It’s not just about the water. I know what it looks like when someone has given up on life. I watched it happen to my father, saw the moment life slipped through his fingers and never quite returned.
Fen is teetering on the edge of it now, in that darkest of moments. The brief flare of hope gutters out as quickly as it formed. He can’t see a reason to keep going, can’t see anything beyond the weight of what he’s lost.
Just like my father.
And perhaps it’s the echoes of that, the feeling I have never quite shaken, that somehow I let my father down too, that makes me refuse to let Fen sink into this fucking mud.
‘Gods, Zelle was a stickler for perfect footwork,’ I continue. Though the muscles in my arm shake from the strain of holding him up for so long, I keep my voice soft and level. Even if the wolf can’t understand my words, I’m hoping he can still be soothed by calm, steady speech. ‘You have no idea the number of times he made me repeat these drills. It felt like it was dusk to dawn sometimes.’ I offer Fen a wry smile as Benny wades closer. ‘Those evenings, I ached so badly, and I wanted to yell at him. But he was right. His training worked. Made me a fighter again.
‘And deep down, I was so grateful, because he was the only one who didn’t treat me like I was fragile, like I shouldn’t be there. And he told me about my parents, too. Did you know that?’
I pause to lift Fen’s head higher again. It’s not just the tide that’s the problem. My arms are bone-tired and aching, the weight of his head and the chill of the water sapping what little strength I have left.
Still, I will myself to carry on speaking, to distract myself as much as Fen. ‘I lost my parents, and I have memories of them, of course, but lots of them aren’t the best. The majority of my memories were after we were cast out, you see, and it was hard for them to talk about the years before. But when Zelle told me about my parents, it was the first time in years I had heard someone speak warmly of them. I don’t think he even knew how much that meant to me. Or maybe he did. His heart was so, so big.’
I’m trembling with the cold and my teeth chatter as I force myself to continue.
‘Kyor misses him every day too, you know. He … he loved him so, so much. More than anyone, I think. So you need to get through this, okay? Kyor and Elska need you. You’re their last link to Zelle. You matter, Fen.We need you.’
For less than a breath, he wearily lifts his head up by himself and nuzzles into my cheek, and I feel warmth like the sun on the brightest summer’s day. Inside and out, the blaze envelops me in stark contrast to the freezing cold.
It makes no sense – unless it’s the cold claiming me as well as Fen, of course.
The moon forgive me my selfishness, Little Raven, a voice says in my mind,but I cannot fight it any longer.
I blink. Yes, the cold is clearly addling my brain. It’s not a good sign. We need to move faster.
The water is coming in swifter now, too. It’s already up to my ribs and the shiver is constant. Does Fen’s fur make it better or worse for him? I don’t know, but if Benny doesn’t make it here soon, it’s going to be too late.
Thankfully, as I turn to head back to the riverbank, I see Benny only a metre away.
Relief floods through me. ‘It’s okay, Fen. We’re going to get you out now, any minute. I promise. We’re going to get you out.’ I look at Benny. ‘Can you tie it aroundhim?’
He nods. ‘I’ve got it. You keep his head up.’
Benny works for a few moments before he takes a deep breath and dives into the water, swimming to hold himself in place while trying to secure the vine around Fen.
He resurfaces with an explosive breath. ‘The vine’s too thick, too slippery, I can’t get it around him,’ Benny bites out in frustration.
I think furiously. ‘Loop it around him,’ I instruct, ‘and then hold it together. I’ll secure it.’
He dives back down without question, and I can see him holding the vine under Fen just like I need him to.
I pull my magic out, but it is sluggish and slow after so much expenditure.Fuse,I tell it, and the two parts of the vine join and fuse together, forming a tight loop around Fen.
Benny breaks through the water. ‘It worked!’ he shouts in triumph.
My legs are losing feeling from the cold – my hands, too. I’m using every last scrap of energy I have to keep Fen’s muzzle cupped and out of the water, but my armshurt.
It’s not about me. It’s about saving Fen, no matter the cost.
Since I have control of the vine, I tell it to grow widthways around him, so it’s not one single point of contact, but spread wide, like a hammock. The last bits of my energy leave me, and I panic a little that I may have overdone it, may have drained my magic dry.
‘It’s done,’ Benny says triumphantly, calling to the others, ‘Go for it! Pull!’
There’s no one on the sidelines now. Even Stide is heaving on the vines from the riverbank. As the makeshift rope goes taut, Fen’s body jerks upward and hope jolts through me – before faltering and dying.
Somehow, their combined strength isn’t enough. Fen’s paws are still trapped, the sucking mud clinging to him like it means to keep him forever.
