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32

The little axe felt more like a toy in his hand than an actual tool, but it was good to get his muscles working again. Banno lined up the blade, and with a casual flick of the wrist he split the log cleanly down the middle. The two halves flipped through the air and landed in the snow with all the others, not too far from where James was standing.

The chipper Fox whistled like one of those kettle contraptions. "Careful, Banno, or you might end up splitting the whole chopping block."

"It is indeed a sharp little hatchet you've got here," Banno said, propping up the next log in the pile. "You must sharpen it quite often."

"Oh, every once in a while," he said, rocking on the balls of his feet, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. "Say, Banno?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're okay doing that? I don't think it's a good idea for you to be out and about in this cold, especially with that leg of yours. All I had to work with was pine."

"You worry too much, James," Banno said and cleaved the next log, loving the good, hard shock in his hand and the loud clatter of dead wood bouncing off the block. "This foot you made me is sturdier than I am, and that's saying something." To prove his point, Banno bent down and gave his brand new prosthetic pegfoot a good rap with his knuckles.

"You say that now, but what if it gets wet? I know wood, Banno, and I know it's not as solid as it looks. It expands and contracts, just like us when we breathe. You take that outside in this cold with the ice and snow and then go back inside with the fire and warmth and it might crack open just like those logs there. And what about the straps? They could come undone, or snap, or tear, and then you'd end up flat on your behind. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"James, I have been cooped up in that bed for two months. Two months."

"I know, I know, it's just... you really don't have to be doing chores, especially not a big one like this."

"I like chopping wood," Banno said and thunked the next log onto the chopping block. "It reminds me of home."

"That's nice and all, but seriously, you're making a mountain of firewood. Don't you think this is enough?"

"Oh no, James, no no no, this isn't nearly enough." Banno split the log and put a new one where its brother had stood just a second ago, developing a nice rhythm. "Winter was late to arrive, so it'll be late to depart, you mark my words." He chopped the log and put down a new one before the dead halves even had a chance to stop wobbling amidst the corpses of their friends. "You need the house to stay warm. You need to keep the cold out. It creeps in, you know. It comes in through all the little cracks. That's why you need a good fire going at all times, to keep the cold out. Cold's not really real, though, did you know that? It's just where the heat isn't. It's like what a shadow is to light. That's what cold is to warmth."

"Er... Right, right."

"That's why you need to keep it out. Because it's not real." Banno chopped and chopped, developing a nice little ache in his right bicep. He liked the way the splinters sometimes flew off and stuck in the snow like tiny spears. "Because cold is not real, it means that when you feel cold, it's inside you, and if something's inside you that's not real, that means a part of you isn't real either. That means the cold is trying to make you like itself. Not real. Not real means dead. That's why you die if you lie naked in the snow for too long. Because the cold gets inside you and makes you not real. It makes you dead."

"Banno? Are you feeling all right?"

"That's why we need wood. We need lots and lots and lots of wood. So we can burn it. Fire is real. Fire is very real. Probably one of the most real things in the world. It makes heat, and that's what pushes the cold away. We need enough heat to fill that house, and that means chopping lots of wood. So we can keep the cold outside, where it belongs." Banno raised the hatchet high above his head and swung it down so hard that the log didn't just break apart, it exploded, sending chunks of wood flying in all directions. His swing was so forceful it didn't even stop until the axe blade buried itself into the chopping block up to the hilt.

"Okay I think that's quite enough, big guy. Let me help you stack these." James bent down and started picking up all the half-logs that had been flying every which way for the past half hour. "Seriously, I think you've chopped enough wood here to last us two winters."

Banno worked the axe back and forth, wiggling it free from the chopping block with an annoying little squeaky noise, and he wondered what kind of sound this small piece of metal would make inside James's skull...

The Fox was coming closer, sporadically bending over to pick up wood like a chicken pecking for corn.

Banno gripped the hatchet tighter, massaging it with his numb fingers, scraping his claws over the handle.

He could do it right now. He could wait for James to reach the logs at his feet, and then, when he bent over, he could just take this axe and bury it in the back of his head. Would it crack open like the logs, spilling his brains all over the snow? Or would it get stuck? If it did, he would put his foot down on the back of his neck and work the blade back and forth, easing it back out, no doubt making him nod his stupid little dead head like a puppet.

Oh yes, Banno, yes, yes... you most certainly killed me, oh my yes, I agree...

And then the blade would pop out with that beautiful cracking sound, all wet and dripping, maybe with little bits of bone and brain stuck to the edge...

He could do it. He could do it so easily.

But that wouldn't be smart, not in the middle of winter, not with all this snow. He could walk again thanks to the lump of wood and sheepskin James had strapped to his leg, but he didn't know if he'd be able to walk all the way back home like this. And even worse, what if he got caught in a blizzard? It'd been snowing off and on over the past few weeks, and he didn't want to take such an unnecessary risk when he could simply wait a month or two for spring to arrive. Once all the snow melted away, he could kill to his heart's content, and then be on his merry way back home. That was the plan, that was the safest course of action, that was the smart thing to do.

So why was he raising the axe above his head? Why was his heart going wild in his chest? Why was his mouth so dry? He licked his parched lips and willed his arm to go back down, but it simply would not listen. It rose higher and higher, the axe trembling in his hand. He could feel the weight of it, such a light little thing, but more than enough to cleave open whatever he chose to swing it at.

James was within striking distance now. He bent over, plucked another piece of wood out of the snow, gave it a brief shake, and added it to the small pile carefully balanced on his arm.

I could end him right now. His head would roll before he even knew what hit him. It would be fast, though, much too fast. Over and done, and that's no good. Maybe if I only hit him a little... just deep enough to make his eyes roll back and his tongue hang out while his blood flowed over his face. Not quite dead. Just barely alive enough to understand what's going on. Then I could simply pull the handle down and make him look straight up at the sky, exposing his throat. There's something beautiful in that, being able to control his movements as he dies. Then I could bite down on his neck and feel him slip away. I could feel his heartbeat on my tongue. It would be fast at first, fast like a squirrel's, it always is when they bleed too much. But then it would slow down, and I would taste death, real death, once again. It's been so long, much too long...

It was getting harder and harder for him to remember the plan, and the brief flashes of caution that flitted through his mind, telling him to stop, telling him to get back in control, seemed almost trivial.

Why should he stop? Why should he deny himself something he desired with such fervour and intensity? He couldn't think of any reason he shouldn't just... let go, and do what he wanted simply because he wanted to. It was the want that drove him, that drove everything, really. Why push it aside when it was the wanting that made you truly alive?

Banno adjusted his grip on the axe, getting a good feel for it between his fingers, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, moistening them with his saliva, barely able to contain his excitement.

He wanted this. He wanted it so badly he could taste it...

"Dad? Where are you?"

The brat!

Banno put on a huge, fake yawn, stretching both arms up and over his head just as James straightened up. He gave Banno a cursory glance, then said: "Back here, Tim."

The smaller of the little rat pair poked his head around the corner, which probably meant his brother was somewhere close by. Those two never left each other alone anymore, which wouldn't have been so bad by itself, but they were always circling Valery, too. Probably thought themselves her 'body guards', but they were really more like a pesky pair of flies, always buzzing around.

"Hey, Dad, I thought you should know the well is starting to freeze up again."

"Oh boy. Well, see if you can get a good bucket or two out of there while the gettin's good. If it freezes over completely we'll just have to use the river instead."

"Urgh, but that's miles and miles away!"

"Wha? It's just over yonder hill, Mr. Lazybones!"

"Yonder hill is a right terror to climb with two buckets of ice water splashing about your shoulders."

Talking talking talking always talking with these creatures...

"Oh I dunno about that. With no crops to tend or weeds to pull, winter's been making you slow and lazy. Maybe a good splash of ice water in the face is exactly what you need, eh?"

Maybe he should just do it anyway. Chop up this insufferable Fox and his little brat of a son. Let the whelp yell and scream, maybe lure out the big brat as well. Chop them all up. Bite and tear the pieces, make a big red splash in the snow. Then he'd go after Valery.

"Nuh uh! I'm not lazy! I'll prove it!"

The brat started picking up the pieces of wood his father had missed, stacking them up on his outstretched arms.

"Okay, okay," James chuckled. "You're not lazy."

"Hey, James, I'm gonna go put this away real quick," Banno said, holding up the axe.

"No problem, big -" Cut his muzzle off, watch him roll in the snow, clutching his gushing face. "- guy, take your time."

"I'll be right -" Make his son watch. Tear out his tongue and cut off his lips. Split his ears from tip to base. "- right back. To, um... help pick all this up."

"Take it easy with that foot, okay? Don't strain -" Pull out his teeth, one by one, and make him eat them. "-yourself."

What's happening to me?

Banno rubbed the spot on his forehead just above Valery's darling eye patch. There was a weird throbbing sensation coming from inside, almost identical to a headache, but sharper.

"You okay there, Banno? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine, just a little -" Grab his jaws, pry them apart until his whole head cracks open. It's what he deserves for flapping them so much, always talking. Let him gargle instead. "- a little headache." Banno smiled, but James looked worried.

"Maybe a spot of tea is what you need?" he said. "Tim, go start the kettle boiling."

Boiling, shove his face in the boiling water, make him scream, make him choke it down, make him burn and drown.

"But what about all this wood?"

"I've got it covered, don't you worry about that."

After a brief hesitation, Tim nodded his head, said, "Okay," and dumped his bundle of lumber against the wall with a clatter. Runty little rat bastard.

"Good boy," James said, watching his youngest son disappear around the corner, oblivious to how close he had strayed to death.

"I'll meet you inside later," Banno said, starting towards the storage shed.

"Okay, take it easy."

The pain in his head was getting worse. Maybe it was the cold? Maybe the cold had gotten into the hole where his eye used to be? That was a disturbing thought. It was bad enough when the cold got into his fingers, making them numb, but this... No, this would not do... this would not do at all.

He'd have to get it out.

He walked past the new barn and its stink of tame animals. The Foxes had worked their tails off to repair it after the first bout of snow, but they didn't get it done quite fast enough. It was the skin of the sheep called 'Cloud' that now cushioned his stump on the inside of his brand new prosthetic foot, and although he preferred wilder game, his meat had been rather tasty.

He went around the back and entered their little storage shed, ducking his head so he wouldn't hit the ceiling.

It was cramped in here, filled with all manner of tools for farming and carpentry, and the floor was covered in wood shavings and saw dust.

He put the axe down on James's worktable, but just as he was about to turn around and head back outside, a thought occurred to him.

Maybe he could cut the cold out. Maybe then he'd be able to focus again. Maybe then he wouldn't almost lose control and mess up his entire plan. Yes, it was all the cold's fault. He'd just...

Banno picked up the axe, holding it by the head, and inspected the edge.

It was cold, hard, and clean. No rust or dirt whatsoever. More importantly, it was sharp. Very sharp. All he'd have to do was...

Banno flexed his fingers. They were numb. What did that mean? It meant he could no longer feel them, as if they weren't real. That meant the cold was inside them. The cold was trying to make his fingers not real, and not real means dead.

The cold was trying to make a part of him not exist anymore.

Well, he'd fix that. No amount of cold could change him, because he was real. He'd just... bleed it out... just like poison...

Banno took the axe and slowly pushed the corner of the blade underneath the claw of his index finger. There was no pain, but he could feel the warmth of his blood seep outside, flushing out the cold.

He closed his eye and sighed in relief. It was working. The cold was outside. He could feel his finger again, and it was warm. It was real.

He pulled the axe out and looked at the red corner. Covered in his blood, even this dead piece of metal seemed more real, more alive than it was before.

And now for his eye.

With blood dripping from his claw, he flipped up his eyepatch, exposing his deflated eyelid. Very carefully, he lifted the loose flap of skin and stuck his finger inside, feeling the smooth, curved surface of the inside of his empty eye socket. A mirror would have been nice, but he couldn't exactly go rummaging around inside his skull where anybody could see him. It might look... unusual.

A bolt of pain shot through his head, right where Ander's blasted arrow had pierced him. The slit in the roof of his mouth had healed over quite nicely, but he could still feel the one up here, like a crack in a failed piece of pottery.

Banno pushed down, squeezing the blood out from underneath his claw. He smeared it all over the bone, covering the inside of his head in nice, blessed warmth.

"Hahh, yeah... much better." Banno whispered to himself and slowly pulled his bleeding finger out of his head, his empty eyelid dragging along his knuckles like a loose set of lips.

He didn't feel numb anymore. The cold was gone. He was still real. And he could think. Yes... right now he was stuck in this place, just like his prey, surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable wall of ice and cold. But that was all right. All he needed to do was keep up this façade for another month or two, just until the snow melted away and the days became warm again. Then... then all the waiting would be well worth -

Why wait at all? Why not just do it!?

Banno frowned and flipped his eyepatch back down.

I've been over this. I can't make it back home in the middle of winter, and I can't stay here all by myself without any food or water or stupid James to tend my wounds. If I kill them now, I might as well kill myself.

But I want to do it... I want to do it anyway... Just do it, consequences be damned. I just want to tear them apart and bathe in their blood and lap it all up!!

Banno put his finger in his mouth and sucked on the blood until the flow finally stopped. Couldn't go back inside with blood dripping all over the place, oh no... that might look odd.

_Stay in control, Banno..._he thought to himself, crouching down low so he could fit through the door. Just keep yourself under control for two more months. Just two more months... Just two more...

He pushed open the door and was greeted by a shimmering veil of falling snow. It was cold that had taken over the rain, making it not real, killing the water by invading it like poison. It was poison falling from the sky, poison that could bore its way into everything it touched, poison making real things not real.

Poison... falling from the sky...

"Just two months... Just two months... Just two months..." Banno whispered to himself as he walked through the white poison, willing himself not to run, keeping his eye fixed firmly on the house in the distance, also covered in poison. He didn't like the taste of tea, but at least it was warm. It was real. It was waiting for him. He could make it. He just needed to stay in control. "Two months... Two months... Two months..."

He didn't think he could wait that long.