[ 111 ]
It was only three days later when the first snow of winter came. The circulating breeze was harsh and would sweep-up any person standing without the necessary protection. Slaves were granted more fabrics to cover their bodies, which were normally all but visible aside from one or two pieces intended to hide vital areas. But Finch proved luckier than most.
He was given a sturdier piece of fur, which Hawk taught him how to make into a wearable cloak. It all but drowned his small stature, but since he was practically skin and bones, he was grateful. Over the days, he found his body had been excessively shaking when walking around. The pathetic linen skirt did nothing to protect him.
Everyone knew he was the main element of the up and coming ceremony. So they knew he wasn't just a slave. But he also wasn't a legitimate member of the clan that was to be treated specially. So everyone just accepted that he was the potential future Chieftain's helper. And since he had worked tirelessly to save the man's life, he deserved the furs to keep him warm.
As for everyone else, even though exceptions were made and slaves were also entitled to some warmth, it was inevitable that there would be casualties. And Finch struggled to cope, witnessing the weak drop like flies. But he had begrudgingly accepted that unlike in the previous world, he was no longer a doctor. He couldn't run around trying to save everyone, it just wasn't possible in the harsh world which was either sink or swim.
And the Chief's answer to it all was his utter belief in the ceremony. He was convinced the benevolent god was displeased with the clan. So the pressure on making the whole event dedicated towards him, was ramped up. It unnerved Finch, who had no clue what being in his position entailed, and how he had little to no information.
He found himself planning on many occasions, to escape, but always decided against it. He was around who he needed to be around, in the setting which was undoubtedly testing him. If he ran for the hills, he had an inkling it would result in failure.
Given his frail form, it wouldn't be long before he contracted hypothermia. Along with the unknown factors of surrounding clans and potential predators trying to get their fill before hunkering down for the worst of the winter's weather. So he decided to stick with the safety in numbers theory.
Which is seemingly what the Chief also thought, as he supported Hawk's suggestion and decided that no more hunting parties would be sent out. They were more than capable of providing for themselves through the harshness of the oncoming months, as they had advanced since the days of hunting and gathering solely for food. Instead various plant-life was being nurtured, albeit with little success given the frost, and also cattle.
The confidence in their leader resulted in the followers' normal anxieties around this time of the year being thwarted. On top of their potential future Chief's gradual recovery.
Hawk gradually grew stronger, his leg recovering but not able to hold his weight. Even with the use of crutches, he ensured he was as visible as he once was. Finch was aware of how big of a threat Falcon posed, and was silently urging Hawk onwards. But it was well known within the clan, that the idea of safe-keeping the member's and using the stock they already had, was an idea put across by Hawk.
He was already respected, but the clan's members felt like he cared. They viewed Hawk's action of giving Finch a fur to keep warm, as a symbol of his generosity. A far cry from how they perceived the Chief's other son to be.
When Finch stepped out of Hawk's hut, one which he had pretty much called his temporary home, he took in a big breath of the brisk morning air. Although it was a blessing to keep warm, the smoke which encapsulated the small space made it stifling. So even though it was beneficial for Hawk, who was asleep after Finch helped him with some leg exercises, Finch himself couldn't breathe.
They remained in the same hut as when Hawk was initially brought in injured. Ordinarily he would have one which was on stilts, like the Chief's own, but as it would be too strenuous to go up and down the stairs all the time, Hawk decided to stick where he was. Further solidifying a humble image about him.
Finch couldn't complain, since being amongst the other huts made it warmer than being open to the elements. Still, he had to hitch the ends of the furs closer to his skin and make himself look small to try and conserve the heat. He looked like a moving pile of fur.
Everyone was moving at a slower pace, but still moving nonetheless. Slaves were expected to be working, especially with the Chief's urgency to get everything ready for the ceremony. One which had originally meant to be quick and small, but snowballed into a large-scale event.
When doorways parted, smoke billowed out of huts. As Finch walked passed, he heard the grumbles of the clan's men scolding those that let it escape. The snow fortunately didn't last long, it was the frost that did the most damage. The crisp, unrelenting cold air was the killer and as it had only just arrived, the clan was feeling sorry for itself after getting used to the blazing heat only weeks before.
Finch made his way towards the location of the food. As was predictably the case, food began to be rationed as soon as Chief's orders were spoken. And usually, it was delivered to Hawk's hut by another slave who once offered to cook. Hawk had either become reliant or dependant, but he turned the slave down and asked for Finch to prepare it.
Which had left him in a sticky situation. Since Finch wasn't that great at preparing foods— nevertheless with questionable ingredients— he pretty much only knew the medicinal values of. So Hawk used the opportunity to laugh at his bewildered expression. Eventually, after truly grasping how terrible Finch's culinary skills were, he vaguely guided him.
Over the many occasions when the man demanded food, Finch had gotten gradually better at cooking. He ignored, each and every time, as the recovering man grumbled about how his insides were eating themselves as he waited for Finch to finish the simplistic meal.
But Fahren, who had come from a privileged background, was pleased with himself. It was only in the second world where he was able to cook for a short time, before his lover promptly put an end to it before he burnt the house down with their children and themselves inside of it.
Finch didn't realise his face was showing a gentle expression— although the emotions weren't as tangible anymore, he still remembered every detail. And his trip down memory lane continued, baffling the tall man who walked towards him with intention. It took no effort at all to crouch down and fling Finch off his feet.
"Wha— hey!" For a moment, Finch had completely forgotten his role. But since he technically wasn't a slave, he wasn't going to let himself get manhandled. So as he was tossed over the man's shoulder, he flailed about and kicked his legs furiously.
Stubbing his toe on the man's body left him feeling dejected at how weak Finch's body truly was. He was a glorified handbag.
Thinking that maybe he could call out to someone familiar, as the man surprisingly carried him back towards the direction of Hawk's hut, Finch wasn't too worried. But the man made a sharp turn when they came to a fork in the path. Now heading somewhere else entirely.
"Put me down!" Finch thumped his fists against the man's lower back. The thickness of the fur that wrapped around the man's shoulders, meant that Finch made very little damage. He hadn't even faltered in his steps. The only time he came to a stop, was when he reached a hut and parted the furs before stepping through.
On the other side, Finch felt the heat of the room prickle at his cheeks. He didn't have time to look around, as he was hitched off of the man's shoulders and dumped onto the ground. He landed heavily and swiftly winded himself.
The furs around his own shoulders, fell off instantly and left him in a compromising state. He looked up at the man who had brutishly grabbed him out of nowhere but couldn't recognise him. He half expected the see the familiar face of the man he'd rendered unconscious and tossed into a hut, a few days back. But the mountain of a man, who looked down his nose at him, was a stranger.
"Have you brought us some entertainment?" A voice belonging to someone else in the room, piped up. It had Finch whipping his head around to see who else he had to potentially escape from.
But that thought vanished before a plan could even be prepared. The hut was larger than the one Hawk currently resided in. But perhaps it had to be, given that there was a handful of men lounging about inside.
In the centre of the hut, an area had been cut out of the ground. In the centre of the circle, was a fire which was being poked and prodded by a man nearest to it. Due to the constant manipulation, the smoke wasn't as untamed as it was in all the other huts. Which meant that Finch was able to see at least the shapes of the people residing inside.
"Caught that slave you were talking about, Falcon."
The crackling of the wood over the fire filled the space which was left abandoned by everyone who remained silent. Finch looked at each of the men quickly, trying to identify the man he'd had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting twice. Both times he'd been looked at as if he was some shit on the ground.
"Bring him."
A handful of Finch's long hair was wrenched from his scalp as he was forced to his feet and marched deeper into the hut. The man's unfriendly clutch once again released with the intent of having Finch meet the ground with impact. This time though, Finch caught himself. His hair fell around his naked shoulders and he was left on his hands and knees.
Slowly he lifted his head. He was situated at the edge of the pit where the fire had been set up and looked directly into the flames. As his eyes followed the ember as it curled and flickered, he was able to vaguely pick out a figure seated on the opposite side.
Finch slowly pushed himself backwards so he sat on his haunches, giving himself both the distance and height to be able to see the man. While everyone else would have dipped their heads when greeted by the chief's son, Finch maintained his position. He'd already been thrown around, he refused to degrade himself any further.
Falcon didn't stand up, just peered at Finch through the haze of the smoke. He had one of his legs propped up beside him as he sat comfortably, surrounded by people who were at his beck and call. They appeared much different than the eager-to-please men that always popped up to greet Hawk.
"Who are you?"
Finch was confused. If the man didn't know who he was, then why had he been brought there in the first place?
Reading his expression, Falcon scoffed. He stood up and stepped away from the fire. The image of him becoming clearer as he did. He turned his back towards Finch and walked over to get some water for himself.
The man's skin was littered with old scars. The body of a warrior. His defined muscles emphasised that. His lengthy silver locks were roughly brushed to one side, a careless look to it. Unlike Hawk, Falcon appeared not to give a single damn. Which was probably why he had many enemies.
"I know who you are, I want to know how you have managed to attach yourself to the Chief's and Hawk's sides." Falcon turned to face him and took a gulp of water before wiping his mouth.
"It wasn't deliberate. I came across the master and knew I could help him."
Falcon maintained his narrowed expression, his silver eyes mirroring the Chief's. They stood out amongst the hazy surroundings. "Just like that?"
Finch clenched his hands discreetly, "I was being chased by other clan's men, they obviously wanted me for.. certain things. I didn't stick around and decided to hide, it just happened to be your brother's hut."
The silver haired man slowly nodded, "And how bad was he?" He clearly didn't care, and was asking for the sake of it. It irked Finch, who grit his teeth and narrowed his green eyes.
"He was almost dead."
Falcon shrugged, "It wouldn't be the first time." He walked over and gradually came to stand in front of Finch. "But what confuses me, is how people like my father and brother, who are so devoted to their deity let you use all sorts of strange ways to heal him. They don't like new things, and will always fall back to worrying about what some unknown person has to say. So for some child to turn up and change that, makes me want answers."
Finch scrunched up his face and sighed, looking away. "I don't know what to say, because everything I have told you is the truth. I learnt how to treat injuries through my parents, through my old clan. Our methods will always be slightly different, because no one trusts each other to get close enough to trade with bigger clans like this one."
Falcon was quiet. But the men around the hut were far from it. Evidently they found something amusing, but some tried to suppress it. Seeing Finch's once again bewildered expression, Falcon clicked his tongue. He leant forward and grabbed his face. "The only reason you're not dead, even just for running into my horse, is because of that necklace of yours."
Finch wasn't able to look down because of the man's firm grasp of his face. "That's kind of what the Chief said too."
Hearing that, Falcon removed his grasp and stepped back. Disgust written on his face. "That may be so, but our meanings are very different. Your necklace implies that your clan wasn't completely deluded by some benevolent god of sorts. Which means that the wisdom your parents and their parents had, was likely passed down. Our own clan abandoned tokens like your necklace, throwing aside generations of beliefs and potential knowledge, for something that has its own agenda."
Finch watched as Falcon sneered as he spoke. He spoke with confidence on a subject he had obviously voiced his opinion on many times before. Finch was surprised that the man never implied he didn't believe in gods or deities, it was more that he was wholly distrustful.
Something he couldn't deny hadn't already passed through his mind.
But he would never openly agree on something that the reincarnation of yellow-eyes also did. He was confident that the right way was always by being on the opposite side of the man. With System out of action, Fahren just had to hope that was the case.
"The god you distrust has saved master on many occasions.." from you.
Falcon scoffed and turned away from him, "Perhaps that's exactly why I do distrust it. We are greedy creatures, we always want something and that's just our nature. We have a steadily approaching finishing line that's always in the back of our minds. It acts to keep us rooted but also urges us to keep on going and make the best of our lives. So can you imagine what type of creature those who aren't touched by the same timeline are? They have nothing to fear. They are nothing but greed which has festered over time."
Chills spread across Finch's bare body. He wanted nothing more than to feel the weight of the fur that Hawk had given him.
"You're clearly far from a useless slave, you carry the precious knowledge of your Bison clan." Falcon slowly turned to face him, his expression furrowed. "I just hope you don't waste it by being tempted by the devil who may whisper in your ear, just as it has corrupted those I share blood."
[ TBC ]
[ A/N: *hint* We're meeting said devil again in the next chapter~ ]
[ A/N: Thank you for your patience! If you want to read ahead, then check out my Patreon page. There's going to be a Christmas exclusive soon! A new, shorter project. The link to my page is in my bio, if you're interested <3 ]