Was the bear attacking Darshan? Was that what the screaming had been? Did his lover now lie dying?
Dar…
Battling against the snail-like reaction of his limbs, he rolled onto his side. Prone, he could move no further as a body-shaking cough took hold.
“Careful now,” Darshan whispered, his voice thin and weary.
“What?” he croaked. Gunk filled his mouth. He spat out the glob of black muck to join a similar pile on the nearby ground and wobbled into a sitting position. All around him, the grass was dull and brittle. The very ground seemed parched.
“You are safe,” Darshan continued, his voice sounding no stronger. “Healed.”
Hamish’s gaze lifted to where the bear lay nearby, charred and very much dead. “What have you done?” He patted his chest. His shirt was torn and blood-soaked, but the skin underneath showed no sign of injury beyond faint scars weaving through the hair. “You brought me back to life?”
“No.” Darshan sat nearby, one arm draped over a raised knee. A sickly, pallid tint had taken his face. His chest heaved as if each breath was a great labour. “You did not die. A minor detail in the greater role of it all.” He swung his hand in a limp circle. “You came close, but I pulled you back before then. Just as well, for I rather doubt I have it in me to push that far.” His grin was one of forced gaiety. “Still quite the feat, if I do say so myself.”
Hamish idly traced a finger along his neck as his lover talked. There were two smooth patches either side, one bigger than the other. A flash of the bear’s teeth filled his thoughts and he shuddered. “You should nae have bothered,” he murmured.
“Should not have—? What? Saved your life?” Darshan shook his head. “Were you taunting it by not firing directly?” He flapped a hand in the direction of the arrows littering the ground. “I know you are a better marksman than that. Anyone would think you wanted to die.”
“I do,” Hamish whispered. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to push them back down his throat. Hunching his shoulders, he closed his eyes, not wishing to see Darshan’s expression as he waited for the ridicule he had faced the last time he had tried. “I cannae do it anymore,” he mumbled. “Living this lie. It was different before you came, I couldnae miss what I didnae have. But I ken what it’s like now and I cannae go back.”
Beset upon only by silence, Hamish slowly peered through his lashes. He half-expected to find himself alone with the bear carcass.
Darshan had leant back and now eyed him as if he hadn’t encountered Hamish before now. But rather than the condemnation he had expected, all emotion had fled the man’s face to leave only a heart-aching concern shining in Darshan’s eyes. The little bump at his throat bobbed and he opened his mouth every now and then, but nothing came out.
Laughter, loud and mirthless, burst from Hamish’s mouth. Of all the things to render the man speechless, he never thought this would be it.
Darshan wet his lips. His gaze flicked to the surrounding woods and back. Did he think Hamish might bolt like a skittish deer? “What happened to have you think this was a reasonable step to take?”
That hadn’t been the response Hamish had expected. His last attempt had left him facing anger, accusations and, above all, his mother’s disappointment. “You wouldnae understand. Naebody does.”
Darshan sat silent and still for some time. Then, with a frown furrowing his brow, he scooted across the ground to halt only once the toe of his boot touched Hamish’s, seemingly unable to summon the strength to move closer.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for an explanation.” Darshan slowly crossed his legs and steepled his fingers. “With all due respect, you have lived in your current state for some time. To choose now speaks of a catalyst. I merely wish to know what that was.”
Hamish huffed. He was tired of explaining himself. “What’s the point?” No one ever listened.
“Well, I believe we have established I lack the understanding behind your reasoning to…” His gaze drifted over his shoulder to the deceased bear. “…to take your life. Refusing to even attempt an explanation seems counterproductive towards any sort of comprehension on my part. Trying can only serve to help.”
Hamish remained silent.
Darshan took up one of Hamish’s hands, linking their fingers. “Just talk to me. Even if I cannot fully comprehend what you are going through, I am still here to listen. To help you however you need me to.”
“Help?” Hamish pulled his hand free. Darshan had said the same words back in the castle and seemed no less sincere. But how could he possibly help? “This is nae some wee matter. There is nae magical fix. You cannae just wiggle your fingers and make things better.”
Darshan’s gaze dropped. Although he didn’t voice it, the hurt on his face was plain enough.
Great. He hadn’t meant to lash out like that. Hamish wobbled to his feet, trying to put some distance between them. “I’m sorry. You didnae deserve that, this is nae your fault.” He could blame the healing on Darshan, but not the reason they were out here in the first place.
Taking a step back had his legs dump him unceremoniously onto his backside.
“Slowly!” Darshan’s hand was outstretched towards him, but he had made no attempt to move. “I rather doubt I am capable of healing more than a few scratches right now.”
Hamish slammed his fist into the ground, the withered blades of grass crumbling beneath his fist. What had Darshan done? Was all this dead plant life his doing? To heal me? He squeezed his eyes shut. Of course he did. Darshan had pushed himself in healing that man back at the cloister. Why had Hamish thought his lover wouldn’t go further with himself?
Tears trickled
