I recognize his bulk immediately.
Kieran walks round the cottage, stretches, and yawns, rolls his head on his thick neck as if he’s about to start a boxing match. He goes to the woodpile, selects a large log, and places it end up on the sawn-off tree trunk that acts as a chopping block. He picks up the ax and steps into position. The wood doesn’t stand a chance.
He’s got his back to me. I slide my knife out of its sheath.
Kieran stops. He bends down to pick up the pieces of wood, loads his arms up, walks to the side of the cottage, and stacks the wood. A small bird flies past him, close. A wagtail. It lands by the cottage. Kieran watches it for a few seconds and then swings the ax onto his shoulder and selects another log to be chopped. He starts again.
The knife is still in my hand.
I can kill him now. In ten seconds he’ll be dead. And I want him dead. I know that. But I’ve never killed anyone like this: when I could have walked away. And if I kill him I’d have to flee the valley for sure. If Gabriel was trying to get back to the cave I’d be drawing more Hunters in. But I know Gabriel is dead; I just don’t want to believe it. The Hunters will have killed him: Gabriel, one of the most special, most honest, most understanding of people. And here, alive and well and chopping wood, is one of the least special, most cruel of people. Kieran deserves to die. The planet would be a better place without him.
Kieran is swinging his ax back as I tread down toward him. I can kill him before he knows a thing. He’s vulnerable: the ax is useless if I’m fast, my knife plunged straight into his neck.
I want him dead.
But, but, but . . .
I can’t kill him like this. I want to kill him but not quickly, not like I’d have to do it. I want him to look at me as I kill him, to know it’s me taking all he has, taking his life.
Or am I just thinking up excuses? Am I just unsure?
And the animal in me, the adrenaline, isn’t here at all, as if it doesn’t want any part of this.
The cottage door rattles again, then opens. Shit! I’m in plain sight of the Hunter, who steps out onto the grass. He’s scratching the back of his head, still waking up, and looking down.
I retreat fast. Holding my breath as I run up the slope to the thicker growth of trees and stop under their cover to listen.
Wood is still being chopped.
The chopping stops and I hear faint voices: Kieran’s partner and then Kieran but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
Quiet.
The chopping starts again.
I’ve got away with it.
I run.
You’re Not Dead, Are You?
I’m going to leave the valley. Leave and never come back. I have to find Mercury and work out a new plan to help Annalise, a plan that doesn’t involve Gabriel. But first I head back to the cave. I think I should leave something of mine just in case a miracle happens and Gabriel’s alive and he does, one day, find his way there.
On the way back I stop and sit on the grass to work on a piece of wood that I’d found. I’m making a carving of a small bowie knife, like the one I’m using to carve. I’ll leave the carving in the cave, in the nook at the back where Gabriel put his tin of letters, and then I’ll go and never come back.
While I carve I remember Gabriel giving me the knife . . .
*
We’ve been at Mercury’s cottage two days. I’ve only met her once, on the day we arrived, and since then she’s left me to stew and worry that she won’t help me with my Giving. So Gabriel and I fill our days with hiking and swimming. Today we leave Mercury’s cottage just before dawn and set off hard and fast. Gabriel is leading the way and I’m following. Even with his fain body he’s fast. His legs are long: one stride of his covers a third more than mine. We climb up a steep, rock-walled gully and I manage it OK. I’m copying how he does it and the holds he uses, and I’m improving but he’s effortless.
At the top of a minor peak he stops and watches me. His eye has healed, though there’s a scab through his left eyebrow and I think he’ll have a small scar—a reminder of how I attacked him when we were at the apartment in Geneva. I could have blinded him.
He holds his hand out to me and I take it so he can pull me up the final step. There isn’t much room on the rock and we stand close together.
The peaks in the far distance have snow on them. It’s cool here but I’m hot.
“You’re panting,” Gabriel says.
“We’re high. The air’s thinner.”
“This bit I’m breathing isn’t so bad.”
I nudge him with my shoulder.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he says, nudging me back.