WE BECOME THOUGHTLESS

seventeen | jealousy and other such sins

Cole didn't talk much, Alistair had noticed.

Over the course of the last few days Alistair had been filling in majority of conversation. But with Emer here, loud and cacophonous with her high laugh and ever-moving mouth, he seemed to suddenly open up.

Alistair wouldn't admit to himself that watching them talk together made him itch in the chest with want. No one talked to him like that in the army. No one wanted to be the mindrenderer's friend. And here Cole was, who was nowhere near as charming, with a friend with him who would gladly fill every space of silence up with her own voice.

Or maybe that want was for something else. Alistair couldn't tell anymore.

They trudged through loose snow, nearing the mountain ahead with every step. It was jagged and snow-capped, a shard of grey stone in the white earth. Emer mentioned that behind it might've been a village. No, a Clan. Alistair was learning more and more about Weles, and he didn't know whether it was good or bad. It was dangerous for him to grow too attached.

Emer's head tipped up as she laughed at something Cole said and Alistair's stomach turned. He followed them from behind, where they fell into step with each other, where they knocked shoulders and exchanged friendly glances.

That girl had tried to kill him the night before, and Cole was warming to her like a puppy warmed to its owner on returning home. But Alistair had to remind himself of exactly what position he was in.

Gods, what was he thinking?

After a few hours of walking, in which he thought his legs might fail him, although he was too proud to admit it, they all stopped by a small stream to gather fresh water.

His eyes followed Cole as he knelt and refilled his bottle, prodding at his bandaged ankle with two shaky fingers. He sucked in a long breath as Emer shoved him with a big arm, wetting her face with ice-water. They traded a few words in Welish and smiled. It made him feel like an annoying younger brother, on the outside watching in, but again he reminded himself of the circumstances – of course they would exclude him from their conversations, they had every right.

Still, it didn't make him feel any less worse off.

He felt at his shoulder with his hand and knelt down by the stream, avoiding kicking snow into the thin strip of water as he unravelled his bandage and let his arm hang at his side. Cool air brushed over the suddenly exposed skin of his wrist like silk.

Cole tilted his head and went to kneel next to him as Emer went off somewhere into the wooded area, downstream. His gaze roamed the length of his limp arm. "How is it?"

"Better." Alistair replied, both of them talking in crisp Chrysosian, Cole's considerably less crisp.

Cole nodded absently and took a sip from his bottle. When he passed it over, Alistair brought it to his lips and took a few long gulps. His head throbbed a bit from the night before. The lager had left him feeling slightly ill in the morning.

He glanced up. "And your ankle?"

Cole nodded. "Better."

After a beat of silence, Alistair leaned forward and gestured forward with his good hand. "I'm sure I'll be a better judge of that."

Cole hesitated, only for a moment, before sitting down in the snow and kicking his leg up for better inspection. He looked up at the other boy with his big, brown eyes, fringed with perfect black lashes. Alistair quickly looked away and directed his attention down towards the unwrapped ankle.

The sanaberries had reknit the torn skin and the old blood had been washed off. It wasn't as gnarled as the first night, the makeshift splint had straightened it and the bandage had kept it close and compact. It would've been better to keep his weight off it for a while, but considering the circumstances, they were doing the best they could.