“Sean, do you see those two logs?”
The donkey nodded.
“I need to get them. If we swim over there and tie them to your back, do you think we can get them back here? We can do both at once, or one at a time. Are you strong enough for that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you willing to try?”
Sean stared at the river for several moments before nodding.
Feeling guilty for relying so hard on his friend’s help, Fingin assured him, “If you get too tired, we’ll stop on the other side. Bran can join us there until we’re rested enough to come back. Does that sound good?”
Sean nodded again.
“Let’s eat first. Then we’ll go over.”
They ate in silence as Fingin considered the river, the dangers that might occur, and how his plan might go wrong.
When they had rested, Fingin decided he’d first try with Sean, as the donkey had more stamina than the dog. “Are you sure you want to swim across, Sean? It doesn’t matter how far down the other side we float, as long as we reach the other side. I’ll hold on to your bridle, so we don’t get separated. Does that sound reasonable?”
The donkey nodded a few times, but Fingin sensed the hesitation in the beast’s answer.
With growing apprehension, he tied Sean’s bridle around his wrist, and they entered the river.
He’d underestimated how strong the current ran. The water tugged at them, pushing them downriver. The far shore looked leagues away from the surface of the water. He sought any fish within the water, asking for help, but they all ignored him. Even the big salmon had disappeared.
A large branch flowed next to them, and Fingin had to duck to keep from being hit on the head. It brushed Sean’s flank, but Fingin pushed it away before the branches got entangled in Sean’s ropes. It spun away on the water, cutting lazy circles as it sped along.
They swam hard for the other shore, but it seemed to get farther away with each stroke. Sean struggled to keep his head up. Fingin’s arms ached, and the pains from the prior days’ work came back to haunt him. His eyes and nose stung, his healing not yet complete despite Brigit’s pendant.
One more stroke. One more kick. If he hadn’t tied Sean’s bridle to his wrist, he would have drifted far from the donkey long ago. Together, they gained on the elusive shore.
Sean brayed when they’d almost reached the ground. The donkey must have gotten a foothold on the riverbed. He climbed to dry land with Fingin dragging behind. They lay on the rocks, panting and exhausted, unable to move.
Distant barking echoed over the rush of the water. Fingin lifted himself up to his elbows, spying the small gray blur on the other side that must be Bran. He’d have followed them as they drifted down the river, trying to cross. Fingin smiled at his loyal hound, though he suspected the dog wouldn’t see him at this distance.
After a long rest, they hiked back up along the river’s shore to the two logs. He eyed them, noting how large and heavy they might be. They’d pull both him and Sean downriver a considerable distance. Dragging them ashore would prove even more difficult. In addition, he’d need to have some way to cut Sean loose if they became entangled.
Fingin cursed the fact he’d left his knife on the other side. He had his axe, though, brought to cut small branches from the trunks. He bent to his task while he considered how he’d proceed.
Would they have enough energy to return for the second trunk? Or should they try to take both the first trip? Sean offered no opinion when asked, so the decision must be Fingin’s. He must bear the weight of the consequences.
Sean braced himself on the rocks as Fingin tied first one and then the second log to his bridle with twine. Once both logs bobbed in the river, sheltered by an outcropping of rock, he tied them together to minimize the water pulling them in different directions. Once he’d set the tethers, he took a deep breath and told Sean to head for shore. Fingin swam with one hand on the logs, both to use them to keep him afloat and to guide them.
At first, Sean swam easily across the current, only drifting down river a little. However, a strong eddy formed beneath him, making him spin and flounder in the deep water. He squealed, and Fingin wished he had stayed near the donkey, offering support and strength. “Stay strong, Sean! Just keep swimming! Push on through the whirlpool!”
Sean pulled out of the eddy, but then the logs got caught in the same whirl. Fingin kept hold so he might maintain some control upon the dragging wood. The tied logs angled up, knocking his grip loose, and he sank beneath the surface.
The sunny day disappeared into the dark and swirling water. He didn’t get a chance to gulp air. Water burned in his lungs, and he struggled to the silver surface. The log floated above him, and he tried to shove it aside so he might breathe sweet air, but he had no leverage to move it. His sight grayed around the edges. He needed to cough, but couldn’t. He waved his arms, trying to free himself from the whirling trap. His hand hit one of the logs, and it moved forward. He followed it and broke the surface. He drew in the fresh air, gasping and coughing. His vision returned to normal, though his lungs and eyes stung.
He searched for Sean and the logs, but he didn’t
