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Unluckily, the rain started to pour the moment they decided to leave the Thousand Winds Temple. Barreling drops of rain and bursting spurts of lightning. Luckily, Razor said he could smell the water in the air a few minutes before the first drops of water and led them to an inlet cove in the ruins. They managed to find a nice shelter, Bennett was able to start a fire (without even a single burn!), and Razor decided that he would cook something as Bennett tried to build an illusion of greenery in front of their cove. He’s learned so much from Razor, from the juiciest wolfhook berries to the best way to hide from enemies. He’s like a lucky charm or something.
Now, he sits on the cold floor of the ruins, the pitter-patter of rain turning into white noise. The repetition of sounds and walls around them seem to enclose them in a comforting hug. He watches Razor slowly roll up the thin slices of meat with mushrooms in between them, noticing how Razor tends to leave the said vegetable out of his own side. His hands are so close to the cooking pot, too close to the fire. Bennett may have been safe, but that doesn’t mean those around him can’t inherit his bad luck.
Hands moving before he can process it, he grabs Razor’s own, and asks, “Aren’t you getting burnt?”
Razor looks down at their joined hands, then to Bennett, then the fire. He shakes his head. “No. My hands do not feel the fire.”
Now that sounds a bit alarming. Yeah, he’s a wolf boy and Razor’s the strongest guy he knows, but maybe it’s time someone takes a look at Razor’s wounds. Bennett checks on the food, it should be fine for a few more minutes. He says, “Hold on, let me check them out.”
Razor tilts his head, reminding Bennett more of a cute bunny than a wolf for a second, “Check what out?”
“Your hands,” Bennet scoots closer, bringing his bag with him. He rummages a little for a roll of bandages. “I don’t have any soothing potions or salves, but I have this pack of bandages. Give them to me.”
“You already have my hand,” Razor replies, squeezing his grip around Bennett’s fingers.
“Oh, yah, forgot about that,” Bennett mutters. “Give me your other one.”
Razor complies and Bennett starts studying them. They’re in a rough shape, with light red and purple coloring on the top of the skin and calloused on the underside. His hands are still warm from the fire but no clear burns. Maybe Razor truly is a good luck charm. Bennett turns Razor’s hands to inspect the palms, then back to the back of his hands, rubbing his thumbs across to make sure everything is okay.
Razor makes a sound akin to a yawn, Bennet strokes his thumbs across knuckles, then the sound comes back again.
Bennett presses the divots in between, “Are you okay? Does it hurt here?” He applies pressure to his grip on Razor’s hands.
“That,” Razor hums, eyes closing as his hands seem to pull in closer to Bennett’s own, like hair rising on the back of one’s neck when lightning strikes too close to the ground. “That feels good.”
“This?” Bennett rubs his thumb slower across Razor’s knuckles, feeling each dip and patch of skin until it starts to feel like a part of Bennett. He’s certain that he’s pushing much more than the hand massages he would give to his dads, to the point that the tops of Razor’s hands are turning red, and not from the previous bruises. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“No.” Razor shakes his head. “It makes the bones feel good.”
“Huh,” Bennett nods, resuming to rub Razor’s hands with a much clearer plan. He decides to focus on one hand, then the fingers, back to the knuckles, then to the flesh of the palms. Then the other hand. In the meantime, Razor’s eyes are closed, shoulders rolled back in a relaxed manner. In between them, the fire crackles, the rain rings, and it’s almost like they’ve created a little home just for themselves. Usually, Bennett does the talking, but the space feels as fragile, yet warm, like a little lick of flame.
Even if Bennett will never truly understand, perhaps this is what Razor means when he says ‘lupical’.
“Maybe you should go see a massager,” Bennett suggests after a while. His mouth goes a bit slack when Razor’s eyes open, intense red boring into his own green. “I think Lisa knows someone. You know, to make your body feel better.”
Razor shakes his head. “No, only my friend. You are my friend.”
Instead of a good response, Bennett just smiles. He starts massaging Razor’s forearms, his thumb tracing small circles back and forth. “That’s right.”
Razor then relaxes into the touch, eyelids drooping down. Bennett rarely sees Razor this relaxed, never off guard in the daylight. Maybe, Bennett thinks, that he should take the first watch for the night.
“Hey, I don’t really have a blanket, but you should get some rest. I can take the first shift.” Bennett says, still continuing to massage Razor’s hands and arms.
Razor doesn’t reply for a minute, but he eventually mutters, “I want to see the moon.”
Bennett smiles, “I’ll wake you up if I see the moon out. It’s still raining.”
Razor makes the same yawning sound as before, for the third time. Then closes his eyes, but still keeps his hands in Bennett’s own, not wanting to let go.
“What does that sound mean?” Bennett asks before his better judgment, “One last lesson on wolf communication before you sleep.”
Eyes still closed, Razor responds, “It means I am happy. Lupical is happy.”
Bennett nods, slowing his ministrations so it lulls Razor to sleep, just as his dads did to himself when he was a kid. He starts humming a lullaby he remembers as well, something like, “The eldest hilichurl is sick, the second hilichurl comes to see him, the third hilichurl goes to pick up herbs, then…”
Bright red meet green again for the second time that night like a flash of lightning. The sounds of wind and rain seem distant as thunder cracks above their shelter and all that remains is the cracking of fire and the smell of burning meat.
“Our food!”