Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
KSENIA
When I wake, Thing’s arms are still securely around me. It doesn’t panic me like I thought it would.
Instead, it does what it did last night. It makes everything calm.
All the buzzing thoughts and sensations are quiet.
The pressure of his arms squeezing ever so slightly allows me to breathe and not panic.
After my mother’s death, I couldn’t stand for anyone to touch me except my father.
Sometimes, if I experienced anything else upsetting or shocking, he would hold me like this.
So tightly that it made everything else recede, and I could finally calm down.
I never knew if it was because of my mother’s shocking death and the hours I spent at her side or if I was just like this. I suppose I’ll never have the chance to know since I’ll always carry my history with me. I simply am who I am.
I never thought anyone else’s touch could calm me like my father’s. A thought that, on its own, starts to overwhelm me. Which makes me glad Thing is still holding me so tight.
I must wriggle or do something else that gives away the fact that I’m up because, above me, Thing’s deep voice rumbles, “You are awake.”
Smooshed against him like I am, I can hear the booming echo of his voice through his huge chest. Even that is soothing.
A silly part of me wishes we could travel like this, attached to the front of his warm chest. I’m absolutely toasty, something I haven’t felt in.
. . well, I can’t remember the last time I was completely warm.
I couldn’t get close enough to the fire back in the castle.
Some part of me was always cold. My backside while my front faced the fire, or the opposite if I turned my butt to the fire.
But with Thing wrapped around me like this, I feel completely warm and completely safe.
It feels. . . new. Even before the attack, the life I lived. . . Doing what I do and constantly fighting to keep my father’s organization alive and relevant in a changing world. . .
Feeling warm and at peace is rare.
Those aren’t things I value. I immediately argue with myself as I lean deeper into Thing’s chest, not quite ready to have him pull away. It’s absurd to find a stranger’s embrace so reassuring. But he’s not just any stranger, is he?
“We should get moving while there’s light,” he says in his deep, rumbly voice.
Reluctantly, I nod, stealing one last moment of warmth and security before pulling away. Immediately I’m slammed by cold as his arms retreat.
“Stay in your sleeping bag,” he says. “I’ll stoke the fire so we can have a hot breakfast before we go.”
I nod but stay quiet. I don’t trust my voice at the moment with the strange lump rising as I lose his touch.
Suddenly the rest of the world rushes back in, and it’s so loud.
The wind is blustery and it’s overwhelmingly bright white when he opens the tent flap.
Then thoughts of my father and my revenge hit, and how far we have left to walk, not to mention the icy pins pricking my nose—
I bury my head in the sleeping bag and wait until he calls me again for breakfast.
When he does, I find he’s cooked more of the wolf’s meat from last night. It tastes like pork, and I’m surprised I don’t mind eating it too much. We’re both quiet, but we’re hurrying, too.
I think we both feel the urgency to use the sunlight. While I finish eating, Thing quickly breaks down the tent and packs everything back up in the hulking bag he pulls onto his back. Then we start our trek.
Quiet is the theme of the day. It’s strange after the intensity of yesterday. I don’t know what to say other than to monologue about different types of knives, and there’s so much to take in from the scenery around me. It feels like too much to talk and walk at the same time anyway.
Maybe he feels the same because he doesn’t say anything, either.
But then I find that kind of nice, just being together without chatter. It’s not something a lot of people are capable of—being together quietly without it feeling bad or strange. It’s nice to be quiet with Thing. Although I scrunch my nose every time I think his “name.”
It’s not a good name, I feel. He’s not a thing. He’s a person, and he deserves a person’s name.
So after we’ve walked a while, the sun halfway through the sky, I say, “What about Mortimer?”
Thing’s head swings my way. “What?”
“As a name. You know, because mort means—”
“I know what it means.”
“And you could shorten it to Morty.”
Thing shakes his head, his nose scrunching. Which looks cute on the giant man. I smile under my ski mask. “I don’t like it. It feels like a hunched-over librarian’s name. With glasses down his nose.”
I laugh out loud.
“Okay, how about something more stately. Like Thanatos?”
He pauses, looking thoughtful for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m not the god of death.”
“It doesn’t have to be literal. You could just be named after the god of death.”
“Thanatos. . .” He tries but then shakes his head. “Doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay, you come up with some.”
He continues forwards. I notice he takes very short, slow steps to my rapid, long ones. He proved how quickly he could make this journey yesterday when he caught up to me so fast. But he goes slowly, for my sake.
He’s so patient. People are rarely patient, in my experience. I frown, staring at the snow as I continue crunching forward.
After another few moments, he says, “I can’t think of any.”
I expel a breath, the air puffing in front of me in a cloud. “Oh, come on. Out of all the names in the world, you can’t think of one that might fit you?”
He shrugs, looking my way. “Can you think of any more?”
I pause, thinking. Really trying to think of something that might fit him. And yes, what he can do, but also who he is. He’s not just Death; he’s more than that.
“What about Kharon? He ferried the dead to the Underworld. Isn’t that what you do? You aren’t Death, exactly. I get it. But you help them find passage to that other plane, right?”
Out of my peripheral vision, I see him pause a step while his head nods slightly. “Well, yes. And I like the sound of it. It is a strong name.”
I grin. “Do you want it to be your name?”
He’s a little slower for the next few steps, jogging to catch up to me. “I think. . . yes. Yes, I would like it to be my name.”
“Hello then, Kharon. Welcome to the world.”
I watch his mouth as he smiles wide. It’s a little terrifying, considering his big, sharp teeth. But also really wonderful to see. And I feel warm inside despite the cold that I could bring him a better sense of identity than just being a “thing.”
I look in front of me again, a little disconcerted by how good it makes me feel to make him happy. I just understand how lonely it feels without an identity in this world. So much of my life is spent alone, as no one, or as whoever I need to be for my hunting. Rarely am I just Ksenia.
We go a little further before he speaks again. “Thank you for the gift of a name. You are very kind. That is an unusual thing in this world.”
I nod, a little disconcerted with how much I feel like I know Kharon.
Do I just feel a bond with him because he was there after I experienced the traumatic situation of my uncle’s betrayal?
Really, we know so little of one another.
Well, at least I haven’t told him about me.
Or is that why it feels possible to get close to him?
Because for once, especially with what’s felt like stepping into a fairytale after the worst thing I could ever imagine happened, I’ve been jarred out of my usual, strictly controlled life? I let no one in. Ever.
But after you lose everything. . . Well, it all just seems ridiculous. What did all that control really get me? It didn’t protect me in the end. And Kharon knows me in this present moment, without a past.
Are we only a collection of past facts and memories? Or are we the person we are now, as we experince this moment?
It’s confusing and overwhelming to understand or try to untangle. Because for a terrifying moment that’s immediately followed by guilt, I feel free.
Then the wind starts whipping up stronger, and all my focus is thankfully taken by the struggle to walk forward as snow begins pelting us from what feels like all directions at once.
Kharon moves in front of me to provide a wind break so it’s easier to walk. After a while, as the wind whips up even more, I can see that even he’s starting to struggle. And it’s not just the wind. The snow is getting heavier, and the wind bites at my face like tiny, freezing bullets.
Kharon finally turns to me, and I see the concern in his features as he looks around at what I realize has quickly become a storm.
“We need shelter!” he shouts to be heard above the wind.
I nod and look around, lifting my hand above my eyes to try to see. But it’s useless because it’s quickly become whiteout conditions. I can’t see anything half a foot away from my own face. Helplessly I look back to Kharon.
“Can you see where?” I yell, barely able to hear my own voice.
His face has quickly gone from concerned to very concerned, if the furrow in his brow is any indication. He leans in so he’s all but yelling in my ear. “Can I carry you?”
“Yes! Tightly!” I scream back, panicking at the whipping wind that almost knocks me sideways. Being held by him last night wasn’t bad at all, and the way I’m starting to spiral, getting a squeeze sounds good about now.
Still, I’m not quite sure I’m ready when he sweeps me off my feet with his two upper pairs of arms. I yelp as the world goes topsy-turvy.
Soon, I’m against his chest, locked in securely with two pairs of arms. I squeeze my eyes shut as he starts to run, burrowing my head against his chest to protect against the wind and pelting snow.