by Steve Spongberg

Created on: January 13, 2009

Homecoming

"We might make it."

Now that was a fool thing to do, talking out loud to Antrim. He doesn't understand; if he did he wouldn't care. He trusts me to get us home. And it hurts to talk aloud, the cold gets in.

They will be worried at home, with this early cold and snow. I'm not due back for a few days yet but they know I'll head home if it's too rough. And they know I'm on Antrim; he won't leave me, no matter what. He's a good friend.

Wish the morning would hurry; seems it's been night for at least a week. Between dark and snow, I know we're lost. Can't be more than ten miles, though; we'll be safe then.

Baking bread smell: biscuits?

Overslept?

Get up, have to get up, chores.

Why so tired? Must get up!

Morning! Must have slept. Can't sleep, cold will get us sure.

Antrim, come on old friend, gid-up. Mustn't stop. Can't stop. Not now, after coming so far. Get that head up; let me see some mist from that big roman nose of yours.

Don't leave me now.

That's the boy. I know you don't understand but you've trusted me this long...Trust some more. I'll get us home.

Can't feel your pulse; legs are too numb, hands too numb. Your breathing's shallow, not much steam from your nose. Guess it's time to finish off the grain. If we can get out from under these trees, if we can find a place to see from, we'll stop. I promise.

Snow's stopped. And look, a clearing. A little further and we'll have breakfast.

Wish I could feed you proper. Can't do much with this arm broken. Kept the grain inside my coat, though; I know you don't like it all frozen.

Have to just throw it down again. I know it's hard for you to eat through the snow but I don't dare get down: I'll never get up again. Let's see if I can drop this all in one pile this time, huh? Mind if I take a handful? I know it's not much breakfast for you, after all the work you've done carrying me this far, but I need some too. Only a handful, though.

You like that do you? Good. Now let me try and figure out where we are.

Seems we came down too far west, Antrim. Must have been early yesterday: didn't think we crossed the inlet north of the lake, but, with the snow? Anyway, we're closer to home than I thought, only a few miles.

But the lake's between us now.

Don't think either one of us can make it back around the end of the lake. I know I can't. You must be close to the end too.

Wish you could know.

It would be so easy to stop, to rest, to sleep. It would be the end. No more cold, no more hurt, no more hunger. Just rest. Could have done

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>