‘’Well, walking over mountains was harsher than I thought, though it is not that bad.’’

When Jackson noticed Amare calmed down a little bit, he kept his smile and looked at the Kelbor fiddling with the fire furnace at the end of the house. He held a clay bowl bigger than both his hands, filled to the brim with a sick green liquid. He pushed it into the flames blazing under a charred, half-gray grill. The crackling and buzzing of the flames turned faint with the closure of its lid.

‘’Father, is there anything I should help with?’’

Kelbor walked over to his side, plucked Amare, and put him next to Jackson. ‘’Get food from the cellar.’’

‘’Yes,’’ Kelkut ran off to the side door where Kelbor hid the furniture for guests. The door squeaked open and he disappeared from the sight, then another click and squeak came. The latter came from the second compartment’s door, which led to the freezing cold basement of Kelbor.

What does he still eat? Cheese and milk pastry? Or the same old olive bread? He didn’t know how this old friend of his stuffed himself with those everyday. Or he knew. This boorish giant was, after all, a bona-fide glutton and a good example of his kind. Back in the day they traveled, his rations surpassed the overall supplies of the party by twenty times.

While some rufflings and clanks accompanied the crackling fire, Jackson ceased his thoughts and gazed at Amare. ‘’You went to the lake?’’

‘’...to the pond,’’ Amare replied. His gaze lingered on his open feet, covered in bloody blisters of exaggerated size.

Jackson shook his two wrinkled legs to show he was fine for now and let out a laugh. ‘’Their sense of scale is ridiculous, don’t count on them when it comes to size!’’

‘’This guy is the same as his son,’’ Jackson pointed at Kelbor taking out several pots from the shelves. ‘’But his son shows the friendly side better, so it is easier to fall into that trap.’’

Kelbor cast a sidelong glance. ‘’You know it will be me who’ll bandage that feet, right?’’

‘’Ah, it must be old age, I forgot.’’

‘’Don’t blame your age, it is you who is stupid.’’

While he smirked at that, Kelbor walked over to the furnace and opened the metallic lid again. It squealed and the flames inside blazed, the crackling louder than before, but Kelbor didn’t seem to mind the change. He reached for the clay bowl and took it out, not even a mark on his fingers. He closed it, then came back.

‘’Damn it, I forgot the bandage,’’ He put the bowl of liquid, now half-red half-green onto the table and went back to the shelves. From one of the pots he took out a roll of bandage, retrieved his staff from the bed, then put them all next to him as well.

‘’Pray for some resilience, because that is going to hurt— and boy, you hold onto his shoulders.’’

‘’It is quite painful, so you need to hold me steady.’’

Amare looked up at his friend, then at him. ‘’Okay,’’

Following that Kelbor reached out for the front pocket of his leather vest and took out a miniature set of instruments. There were tiny and narrow blades, a pincer that looked like a tooth-remover, a pair of magical shards that would, if he remembered correct, turn into a shape of his choice, and a few small nail-like razors.

He crouched and took the bandages. He cut two long sheets like cutting silk cloth and laid them beside his feet, ready to cover them.

While watching, Jackson prayed to the God Of Earth and Medicine, Ogun, slammed the end of his staff to the table and applied his authority. From the birthmark on his glabella, something drained.

‘’O’Ogun, grant me a cloak.’’ Jackson felt a hidden veil of some sorts lay over his whole body, and for a moment he felt the pain in his feet turn faint. In the meantime, Amare had come behind him and grasped both of his shoulders with strength belying his childish appearance.

After every preparation was done, Kelbor dipped the blade in his hand to the bowl and, still higher than him, looked down.

‘’Are you ready?’’

*********

When he felt the searing pain disappear from the heels of his feet, Jackson raised his sweat-ridden eyelids to gaze below. Below his knee, sets of colorful bandages wrapped around every skin and hair. Blood dripped from the tips of his toes.

He let out one last grunt and sighed. ‘’It...it is done?’’

Kelbor gave a nod and collected his instruments of tortuıre— he also picked up the now-empty clay bowl and disappeared to the sideroom. Sound of running water gushed out.

‘’Can you walk?’’ Amare asked. He was still latching onto his shoulders.

He only thinks when he is considerate...bad habits, bad habits... Wiping the sweat on his forehead with the sleeves of the blue robe, Jackson gave a slight smile and laid his back to the Amare. His legs still remained half-dangling from the edge of the wooden furniture. ‘’I’ll be able to in a while, come on, sit.’’

Amare sat down and supported his back with his tiny arms, and Jackson felt them tremble under his shallow weight; he counted at most forty or forty-five kilograms at most, he shouldn’t have proved this much difficulty in such a small span of time, right?

Oh, but he is small, Letting out an audible laugh, he raised his back and patted his side. ‘’Not there, come here, tell me what you did at the lake.’’

Without seeing Amare’s answer, which he assumed to be a curt nod or a slight bow, Jackson moved his legs up and down to feel their state. It was fine and dandy, but a faint ache still lingered.

‘’What are you waiting for? Go on,’’

Amare gave a nod and crossed his legs. ‘’The path was short. I waited on...his arm and he carried me all the way.’’

‘’Anything interesting along the way?’’

Amare seemed to be in thought for a moment— Jackson’s eyes had a slight glint of marvel at that. ‘’He told...he said they were ghosts, those in the forest. I was surprised.’’

‘’Indeed,’’ Jackson nodded. ‘’And did you learn why?’’

‘’Uh, no...I didn’t ask.’’

Jackson looked at Amare’s childish face for a moment, and at his down-trodden, insecure expression. How do you still make that face this young...’’And why is that?’’

No answer came. Amare clutched the hems of his ripped pants, his purplish-white nails slightly pierced the thin cloth through.

At last, he let out a sigh. He threw his left arm over Amare’s shoulder and pulled him close to himself, and gave a small tap with his staff.

Jackson thought of what he would say in the following moment. It might not have the effect he intended, he could guess that. But seeing this scarred friend of his did not do justice to his conscience.

When that line crossed his mind, he felt disgust towards his identity; as a believer of God and Christ, as a priest of the Catholic Church and a mage of the Temple Of Ogun, and as an individual who lived two lives in two different worlds, he found himself deep in a hypocrisy that viewed Amare as nothing but a tool to placate his own guilt.

‘’You are already a free man, old friend, there is no need to hide yourself.’’

Another bout of silence came. Jackson felt Amare’s heartbeat gain a dangerous pace as it pumped and pumped, and soon it became audible.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Keeping his arm around the shoulder, Jackson touched the edge of the table with the end of his staff and gave another tap to Amare’s head. ‘’O’Ogun, give us a peace of mind.’’

A soft light twinkled at the tip of his staff and gleamed in their eyes. Soon, Amare’s heartbeats slowed and stopped at an acceptable range, thumping faint and heavy.

‘’Kelbor, too, was once a slave,’’ Jackson said after a while. He did not add anything, nor did he give any advice. He wanted Amare to be curious on his own, to wonder how such a creature would be enslaved and escape from forces that could restrain him. He wanted him to question by himself, interact by himself, and interpret whatever transpired around him by himself alone.

A free man did not become free when he was told or released, Jackson understood this point, to his regret, long after Amare’s death and his current life. It took experience and feedback, it required him to be able to think and act upon what he thought without interference, if not with guidance.

After all, in accordance with what he learned, a slave’s experiences did exclude everything but laboring away. To overcome that lifetime of experience would take more than words.

When Jackson noticed the running water fall silent, he stretched a little and put his staff beside him. ‘’Are you hungry?’’

Amare froze for a moment, then took a deep breath. He put away Jackson’s arm over his shoulder and attempted to bow— he ceased it right away.

‘’Like a wolf.’’

*********

Kelbor and Kelkut returned together to the kitchen, bearing large pieces of bread, olives, olive breads; vegetables like corn, tomatoes, cabbages ; and dried meat from feathered birds like giant swans and ducks. In addition, a large handbag swayed beside Kelkut’s waist. Before they laid the meal on the table, Kelkut took out bowls and round plates to eat from, at which Amare couldn’t hide his confusion.

In accordance with their scales the bag might be, the sheer amount of kitchenware leaving it belied the common sense. But when he thought of it, with so many things challenging his common sense at every corner, Amare reluctantly chose to accept. He also felt like asking for a moment. Jackson’s words had lit a flame inside his heart— it gave him a little bit of courage to go forth with whatever bothered him.

But when it came to acting out that will, he made no motion nor sound. He watched them set up the table around them, carrying them to the end, near the shelves where father and son sat on ‘small’ half-circle chairs. Further down the line, with the host of the house telling them to eat, he no longer bothered about that question.

They ate many of the food; each and every one of them carried flavours Amare had never tasted before. It was too good, even. At the first bite of each piece, he sat there, stunned, and only when Kelkut laughed did he continue.

At the pace the giant father and son duo devoured their food, it was quite hilarious for Jackson when he noticed Amare swallow down his share faster than them. He and Kelkut spent a good half-a-minute laughing, then another five minutes to finish it all. Kelbor was the last to put down his stained hands on the table.

He let out a giant burp and tapped on the wooden layer atop. ‘’Get water bowls and clean these,’’

Kelkut nodded and started working on it— he returned after a period of silence with four gigantic bowls filled with, as the name said, water.

Following the suit of Jackson, Kelkut, and Kelbor, Amare too scrubbed his hands clean and filtered the inside of his nails. Kelkut took them away again, followed by a few minutes of calm serenity.

Suddenly, Kelbor breathed through his nostrils and exhaled. ‘’The house is stuffy, let’s get outside.’’

*********

After Kelbor carried Amare and Jackson outside, Kelkut took out an old-wood chair for his father. He put it down, pulled out its armrests, then laid over a soft blanket across its surface. ‘’I’ll get your medicine ready, father, so refrain from talking much.’’

‘’That is poor hospitality— and don’t tell me what to do.’’

‘’Of course, of course,’’ Kelkut nodded and left inside; footsteps of him descending to the storage sounded clear like the whispering breeze before them.

Whispering indeed. Unlike the blaring hurricanes and whistling gales of the shores, this sweet wind came soft and cozy. Especially after a cozy meal. Amare remembered the image of the coast he lived before, the beach overlapped with yellow and green, and with Dutch and their boats.

Their boats boasted two qualities above their rowing dinghies; one was magnitude of their size, and the other was the craftsmanship. They seemed hundreds of times bigger, enough to hold dozens of their small ships—and indeed, they held men, women, and children captive, many times the capacity of a dinghy.

For what reason he remembered this, Amare found it clear: This calm breeze was the same in nature with the river of his hometown; it was the same with the ocean gale that shushed him under the deck of those ships for months. It always swept away the rotting stench of the dead, vomit of the diseased, and the blood of the wounded.

It was the last line of his insanity for a long time.

For that reason, Amare realized that knowing the reason alone didn’t provide him an answer to why he would now. If this little of a sign vitalized his memory, why did it not happen before? Why did the forests they traversed, the stream they drank, the path they walked not awaken some semblance of melancholy in him?

Were the memories of him plowing the wild lands, digging the tough earth not that strong? But he had lived his whole life that way.

Faced with such a dilemma, as he must have made it obvious, Kelbor seemed to notice his distress. The giant shrugged his shoulder to awaken him. Amare shook awake; he looked left to the giant’s nape, then to his right to find Jackson. He did not.

‘’Ma—Jackson?’’

‘’He is sleeping here-’’ said Kelbor. On top of his left palm laid a snoring Jackson, his staff stuck in a wrinkle and his hat over his face. ‘’Want me to wake him up?’’

Amare shook his head in a hurry. ‘’No...no. No, there is no need to disturb...’’

Kelbor cast a doubtful gaze and took a sweet breath around the air. ‘’Then if you’d like, tell me what you were thinking about.’’

‘’...No, no need to bother you. It was unimportant...not something worthwhile. Thank you.’’

‘’Hm?’’ Kelbor lowered his brows into a hard frown. ‘’What are you thanking me for? Have I done something to gain your gratitude?’’

‘’No, I mean, yes...but no, uh—’’

‘’’Which one?’’

Against the upset giant, Amare found himself with no words or a sound. Of course, what he had thought were unimportant; These mess of a mass memories were no longer his, they existed as...dreams, if he thought of the right word. Why would he bother others with his worthless dreams? Especially when the one asking this was a giant...

Thinking of the giant, Amare remembered the past title of him. He calmed down, took a deep breath. Feeling the breeze pat his cheeks, he started speaking.

‘’I was...dreaming of this wind.’’ He said, and Kelbor gave him an amused snicker.

‘’Stop jumping from one topic to another! Tell, have I done anything to gain your gratitude?’’

‘’Ah, no, I mean yes. Thank you for asking...was what I wanted to say. After all, it wasn’t anything important.’’

Kelbor’s snicker turned into a sneer. He pointed at the still-snoring Jackson on his palm. ‘’Even if you are half-as-stupid as he is, anything you think won’t be anything unimportant.’’ After his hand rose to what looked like a slap, Kelbor stopped and lowered his arm.

‘’Well, then? You said wind?’’

‘’Ah, breeze, actually...’’ Amare corrected. ‘’Or something...a little bit weaker...um.’’

‘’HEH!’’ Amare flinched for a moment. ‘’Aren’t you also an idiot? Hehehehe!’’

‘’Ahh, bad manners. Go on, don’t mind me.’’

Amare found the giant rather warm than a mocking man...person. This other old friend of Jackson carried quite a calming smile when he had the chance, and an air around him that felt safe to approach. While it might have been delusional, Amare thought, he had a hunch that they knew more about each other down the surface.

‘’At my old home—’’ Amare stared at the scenery. ‘’These types of breezes, winds, were quite common. Especially near our farm. My father would carry me through our crops at the morning to the riverbed of our village. I wouldn’t help much, my mother would do, and when she was pregnant to my sibling she retired for some time.’’

‘’Then, after plowing for a few minutes, I would escape to my friends’ side— they would do the same as well...but that was not much of an escape. I’m sure our parents allowed it, else we wouldn’t be able to act that free.’’

‘’Were you all also farmers like ours?’’

Amare nodded. ‘’Everyone was; my family wasn’t an exception.’’ He stopped for a moment, scratching his head to remember where he left off.

‘’River, um...’’ Amare took another deep breath. ‘’We liked to swim after running away, but most of the day we slept at the wet slope declining to the river. The smell was sweet like here...and, well, when the first person woke up, they would get others up as well. We would wash our dizziness and the mud, fold our clothes on top of a stone, then leap into the water to have fun.’’

‘’I used to swim well then, but it has been too long...’’

‘’What is there to it? You can relearn anytime.’’ said Kelbor. He also seemed to have no concerns for startling Jackson up. ‘’But if you don’t know now...what did you guys do at the spring?’’

‘’I just stood on my feet.’’

‘’On your feet?’’

‘’I...I tried to brave through...but, I couldn’t. And I feel weaker as well.’’

‘’Then,’’ Kelbor smiled. ‘’Let’s teach you how to swim until Jackson’s feet get better. You’ll be here for a while after all.’’

‘’Ah, no—’’

‘’No? What no? You, here, aren’t you free?’’

Amare froze in the face of the question. As if to escape, he looked left and right, and he gazed up and down. He glanced at the cleaved up middle of the mountain, to the bizarre wind flowing through it, to the shaking branches of the tree, and to the green leaves rustling on them.

It all made his eyes weary and hot, so he had to cover them for a moment.

‘’Yeah, I am...’’