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Tal groaned and stretched against the well-worn beach, lidded gaze loosely trained on the expanse of ocean before him. Even his rigorous training as a Knight of Razril had left him ill prepared for the long days his ragtag party had been adrift, dehydrated and forced to defend their cramped vessel from the voracious sea-monsters that occasioned upon them. From the corner of his eye he spied motion – the soft fluttering of a red headband tie as their unofficial leader bent down to inspect the foliage edging the far end of the beach – and even tracking that small action added to the weariness that weighed upon him. He allowed his eyes to close against the brilliant afternoon sun, hoping silently that Lazlo would find sufficient pity in his heart to allow Tal a brief respite before reminding him of his chores for the day.
Hearing soft footsteps approaching, Tal slowed his breathing and forcibly relaxed his muscles to make him look as boneless as possible. The crunch of sand ceased momentarily, and Tal was on the verge of wondering whether he'd gotten away with it after all when Keneth kicked sand onto his fellow knight's legs, effectively ending Tal's pretense of slumber.
Tal craned his neck to the left and squinted at the disapproving figure towering over him. "What was that for?" he grumbled. "I was working up a perfectly good nap there."
"I wouldn't call anything you were doing just now 'working'," Keneth rejoined affably. He bent to sit next to Tal, who, finally accepting that the nap plan had been forcibly aborted, sat up and began to dust the fine sand from his hair and back.
"Says you," Tal replied, eyeing Keneth suspiciously. "I like to think of it as conserving my energy for a solid bout of rope-gathering later. And just how many coconuts did you bring over here, anyway?"
Keneth shrugged. "Coconuts are easy. Making sure you get your share done is less so." He smiled briefly, but the expression faltered almost before it began, settling into a pensive look as his gaze took in the open expanse of ocean. "Tal, do you..." he ventured, only to wrinkle his nose against some unwanted thought and shake his head minutely before plowing forward. "Do you think we'll be stuck on this island forever?"
Tal turned – really turned – this time, cataloguing the tension evident in his friend's posture. "Of course not! He said he had a plan, didn't he?" Tal asserted, inclining his head in the direction of the forest into which Lazlo had wandered.
Keneth bit his lip as he pondered Tal's words. He continued softly, "Yeah, I just wonder a little." Seeing Tal's furrowed eyebrows, he elaborated, "...whether he's really got what it takes, you know?"
Now Tal was openly staring at him, and Keneth turned away uncomfortably, cheeks coloring as Tal's voice rose slightly. "Look. He may not look like it all the time, especially when he's following Snowe around like a lost puppy," Tal lectured, mouth curling slightly on the word 'Snowe' as though he'd encountered something distasteful. "But the kid has a good head on his shoulders." He peered at Keneth intently, eyes widening a fraction before narrowing again. "Hey, why'd you follow him out here if you were gonna ask a question like that?"
Keneth finally looked at him, pulse quickening for the span of two heartbeats –
(I followed you)
– before he turned away again, making a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. "Just asking."
The afternoon sun blazed on, but the tropical breezes blew a touch cooler, and whatever reply Tal made before standing was lost to them as they sent rogue grains of sand skittering wildly along the shore.
Two evenings later, chores completed and hopes high for setting sail the next day, three of the group sat around the fire speculating on conditions back in Razril while they waited for their daily allotment of fish to cook. Tal gesticulated wildly as he spoke, to the amusement of Keneth and Chiepoo: " – I mean, I wonder if the armor's all different now too. Extra-long reinforced arm guards, for those dangerous missions against ships armed with specialized paralysis rays! But you only get it once you graduate, so they can still use the excuse at the academy – instead of 'Sorry, the dog ate my homework,' now it's 'I was working on it, but my arm! My arm wouldn't move!'"
Lazlo, who had withdrawn in the afternoon citing an errand in the nearby cave, entered the sandy clearing as Tal was finishing his impression, bicep-grabbing and all. The young leader's ordinarily warm, open features fell, and with a downcast expression he murmured, "Don't," as Tal opened his mouth to begin anew.
Three heads swiveled toward him simultaneously in a show of surprise, Tal's jaw continuing to hang ajar until he thoughtfully worked it closed a moment later. Lazlo's countenance softened until he appeared almost chagrined, inspecting the rivulets of sand at his feet as he added, "Don't speak of him like that. Please."
Tal recovered quickly, staring incredulously at his soft-spoken leader. "How can – how can you of all people say that?" he demanded, surprise giving way to resentment. "He's the reason you got kicked out of the Knights; he's the reason we're all stuck here right now! Hell, he's probably the one who murdered Commander Glen and framed you for it! He's – "
" – He's a friend," Lazlo finished, locking eyes with Tal. "He's my friend," he amended softly, "and I don't expect you to understand it, but we have a...history, together." When Tal paled and turned away abruptly, Lazlo shifted his gaze to the horizon, eyes slightly unfocused and the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Whatever happened or did not happen to lead us here, I owe him a debt of kindness, and somehow I know I will yet have the chance to repay him. So until that time, think of him what you will, but please, do not speak ill of him to me." Lazlo closed his eyes with an air of finality settling about him, and when he snapped them open again, their usual brightness had returned along with his gentle smile.
Chiepoo looked back and forth between Lazlo and Tal for a moment, attempting to piece together some suitable response to whatever had just passed between them. Ultimately, however, he raised his arms in defeat and announced, "I give up! So...does anyone want some dinner?" Eager for the break in tension as much as for the sustenance itself, four pairs of hands, or their equivalents, dug in heartily.
Dinner passed uneventfully, and nightfall found Lazlo dozing peacefully while Chiepoo conjectured the existence of edible meat inside diamond-hard crab shells. Eventually sleep claimed him too, and Tal resigned himself to cleaning out the heavy cauldron that had served them well during their unexpected stay. He hefted it and moved as quietly as he could toward the shore, so as not to wake his sleeping companions. Keneth remained awake, and followed him out to the wide expanse of coastline.
"Clear night, huh," Keneth remarked, voice low as he contemplated the mess of visible stars.
"S'pose so," Tal confirmed; wrinkling his nose, he added, "Could stand to smell a little less fishy, though."
Keneth chuckled. "That it could," he agreed. Watching Tal from his peripheral vision even as he leaned back for a better view of the nightscape, he resumed, "It shouldn't be a problem for long, though; we're finally getting out of here tomorrow."
Tal dumped the murky contents of the cauldron into the shallow water lapping at the shore as he considered Keneth's statement. "We sure are," he agreed, and then because he couldn't resist: "And I believe I told you as much the day we got here. See? The kid knows what he's doing."
Keneth pressed his lips together in thought for several seconds, before replying, "Even when he's telling you something you'd rather not hear?" He was not surprised by the dull thump that accompanied the empty cauldron colliding with the beach. "Don't look at me like that – and don't look at me like that, I don't have to see your face to know what's written all over it. You looked practically sick back there."
Another thump, lighter than the first, sounded as Tal himself hit the ground heavily and rolled back to join Keneth in stargazing. "I'd be lying if I said he just surprised me," he said carefully, "and I know there's more to what happened to the Commander than anyone but him really knows. But, ugh, why Snowe? Of all the people..."
(Why not you?)
Keneth stifled a bitter laugh, but something in the way he shifted caused Tal to lean over anyway, propping himself up on an elbow. "Hey, what did you want to tell me, anyway?" Tal asked, glancing over at the prone ex-Knight. "You obviously didn't come out here to help me clean," he added petulantly.
When no response was forthcoming, Tal sighed and laid back again, using his left arm as a makeshift headrest. Despite having every intention of moving back to their proper campsite before the night grew too chill, the supple sands beneath him and the tranquil whisper of the ocean waves soon lulled him into a satiated doze.
Keneth stood then and assessed the ocean before him as though searching the distance for some suggestion, some symbol of finality as yet hidden to him. But the ocean made no reply, and he crossed his arms in front of him against the cool night air as he whispered to no one in particular, "It wouldn't have been so bad, staying here. Forever."
By the time Tal spun around, wide-eyed with comprehension, Keneth had already enfolded himself into his pallet by the dying fire, his already half-worn footprints the only indication that he had been there at all.