The sun was already sinking toward the horizon when Verd began to involuntarily close his eyes. Tonight was warmer than the previous ones, so sitting by the fire, he had to wipe the sweat from his face from time to time.
'So hot... I'm going to sweat like crazy!' - he thought, drinking the last drops from his flask.
Arktia sat with her back to him, busy with something. He couldn't see what, but from her movements it was clear she was absorbed. Her shoulders were slightly tense, her head tilted, her hands moved quickly, precisely, without unnecessary motions. She was cutting something, rearranging, checking.
He watched her back, her hair falling over her face, her hands at work. She was the same as always. Calm and focused.
'Does she ever get tired? Feels like she doesn't even sweat in this wasteland' - flashed through his mind.
He leaned back against a stone and closed his eyes. Warmth spread through his body, heavy, viscous, and he felt his muscles relaxing, the pain in his shoulder fading, becoming dull, familiar. The Devourer lay beside him, and its pulsation was gradually weakening. As if it, too, was getting tired.
'So this is what living weapons are like. I wouldn't want my spear to fall asleep during a fight' - he thought with the remnants of his consciousness.
-Don't sleep, - Arktia said.
Verd had to open his eyes.
-I'm not sleeping.
-Sure you're not.
She didn't turn around and continued with her tasks. He heard the clinking of metal, something rustling, liquid pouring. He watched her and thought she was probably cooking. Or checking supplies. Or doing something he didn't understand.
-Do you always work this much? - he asked.
-When I have to.
-And now? You could rest.
She didn't answer. But he saw her shoulders relax slightly. He sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. The spear lay across them, black, warm, and he looked at the blade glinting in the firelight.
-Do you ever rest? - he asked.
-When I have to.
-And when is that?
Arktia turned around. In her hands was a mug, steam rising from it. She handed it to him.
-You're annoying. Stop asking stupid questions like a child.
Without hesitation, he took the mug and sniffed its contents. Inside was something hot, smelling of herbs, something sweet.
-What is it? - he asked.
-Tea.
-Tea?
-Drink. It's good for you.
He brought the mug to his lips. The liquid was hot, slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. It warmed him from the inside, and he felt the heat spreading through his body, relaxing his muscles, calming his heart.
-I've never had anything like this.
She sat down across from him. In her hands was her own mug, and he watched her drink in small sips, steam rising to her face, her eyes looking into the fire.
-Drink while you can.
He didn't know why she said that. Didn't know what to answer. He just drank his tea and watched her, and thought she was probably telling the truth. That you need to appreciate the time and moments you have.
-And how much do you know how to do? - he asked.
She looked at him. In her eyes was something he couldn't read.
-Enough.
Verd fell silent for a while, not knowing whether to ask or not. In the end, looking into her eyes, he gathered his courage and asked:
-Will you teach me to cook?
Not to cast spells, or master the spear. Such a small and simple request.
'Of course it's stupid, but since I'm going to leave her, I should learn to cook with one arm.'
Arktia was silent. Then she reached out, took his mug, and set it on a stone.
-Come here.
He stood up, and she pointed at the meat lying on a flat stone, at the salt, at the herbs she had taken from her ring.
-Watch, - she said.
She cut the meat. Thinly, evenly, quickly. Her hands moved smoothly, without unnecessary motions, and he watched the knife glide through the meat, leaving behind neat, even pieces.
-Now you, - she said, handing him the knife.
He took the knife, and that's when the problems began. Not accounting for the unfamiliar weight of the knife after the spear, Verd didn't have one arm. So cutting the slippery, greasy monster meat was almost an impossible task.
-Hold the knife better, - Arktia said. - With one arm, you need to feel the blade.
He chuckled.
'Easier said than done.'
Verd continued cutting. The first piece came out thick, uneven, with edges that tore. He looked at her. She said nothing. Just watched.
-Slower, - she said. - Don't press, guide.
He tried again. The knife slid, and the piece came out slightly thinner, but still crooked.
-You're cutting, not sawing, - she said. - Can you feel how the knife moves?
-I can.
-Then do it.
He gritted his teeth. Focused. The knife moved smoother, and the piece came out more even. Not perfect, but better.
-It'll do, - she said.
He looked up. She was looking at his hand, and in her eyes was something he couldn't read. Not mockery. Not pity. Something warm.
They cut meat together. She showed, he repeated. He did worse, but each time a little better. She didn't praise, didn't scold. Just stayed close.
-Salt, - she said, handing him a handful of white crystals. - Not too much. Just a little.
He sprinkled. She shook her head.
-Too much.
-Sorry.
-Don't apologize, show it with actions. In this world, words are worth nothing.
He tried again and she nodded.
-Better.
He felt sweat streaming down his face, his shoulder starting to ache, but he didn't stop. She stood beside him, and her presence was calm, confident. Usually Verd saw her composed and calm. But at this moment, he felt from her not cold, not even warmth, but rather something in between.
-Have you ever taught anyone to cook? - he asked.
-No.
-So you only teach killing and surviving?
-Exactly.
He didn't know what to answer. Just kept cutting, salting, turning. His arm ached, but he didn't stop.
-You're doing well, - she said.
He looked up. She was looking at his piece of meat. Even if only for a second, in her eyes Verd saw something like pride.
-Really? - he asked with a playful smile.
-Smile like that again, and you'll be making your way to the city alone.
Verd realized his mistake and looked away. And suddenly felt his shoulder jerk, and the pain returned. Sharp, burning, it spread through his arm, and he froze, clenching his teeth. The knife fell from his hand, clinking against the stone.
-The wound, - Arktia said.
She quickly stood and bent her knees. Her fingers touched his shoulder, and he flinched.
-Don't move.
She carefully removed the old bandage she had applied a few hours ago. The blood was dark, but underneath the wound was red and inflamed. In an instant, she pulled some ointment from her ring and applied it to the wound. The cold was sharp, but it gradually soothed the pain. While Arktia was busy with his wound, he decided to ask one more question.
-Why didn't we start with the core?
She froze.
-What?
-You said forming a core is the first step for the awakened. So why didn't we start with that? Why do you make me fight monsters that are several times stronger than me? We could have just made a core and become strong.
She was silent. Applied the bandage, tied it, adjusted it. Her fingers didn't tremble, but he felt she was thinking. She always thought before speaking.
-The core requires confidence, - she tightened the knot and looked at him. - You need to know who you are. Need to believe that you can. In the mines, you were broken. You survived, but you didn't live. If I had let you try to form a core on that first day, when you couldn't even tell a stance from a fall... you would have died.
He froze. The words hung in the air, heavy as the stones he had carried in the mines.
-Died? - he repeated.
-Forming a core isn't just the first step, - she said. - It's creating a second heart. One that will hold your spiritual energy, your will, your "self." If there's nothing inside you that can be placed there, the core won't form. And everything that exists will crumble like sand. And with it, you will crumble.
She spoke calmly, as if explaining how to cut meat or how to hold a spear. But he heard that even she, always calm and confident, was a little worried now.
-What does "crumble" mean? - he asked.
-Your body will remain. But you won't be there. - She looked at the fire. - You'll become empty. Without thoughts. Without desires. Without fear. Without life.
-I think Kaiel understood all this. That's why he didn't train you. He was probably waiting for you to be ready.
-And you? - he asked. - Are you waiting?
She turned to him, and in her eyes was something heavy and warm.
-I'm waiting, - she said. - I don't know why, but I'm waiting.
He looked at her and understood one thing. She was telling the truth. Even though Verd didn't fully trust her, because he didn't understand why such a strong person was beside him, now he began to open up a little.
-Arktia, - he said.
-M?
-What if I become empty... will you heal me?
She looked at him and didn't understand at all.
-What?
-If I wake up and don't remember anything. Forget how to breathe. How to eat and walk.
She looked at him. For a long time. So long that he began to regret opening his mouth at all. And then she laughed. Not a smirk at the corner of her lips. Not a barely noticeable smile. She laughed. Loudly, ringingly, throwing her head back, and this laugh was so alive, so real, that he forgot how to breathe.
-You... - she tried to speak through her laughter. - You really think... that I'll be... solving such problems?
-Well, - he said, feeling his face begin to burn. - You said you'd teach me everything.
She laughed. Still laughing. And he looked at her, at her face, which was completely different from usual. Not cold. Not calm. Alive. Almost youthful.
-Idiot, - she said, after laughing. - You're just an idiot.
-I just asked.
-Don't ask things like that.
-Why?
-Because, - she looked at him, and in her eyes the laughter still danced, - if you become empty, I won't solve your problems. I'll leave and only come back if you remember everything yourself.
-You're cruel.
-I warned you.
They looked at each other. The fire crackled, the coals glowed red, and somewhere in the darkness a bird cried out. He didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to say. But it didn't matter. Because she laughed. Because he saw her so alive.