Arena Two

Logan doesn’t seem relieved, though; his face is set in a grimace, on edge as he watches the trees.

“We made it here,” he grumbles. “We didn’t make it back.”

Typical. Refusing to admit he was wrong.

I pull up in front of our house and see the old slaverunner tracks. It brings flashing back all the memories, all the dread I’d felt when they’d taken Bree. I reach over and drape an arm around her shoulder, clutch her tight, resolve to never let her out of my sight again.

I cut the ignition and we all jump out and head quickly towards the house.

“Sorry if it’s a mess,” I say to Logan as I step past him, up to the front door. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

Despite himself, he suppresses a smile.

“Ha ha,” he says, flatly. “Should I take off my shoes?”

A sense of humor. That surprises me.

As I open the door and step inside, any sense of humor I had suddenly falls away. When I see the site before me, my heart drops. There is Sasha, lying there, her blood dried, her body stiff and frozen. Just a few feet away is the corpse of the slaverunner Sasha had killed, his corpse frozen, too, stuck to the floor.

I look down at the jacket I’m wearing – his jacket – the clothes I’m wearing – his clothes – my boots – his boots – and it gives me a funny feeling. Almost as if I’m his walking double.

Logan looks over at me and must realize it too.

“You didn’t take his pants?” he asks.

I look down and remember I did not. It was too much.

I shake my head.

“Stupid,” he says.

Now that he mentions it, I realize he is right. My old jeans are wet and cold, and sticking to me. And even if I don’t want them, Ben might. It’s a shame to waste them: after all, it is perfectly good clothing.

I hear muffled cries and look over to see Bree standing there, looking down at Sasha. It breaks my heart to see her face like that, crumpled up, staring down at her former dog.

I walk over to her and put an arm around her.

“It’s okay, Bree,” I say. “Look away.”

I kiss her on the forehead and try to turn her away, but she throws me off with surprising strength.

“No,” she says.

She steps forward, kneels down and hugs Sasha on the ground. She wraps her arms around her neck, and leans over and kisses her head.

Logan I exchange a glance. Neither of us know what to do.

“We haven’t time,” Logan says. “You need to bury her, and move on.”

I kneel down beside her, lean over and stroke Sasha’s head.

“It’s going to be okay, Bree. Sasha’s in a better place now. She’s happy now. Do you hear me?”

Tears drop from her eyes, and she reaches up, takes a deep breath, and wipes them away with the back of her hand.

“We can’t leave her here like this,” she says. “We have to bury her.”

“We will,” I say.

“We can’t,” Logan says. “The ground is frozen solid.”

I stand and look at Logan, more annoyed than ever. Especially because I realize he is right. I should have thought of that.

“Then what do you suggest?” I ask.

“It’s not my problem. I’ll stand guard outside.”

Logan turns and marches outside, slamming the front door behind him.

I turn back to Bree, trying to think quick.

“He’s right,” I say. “We don’t have time to bury her.”

“NO!” she wails. “You promised. You promised!”

She’s right. I did promise. But I hadn’t thought it all through carefully. The thought of leaving Sasha here like this kills me. But I can’t risk our own lives either. Sasha wouldn’t want that.

I have an idea.

“What about the river, Bree?”

She turns and looks at me.

“What if we give her a water burial? You know, like they do for soldiers who die in honor?”

“What soldiers?” she asks.

“When soldiers die at sea, sometimes they bury them at sea. It’s a burial of honor. Sasha loved the river. I’m sure she’d be happy there. We can bring her down and bury her there. Would that be okay?”

My heart is pounding as I wait for a response. We are running out of time, and I know how intransigent Bree can be if something means a lot to her.

To my relief, she nods.

“Okay,” she says. “But I get to carry her.”

“I think she’s too heavy for you.”

“I’m not going unless I get to carry her,” she says, her eyes flashing with determination as she stands, faces me, hands on her hips. I can see from her eyes that she will never give in otherwise.