“Or else what?”
“Or else you’ll wind up dead,” said the old man.
Erisa started to protest, “Don’t threaten him…”
“Stay out of it, Erisa. The boy’s mine now.” Glancing around the room, he searched for something with his eyes but didn’t find it. “Oh, this is your room, isn’t it? Go get a bag and put his clothes in it. I don’t think he’s fit for packing right now.”
Will’s mother left. While she was gone, at the old man’s urging he made another attempt at sitting up. This time he succeeded, but he still felt weak as a kitten. The old man didn’t let up, though. He kept prodding and poking until Will got to his feet, where he stood swaying for a moment.
“You’d better pull it together, boy,” said the old man harshly. “If you pass out on the way back, I’ll leave you in the woods. I’m damn sure not carrying you. It’s your spirit that’s tired, not your body. Learn the difference. You’ll feel worse than this before I’m done with you.”
Will felt the first stirrings of anger at the rough words. “I’m not faking it,” he protested. “I’m doing the best I can.”
The old man reached out with one hand and lifted Will’s chin so he could stare into his eyes. “You think I should feel sorry for you? Maybe I should be nicer? After all, you’re like this because you saved that little boy. Is that what you’re thinking?”
Will pursed his lips for a moment, then answered, “I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it, weren’t you, you selfish little prick?” accused the hermit. “What you didn’t stop to think about was how dangerous what you did was. How would your mother have felt if she had come home to find you cold and dead on the floor? That never crossed your tiny little mind, did it?”
“I didn’t know it was dangerous,” protested Will.
“Then you shouldn’t have done it!” said the old man. “Lesson number one, if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, then don’t do it.”
Will didn’t understand why the old man was so angry. Especially since it was clear he hated Will. If saving Joey was dangerous, then Will’s action was all the more heroic. “I’d do it again,” he said rebelliously. “At worst, it’s a life for a life.”
Erisa returned with a sack stuffed full of his meager belongings. The old man took it and slung it over one shoulder, then ushered Will out the door. He stumbled trying to keep up. For some reason, he was extraordinarily clumsy today.
His mother followed them a short distance, uttering an endless stream of advice and warnings. “Be good for him, Will. Learn whatever you can. He may seem rough, but he’s not as bad as all that. I love you.”
“I will, Momma,” he told her, wishing he could reassure her. The old man said nothing at all, ignoring both of them equally as he walked.
Eventually, Erisa stopped following them and they were left alone, following a small trail through the Glenwood. Will knew it well. He had followed it often in the past, during his many adventures with Eric. The hermit’s home had been a favored destination since it seemed strange and dangerous.
Now he was going to live there. It boggled his mind. I wonder if he’ll let me visit Eric, thought Will idly. Almost as soon as his thoughts drifted, he stumbled and fell.
“Get up, fool,” snapped the old man.
Will stared sourly up at his antagonist, then shakily got to his feet again. “You could help me,” he said bitterly.
The old man stretched, running his hand through the bristly white hair that stood out from his head. “I am helping you.”
“You could have fooled me, then.”
“This is a lesson,” said the man. “A lesson in consequences. Don’t forget it. Learn it well and you won’t do this to yourself again, or at the very least, if you do, you’ll do it knowing the price you’ll pay.” He watched Will struggle to coordinate his legs as they began walking again. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his hard, grey eyes.
They walked for fifteen minutes without a word when Will’s new guardian broke the silence without warning. “The worst isn’t a life for a life.”
Startled, Will replied, “Sir?”
“Earlier,” said the old man. “You said at worst it was a life for a life. That isn’t true. There are worse things than dying in this world.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll learn about those things later, if you live long enough,” said the hermit. “For now, you just need to do as I say. Pay heed to my words, and I guarantee the worst that will happen to you is dying.”
“You’re a real charmer,” said Will sarcastically.
“You want me to be nicer? Fine. Here’s another lesson for you,” said the hermit. “There’s nothing wrong with your body. It’s your spirit that’s worn thin. It’s a big surprise to most, learning how hard it is to function when your heart and soul are grey and empty. You’ll recover in time, but for now you’ll have to put all your attention on your movements. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Don’t let anything distract you. You don’t have the energy for stray thoughts.”
Will did as he was told, and it did seem to help. So long as he kept his attention firmly on his body, it worked properly. His muscles weren’t tired, though it still felt as though he was walking uphill. It was some sort of internal resistance he had to fight against.
He couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying completely, though. After a short while, he asked, “Is this what happened to you?”
“Pardon?”
“Did you use up your spirit? Is that why you’re so crabby and mean?” explained Will.
The old man began to laugh, long and loud, a hearty laugh unlike anything Will had heard from him before. When he finally stopped and caught his breath, he continued walking without answering.
Chapter 6
When they finally arrived at the hermit’s house, it was just as bad as Will remembered. It didn’t even merit the name ‘house.’ A better term would have been shack, for the place had certainly seen better days.
It was about twenty feet across when viewed from the front, and perhaps as long as that from front to back, although it was hard to tell. The back of the dilapidated structure was completely overgrown with small trees, brush, and a stupendous quantity of thorny brambles. If there had ever been a back door, it was certainly no longer accessible.
“Wait here,” said the old man before stepping up to the front door.
“Can’t I come in?” asked Will. It wasn’t that he was particularly keen on seeing the inside, but even a dirty shack would be better than sleeping outdoors.
“I don’t want you fouling up my home,” said the hermit bluntly. Then he went in and shut the door.
Will stared at the door, angry and confused. Fouling up his home? Is he serious? He was near certain he was cleaner and better smelling than the old man had been at any point in the last ten years.
The door opened again, and the hermit stepped back out, a small glass vial in his hand. He held it out to Will. “Drink this.”