Lukas wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep but one of his arms was numb and there was a small wet patch of drool on Wilt’s shoulder.
“Welcome back, we are almost there if you think you can walk.”
“Oh, sorry for falling asleep; I think I should be able to walk now.” Lukas eased himself down slowly. His legs felt strained and soft; he kept a grip on Wilt’s shoulder for an extra minute to make sure his legs would hold him up.
“No problem, it’s kind of my fault you got into the mess.” Wilt admitted as he rolled his shoulders out. “And anyway you make some great noises when you sleep, I was thoroughly entertained.”
Lukas just gaped, horrified by what he may have said in his sleep, but then noticed the sly little smirk on Wilt’s face. “I think I have been through enough the past two days without you teasing me,” Lukas pouted.
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Wilt chuckled and held out his hand. Lukas couldn’t think of a more pleasant or warming sound.
It was only mid-afternoon but the dense canopy of the forest made it appear much darker. Lukas scanned the landscape and trees but didn’t recognise any of it.
“Where are we?” Lukas asked as he turned his attention back to where he was walking.
“Not as far as you would think, but far enough that they shouldn’t find us,” Wilt assured. “Plus I took a round-a-bout way here just to be sure they couldn’t track us.”
They trudged up an embankment and then down into an almost dry riverbed. Lukas panted at the small effort and Wilt’s hand slid up to his elbow to help support him.
“It’s just a little further and-” Wilt’s eyes fixed to the ground. “I am truly sorry that you got messed up in all this.” He gestured to everything around them, including himself. “And for what those people did to you.” He added quietly.
“You can apologise for the first part, but you are not to blame for what they did.” Lukas said firmly but he could feel tears stinging behind his eyes. “I hope what you took was worth it.”
He felt Wilt tense. “Umm, not really.” Lukas snapped his head up and glare at Wilt as anger flashed across his face. “Well when you and that lady saw me— I kind of panicked and just grabbed the book and ran, but when I stopped to check it.” He paused sheepishly. “It wasn’t the book I was looking for.”
“What? Then what book did you steal?” Lukas could feel the tears start to well in his eyes.
“A book of fairytales; a nice one mind you, but yeah— sorry.”
Lukas felt the last of his strength give out at the shock and he practically hobbled his way into the cave that served as Wilt’s base camp. He was in such a state of shock he didn’t even notice the array of fungi growing on the damp walls.
“In better news, there’s something else I stole that you might like.”
“I don’t want anything you stole,” Lukas said in a voice that came out harsher than intended and something twisted inside when he saw a look of hurt pinch the corners of Wilt’s eyes before he ducked further into the cave. He was only gone for a moment but Lukas couldn’t help but twitch nervously as he chewed his lower lip. Lukas was still trying to find some balance in his emotional state when Wilt returned, holding a familiar leather satchel.
“That’s-” emotion welled in Lukas and he had to fight down the urge to cry again. He couldn’t remember ever crying so much, not even on the day his father had abandoned him, but today he just couldn’t seem to stop.
“I didn’t really know what was important to take,” though as a thief Wilt knew where to find the things people value most.
Lukas took the satchel and peered inside. The herbs he had collected yesterday morning were still there, neatly packed just as he had left them. Fortunately he’d had to restock his supply of willow bark, which would not only reduce the pain in his body but would also boost his bloods to help him heal. All his tools were there too but more incredibly was the book, his book. It was stuffed with extra sheets of paper, his illustrations, but it was all there; his notes and diagrams, his life’s work. To have that book again was inexplicable, the weight of it, the texture of the leather and the distinct scent of parchment and ink. He was so caught up he almost missed the frame tucked into the bag. For a moment he couldn’t remember how to breathe or swallow. It was only a simple frame that held a single pressed petiem flower. Lukas couldn’t understand how anyone would know to take something like this; it had no value to anyone but him.
“Thank you,” Lukas said quietly as he sunk down against the wall of the cave and hugged his bag close to his chest like a precious treasure.
Lack of Coffee 