop, on Halius’ chest for safekeeping, swallowing down her grief hard, no more tears! Sorrow would paralyse and possibly lead to death, certain Halius would understand; she needed to direct her thoughts and emotions to stay alive.

Charis retrieved her backpack and water skin. She would start with the basic tasks, the known tasks, done without much thought, completed automatically for someone in a forest and preparing to walk out. One simple action after the other, step by step she needed to keep busy, every effort devoted to survival and nothing else. The rhythm of these actions would ground her emotionally and thereby convince her that escape from the forest was possible. If she does them right then nothing could possibly stop her, her escape assured.

Charis examined the stranger’s camp. No campfire: eating bread and cheese, no need she guessed. Birth Season upon the world, so no need of warmth either. No bedroll: he must sleep directly on the ground? The only item she did find rested beside the hollow log, his backpack.

The tie-downs loose, she folded the top flap back and inspected the contents, more cheese and bread, which she threw into the stream, as an act of petty revenge. Another knife; thin and sharp; like the other one, no, not like the other one, exactly the same as the other one, the one used to kill her friend. She paused a moment and then stabbed the knife into the fallen log angrily, the twin knives united, instead of throwing one or both after the bread and cheese. Evidence. A perfect lethal pair in every way, the same silvery metal, the same oddly shaped grip, and both tapered to a thin, sharp, single-sided blade designed to kill like the one with blood on it clearly illustrated. Her friend’s blood now dried, she felt the sorrow rise within her and hurriedly pushed it back down, tears wouldn’t change anything now.

She pulled out some rope and a spare set of well-worn clothes, no flint though, so he never started a fire, strange? At the bottom of the backpack, a hard leather case, of sorts, moulded into the shape of a pouch, with a leather cord securing it. Charis, after failing to untie the cord and much to her disgust pulled the bloodless knife from the log to cut the leather cord. The knife sliced the cord without effort.

Charis discovered a strange collection of items in the case, slowly fishing each one out trying to appreciate the mystery and embrace the distraction. Who created them and why did the stranger carry them, two questions occupying the mind of the young huntress, both impossible to answer? Each item she examined in turn.

The first, a red stone, cut with facets; it appeared valuable to her untrained eye and perhaps if sold the coins could aid an escape if it came to that. To keep the gem there would be a need to hide it of course, which could lead to consequences if found, yet she didn’t envision a welcome return in any case.

The red stone proved a comfortable fit for her belly button; she tore some cloth from the stranger’s spare clothes and tied the red stone in place by using the cloth as a belt. She drew her shirt down over it and bounced up and down a few times to test to make sure it would stay in place. Charis reasoned if none searched or unclothed her, the gem would remain hidden.

The second was another loop, like the one resting on Halius’ chest. Too large for any of her fingers Charis slipped off one of her soft leather boots and she slid it over her right foot big toe. Still loose, her boot would hold it in place. It didn’t seem to boast any obvious value, then again why use the pouch to transport it?

The third was a small silver circle; not a proper ring, the metal too thin. Silver she knew held value, the circle of little weight therefore probably of low value, still in her present state every bit would count.

The small silver circle she placed in her own shirt pocket since it was too small and light to be obvious or visible. She refused to smile or celebrate her finds, given their price. Would the items still be with her if searched? She needed to escape the forest first, so dismissed the thought for now.

The now empty case could hold many items and perhaps once it did. She cast the pouch into the stream, almost to the opposite bank, too much angry effort. No empty pouch, no difficult questions to be answered, simple. Charis repacked the stranger’s backpack, except for the rope. With that done she needed to do more, hands trembling when idle, eyes, a will of their own, straying … to Halius’ corpse, shifting along the body until the pool of blood, from there to the thin red smile. Charis turned away, certain Halius would understand.

Her plan? The Baron would be searching for his son by the morning of the third day, tomorrow, a certainty as she and Halius usually restricted their hunting trips to no longer than overnight. The Lord would want his son’s body returned intact, therefore she needed to keep her only friend’s body away from wild animals. The father would need to preside over a formal passing over ceremony and grieve. They would need a whole and recognisable body, to burn him upon a pyre presided over by a Priest of Judge allowing his soul to rise and join Judge or perhaps the new way, bury him so family could visit him. She knew her thoughts were selfish and calculating, swallowing hard, each time her guilt reminded her.

Charis maddingly caught between morning her loss and thinking clearly to survive now and later. Her Halius now lived only in her memory, and she needed to embrace that ideal.

Enough daylight remained to follow the game trail, still, she would be too weak to carry her friend and come dusk she would need to find cover from predators. The predators in this part of forest, surely night creatures as Halius and herself never encountered any during the day. The only plus, she carried no blood taint, so predators shouldn’t hunt her, they would need to use this trail and accidently cross paths or pick up her scent and possibly be confused by it.

Planning the next action or task occupied her, keeping busy kept her raging emotions in check allowing clear thought and hopefully survival. First decision, deciding to stay with Halius and therefore needing to secure his body and inside the fallen log presented the easiest solution. The large hollow log long enough, Charis only needing to drag his corpse inside. The thought made her shiver, disrespectful? The corpse was once a nobleman’s son, her friend, Halius’ body and yet somehow, she must follow through. This need drove her.

She considered the alternative, trying to haul a heavy body, the weight beyond her strength into a tree. Within the log he would disappear from her sight as well as others, while if hung in a tree remain visible. A definite improvement, she convinced herself, aware others may deem her actions callous and heartless and many other things. Perhaps she needed to be, how else to continue the exhausting task of manhandling her dead best friend into a log!

Placing the stranger’s bronze loop and attached flesh into the stranger’s backpack. She fumbled and found the stranger’s clothes; she adjusted her grip on them for the next task. She wrapped Halius’ neck, so no more blood could escape the gaping wound while she moved his body. Her bravado broke and she could not contain her tears. Turning away she resisted clinging to his dead body, once there escape impossible, her doom surely sealed as grief and guilt would overcome any remaining practical sense until starvation and death.

She threw and threaded the rope inside the log and shifted Halius’ body, feet first to align with it. Tying the rope around Halius’ feet and legs she crawled sobbing to the other end of the log and began pulling until tired, rested and began pulling again. Occasionally the body needed to be fed into the log from the other end to assist with the pulling. Her tears returned unasked for; she shouldn’t be doing this to her best friend. She needed to add a cloth to cover his face, his dead eyes unerringly tracked her. Not for the first time did she wipe away tears and sniff her nose upon completing the gruesome task.

Her childhood hardened Charis to view others as either friend, foe or the politely ignored. Manhandling her friend’s body wiped away any remaining childhood innocence, the nightmare introducing her to the stark realism and finality of death, an ever-present possibility.

What could she do with Halius’ spilt blood? Afterall predators would still smell the scent under a layer of dirt. Charis chose to cover the stain; to quieten her grief and preserve her sanity.

“Peace Halius,” she whispered, as another hand scope of trail dirt landed upon the pool of blood. The blood mesmerising, Halius’ and she pushed to continue at the task. The blood of rabbits and deer familiar to her, red and metallic smelling, same, although different, the blood soaked into the soil before her belonged to her friend. For a fleeting moment, a delusion struck, she needed to scope the blood back into his body, this would fix him and Halius would hug her, and everything would be like before. Staring at dirty hands, teardrops running wet trails upon them, her sanity returned, and she shovelled faster.

Continue, move onto the next task she told herself, keep busy, too busy to grieve. She needed to block the ends of the hollow log, grills made from study branches and rope her chosen solution. The ever-sharp stranger’s knife effortlessly sliced through the required tree branches. The branches evened out in length, tied together crossways with strands of the stranger’s rope until a wooden grill or grid formed large enough to cover an open end of the log. She made two. Now came the terrible, gut-wrenching part, the necessary next step as she would need to return to his body. She needed to tie the two grids together, one at each end of the log and his body would be there to greet her. Covering Halius’ face allowed Charis to cope and complete the gruesome task.

Charis crawled into the log with Halius, keeping company with his feet as well as three backpacks; she needed them all for different reasons. Firstly, so they could block any view of her friend, out of sight and hopefully out of mind, she needed respite. The second reason, Halius’ backpack proved her no thief, her backpack to ensure her survival and the murderer’s backpack to prove he existed. The first, present selfishness, the remaining reasons solely for future selfishness. Heartless or selfish? Necessary for survival she reasoned, sanity hanging by a thread, grief calling to her, accusing.

She gripped Halius’ Spear, curling up trying to sleep with dusk approaching and her grief still gnawing at her. With no distractions her grief grew into guilt. Why didn’t you release earlier to save your lifelong friend? Why did he die, and you survive? His body hidden behind backpacks, out of her sight, throat cut, dead. By what right or judgement is Charis the commoner, the outcast allowed to live while Halius, he of Noble bearing and noble heart slain, betrayed by his slayer, and ineptly guarded by his sworn companion? Charis alone with her thoughts and her emotions, gripped the bloody knife which slaughtered her Halius, raising the tool of his execution to her throat to end her pain and welcome endless sleep and possibly meet him again if they both joined Judge.