Awakenings

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

The sound of Matt’s hammer against the metal stopped and Thom looked up, meeting a gaze that was suddenly concerned.

“What?” Thom asked quietly.

“Right,” Matt said, glancing down at the scythe blade on his anvil before looking at Thom again, harder, more critically, for several seconds before he looked down again, returning to his work. “You’re dangerously introspective and it’s starting to unnerve me.”

“Well, it’s not like this conversation hasn’t given me any reason to be introspective, now has it?”

“Is that your method of telling me to quit worrying because it’s all my fault that you’re acting in ways that would make me worry?”

“Something like that.”

Matt snorted, hammer ringing a little louder than was strictly necessary. Thom winced.

“Seriously. It’s fine. Nothing’s wrong—nothing that you’ve got any ability to change, anyway.” Thom smiled and shook his head, flipping to a fresh page of his sketchbook. “And even if it was, it’s not something to worry about today. Finish that damn blade so we can head in.”

Matt shook his head again, his hammering falling back into its usual rhythm as he settled to the task at hand again, either mollified or at least willing to let it all go for now. Thom exhaled a silent sigh of relief as he turned back to his sketchpad, slowly starting to draw out the lines of their settlement.

If his brother-in-law had pressed for answers, he wasn’t sure what he would have told him. He might have even lied about what was bothering him, if only to keep Matt from joining him in his worry—or to keep Matt from trying to change something that seemed set in stone.

Pray he doesn’t press you on it, a little voice in the back of his head said. Because if you tell him the truth, then that’s another secret he’ll have to keep—and that’s not fair to him.

Then again, nothing was really fair, was it?

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

“I don’t think there’s a maybe about it,” Matt said, voice firm, half rumbling. “You need to make a map, Thom. I know I at least want to know what’s rattling around inside your head.”

Thom smiled faintly, shaking his head. “All right,” he said quietly. “All right, I can take a hint. Draw a damn map, Thom. Let us know what we need to do in case something goes sideways or just in case you’re hurt and can’t direct us.”

“I did not say that,” Matt said, glancing up from his work. “I just said you should draw a map.”

“Whatever the reason, you’re right,” Thom said. “You’re right. I need to make a map.”

Matt exhaled and tugged the blade out of the forge, laying it on the anvil again. “It’s just good to have a plan, Thom,” he said quietly. “Don’t you think so?”

“Aye,” Thom murmured. “You’re right.” His brother-in-law was right about a lot lately, not that it upset Thom much at all.

They’ll need him someday. I don’t know when, but they’ll need him.

Thom let his eyes slide shut for a moment.

They’ll need him when Marin and I are gone.

It would happen someday, that much he knew. There was no doubt in his mind that it would—he’d seen too much, and somehow he knew that Marin had as well, even though she hadn’t said it. She didn’t have to. He knew her well enough.

Someday, we’ll go, and he’ll be left behind.

He’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.

His lips thinned for a moment as he smoothed his hand over the page, staring at it for a few seconds. I just have to make sure that they’re prepared for that day to come and that we left them with the best possible chances we can.

That’s all I can do.

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

“You’re dwelling too much again,” Matt said. Thom startled slightly, not looking up right away, though the words sent a shiver down his spine.

Am I?

He frowned at the blank page of his sketchbook, then finally looked up toward his brother-in-law. “You think so?”

“Seems like it,” Matt said, flipping the scythe blade. He studied it for a few seconds before he eased it back into the embers of the forge to heat again. “Figured I’d call you on it before it got out of hand. That’s one of the reasons you keep me around, right?”

Thom grinned. “Oh, is that it?”

Matt shrugged, carefully shifting the blade. “Could be.”

“Not the only reason.”

“I didn’t say it was the only reason.” Matt looked back at him, smiling crookedly. “I’m serious, though. Don’t worry so damn much.   You’ll give yourself an ulcer and I’m pretty sure we don’t have a good way to handle those right now.”

“Probably right,” Thom agreed, taking his pencil from over his ear and setting it to paper again. He started sketching out the lines of a large building, noting calculations along one side of the page, trying to work through in his head how it would be possible to build with the people and resources they had available, trying to sort out what else they’d need. Matt watched him for a few seconds more before he checked on the metal in the heat of the forge.

“You’ve got sketches of so many things you want to build,” Matt said quietly. “So many plans. Is there a list? A map?”

“I haven’t done a map in months,” Thom murmured. “Maybe not since the beginning. And a list…” he sighed. “What good would a list be? Priorities keep shifting.”

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Reference, I guess. Something to help us set goals and tick off boxes.”

Thom paused, considering, then nodded a little. “Maybe I should,” he murmured softly. “Maybe I should.”

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

There was no sign of the rain letting up even an hour later as Thom limped back to the opening of the forge, watching the clouds for a moment, watching the rain come down.  Matt glanced his way, working on the blade of a scythe they planned to use in the next month or so to harvest the small stand of wheat they’d managed to grow down near the old greenhouses on the other side of the river.  Thom wasn’t entirely sure how well the crop had done—it had been months since he’d seen it, and he wasn’t sure how much all of the rain they’d gotten that summer might have hurt or helped it, but apparently there was enough left to make the scythe necessary, which he took as a good sign.

“Still bad?” Matt asked, his hammer falling in easy rhythm, a counterpoint to the sound of the rain against the roof.

“Steady,” Thom said, leaning in the doorway for a few seconds, still watching.  “Doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon.”

“Suppose one of us should have brought an umbrella,” Matt said, only half joking.  Thom glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Matt flash a grin before he was intent on his work again.  “It’s all right.  I’ve seen you swing around on those crutches.  You’re quick enough.”

“That was when my shoulders weren’t still half wrecked,” Thom countered, returning to his seat closer to the forge’s heat.  “You’ll be able to make a dash. I’ll hobble along.”

“I could go and get an umbrella,” Matt offered, not pausing or looking up.  He likely wouldn’t be going anywhere until he’d gotten his project shaped anyway, though the sharpening, likely, would wait until later.  Neither of them had eaten much of breakfast and the day was creeping onward toward lunchtime.

“No sense in that,” Thom said.  “I’ll manage.  Always do.”

“Well, then we’ll get soaked together,” Matt said.  “Just make sure you wrap that sketchbook.”

“Always do,” Thom said, then smiled as he picked up said sketchbook again.  “This thing holds a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Matt said, grinning as he looked up again.  “I’ve seen your designs, remember?”

Thom inclined his head.  That much was certainly true.  “We didn’t get much of a chance to build them this summer, though, did we?”

“It’s not over yet,” Matt reminded him.  “And we’ll hopefully have another month or two at least before it snows.”

“That’s the hope,” Thom murmured, his gaze drifting toward the rain again.  “We’ll see if we get what we’ve hoped for.”

Sometimes we do, anyway.