His roar this time is longer, louder, and it exhausts him.
I carefully climb over Tusk and cradle his face in my cold, wet hands. My voice is far from strong and steady, but it’s all I have. “I love you, my brother.”
Wiping salty tears from my face and lips, I force myself to mumble my final goodbyes.
“I promise,” I say, breaking apart. “I promise to find you in the next lands. With her, and with all our parents.”
I pat Tusk’s face with my hands, forcing a smile. I then finish with one of our things. It is a nose kiss, and I look into his eyes.
His big, pointy ears then twitch, and I know he is aware. And he knows, I know, this is it.
He growls softly, and it is a sound I know well.
It is a sound he only makes when he wants one thing… To go outside.
He wants to go.
Holding him tight for what seems like a full minute, I mumble my last words, “Love you, brother, and see you upstairs.”
I force myself to stand and walk away. It is the hardest thing Iwill ever do. I finally look back, and we share a gentle lookas if he knows.
I pause near the unseen rifle behind him in the darkness. I then lift the killing machine, and with shaking wet fingers, I check the bullets. Just like I was shown as a teen by my grandfather.
I inhale long and slow. I then walk carefully around the back of his body so he cannot hear me.
Finally, I get behind him as quiet as I can be. I then pause. Tusk flicks his tail, and he knows I am close.
I rub the back of his head with one hand, just how he has liked it all his life.
He flicks his tail backwards and forwards, and I calm. Maybe there is a chance, and maybe he is all right.
Suddenly, his back arches as more savage pain wracks his body from deep within. He roars loudly, and as lightning arcs over the lake, I rise.
I lift the gun barrel to the back of his head.
A placereserved for love, and my love.
And I fire.
I cast the gun aside, and it lands in the rain and mud.
I walk away, and then I find myself running. As I lean over the lake, I vomit and purge my stomach dry.
Lifting clean lake water, I wash my face. Next, I rinse my mouth and return to the enclosure, numb. As more thunder rumbles, I empty the silver hip flask. It is not a lot, but I’ll take anything I can get.
I walk to the wooden cart used for hauling Tusk’s feed and moving tools. After twenty minutes of careful sliding and rolling, I have my brother’s body on it.
After retrieving the muddy rifle and manhandling the cart into the middle of the lake road, I turn to the Land Rover that sits still in the darkness.
I signal it, and seconds later, it rolls my way.
William drives slowly,with the cart hooked on behind us, and we take Tusk towards the family cemetery in silence. As we are about to pass the chateau, I mumble, “Stop.”
Getting out, I walk around in the rain. I stop at William’s door, and the loyal old man looks reluctant.
“It’s a two-man job, son.”
I still like it when he uses the word son, but it’s not the time. “I will do it alone,” I say without emotion.
