“I understand that,” Bas says.
I glance at him and see another shadow of pain flash across his face. He’s changed in obvious ways. There’s a maturity to his features, all traces of boyishness gone, and a new confidence in how he carries his substantial height. He has become, impossibly, more handsome. But he’s picked up a quality that’s less tangible. I can’t pinpoint it. But it saddens me.
The guys stop a few feet away. They go still. Silent and watchful. Everyone is waiting for someone else to make a move.
I can’t take it. “No offense, you guys, but this is the worst reunion ever.”
“Exactly,” Bas says. “The top worst. This isn’t what I pictured at all.”
Jode is the first to break rank. He laughs his hilarious cackle and pulls Bas into a hug, pounding him on the back as he utters the same nonsense I did moments ago.
Marcus comes next. He wears the sweetest smile that’s ever been smiled in the Rift, I’m positive. “Bas. Bro…” They embrace, and by the time Bas steps back, he’s failing at holding back the tears.
With only Gideon left, somehow the wary vibe returns. Gideon stands in silence, a look of suspicion on his face.
Bas shakes his head. “G, dude. Not a funny joke.”
I see Gideon’s grin for an instant before he explodes forward and flattens Bas to the ground.
It immediately turns into a dog pile. A horseman pile. Loud and full of elbows and laughs and shoves. Irresistible. I burrow my way in, and I’m swallowed up. It’s blissful chaos. Intensely unifying. We’re a human fireworks show.
All I can think is that we’re whole again.
Complete.
As we draw apart, everyone speaks at once and Bas doesn’t know where to look. He tries to answer four people’s questions, but no information is actually getting across. Gideon and Marcus give up and jump all over him again.
I look for Shadow, wondering if she feels this—this profound satisfaction—and find her watching me.
In her eyes, I see gratitude, solidarity, and love. I didn’t have the Sight steering me to this moment. I had a black horse that knew my pain, shared it, and stayed with me.
“Right, then, you apes,” Jode says, his English sense of propriety pushed to its limit. “Can we have some order?” No one wants order. “Can we at least continue this in Nevada where there’s not a single one of these bloody trees, or Harrows?”
That settles things down.
“You’re right. Let’s get out of here,” Gideon says. His eyes shine, brilliant with happiness. “Bas, let’s get you home, man. What do you say?”
Bas’s smile recedes. “No—not yet. I’m not ready yet.”
It’s like someone has pressed pause. Everything stops.
“Bas,” Gideon says. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not ready.” He looks around with what I think might be distress. “I can’t explain it right now. I just need some time. I was here for so long. I need to get my head right before I leave.”
His words dampen our festive mood. None of us has been through what he has. None of us can begin to understand what he’s feeling. He’s earned this request. Suffered for it. We can do this for him. So we agree.
We set up camp for the night.
It’s amazing, I think, as I gather branches and twigs for kindling. There have been so many surprises here in the Rift, but this is the biggest one yet.
We found Bas.
But we’re still here.
*
Before long, we’re gathered around the fire and sharing the food Bas produced from a leather bag. Two kinds of cheese, crusty brown bread, thick slabs of bacon, apples, and huge strawberries. After days of granola bars and trail mix, the sounds and facial expressions around the campfire almost embarrass me. Including my own.
Rather than bombard Bas with questions like before, we let him share what he wants to, but talk seems secondary at the moment anyway. All we really want to do is witness the hereness of him, and appreciate the togetherness of now.
“I was the same way in the beginning with food,” he says. “I wondered if I’d starve here. I got so hungry I thought about eating dirt. I had no idea it would get better, but there’s a farm where I’ve been living. We have fruit orchards, gardens, chickens, dairy cows, and enough livestock to…”
Suddenly self-conscious, he picks up a stick and traces lines in the dirt, his hair falling across his eyes. Our actor, revealing too much truth too quickly. I listen to the fire, proud of the guys for being so patient and sensitive in letting this unfold.
“So, you’re alive,” Gideon says, wrecking it. Done with subtlety.
Bas looks up and laughs humorlessly. “Actually, I wasn’t completely sure about that until I saw you guys just now. I know you’re all probably wondering what happened to me. I bet you’ve got so many questions, but…” He props his long arms on his knees. “I’d really rather hear what you guys have been up to first.”
We all look at each other.
“We’ve been looking for you,” Jode says. “We’ve been trying to work out how to get you back.”
Bas smiles. A dashing smile, like when he first saw me. I’d forgotten how beautiful he is. Steep cheekbones and full lips. A long straight nose. Eyes the color of dark chocolate that actually deserve to be called dreamy. I see that new quality in them again, but now I’m closer to understanding it. It reminds me of Marcus and Gideon. Of having taken some hefty knocks in life. But it only makes Bas more appealing. Added to his black armor, he’s every bit the roguish warrior who will make you laugh to deflect away from his dark secrets.
“Thanks, Jode. That makes me feel good,” Bas says, with the easy candor I remember. “That can’t be all you did, though. Someone had to have done something more interesting.”
Gideon sits forward. “Well, you probably haven’t noticed, but I lost my hand.”
“I did notice, in fact.”
“I figured. But I got this as a replacement. It’s actually pretty cool when I’m not in here. Because it works.”
Bas smiles. “It suits you.”
Such a simple thing to say. But it’s not pity and it’s not false. I can tell Gideon appreciates that. I can tell it means a lot.
“I’ve been in Wyoming working at a ranch,” I say, trying to give Bas what he actually wants. I understand how he feels. Just over a week ago, I felt out of the loop myself. “I teach little kids to ride and rope. And we do arts and crafts.”
“That reminds me.” Gideon hops to his feet and goes to one of the supply bags, reaching inside. He comes back with Bastian’s scales. “Here you go, man.”
Sebastian’s smile fades away as he takes the weapon, a chain of smoke-colored steel with scales on either end—scales that are currently interlocked. He looks at it so fondly. It makes me realize how much he sacrificed all these months without a single possession from home—not a single thing to call his. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Bas smiles. He looks around. “What else?”