Airie

“Fishing again?” Mirche called out to Dusan. “Aren’t you bored of that?”

“You should be the last one to complain,” said Dusan, stopping in front of Mirche’s hut. To his left and his right, the dusty road lay empty, the hour too early for most villagers to venture outside. “I always share my catch with you.”

“I share mine with you, too.” Mirche smiled, raising the bow that he’d been preparing for the hunt. “But seriously, you should join us.”

“You know why I can’t.”

Mirche rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest. Everyone’s gotten over it already. I’ve been shaming them a bit, about how they’ve been giving you the cold shoulder after all those years. They’re ashamed of themselves.”

“That’s what you wish to think.”

“How do you expect them to change their mind if you continue to be such a loner? Seriously, Dusan—you have never been like that. I’m trying to help you here.”

“I’ll join you some other time.”

“Why not today?”

“I like fishing. You have your talents, I have mine.” He raised his tangle of nets, showing it to Mirche.

“I see. Maybe I’ll joinyousome day, then.”

“Maybe,” Dusan agreed, without much enthusiasm. Despite his love for his friend, the last thing he wanted on his fishing trips was his company. “But you’ll be bored out of your wits, I tell you. See you around, man.”

“See you!”

Dusan turned around and started walking. The morning air felt chill and damp against his face, the early sunlight barely touching the roofs and the treetops. The sky was clear, promising yet another bright, warm day.

What possibly awaited him by the forest stream had a much stronger appeal than the prospect of hunting in the company of his fellow villagers. He couldn’t be sure if Reijo would be there today—he never knew. Sometimes, Reijo would appear, and sometimes Dusan would spend a whole day fishing alone and return home disappointed. Sometimes, Reijo would come only to sit at a distance, and talk, and no hints or outright begging could make him come closer and work his magic.

Yet sometimes, when Reijo was in the mood, he did come closer, and it was wortheverything. Dusan came to crave the extasy that Reijo’s innocent touch could produce in him, an addiction that Reijo found quite amusing. Dusan didn’t mind being laughed at. Reijo could laugh all he wanted as long as he supplied Dusan with those indescribable sensations.

His thoughts constantly revolved around the recollections of their past encounters, and the planning of future ones. Would Reijo come today? What would they do? Even just talking to him was good, although Dusan preferred the talking to come in the aftermath of other, more intense interactions. Still, just sitting by the stream and telling Reijo stories he’d heard as a child, and sometimes hearing a story or two in return, felt good. He loved those calm moments. He made sure to never tell Reijo tales about airies, though, for he knew those heroic stories of past victories wouldn’t sound good to his new friend’s ears.

Today, no one awaited him by the creak. Pushing down his disappointment, he went into the water and set the nets, then found a place in the shadow of a tree where he could sit down with a fishing rod. Reijo not being here didn’t mean anything. He rarely showed up early, always keeping an air about him as if he’d just been passing by before spontaneously deciding to pay Dusan a visit. Dusan knew better, though. Reijo didn’t really have anywhere else to be or anyone else to talk to. He needed their interactions no less—if not more—than Dusan did.

The rising sun warmed Dusan’s face, forcing his eyes to close. He stuck the fishing rod into the damp ground by the stream and leaned back against the boulder. He had woken up not two hours ago, but he was already sleepy again. His daily activities had been finding their way into his dreams, making him wake up in the black of the night, alone, aching with desire. His own crude ways of relieving the tension were nothing in comparison to what Reijo could do. HeneededReijo. Borwin had been right, airies messed with people’s heads. Dusan didn’t mind. He smiled, his eyes still closed. This was his secret, something to look forward to every day.

“What’re you smiling about?” said a voice beside him.

Dusan opened his eyes, blinked at the bright sunlight glittering on the water, and turned to face Reijo who was standing a few steps away.

“Why don’t you come closer, and I’ll tell you?” Dusan said.

“Why don’t you tell me now?” Reijo said. “You’re not of much use after I get close to you.” There was playfulness in his voice, and Dusan could tell that this was going to be a good day. “You’re more fun to have a conversation with when you’re… unaffected, let’s call it.”

“Come on,” Dusan said. “Come here. You didn’t just come to watch me fishing.”

“Perhaps I find your fishing entertaining?”

“Do you?”

“Not really, no.” Reijo smiled, and then, out of nowhere, Dusan heard a whistling sound.

Reijo stumbled forward, the smile freezing on his lips. A steel tip of an arrow pushed its way out of Reijo’s shoulder, tearing his tunic. Dusan stared in shock at the blood on the sharp metal that glimmered in the sunlight, and at the red stain spreading on the fabric.

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