QUILLER
As the zyme glow fades, Father Sun rises over the jagged blue peaks of the Ice Giants, and a wave of yellow lights the world. Grains of sand glitter like points of flame on the beach.
RabbitEar sprints down to the beach trail three paces ahead of me, dodging the slithers of zyme.
Jawbone’s head lolls in front of me. His mouth dangles open. A few clumps of ice continue to shine in his blond hair, but most of his head and clothing have melted out. He’s dripping wet. Trickles of water run down his cheeks. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were streams of tears.
After running for hands of time staring into my son’s glazed eyes, I should know he’s dead. But I refuse to believe it.
Despair and rage are eating my soul. What will I do if my son is dead? This is different than watching friends or family die in battle. It’s different than watching them die of sickness or old age. Those deaths are comprehensible. Jawbone’s death will come with an unfathomable burden of guilt.
I’m trying hard to hold back my sobs, but white clouds of breath puff from my mouth in time with my steps.
RabbitEar slows down to a labored trot as we round a curve in the shoreline and Sky Ice Village comes into view, nestled in the firelit sea cave perched above the water line. Black dots of people move around outside, going about their daily duties, completely unaware that the world has changed forever.
RabbitEar stumbles, lunges forward, and almost drops Jawbone.
I call, “RabbitEar, stop! It’s my turn. Let me carry him for a while.”
“No, you’re just as exhausted—”
“He’s my son, too. Give him to me!” I run forward with my arms thrust out.
RabbitEar turns with tears in his eyes and I wonder how long he’s been crying. He’s been doggedly staying ahead of me, probably trying to keep me from seeing. “Be gentle, Quiller.”
“Yes, of course.”
When I extend my hands farther, he clutches Jawbone against his chest, then tenderly lifts our limp son into my arms.
Smoothing a hand over Jawbone’s icy cheek, I stare down into his face. One eye is half-open, the other almost closed. The stiffness has gone out of his body. When I heft him to carry him over my shoulder, his arms and legs flop around as though boneless.
“Let’s go,” I say and fall into a steady distance-eating lope.
RabbitEar silently trots beside me.
As I splash through a stream of meltwater, darkness suddenly covers me like a condor’s shadow, but immensely more huge. The shadow hovers above me for a long while, then ripples across the sand and vanishes over the cliff top.
Craning my neck, I search the sky. “What was that?”
RabbitEar follows my gaze.
Clouds drift through the sunlight with their bellies glowing golden, but there’s nothing else up there, not even a single bird.
RabbitEar says, “Must have been a trick of cloud shadows.”