As for the third icewhale… Ozzie’s brow crumpled into a frown. Five dead Silfen marked its path from the crater. The fight it had given them was tremendous, and now it was weakening, slowing. It had never been so vulnerable. Yet instead of pressing home their advantage, the blood-crazed elven folk were giving it a wide berth. Its back and flanks were pierced by over a dozen arrows and spears, its head wavered giddily from side to side. Obviously in distress, the icewhale came to an exhausted halt. As it did so, the Silfen began to form two loose lines, creating an avenue that led back to the crater. They held their spears aloft in salute. The icewhale turned sluggishly, and began its long labored trek back to the crater and the safety of the ice granules.
“In you go,” Sara said. She’d opened the tent up. Ozzie pushed Orion through the gap, and followed him quickly. Sara came in with them. Orion sat numbly on one of the cots. Ozzie took off his balaclava mask, letting his hair spring out. He produced a thermos out of his coat’s big pocket. “I want you to drink some of this. It’s hot, it’ll do you good.”
The boy made a halfhearted attempt to pull his hood off. Sara helped him. Then Ozzie almost forced the juice down his throat. He’d never seen the boy look so upset before. Tears were clogging his young distressed eyes.
“Pretty bad, wasn’t it?”
Orion just nodded mutely.
“That one they’re letting get away,” Ozzie said. “What’s that all about?”
“The icewhales have a reserve energy store,” Sara said. “It’s roughly their equivalent of adrenaline hitting the human bloodstream. They use it to get themselves between craters, or fight for territory. Catch their food, too, for all I know. But they take a long time to fill that reserve, and they can burn it off real fast. Once it’s run out, they’re basically screwed. The Silfen don’t see any sport in hunting something that just sits there while they shoot it full of arrows, so they make sure it gets back to the crater.”
“They’re crazy,” Ozzie said. “The whole thing is just fucking stupid.”
“You’re the one who thinks they only live at this level to experience, remember.”
“Yeah.” He plonked himself down on the cot next to Orion. “I remember.”
Sara studied the pair of them for a moment. “I’ve got to get back out there. I’ll let you know when the hunt’s over. It won’t be long.”
“Thanks.”
Orion didn’t say a word, just sat there with the thermos held in his hands.
“It won’t happen again,” Ozzie said to the boy eventually. “Wherever we wind up, it won’t be the same as this shitforsaken dump.”
There was a long moment, then Orion suddenly exploded into motion. He clawed at the front of his fur coat, pulling it open, then he went for his sweater’s collar. “I hate them,” he yelled. “I hate them, Ozzie, they’re not what everyone said. They’re not my friends. How can I be friends with people who do that?” He pulled out the pendant, and tugged hard, breaking the chain. “They’re not my friends.” The shimmering pendant was flung across the tent. “What have they done with my parents?”
“Hey, man, they didn’t do nothing to your parents. I promise you that.”
“How? How can you promise? You don’t know.”
“They’re not evil. I know what’s happening out there doesn’t look nice, but they don’t deliberately hurt people. Your mom and dad will be walking the paths quite happily. Remember what Sara said: they never showed up here. You ask me, this planet is a dead end as far as the paths are concerned. The Silfen don’t bother with it much.”
Orion shook his head, and hunched up. “They’re so cruel.”
“These ones are, yeah. All living things seem to be at some stage in their evolution. We just picked a bad stage to see them at today, is all.”
“Oh.” The boy sniffed, and took a drink of the juice. “Do you think this stage is before they visit Silvergalde or after?”
“Hey, good question. I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.”
“I think it’s before. You have to know what’s awful in the world before you can appreciate what’s good.”
“Shit. How old are you?”
“Don’t know really, not out here where the paths mess with time like Sara said.”
“Well that was totally profound for a fourteen-year-old.”
“I’m fifteen! Probably sixteen now.”
“Okay, ninety percent profound.” Ozzie walked over to the pendant. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take this with me.”
Orion grunted with perfect teenage sullenness. “Don’t care.”
“Good. You never know, it might just guide us to some of the nicer Silfen.” The pendant was still alight and undamaged; he slipped it into his trouser pocket where it was less likely to fall out. “You okay now? We should wrap up again and get back out there.”
“I’m okay, I suppose.”
When they emerged from the tent, Tochee had pressed a small strip of parchment up against its sledge windscreen. It read: WHAT IS WRONG?
Ozzie wasn’t about to go through the whole writing procedure outside. He made a few simple arm gestures, ending with a thumbs-up. Orion was nudged to do the same. Tochee waved at them, and withdrew the parchment.
