As thunder boomed overhead, Henry gently lifted Les out of bed, frightened by how little he weighed. He sat him on the hut’s only chair and shuddered when a flash of lightning illuminated Les’ gaunt features. Henry had witnessed death on the battlefield many times before and knew it wasn’t far from Les.
While they waited for the storm to pass, Henry wrapped Les’ only blanket around his emaciated shoulders, before kindling a fire in the hearth. It smoked and sparked, but it did radiate a little bit of warmth and gave Henry something to do. Neither of them was good at holding a conversation, and despite his guilt, Henry knew intuitively that they didn’t need to. As the storm passed and the weak winter rays of the sun pierced the gloom, Les smiled. It baffled Henry, the man was almost dead, a hunchback who had been entombed in this miserable hut for years and treated poorly by Henry. Yet there was not a hint of accusation in his smile, just the obvious joy of Henry’s companionship. Henry would remember it for the rest of his life.
Henry was a big man and carried Les’ skeletal body all the way home without stopping. As they neared the house, Rebecca rushed out to meet them. When she saw Les she gasped. “Henry, what happened?”
“He needs food and drink and a warm bed.”
Henry knew the next few days would be touch and go, and missed 3 straight days of work so he could help Rebecca as she tended to Les. Once Les got some of his strength back, they asked him what had happened. He told them the frosts had destroyed his garden, and he had run out of supplies.
“Why didn’t you come to us?” Henry regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.
Les just shrugged.
On the 4th day, Les was on the road to recovery, and Henry was able to get back to work. It was a sunny day, and he felt happier than he had in a long time. He’d left his axe up at Les’ hut so took a few tools with him to repair the door.
It would prove to be a trip that would change Henry’s life.
