The Cave

Three miles had never seemed more like thirty! It took the pair nearly all day to reach the small scree at the foot of the cliffs. Each plodding step had strained his aching legs and many times Norgren had tumbled and groaned in agony as the pain in his ribs racked through his chest. Each time he had fallen, Yensen had patiently helped him up and then re-positioned the Vikings one good arm over his shoulder and guided him on.
Norgren’s right arm no longer bothered him; he could no longer feel it. The arm was numb from the shoulder and hung limply by his side. It no longer even caused him to cry out when it caught against a bush or a tree, as it had done on several occasions in their first few hours of the journey. At least the rain had stopped, but he was so cold now, even the exertion of the trek had not warmed him. Yensen, however, had a bead of sweat forming on his brow and the tunic on his back was starting to steam as his body heat drove off the damp.
“There’s the tree,” Yensen pointed. “The entrance is just underneath.”
Norgren didn’t raise his head, only letting out a weak grunt, but he managed to shift his direction as the boy directed.
Finally the boy rolled Norgren off his shoulder and sat him onto the dry ground in the cave. Then he went back to the tree by the entrance and gathered fallen dry twigs and logs from the sheltered side of it against the cave entrance. He returned and built a fire near to the Viking who had slumped back against the side of the cave. He removed Norgren’s sword belt and rummaged in the pouches for a flint and striker. Skilfully using the dry straw grass he had also gather, Yensen soon had a blaze in the hearth.

Stirring, Norgren asked, “Do you have any food?”
“I’ve got this,” and Yensen presented a strip of dried meat hanging by what looked like a roped of twisted scalp hair, “I took it from one of the Demon bodies at the battle site. It was fastened about his belt.”
It was all Norgren could do to hold from retching, he looked at the rancid strip of flesh and then threw it into the fire, “Good bye who ever you were, I hope your passage from this life was swift.”
Sure the boy had understood his meaning, Norgren turned to Yensen, “get me some of that water from the pool over there.”
Yensen went to the far side of the cave and cupped a handful of water from a pool that was fed by the trickle flowing through the cave. He returned and held out his hands.
Norgren dipped a finger and brought it to his lips. He immediately spat it out; the taste of ammonia burned his tongue confirming his earlier suspicions about the smell which hung in the cave.
“Don’t drink that,” Norgren commanded and he again spat and wiped his mouth. “It tastes awful and will probably make you sick.”
“I could’ve told you that,” said Yensen, “I drank from it this morning and I puked over there. There’s a fresh stream just outside.”
Norgren scowled at the boy, but he had already turned to fetch some clean water.

Dusk was fast approaching outside and when he had drank, Norgren pointed to the clothes that were drying by the fire. Whilst he had slept, he presumed Yensen had cut down some forked branches about his own height, stripped Norgren’s sodden layers and hung them over the branches. They were now propped by the fire and already a soft wisp of steam was rising from them.
“You think you can take you axe and cut down another one of those. See if you can find one about twice my height.”
Yensen looked quizzical, “Wot for?”
“You’re going to make a Batty Bat,” Norgren stated.
“A what?”
“You’ll see.”
Yensen stood there not moving, “you don’t say please and thank you very much, do you!” He said sternly.
“Go on with you, we haven’t got much time,” Norgren scowled, but when the lad didn’t move, he added with a softer tone, “please.” And he dipped his brow slightly in acknowledgement of the young mans right.

Yensen returned shortly, carrying a strong forked stem from a Silver Birch, but still with a puzzled expression. The implement was at least twelve feet long and the fork spanned out from the top third nearly four feet wide.
“There, take my undershirt,” said Norgren. pointing, “and pass it over the forks. Then tie the sleeves off… please.”
Yensen obliged and soon held aloft what appeared to be a giant fly swot. He looked back at Norgren who smiled in recognition of his craft work, “now stand over there, it shouldn’t be long.”
The boy did as he was bid and moved to the middle of the cave and waited.
“There,” called Norgren pointing into the air.
“Wot?”
“There, again, bat,” Norgren pointed and the lad swung with the gigantic racket.
The bat flitted and dodged swiftly around the murderous stick and continued its way with barely a flinch.
Another came, then several more and he swung widely to no avail. The next, he heaved with all his might and the Batty bat span through the air, its arch carrying Yensen off his feet and he landed on his back in a heap.
Norgren, despite his discomfort couldn’t help himself, “Hahaa,” he cajoled.
Yensen picked himself up and scowled back at him. He extracted the implement from behind the boulder where it had fallen and raised it high. This time, he twisted the blade sideways for the initial part of his sweep to reduce the drag and, at the last instant, opened the face full into the flight of his prey. The bat fell to the floor.

With his next strike, Yensen felled three in one swipe. Then suddenly the whole cave seemed to fill with a swarm of thousands upon thousands of bats all making there way out for their night time feast. Yensen span and twisted and struck at them, leeping with glee and laughing hysterically as he plucked them from the air. As quickly as it began, the swarm was gone and, with the pair of them still laughing, Yensen gathered at least three dozen and carried them back to the fire.

Between them they skewered them on sticks and held them over the fire to toast. The wings and fir burned off and they sizzled appetizingly. Turning them frequently, Yensen did most of the work and, when the first was finally ready, he handed it to Norgren.

They sat in silence for a while feasting on the bat kebabs. Each time Norgren finished one; Yensen would pass another and then mount a fresh bat on the returned stick. Eventually they had eaten all they could. A few still remained and Yensen pulled them off the fire to store until the morning.

“Thank you,” Norgren said. “Thank you, for saving my life.”