The Storm That Created Us

We were stuck here. The snow was coming down hard. There was no way that we were going to be able to continue our journey on foot in this storm.

So, we were stuck in an old barn that we were lucky wasn’t completely falling apart.

Obviously, my only emotion was frustration. I couldn’t experience anything else. My vision was foggy, my brain was running a mile a minute, and all that felt necessary for me to do was pace back and forth, grumbling under my breath.

We were so close to the entrance. It was less than a days’ walk. The stupid snow ruined the entire plan. Now there will be no way to sneak passed a guard. There will be no way to go unnoticed, stuck here in this godforsaken place.

“Would you just sit down and shut the hell up?” Vernon growled.

I snapped my head over to look at him, the frustration clearing from my sight. Vernon had made a fire while I walked around, complaining.

“Sorry,” I said as I sat down on the floor across from him.

“The weather will soon get worse. We were lucky to find this shelter, at least because we can now have a fire for warmth.” Vernon said, unfazed by my apology. Nothing seemed to change in him. He had one emotion, contempt, and it seemed that nothing I would ever do would change that.

We sat on opposite sides of the fire. Thankfully there was a big enough hole in the ceiling to ventilate the smoke, but not big enough to put the fire out or cover us with snow.

Vernon just stared at the fire, barely moving. I stared at him, intrigued by how the fire was dancing in his irises making them look golden instead of the chocolaty brown they usually were.

“Well,” I said, clearing my throat, hoping that maybe I could get through that icy composure of his. “I guess now is as good a time as any to talk about it.” Vernon just looked up at me and stared. “You didn’t want to talk about it on the way because you said it would be quick two day trip and there was no reason for us to be friends. But look around, Vernon. There is no way for me to get home without being seen. This storm has ruined all my hope of that. So you have two options. You can leave me to my own devices, probably getting found and then killed in the process. Or you can decide to be my friend, helping me find another way. But if we are going to be friends, we need to actually be friends. You not talking about what happened is not healthy and will probably get us both killed.”

He knew I was right. I could see it in his stare. It was cold, but I could see him start to thaw a bit. “Fine,” He answered. “We can be friends.”

“Yes!” I whispered, throwing my hands up in triumph.

“But we are still not talking about it.” Vernon said, clinging to his usual state of contempt.

“Vernon, they died. Your friends died, you can’t…” I started to try and convince him.

“You don’t think I know that?” he yelled. “I was there. I saw their corpses. I know what a dead body looks like. I have seen many, thanks to your people.”

“My people have nothing to do with this. I had nothing to do with this. You cannot continue to blame me, especially if we are going to be friends.”

“Well, maybe I don’t actually want to be friends then.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Fine,” I responded quickly. “Then you can just leave me to my own devices without anything on your conscious. I am making my own choices from here on out and I will find my own way.”

“Fine, then.” He said just as calmly as before.

“But this would mean that they would have died for nothing, you know.” I mumbled, barely audible, but Vernon understood. I could see it on his face.

Over an hour went by. Both of us had decided to try and sleep, still on opposite sides of the fire, of course. I started to shiver, unable to keep my eyes closed. The fire was still going steady, but the storm was stronger than before.

We were both facing the fire and I could see Vernon open his eyes to stare at me with daggers of rage. Eventually he sat up. “Get over here.” He commanded.

I sat up and did as he said. Vernon took the oversized jacket he was wearing and did his best to wrap it around both of us, shielding us from the harsh winds coming through the ceiling.

It took a bit of time, but eventually my chills subsided and I finally started to feel the warmth of the fire again.

“Thank you,” I said to him once the warmth started to spread.

Vernon turned towards me. No longer did I see ice in his eyes, instead they were filled with sorrow.

“They basically raised me, you know.” Vernon whispered. “My parents died when I was 11, and although Astrid and Bard were only 8 years older than me, they took me in like I was their son.”

“How did your parents die?” I asked, knowing I shouldn’t pry, but curiosity taking over.

“They were fighting for the rights of your people. Someone wasn’t happy about that and shot them during a rally.”

I started. Things were starting to fall into place. “So that’s why you hate me.” I finally mumbled.

“I don’t hate you.” Vernon couldn’t look me in the eye. “I hated the idea of you, but you specifically are not terrible. It’s just hard to be around you sometimes because of what you represent, especially now after Astrid and Bard died. Again, I have lost family for the sake of the same cause.”

I didn’t know what to say. We just sat there in each other’s company for a while, both of us knowing that the next step would be the hardest so neither of us wanted to take it just yet. Eventually, I decided it was my turn to pull this trigger.

“You don’t have to help me.” I finally said. “I’ll be fine. I was just trying to make you help me earlier by saying I won’t make it. You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Vernon finally looked me dead in the eyes. “No, you were right. Not helping you would be like both my parents and Astrid and Bard died for nothing. I need to help you, at the very least for their legacy.” He had this look that I had never seen before. It was a mix between confidence and uncertainty. It didn’t make me feel better, but at least the contempt had gone. Maybe we could be friends after all.