WE BECOME THOUGHTLESS

ten | ursa

It had been two days.

Two days and Cole had practised more restraint than he had ever before in his life.

He was aware of the way the mindrenderer watched him – like he might pounce at any moment, a creature with snapping jaws and flashing eyes. But he was also aware of the way he looked at Alistair, and Alistair knew it too. First his hands, then his face. After they made camp for a second time, Cole refused to rest out of fear that the mindrenderer might warp his thoughts in his sleep.

He cursed himself for succumbing to exhaustion on the first night. It wouldn't happen again. But how long could he stay awake for?

They were walking again, following the river upstream. Cole clutched at his shoulder and rubbed at an edge of scarring. The claw marks still ached sometimes with ghost-pain, like the hurt of a sad memory, and it only got worse in the cold. The skin was tight on his back.

A question nagged at him; who would they bump into first? A Weles village, still populated and full of people who would love to see a Chrysos mindrenderer strung up on a post, or the Chrysos military? And what would they do when they did come across someone other than themselves?

Maybe Cole needed to make a truce with the mindrenderer – whichever company they found themselves thrust upon next, they wouldn't throw the other into harm's way. But Cole would very much like to put Alistair in harm's way.

His head hurting, Cole thought to put away his problem-solving skills for the rest of the day.

Behind him, Alistair made a sound of pain. He turned around, shifting his weight onto his good foot, and watched as Alistair adjusted the sleeve of his sling. Cole frowned. He hadn't taken note of it before, but the mindrenderer had only one uninjured hand. Only one source of getting into his head. They were evenly matched – in fact, if they were to end up in a fight, Cole was confident in his chances, and he would prefer a hostage over a reluctant partner.

Alistair tilted his head up and they locked eyes. He arched a brow, huffed out a long breath and shifted on his feet. "If we've stopped, why not make yourself useful and hunt us something to eat. I can find more sanaberries."

Cole didn't say anything for a moment, feeling for his chest-plate at where the bundle of snowdrop flowers, now wilting, were pressed against his heart. The mission had been to kill the mindrenderer, but would Galanthus be more impressed if he brought him in alive instead?

He went to open his mouth, the words were already forming in his throat, when Alistair paled and his eyes went wide. He lifted a finger and pointed.

"Cole!"

Frowning, Cole turned around. His blood went cold, and he was certain the thump of his heart in his chest went quiet for a few moments too long. A bear stood ahead of them, huffing through a big, wet nose, watching them with beady eyes from where it was knelt over the riverbank.

He knew bears wouldn't attack without being provoked – Cole knew better than anyone – but Alistair's frightened Cole had set it off, and now its was growling lowly from its furry chest and making a dangerous amount of eye-contact.

He felt every nerve in him seize.

No, he thought, not again.

It was worse than the ship's take-off, it was worse than when he felt the earth shrink below him, because this time he couldn't move. His feet had planted themselves into the dirt and buried long roots deep into the ground to keep him from going anywhere, despite the violent voice in his mind telling him to get away! Get away!

His scars didn't ache anymore – they hurt.

The bear pounded its big paws into the earth and reared up on its hind legs, puffing through its nose. Its chin was damp and dripping with river water. Black eyes watched him, dark like tumbling volcanic ash, devouring light in their intensity.

As the bear went to swipe at him, a body crashed in on him, sending him sprawling into the river below. Freezing water flooded his mouth and shattered around him. When Cole finally managed to right himself, the mindrenderer was there, on him, with his one good hand pressed down against his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Alistair yelled. "Come on!"

Cole didn't have time to think about the press of his hand on his shoulder, uncomfortably close to his head and the pulse of his mind, because Alistair was forcing him to his feet and pushing him through the moving water.

The bear charged through the shallow river, clacking its big, misshapen teeth and slapping its maw. But the force of the water slowed it enough to allow the two boys some time to escape up the other side of the river and through the forest ahead.

Cole struggled under the weight of his water-soaked clothes. He didn't even realise how far they'd gone until he dared to glimpse over his shoulder, where the trodden path they'd made in the untouched snow disappeared through the trees. Alistair breathed heavily and slowed to a jog before turning around and placing his hands on his hips. He was still dripping with river water.

For a moment they stood there, breathing, thinking silently to themselves.

Alistair huffed out a laugh and tilted his head back, wet hair plastered to his forehead, its blond-white gone bronze in the water. "You look like a – a wet dog," he said, shivering viciously. "And I bet you'll smell like one too, after this."

Cole narrowed his eyes at the other boy, still breathing hard, still shocked. His heart beat with such force he was sure his bones were caving in around it, clamping in his lungs with it. His scars still hurt, fierce as they did when they were fresh tears in his flesh, raw and red, as if he were a child close to death again.

The mindrenderer had been so close to him, his hand had been pressed against the fur of his coat, into his shoulder. He had dragged him from the river, his limbs still stiff from fear and the cold, and they'd ran from the bear together. The mindrenderer had saved him.

Because he needed him. Cole had done the same thing with the poisonous berries. There wasn't anything special about it.

But it didn't make him feel any better about his plan to take him hostage.

"Our clothes..." He managed through the clatter of his teeth, blood hot. "They'll freeze, we – we need to start a fire. We need to find somewhere to – to dry off."

Alistair nodded quickly, gnawing down on a pink bottom lip. His face was flushed. He looked like he might shatter like porcelain if Cole were to touch him. "I think the only thing keeping me from freezing entirely right now is the adrenaline."

Cole nodded absently, suddenly unable to meet the other boy's eye. Why did he feel so... ashamed now, after his want to get him while he was weak, and after the bear attack?

Because it's dishonourable, a small voice in him said.

He had never cared much for honour before, not after what happened, not after Galanthus was crushed and his mother was crushed with it. Not when the things done to him were far from honourable. But now it hit him with as much force as a blizzard wind. Destructive and all-consuming.

Cole couldn't kill Alistair, nor take him hostage. They would help each other and then they would part ways. After they managed to survive the oppressive Weles wilderness – which Cole had been doing all his life – they would never have to see each other again.