Dagan reached out and wiped a straggling tear from his cheek with one thumb. He kept his hand there, cupping Hendrik’s face. “My darling. I understand if you want to be alone, but I’d like to stay. May I?”
Hendrik hesitated, though he knew the answer right away. “Stay. If you don’t—”
Dagan flopped down beside him, lotus-style, his right knee touching Hen’s left. “I’m sorry, Hen,” he said with gut-punching sincerity. “I’m so very sorry.”
“I know.” But Hendrik still appreciated him saying it.
Chapter 6: Evergreen Conservancy, Heart Wood
After that moment of peace with Dagan, a wave of preparations swept over them and carried them out of the settlement within a day. While the rest of the little traveling party had an air of hopefulness and excitement about it, all Hendrik could do was try not to piss directly on their mood by staying in the back, slightly separate but always nearby if anyone needed him. Kajja, Piret, Bartolo, and Gareth made plans amongst themselves, discussing angles of approach and contingencies ad nauseum. Alonza and to a lesser extent Innan piped up with advice or suggestions now and then.
But Dagan, though he’d been warm and kind for Hendrik’s little breakdown, wasn’t himself either. He was chatty with the others, making jokes if not contributing much to their plans, but withdrawn with Hendrik. The first day on the forest path, Hendrik noticed but thought it would pass; the situation was beyond stressful, and if Dagan seemed a little up-and-down, that was understandable. But by the second day, when they made camp on the edges of the Evergreen Conservancy, it was clear that he still hadn’t recovered from whatever had been amiss after Bartolo’s visit.
Hendrik needed to apologize for something. He was desperate to find out what that something was before they reached the Stone City but not sure how to go about it. As he unfurled his blanket next to Dagan’s that night in camp, he said, “Thank you. For staying with me while I lost my shit, the other day.”
Dagan smiled and touched his arm briefly, then went back to making his own bed. “I’ve got you, my darling. You know I do.”
Hen nodded. “You seem—not great, either.”
“Me?” Dagan’s dark eyebrows raised. “What makes you say that?”
We haven’t made out in two days, for one thing, Hendrik wanted to say, but that seemed absurdly selfish. “You’re just not saying much.”
“I’m saying more than you,” Dagan replied.
Hen couldn’t take it anymore. He sat on his half-spread blanket and hung his head. “Did I—did I do something wrong?”
For a long moment, Dagan only looked at him, gaze sharp and clear as sunshine. Finally, he said, “Don’t worry about me, my darling boy.” He leaned over and kissed Hen’s forehead.
“So, you don’t want to tell me,” Hen guessed with a helpless laugh.
“More like, I don’t know what’s going on myself,” Dagan admitted thoughtfully. “I haven’t quite worked it out in my head yet. I find myself in unfamiliar territory lately, and it has me off-balance. Rest assured that it’s not your fault, though.”
It would’ve been reasonable for Dagan to withdraw, in the circumstances: His home was under threat, his lover was sinking into mental disorder, he was about to embark on the most dangerous adventure of his life after only a few moons of experience scouting. One moon, really.
And yet, “I’m broody, aren’t I?” Hendrik asked.
“Yes, but you’re a pretty brooder, so I don’t mind.” This was Dagan’s usual flirtatious tone now. He kept doing that, switching back and forth from thoughtful to flippant, from silent to almost manic. Normally, the contradictory parts of him flowed smoothly into one another, like river and sea at an estuary.
Considering the state of the Blue Bird estuary, however, maybe that was an apt comparison for Dagan’s strangeness now, too.
That night, Dagan was asleep by the time Hen came to their blankets. He stretched out on top of them, since it was too hot to burrow beneath, and watched Dagan’s chest rise and fall gently. Wishing he would wake up, pull Hen into his arms, and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe or think anymore.
But Dagan slept quietly, peacefully, and eventually Hendrik joined him.
*
“We should talk,” Piret said when he wandered toward the campfire in the morning.
“Where is everyone?” Hendrik asked.
“Scouts are foraging for supplies. Dagan, Alonza, and Innan are showing Kajja how to meditate,” she replied. “Come have some tea.”
He accepted a flatbread and a clay mug of some steaming herbal concoction. Tea wasn’t really a thing in the City, but it was something Hendrik had quickly come to appreciate. Dagan said it was medicinal, too, but he didn’t know about all that; it just tasted good and felt even better in his belly.
“I need you to wake up by the time we get to the mountain,” Piret said.
Hendrik nodded. No point denying that he was off. “I know. I won’t let you down.”
“I know. You never do.” Piret shot him a sideways look. “And I need you to work out whatever is going on with you and Dagan.”
Hendrik dropped his gaze to his tea.
“Hen. Seriously. You’re wild about each other. Take him into the woods and fuck him against a tree or something. Whatever it takes. Everyone has to be in this, body and mind. And you two are not.”
He nodded. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
She sighed. “What, then? What’s going on?”
“Not sure.” He felt stupid admitting it, but he told her about Bartolo’s visit, Dagan’s sudden switch off, his own breakdown at the settlement, Dagan’s support, and now his withdrawal. “What does all that mean?”
“No idea,” she admitted, eyebrows high. “That’s…a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he better figure out what crawled up his ass and died before we get to the mountain, or I’m asking Bartolo to leave him outside with Alonza and Innan.”
Now that was an idea.
