The struggle to get home had been nearly as bad as when they left that morning. Although less rushed, the trek was less arduous as Garm and Hannah both had to support their father for him to move. The leg looked swollen and was visibly pushing against the pant leg when they finally arrived at the Helland farm. They settled Jonas into his chair and Hannah quickly got to tending his leg.

“Don’t, I don't need…” their father starts, but lets out a grunt of pain as he settles his leg on a stool.

Hannah picks a glass bottle down from one of the upper shelves and seeing it, Jonas’s frown deepens and he looks like he’s about to protest.

“I know, they’re expensive, but take one or two, just for the pain,” Hannah begs, holding out the bottle of ether.

Jonas rests his eyes on the pills, then on his leg, then back to the pills. Letting out a low grumble, unmistakable as anything but cursing, he takes the bottle and reluctantly bites off half a pill. Garm hands him a glass of water, which he snatches out of his hand, and lets the cool liquid wash down the bitter painkiller. Hannah tries to lean down and examine the leg further but is dismissed with an angry wave and a hard look.

After that, their father grows somber and unresponsive. The dose wasn’t nearly enough to knock him out, but it seems the mood has carried well from the Madsen’s farm to here. Jonas’s eyes swerve around the room, his mind seemingly occupied, but he does not bless them with its wisdom. This continues for several moments, but the silence does not break, the atmosphere of the house feeling dense and mute.

The melancholy continues throughout the day, the siblings feeling like they’re moving through a dense mist as they do their chores. A brief argument ensues when Hannah’s about to go outside to feed the sheep. Jolting out of his daze when he sees his daughter about to go outside, their father forbids her from going outside alone. He did, in fact, shout it loud enough for Garm to hear and promptly come running to see what the fuzz was about. Being unused to receiving the brunt of their father’s anger, Hannah’s frozen like a mouse spotting the shadow of a hawk.

Seeing his sister’s situation Garm quickly tries to mollify their father by suggesting he joins her outside. “We’ll get the chores done quicker,” he explains, “and we can watch each other’s backs.”

Jonas shakes his head and wipes at bloodshot eyes. The ether blunts some of his pain, but he looks tired and like he has some difficulty focusing. Garm sees his father’s erratic behavior and prays he’ll accept his suggestion.

“We’ve all had a difficult day,” Garm says like he’s calming a wild animal, “but the sheep need to eat, and a clean place to sleep. We’ll be quick, I swear.”

With that, Jonas sways his head in an affirmative nod. “Half an hour,” he says while glaring at them, “I want to see you both inside in half an hour.”

Garm returns the nod and looks at his sister who stutters out a “Y-yes, Dad,” and the two leave for the barn.

The siblings work in silence, cleaning the booths, shoveling away the droppings, and replacing the hay. Every time Garm looks over at Hannah, she looks like she wants to say something, but decides otherwise and quickly returns to her tasks.

Garm doesn’t mind the work, the hard labor letting him focus on the sweat and ache of his arms. The day’s events are still settling in his mind and the constant struggle not to dwell on any individual part of it continues.

Not long after, their chores are done and they return to the farmhouse where, after coming inside, they meet Jonas’s steely glare. He seems to have returned to his contemplative state, however and lets them pass without comment.

After making a brief dinner, mostly made up of reheated stew and the latter half of a loaf of bread, Hanna comes back to the kitchen to see Garm is still there.

“Dad’s still not hungry,” she says and looks at Garm whose attention is fully consumed by the rifle on the wall.

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Garm simply returns an inattentive “Hm?” and continues his stare-off with the Krag.

Sliding a plate of boiled bits of potato and sausage under the kitchen bench, Hannah soon hears a soft yawn followed by content chewing noises. Making her mind up, she prods Garm in the side, breaking him out of his trance.

“What was that for?” he asks and rubs his ribs.

Hannah gestures for her brother to follow her upstairs and leaves the room. Garm sighs, but after a second he’s walking up the stairs as well.

When Hannah believes they are out of earshot, she crosses her arms and gives Garm an incredulous stare.

“The house. Tell me what happened,” she asks firmly, but her conviction softens when she sees the hollow eyes that meet hers. “You told me not to go inside,” she continues in a more careful, almost pleading, voice, “I did as you asked because I trust you, but I need to know what you saw.”

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Garm replies in a horse whisper, his sister’s request bringing him straight back to that terrible scene.

“Was it really that bad?”

“It was… Mr. Madsen, he was in so many…” Garm tries, but he chokes on his words as they come out. “I mean… I don’t know what…”

Hannah continues to observe him with worried eyes. She sees her brother stutter and go silent, while he’s holding on to his wrist with the grip of someone desperately clutching onto a cliff edge. Seemingly finding enough answers in Garm’s attempts at talking about that morning, she sighs and embraces her brother. “It’s alright,” she soothes, feeling his breathing slowly still. In her side-eye she sees Garm look down at his trembling hands before balling them into fists and hiding them away in his pockets.

“If… I only could have done something,” Garm mutters sullenly, “Grim, he…”

“There’s nothing any of us could have done, Garm,” Hannah interrupts before her brother can continue down this path of reasoning. She lets go and looks him directly in the eyes, “Nobody knew this was going to happen.”

Seeing Hannah’s intense look, and hearing her put on a brave front despite the moist corner of her eyes, Garm is brought out of his state of melancholy. He sniffs and says, “You’re right,” then he wipes his nose and restates more firmly, “You’re right.”

The moment over, the two soon walk back downstairs and into the kitchen. When Garm comes to the bottom of the stairs he glances up at the rack on the wall only to see that the Krag’s not there anymore. The implications of this observation hitting him, he quickly continues into the living room. Hannah, seeing his haste, follows shortly behind.

Standing before the door, grunting as he’s pulling on his jacket, is Jonas Helland holding the rifle.

Seeing their father standing upright in his current condition, Hannah calls out, “Dad, you shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?!” their father shouts, “Protect our property? Our only source of income and food?”

The words are slurred and he’s wearing a pained expression as he fastens the buttons of the jacket. They spot the bottle of ether on the floor next to Jonas’s chair. The cap’s still undone and the painkillers spilling out.

“Jonas,” Garm tries carefully, “You’re in no condition to go outside.”

“No condition? Kid, I’m the only one in any condition to do anything in this house!” Jonas shouts with a dismissive sneer.

“Please!” Garm repeats with more force, “I… at least let me help you.”

The plea only seems to make Jonas angrier as he roars, “What will you do?! Huh, kid?!”

Garm tries to defend himself, but before he can get a word out his father continues, “Look at your hands! Look at them and tell me what you will do to help!”

The words are practically spat towards Garm, who tries to look his father in the eyes. Hands trembling worse than ever, he balls them into fists. “Then what do you want me to do?!” he shouts back, tears forming in his eyes.

Jonas readies himself to bellow at his son again, but he briefly looks uncertain how to respond. Soon the red returns to his forehead and he growls, “I want you to stay out of my way,” then he halts out the door, slamming it behind him.

Garm remains standing in the middle of the living room, shaking hands, red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hannah, who’s remained silent since the fight started, comes up and tries to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Head swimming with unresolved anger, Garm swipes her hand away.

“Garm?” Hannah asks in a low, uncertain whisper.

No longer anchored to the floor, Garm turns to his sister. His eyes are filled with sadness, anger, and above all, helplessness. Not saying a word, he disappears into the kitchen. Rumbling footsteps can be heard as he runs up the stairs and into his room.

Now alone in the living room, Hannah swallows, feeling her dry mouth. She walks over to the window and stares up at the Little King as the sun slowly disappears behind the horizon. Much like her brother, Hannah’s feeling helpless. Her family’s tearing at the seams, and she has no idea what to do.

“Oh, Mom, what do I do to fix this mess?” Hannah says in a nearly inaudible whisper, as the last light disappears, plunging the valley into a deep, murky night.