We don’t speak, just continue into the forest, keeping to the pine needle–covered tracks until we’re swallowed by a shadow of the darkest green.
We’ve been walking through the forest for a long time, the shady branches making everything gloomy. I jump at each rustle of the pine trees, each snap of a twig, frightened that some predator is stalking us. Jeevan begins coughing and I’m worried that he really is ill.
I thread my arm through his as each silent step takes us even deeper into the forest. I stare through the branches at the patches of whitening sky. “Let’s find somewhere to shelter. It’s getting colder and the weather’s changing so suddenly.”
After a few more minutes my misty breath spirals into the cold air and something wet lands on my nose, making me look up. “It’s snowing.” I remember Chitragupta’s words about staying together in the high Himalayas and I feel sick and full of anger at myself for leaving Jeevan behind earlier.
He sits down on the freezing forest floor. “Asha, I can’t go on. I mean it.” His eyes are bloodshot.
I touch Jeevan’s blazing forehead and the guilt twists into me like a burning knife. “We’ll find some shelter, Jeevan, I promise.” After everything we said about looking after each other, I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner that he wasn’t well.
He closes his eyes. “I’ll be OK.” His voice is weak and shaky.
“I’m so sorry for leaving you back there. Can you forgive me?” He doesn’t reply. The icy snowflakes are beginning to settle on the ground. “We must find a shepherd’s hut or something, there has to be one up here.
“Hold on to me, Jeevan,” I continue, hooking his arm around my waist. “We’ll find somewhere to sleep the night and … and you’ll feel better in the morning.” We struggle through the trees, branches scraping our skin.
Panic stabs at my chest but I won’t give in to it. If anything happens to Jeevan it will be all my fault. I have to be even stronger now. I take a deep icy breath and grip him more tightly, using all my strength to keep him from falling.
We move slowly and the snow begins to fall in flurries, as if someone’s shaking a feather pillow in the air. Large white flakes drift down through the trees, coating everything, including the path, in a dense layer of freezing snow. I squint ahead at the disappearing track, desperate for a sign of shelter, but there’s nothing, only trees.
Even though he’s lost weight, Jeevan is still taller and heavier than I can manage and I have to get him to sit down on the cold ground each time I need a rest.
Feeling his forehead again, he’s much hotter than before and his cheeks are brighter too. He closes his eyes again and this time falls onto his back.
“Jeevan … Jeevan!” I scream. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” he says faintly.
Tears stream down my face; I won’t let him die like his brother. “You’re going to get better, OK?”
But he doesn’t answer.
The air is bitter. I get Papa’s scarf out of my bag, not worrying about the mango stone it’s protecting, and wrap it around his shoulders to keep him warm. I try to lift him off the ground, but I can’t do it.
I pull and pull until with one final heave that leaves me gasping for air, he stands up.
“We have to keep going, Jeevan,” I say, fighting back my sobs. His body is heavy against my shoulder. I grip my pendant, begging it to give me courage.
We slip along together, taking small steps, zigzagging this way and that, scouring the trees for a hut to protect him from the snow.
I look around in desperation. What can I do? His breath sounds more and more labored and raspy … The only thing I can think of is to build a shelter myself.
There’s a huge boulder and mounds of thick fallen branches on the ground. I prop him up against a fallen log and get to work, dragging long heavy branches through the pine needles and snow and balancing them close together against the rock.
The snow is flying down, covering Jeevan in frozen flakes, and the longer it takes me to build the shelter, the colder he’s getting—I must move faster.
“I’m making a tree den, Jeevan.” I keep talking so he’ll stay awake. “Just like the ones we make back home.”
I collect smaller branches with pine needles still on them and make a second layer to keep the wind from getting through. Splinters pinch my skin and my muscles ache from all the walking and lifting, but I carry on building until it’s finished and my breath bursts out in ragged gasps.
“Jeevan … Can you walk a little?”
He’s still awake but keeps closing his eyes and drifting away. I help him stand up and lead him into the pine-covered shelter, pulling the scarf more tightly around him.
I sit next to him, allowing myself a moment of satisfaction, but I can’t rest until I’ve built a fire to keep the wild animals away.
On cold winter evenings, on the grazing grounds, Papa and I used to build fires together, so I know exactly how to do it.
“Hurry, hurry,” I whisper to myself. The soil on the forest floor is soft and comes away easily as I dig into the ground with a pointed stick, hollowing out a pit. I crouch down and scrape at the earth, flicking it everywhere until the deep hole is ready.
“I’m building a fire, Jeevan,” I say, slipping on the snow. I pull my hood closer to my face, but the wind forces it back, blowing icy flakes into my eyes.
I fish through my bag, find the penknife, and use it to strip bark off a tree for kindling, which I pile up in the fire pit,
