All the Failed Promises

Only one fish. Looking at it, she realized that it was her fault if they went hungry today. But the hunter was too kind to not share. If she hadn't lost her footing on the way up and lost the haul, they'd have more fish. To think, after all those days of flawless labor, she'd make a mistake now. He saved her from falling to death but couldn't save their dinner.

She'd sprained her ankle and possibly wasn't going to be moving around for a couple of days. Try as she might, she couldn't help feeling guilty. The hunter had put his fur coat on her. But his warmth only fueled her guilt. But what a stupid thing to feel guilty over. Hadn't she done much more horrible things than losing fish?

Her scars were unveiled before the hunter again today. Scars she didn't even know existed. Now these peaceful days seemed as if she'd stolen them from someone.

"It will help", the hunter offered her some paste like medicine for her foot.

"How do you put this on?", she stared at it, asking listlessly.

He sighed a very low, brief sigh and then moved closer, taking her foot in his hand. While the fish cooked slowly on the flame, he put on the medicine and bandaged her. The way he did it without expecting or hoping for any gratitude almost looked like he was trying to atone for something too. She sometimes thought, in that sense, they were really alike. But then the next thought seemed to deny that idea. Someone as kind as him, couldn't possibly be the same as her.

"If I...", she broke the long silence, while he busied himself with her treatment, "...If I tell you a secret, would you, well...believe me?"

He looked up at her but said nothing. Then finishing up with her foot, went back to his seat, listening attentively, while staring at the fire.

She stayed silent, watching the fire crackle too.

"I know when the world will end."

He looked at her, but once again, in complete silence, kept staring at her, as if awaiting an explanation. But none came.

"Do you believe that?", she asked, seeing as he wasn't asking anything.

"If you say so, then I suppose...I do."

It was as if someone had breathed a new life into her. No one else had ever gone past laughing, or smirking sarcastically. For one, there was someone who didn't think she was being delusional. Although, if she was told something like this, she'd probably find it hard to believe too.

"What do you think?", she asked.

He sighed again, a very low, brief sigh.

"Probably that...is it that you only know or are you a part of it?"

"And if I am?"

"Then it should fall on me, to stop you right here."

"But if I am a part of it, are you sure you can stop me."

"Yes."

She stared at him in utter surprise, smirking to some extent.

Feeling her stare, he answered, "Well, you've got a sprained ankle."

She laughed. The hunter hadn't heard this voice before. He had forgotten it. But it surprised him, he never thought he'd hear such a voice so high up in those lonely mountains.

"If I didn't think you'd never ask, I wouldn't tell you this", she smiled vaguely, "I wasn't looking to live when I came up this mountain."

The hunter poked the fire, the fish was almost done. Her words weren't surprising to him.

"I wasn't looking to live either...when I came up this mountain", he answered in a low voice.

"Is that why you saved me?"

"No", he went on poking the fire, "I haven't saved anyone."

After they'd dined on what little food they had, she returned the fur coat but he told her to hold onto it. And so she did. He too had received it from someone, perhaps a savior too. But that savior was gone now.

Her ankle healed soon enough. She was alive now, more than ever before. The hunter indulged her too. They talked a lot more, although never about themselves. The hunter did tell her that his first friend on this mountain was a white wolf. On one shivering night, the wolf brought him this fur coat from who knows where. That white wolf was his only companion for a long time until he was shot dead one night by a patrol. It was a freezing winter, just like this one. And it was near impossible to find a place for a burial. The grave was too far, so the hunter never visited it.

"Perhaps you should", she said, "Once at least."

The hunter seemed to be contemplating. After the wolf died, he was all alone for a long time, until she came around.

"Then tomorrow", the hunter whispered in the cold.

It indeed was quite far where the grave of his old friend lied. It was already gone, only a stone stood atop marking the place. There had never been any need for names between those two either so the stone was unmarked.

It was a week later, that she left the mountain. One morning, without a word.

"I'll go wash up first", she always did it second, so the hunter must have known.

One last time, she turned to look back at the cave. She intended to come right back when it was all over.

And so she left the hunter, without ever seeing his face, or knowing his name. She didn't know anything about him. And she never met him again.

Next she found herself at the doorstep of an old drunkard.

"Little Lady, we're runnin' outta booze", he'd say as if she was drinking with him.

"Haven't you done enough for this town, Jean? Ever think about moving on?", she asked him once.

"I haven't done nothin'. I'm but a crook, see", he laughed, chugging whatever was inside his musty bottle.

"A crook? You haven't managed to steal anything all your life, you wannabe. Its this town that's taken it all from you, Jean."

"Oi oi, Little Lady, feistier every day, are we?"

And when she asked him to join her, his answer was an unflinching no. No amount of effort was enough to move the man called Jean V. So she left again, this time with a proper goodbye. Once again, intending to return after it was all over. And once again, failing her promise. She never saw Jean V. again.