The Witness of the Sun

Josef smiled. He held his finger to his lips and beckoned me inside the wide, cluttered hallway. I wondered how long he’d been watching and waiting for me as I stood outside, getting my breath back. Probably, he’d heard me rattling the gate as I climbed over it. I really hoped he hadn’t witnessed my panicked run down the track.

Josef closed the front door, and we were swallowed by darkness. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust and notice the glow around the door at the end of the hallway. When Josef pushed it open, the hallway was flooded with soft light. The kitchen, I thought, remembering.

Although I’d delivered messages here from the village a few times, I’d only been inside this house once before. The night I’d been found in the forest, I’d sat by the kitchen fire, my legs dangling from one of the worn wooden chairs, eating something warm and sweet while voices talked, and every so often, someone patted me on the head. I’d felt safe here. Inexplicably perhaps, I still did.

“Ilya,” Josef called softly. I started after him.

I’d thought so many years would warp the memory, but even though the kitchen had seemed bigger back then, the battered table and chairs were the same, the fire just as warm.

“Wait here.” Josef gestured that I sit in the chair positioned closest to the crackling fire.

A batch of savoury biscuits was cooking in a warped iron skillet hanging above the flames. Next to them, a small pot of meaty gravy bubbled. My mouth watered. I hated what a hypocrite my hunger made me. Weeks had passed since I’d had any meat. I resented the way my body craved it more than anything.

“Help yourself,” Josef called over his shoulder as he disappeared back into the darkness beyond the kitchen.

Unsure he really meant for me to take what was obviously part of their dinner, I sat staring hungrily at the food until he came back.

Josef gave me a wry smile and handed me a clean but very chipped plate off the dresser. “I put them on for you. I could just about hear your stomach rumbling when you were standing outside. Eat.”

His kindness made my throat feel tight. With a grateful nod, I took a couple of biscuits and poured a little gravy over them. It was too hot to eat straight away, but I dipped my little finger in, savouring the taste, knowing it could be a long while until I had anything this good to eat.

“Have more. Ma would chew my ear off if I left a guest hungry. Pa will be back from checking the horses in a minute.”

“Is Caleb okay?” I asked around a mouthful of hot biscuit.

Since I could sense Caleb’s heartbeat, I knew he was okay to some extent, but I needed to know how okay. Was he awake, okay? Was he in pain? I wasn’t sure why not knowing the exact extent of Caleb’s injury bothered me so much, but thinking too deeply about it seemed like a bad idea.

Josef bit down on his lip and looked uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to know what to say, and my stomach started to tighten.

“Caleb’s sleeping.” Fyodor’s voice made me jump.

My chair screeched on the tiles as I pushed it back and clumsily got to my feet as Fyodor strode into the room still wrapped in furs, the thump of his heavy boots vibrating the stones of the floor.

“His injury was deep, and it got infected, so he needs to sleep a lot. But he’s strong, and he’s fighting it.”

“He’ll be okay though? Eventually, I mean,” I asked. I thought about saying Ma could help, but I stopped myself. Fyodor knew that. If they’d needed Ma’s help out here, they’d have already asked. They liked to keep to themselves as much as possible.

“He will be. But without antibiotics, sometimes healing takes a while. You have to let the body rest and trust it to fight. Caleb’s always been a fighter.”

“Can I…can I see him?”

“Soon. For now, I’ll tell him you came, that you asked after him. It will please him, I’m sure. Now eat and rest a while before you go back. I’ll come with you to the village. I have some business to attend—”

Something clattered upstairs. Fyodor and Josef glanced at one another as whatever it was thumped across the room above us and seconds later seemed to fall down the stairs. Fyodor rushed towards the doorway just as Caleb appeared, staggering somewhat drunkenly into the kitchen, almost tripping on the large white sheet he was wrapped in.

I could sense his heart ricocheting madly as he grinned at me. He opened his mouth, looking as though he wanted to say something so badly he was about to burst. At first, no words came out; then the dam broke, and a long stream of Oh’s sighed out of him before he tipped his head back and sang, “Forest rivers trees, spinning spinning leaves, running jumping faster faster, falling calling snow flaking Ilya waking.”

“Wow, you made his list,” Josef whispered with a gentleness to his voice that suggested he was smiling. I couldn’t tear my gaze from Caleb’s. My heart thrummed. I was entranced. Caleb’s words sounded more like a song or a poem than a list.

“Fyodor sky filling sun breaking Josef Carla Luka fire lighting Sonny Sonny Sonny.”

Out of breath, Caleb bounced on his toes, and the sheet slipped. I saw the scars across his shoulder. They no longer looked so raw, but the skin there was red and raised and sore-looking. Definite claw marks. They could be nothing else. His chest rose and fell quickly. After being in bed, fighting off an infection, the exertion of racing downstairs and singing like that was probably far too much. I could see his ribs, sharply defined against his skin each time he took a breath. My gaze drifted lower to drink in the curved edge of his hip bones. I quickly focused on the table when I realised the sheet had completely fallen to the floor. My face felt hot, my pulse throbbing in my ears.

“Caleb, you should be resting. In bed.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Fyodor picked the sheet up and carefully draped it back around Caleb’s narrow shoulders. “Come now. You will see Ilya another time.”

I glanced up as Fyodor led Caleb away and found Caleb looking over his shoulder at me, still grinning, his eyes bright, and I found myself grinning back and unable to stop. I doubted anyone had ever been that happy to see me before. Drunk on dandelion wine was the only other time I’d felt as giddily unsteady as this. I didn’t miss the way Fyodor glanced between us, his lips pursed into a thin line, because however much I knew I should, I couldn’t look away from Caleb.