Denver could see the same images as Oak did; he was amazed at how clear they were knowing this was taking place a long way below them. He'd never been able to read a mind from such a great distance and he knew it was only because of Oak's close bond with the girl that he was living what she was going through. The intensity of emotions shocked him; his body reeled from the exhausting terror and then horror, until finally the vexing vision vanished.
Openly they both stared at one another stupefied and perplexed by what they'd seen. Oak was shaking before him; his self control was diminishing as he picked up a glass from the table and hurled it across the room where it shattered the silence of the room.
Denver was at a loss of words to say, as he stumbled through platitudes in his mind knowing Oak was receiving them, but they were doing little to help him. Looking like he would explode Oak arose thumping his fists upon the table; it rocked slightly within its well attached brackets on the wall. With one final screech of air from his lungs he dropped back into his chair.
Denver hadn't even noticed that he himself was standing, originally they'd both been sat talking when the image burst forth into Oak's mind. They were both subjected to the screams and cries in their heads, the sight of gnashing teeth and wet scales.
Denver sat himself down looking at Oak's hunched shoulders as the broken boy looked down at his hands. He jolted in surprise when Oak's soft voice spoke to him.
“He had to save her. It couldn't have been me. It had to be my worst enemy.” His eyes looked at Denver; they were filled with distress and despair. “He holds her in his arms and she clings to him…her saviour!” Anger sprang forth from the light blue eyes whose whites flared red at the rage within him. “I should have killed him long ago!” The growl he emitted was so unlike Oak that Denver's face must have shown his astonishment. At this Oak gave a humourless laugh.
His head had dropped to stare at his hands once more. “What do you think of the out of control Oak, Denver? Not a person you want to be with?” His head came up as he cross examined Denver's reaction.
“I see a boy before me distressed because someone he loves was near to death. Being out of control is of no concern in this. This is humanity! You're being human!”
Oak gave a disgusted tut and arose from his chair. “So you say she makes me human?”
“What I'm saying is that your reaction is normal, so why do you make it out to be wrong?”
The eyes looking at Denver fired once more as Denver slowly pushed himself out of his chair.
Oak followed his movement as he retorted, “So, you're saying you would stand beside me even when my concentration and reasoning are gone? You’re saying that you would risk your life knowing that my falling apart would possibly bring about your own demise.”
He was glaring as he made the last remark. Denver knew the disgust and ire were not directed at him but at Oak, himself.
“Oak, you have not let yourself or anyone else down by this behaviour. You were outside of this situation, had you been present your reactions would have been different.” Denver gave an empathetic gaze. “This is you and I alone, restricted by our location; you would have acted had you been there and you would have been the one to pull Fern from the water.”
Oak's eyes softened slightly, simmering over Denver's words.
“However, I wasn't.”
Oak turned away to look out of the window. Not knowing what else to say Denver stared blankly into the night sky too. He could feel Oak; his emotions were so strong that he wondered that the whole cabin wasn't shaking.
In the distance the moon was making her full appearance from the obscurity of the clouds, making her late entrance to the theatrics below.
Denver was tired from his thoughts, he'd been rocked by the vision, but Oak's intense vehemence for what he'd seen happen and his feelings for Fern left Denver envious. He subconsciously shook his head at the ridiculousness of the thought. Oak loved this girl with his very being and his hatred for this other boy was not through him being an enemy but because he'd become her hero. He was still pulsating from his passionate spirit, still stirring the air with his thoughts and Denver was unwillingly caught up in the electricity.
They stood for a while, neither of them talking, until Denver moved away. When he approached the door he turned to see Oak still hadn't moved. He was staring at nothing, but his body continued to gently quiver.
“I'll see you tomorrow my friend. Don't concern yourself with what is now the past. She's safe, so be thankful. The boy didn't fare as well. She still lives; let’s hope that she will remain safe tomorrow when the Lakellers decide what is to be done.”
He watched Oak ponder for a while as he blinked his eyes quickly before replying. Denver could sense he was losing his composure again.
“Goodnight Denver. Let your thoughts be free of what goes on in my head, so your sleep will not be as tumultuous as mine promises to be.”
Denver gave a sigh as he replied, “Only if you choose to make it that way Oak.”
Oak nodded and resumed his sightless vision of the night, so Denver quietly closed the door behind him and made his way to his cabin next door.
“May the spirits lay quiet your troubles Oak,” he said to himself as he opened the door and flicked the switch from dark to light.
Making his way to his bed he threw himself down upon it, letting his legs hang off the end because of its short length for a body of his size. Surprising himself he started to hum. He wasn't sure what the tune was, just one his father had hummed when he was a child, and just as when his father had hummed to him in the past, Denver soon fell asleep.
**********
Oak felt the stinging in his eyes, they burned from the flood of tears that commenced once Denver left the room. He felt he should be embarrassed by them but he wasn't. They spoke of his internal frustrations, his wish to protect Fern, to keep her safe, to give her an environment that would make her happy. Was Elm to give her that?
Oak had made his pledge to Willow, he'd become her partner and they would rule Elanclose as it should be ruled, with patience and calm. Perhaps he'd misjudged Elm, maybe he was the boy to stifle Fern's wild spirit and bring her in line with the rest of the clan. Why was he so outraged when this could be the answer to his problems?
His breathing was shallow but he was starting to take deeper draws of air. Only two people caused him irritation in Elanclose; Elm with his desire to become leader and his wish to oust Oak, and Fern and her outrageous ideas, rebellious nature and different approach to life.
Fern wanted him to love her but he couldn't, she wasn't a good choice and he'd already declared to Willow that on his return they would be together. He knew it would distress Fern to be rejected. He'd been in her life for all these years and of great importance to her.
Maybe if Elm and Fern were together they would stop their previous behaviour? Perhaps, in one another's arms they would find what they wanted. Elm would accept he couldn't be leader and Fern would accept that she couldn't have Oak and stop rebelling against everything he put into place.
The thoughts appealed to him but they did not assuage the pain he felt. Gently rolling his head from side to side he attempted to regain his composure. Shrugging his shoulders and then rolling them forward and backward he managed to alleviate some of his tension. Placing himself into a place of meditation he closed his mind and relaxed his body. The procedure worked, as soon as he reopened his eyes he felt better.
Moving away from the window he went to his bed and sat down. He needed to concentrate on getting the information of what route they were to travel. He needed to formulate plans on how they were to stop Kisin from whatever diabolical trap he had concocted. The safety of his whole clan rested upon what he was to do. He'd have to make sure they'd all be safe, that they would continue to live and prosper in a way that they were meant to. Fern was of less importance than his clan, she could not occlude his mind from his task at hand any further and he would not allow it.