Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [5]
4
ISEARCHED FOR an open glade where grass grew, knowing that was where rabbits and hares most liked to feed. As God would have it, I soon found a likely spot close by. There, the sun, finding a rent in the canopy of leaves, had kissed the earth as sweetly as a blessing. It was but a few paces across, a soft green sward of bright green grass that invited rest. Respite, however, was not my mission.
As taught by Bear, I found some thin, flexible willow wands and twisted them into a spring trap much like a noose. Trying to touch the twigs as little as possible—lest the beasts sniff out my scent—I set the snare down in the middle of the glade, then took myself off the immediate spot and waited, rock in hand.
Bear had instructed me not to move, to breathe softly; merely, in fact, to think, and to do so silently. But how difficult to wait when you are wanting food and that food is not yet caught—nay, not even visible. For the sound of waiting is full of noise: every creak was hope, every rustle expectation.
I kept mulling over Bear’s words—that he had sinned much. I, who loved him as a father, thought of all I knew of him, but could not imagine what forgiveness he might need, save for some small measure of anger or vanity, his daily faults. I could not help but think of how truly short a time I had known Bear, how—save some fragments he’d revealed—little I knew regarding the full measure of his life. Still, Bear’s condition made me aware how large was my dependence on him, how small I was alone. What, I kept asking myself, if he grew worse? How I cursed myself for urging him to stop at the alestake!
Then and there I swore—by my Saint Giles—a sacred vow: As Bear had taken care of me I would care for him. I could not be a boy. I must be a man!
“Lord Jesus!” I prayed with all my heart, my eyes full of tears. “Give me the strength to help Bear. Give Bear the strength to live.”
Despite my intent, exhaustion caused me to nod off only to wake with a start, brought back from sleep by the frantic thrashing of a small hare tangled in my snare. I leaped up and grabbed the rock that had fallen from my lap. Diving flat out onto my belly, I snatched the beast, and despite its frantic kicking, brained it. It died with the stroke.
With pride in my triumph, I took the hare by its bloody ears and carried it back to Bear. I found him asleep, the leaves I’d provided for cover scattered. But at least his wound had clotted.
Not wanting to disturb him, I removed flint and tinder from our sack and began a fire. It wasn’t long before the hare was roasting on a spit. The smell caused my hunger to gnaw at me.
Bear stirred, then woke but only stared at me with glazed eyes. “You did well,” he whispered.
“As you taught me.”
“You were gone so long … I thought you had snared trouble, or that—God protect us—trouble … had snared you.” His face glistened with sweat.
“Does your wound hurt?”
“It throbs.”
My heart tightened. I touched fingers to his brow. It was very hot. “Is it a fever?”
“Merely hunger,” he said as if to tease me, but his unusual mildness undercut his levity.
Wanting to hasten the cooking, I threw more wood onto the fire. The flame flared. The meat turned dark, the smell of it making my mouth water. When the hare was cooked I tore the carcass apart and gave Bear the pieces.
At first he ate—one-handed—with rapacious hunger, which pleased me. Alas, he soon stopped. “You must feed me,” he said.
Though it upset me to do it, I nonetheless did as he bid, like some chick stuffing food into the maw of its much larger parent.
“Yourself, too,” he murmured.
“I’m fine.” In truth, I was famished, but I allowed myself just one mouthful. I made him take the rest.
When he’d done, I said, “Do you feel better?”
“Somewhat.”
I knelt by his side and studied him. He was dreadful pale. His breathing was thick.
I could see for myself that he was sinking. So was my heart.
Not knowing what else to do, I said, “I’ll try and get another hare.”
“As you will,” he mumbled.
I stood up.
“Crispin,” he whispered. “There are private things I need to say.