An abrupt wind gave me a fright. It arrived from nowhere to stick up our hair and whip the grass, but oddly, was only located around the bloodied post. "What's going on?!" I yelled, over a rapidly growing gale.
The samurai nudged at the boy, who was now emitting a dreamy blue light from his insides, escaping his eyes, nostrils, and every cut over his young body. This force was neither hot nor cold on my skin, in fact, it had no psychical effect at all.
Kat remained calm throughout, giving the impression that this phenomenon was hardly a phenomenon at all. He took a composed step backward, prompting me with him as the boy's skin began to wither and fall. This person was being erased by nature, and in less than a minute, the only thing left hanging was his skeleton, and those magnificent streams of light blasting out from the ribs. That sturdy bone cage soon bubbled to a milky liquid, splashing to a puddle in the grass.
Lastly, all the light compacted into one single, fist-sized orb over the post. This singularity did not flake away like the flesh or liquidize with the bone, but remained uniform, effortlessly lingering like a blotch of bedroom dust. The wind went, and a dead calm returned the status quo.
Stunned, I recovered with both hands on my knees, observing that mysterious ball of swirling light. "What is it?"
"All he has left," replied the samurai. "Do not touch. Do not ever touch. He may never let go…"
As if trapped in slow motion, the orb began its descent, and I heard an impatient voice inside my head tempting me closer. "Go on Danny, take it for yourself! See what he saw! Know what he knows! Take! Take it now!"
Scared, I resisted this foreign voice and took a larger step back. That orb then touched down on the grass and was gone in a blink. I bent to search but found nothing but disordered greenery.
"Where the…" I muttered, my hands parting grass. "Did you see? Kat?" An instant later, I recoiled slightly at a healthy shimmer of blue light painting itself over one blade of grass.
"His second death," said Kat, "and his new home. Follow orders Fox, or share this fate."
With new eyes, I noticed the hundred thousand blades of grass around me. They couldn't all be souls. Not all of them. Could they? Guilt now possessed my own upon calculating how many blades I had trampled on route to the post.
"Let's get back on the path," I said, regretfully.
The samurai nodded and we returned, retracing every step.
***
"Don’t like it Kat. Something’s not right." I felt my ignorance amongst the twisted vines and distorted foliage. I had spent many Octobers hunting moose with my father in British Columbia, and actually considered myself an adept woodsman; but only Kat appeared adept in this bleak place.
With the stale air came a sense of the sinister, the lurking thing between trunks, and unseen predators waiting to pounce. We were not wanted on the tall grass, and we were not wanted in these dying woods.
My guts contracted at every snapping twig and the wind continued after us like an angry phantom. With solid footing on a path of soiled leaves and deadwood, our trail ran to distant portals of melting blacks and swirling greys. Surrounding trees had only inches to spare between them, and their festering trunks grew high on each side of the path until their branches collected and clasped, forming a confused roof overhead. Skylight came down in beams through cracks, but barely enough to light our way.
I followed three feet behind the warrior, who was as delicate as any ballerina with his steps. Like the best chess player in the world, Kat considered every detail, his grip unrelenting on the hilt of that katana.
"Why do the trees grow this way?" I asked, feeling a biting cold under my skin.
"When man is freezing," he answered, "he may embrace another for warmth."
Shocked, my imagination began to reveal those petrified faces. I tried closing my eyes and thoughts to them, but it was useless. Desperate men and women spread like butter over the trunks of rotting trees; this wood was a drowning man's last second above water, it was a body buried alive and scratching nails at the coffin lid.
Only practicalities would take my mind from imagination, so I searched for a suitable stick to construct a spear; unfortunately, decay ate the strength from everything here. The only object that appeared half-useful was the samurai warrior himself, and the two silver swords in his belt.
"You have two swords," I said. "Can I borrow one? You know, in case?" I extended my hand, expecting Kat’s shorter sword, the wakizashi, to be placed there. Instead, the samurai turned to me with a mortified expression over his scarred face, as if I had just asked a parent to loan me one of their kids because they happened to have one extra. I did not fully understand it, but those weapons were part of my defender's soul; man and steel in co-existence. No, Kat would not be giving up a sword. He simply scratched another itch from his stubble, then uttered, "I am your weapon."
I laughed. Never have I heard something so ridiculous said so earnestly. My companion clearly was reviling in our situation; one of the most dangerous warriors in Earth’s history was back in his element. A supreme confidence in his own ability impressed me, and I was keen to see the man in action, preferably from a distance and with a bag of popcorn. I was also eager to discover why Kat had waited so patiently in the white limbo above. What wish did he request from God? What would a killer born with no possible chance of entering Heaven ever demand at its gates?
We two trudged a further hour without incident. The last of the sun perished through the branches, and with frost starting to bite and no hotels in sight, a terrible thought now dawned on me: Kat and I would be spending the night here. When our narrow path came to an eventual bend, we discovered two heavily packed horses with reins conveniently knotted to the nearest branch.
"For us?" I asked, surprised.
"For us."
The sight of horses, these friendly living animals, pleased me. Perhaps this place was not as distinct as they say. It also came as a relief to find our helpless transportation untouched and unworried in such a menacing location.
Kat heaved a heavy-looking bag from one horse’s back and threw it in my arms. "Water and suitable clothing,” he said. “You will need both."
I untied the bag on a bed of leaves and parted the folds to reveal a generous flask inside, also a collection of thick animal skins — practical rather than stylish — and a pair of worn boots. I opened the flask and took a sip from the lid. It was water, clear and plain water. I drank and it quenched my thirst, but the muck lining my throat gave the liquid a bitter aftertaste. Next, I grabbed the hairy skins from the bag and held them up to scrutiny. It was a weighty woolly coat, a not-so magical fleece. "I’m to be caught dead in this?" I joked. "How can they know my size?"
"They know everything…"
***
I wore the fleece over my old shirt and laced up the boots. I connected the flask to a length of strong vine and carried it over my shoulder. Now, looking something nearer the part, we set off side by side on horses through the colorless scenery, which I much preferred to follow the leader.
The advancing darkness did not appear to concern Kat, so I presumed he knew what he was doing. Although the samurai showed no interest in me, I certainly was interested in him. I heard snippets of his legend before we set off, but nothing on the man himself. I decided then to work it out of him a piece at a time. I was used to that. I would assemble clues and build a profile, passing the hours and easing curiosity. If the samurai were not up to talking, he would have to listen. "I've heard a lot about the samurai," I said, my head bobbling along with the horse. "I once read a comic book about one warrior protecting a village from bandits. He fought forty single-handed, even deflected bullets with his sword. It was really…cool." I squirmed at the sound of my own idiocy; meanwhile, Kat held his strict face forward. "Why do they call you Kat? Is that your real name or…not?"