Big Brother & Little Sister – 2.1

They left that cursed fishing village called Ethos after solving their damned problem with just a small show of basic human decency, not that it had helped much either. Max followed Helen's directions. He didn’t know where anything was, after all. Though he had secretly tried calling Ares a few times, the god didn’t respond. He didn’t care. Just as he’d said, he was letting him roam free, or so it seemed.

Well, Max supposed that was for the best. He didn’t want Ares to take too much interest in him. The god was asking too many questions. Naturally, Helen asked where Max was from. He simply replied, "From very far away," and the girl let it go. Understandable.

She was sweet, an angel. Besides, she wasn’t in any state to worry about trivialities like that. She had more pressing matters to deal with, and little room to think about anything else. Sooner or later, she might start to suspect something was off—though she might even imagine he was from another world. But for now, it didn’t matter.

Anyway, was there any reason to hide it from her? He supposed not, but everything in due time. Everything in due time.

He traveled the rest of the day carrying her, chatting lightly and saying all kinds of nonsense, mainly to give her something to focus on, something to keep her conscious. She wasn’t getting better. It didn’t seem like she was getting worse, either, but she wasn’t recovering.

Night fell. Max decided to keep moving for now. He couldn’t let the girl camp out in the open. He didn’t know how much farther the next human settlement was—just that the nearest tribe Helen knew of, Clorestal, was still far away.

He had some money, his payment for slaying the serpent. Not much, because those damn villagers couldn’t afford much, but it should be enough to pay for a night’s lodging.

“Max…” Helen murmured, her eyes half-closed.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“It’s too dark now. Let’s camp.”

“In your condition…”

“It’s too dark,” she repeated. “What other option do we have? Besides, I’m… I’m fine. Not enough to walk on my own yet, but I won’t die just from spending a night out here.” Helen took a deep breath. “On the contrary. You know…”

You know, Max thought. What do I know? Oh, right. Elves liked nature.

They lived in and from it. Thanks to Tolkien, that was generally a constant in fiction. Apparently, in this world, too.

“Well, okay, if you’re sure.”

Helen said nothing more, which was like a nod. She closed her eyes—not unconscious again, just conserving her strength.

Max found a spot that looked decent enough, at least as far as he could tell, and carefully propped her up against a tree trunk. If only he had a blanket or something to cover her with.

He stood up. It was cold. Not terrible, though maybe he didn’t feel it too much because he was sweaty and clad in armor. But still, it was cold. The little one would feel it more. He should probably make a fire. Or try to. Not that he knew how. He’d never had a reason to learn survival skills in the world he’d lived in—the normal world. It had never been necessary.

He’d been privileged, though he hadn’t felt that way at the time. Max bit his lower lip, pensive. Even in the dark, he could gather enough wood to make a small fire. At least enough to keep Helen warm through the cold, dark night.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Leaving aside whether it was a good idea or not—whether it might attract predators or monsters from this fantasy world—he could gather the wood. But the fire… how was he going to light the fire? He had no idea where to start. He wasn’t a damn Boy Scout.

Max opened his mouth as if to tell Helen he was sorry, that he knew it was terrible, but she’d have to help him if she wanted to stay warm. What a dreadful idea. He dismissed it as quickly as it had flickered in his mind.

It didn’t matter that he had no clue what to do. He had to figure it out. He was alone now, without his friends—whether real or fake—without his mother, without anyone to depend on, to handle the things he couldn’t. Now, he was that someone. The one who had to take care of such tasks, no matter what.

Max took a deep breath and went to play lumberjack. With this sword, he had killed that enormous serpent; a little wood wasn’t going to be a problem. And it wasn’t. He quickly gathered a decent pile. As for the quality of the wood itself, he couldn’t really say, but at least it would burn.

Max left the good pile he had gathered on the ground near Helen, but not too close, of course.

Come on, Max, he thought, don’t be a damn idiot. Sure, you’re useless, you’ve never been camping, you have no skills that apply here… but you’ve seen plenty of movies. How hard can rubbing a stick be?

Max resolved to find out. He crouched down and quickly began rubbing a stick between his hands, with one end pressed into the center of the woodpile. He prayed for it to catch fire, even if the flames attracted predators. Max was willing to stay awake the rest of the night, keeping watch over the little one. He wasn’t going to sleep anyway, too worried and terrified at the thought she might be dead by morning.

Dead because of him. A little girl. An innocent who had barely begun to live.

He had to do better. He had to get it right—do everything as it should be done.

He didn’t make much progress with the stick and the fire. He was starting to get fed up. If he kept this up, he’d break the stick before managing even the tiniest spark. How was it possible he couldn’t even get a spark?

Listening to Helen’s slow but heavy breathing, he felt more frustrated with himself and guiltier with each passing moment. Not just because he couldn’t do something so simple, but because he couldn’t help her. She had already done so much for him.

Max looked away from the fire, thinking about everything that had happened. He felt useless.

“Mr. Max,” Helen whispered. She wanted to whisper because she was afraid some creature might emerge from the forest, drawn by the sounds of human voices, the rubbing stick, and all. Maybe she was simply too weak to speak louder.

“What is it, Helen?” Max replied without looking up from his task.

“If it doesn’t work, don’t worry about me.”

Max’s cheeks burned. He had never felt so humiliated, so small, childish, and foolish.

“It’s not okay for you to stay cold, Helen. You’re already sick. If you catch a cold on top of it… well, you’re already sick, but…”

“It’s just exhaustion,” she muttered. “I overdid it. I can manage one night, Mr. Max, really.”

“You can… and you will, but only after I get this fire going. You need warmth, surely. I don’t want you catching cold. Just let me try a little longer. I’ll figure it out. Don’t… don’t call me Mr. Max, okay? And stop being so formal. I’m not… I’m not that much older than you.”

Helen tilted her head curiously.

“How old are you?”

“Early twenties. Whatever.”

“Double my age, at least. Probably.”

“It’s not like you told me yours.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t tell you? I forgot. I’m twelve years old, sir.”

Twelve years old? My God. So young…

“I think maybe you did tell me. So much has happened in such a short time…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Just… stop calling me ‘mister,’ okay? And all that. I don’t deserve your respect, Helen.”

“What are you talking about?” Helen’s voice rose several octaves. “That’s not true. You’re a hero. You saved my life—and from something much worse.”

Max swallowed hard, overwhelmed. Tears filled his eyes.

I know, I know. But I didn’t save your mother.

Of course, he couldn’t say that out loud. He couldn’t hit Helen with that. So he nodded slowly.

“But it’s my fault you’re like this. It’s my fault.”

Helen shook her head, looking at him firmly.

“You’re not to blame for anything.”

“I could’ve left. I could’ve walked away. But I had to insist on that damned suicide mission.”

“That’s why you’re a hero. Even knowing how dangerous it was, you couldn’t ignore people in danger. You just felt like doing the right thing. You’re a hero, Mr. Max.”

Max looked away again, fighting back tears.

“I’m sorry, Helen. It’s just… I’m really worried, that’s all.”

“I know. And that’s wonderful, too.”

After a while, as Max kept trying to make fire, a spark appeared. He almost couldn’t believe it. He chuckled softly and then slumped against the tree trunk, sitting next to Helen and giving her a half-hug.

“I did it… I did it. Just close your eyes. Rest, okay?” Max stroked her hair. “I’ll keep watch. I promise. You’re safe with me.”

“I know,” Helen replied simply, as if the mere idea of doubting it was impossible.