I mulled over these things as I ate. The blackberry juice coated my tongue, sour and muddled. I forced myself to eat another fistful and then drink the water, metallic from its long rest in the well.

I gathered the surviving berries in the cup of my palm. When I held out my hand, he looked at me with a blank expression.

“You need to eat,” I said. “Just one or two, or at least drink a little more.”

He licked his lips. His mouth was dry—I could tell by the way he swallowed painfully. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Don’t worry. I’ll eat, just not now.”

“Vanya,” I said, and his gaze slowly lifted.

His chest rose and fell, so that meant he was still breathing, and though his hands were bruised, it was not from the blood settling in his limbs. He was still alive, or the closest thing to it.

“Eat,” I repeated, and when he refused to take the berries, I shocked myself by pushing my hand against his mouth. He turned his head to the side, but I refused to budge, smashing the berries against his lips until he shoved me away. Black pulp dropped to the ground as we stared at each other. His eyes were flared wide, and his lips pulled back to show his teeth.

“I said I’m not hungry,” he snapped, rising to his feet. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a long streak of juice smeared across his cheek like a bloodstain.

“Why won’t you just try one?” My voice rose uncontrollably.

“Because it disgusts me!” he snarled, his green eyes flashing. “And I’m not hungry, and if I eat them, they’ll just rot inside of me.”

A twinge of horror pierced me to the core. I had spent my entire life surrounded by monsters. I wondered if I’d just inadvertently created one.

“I understand,” I whispered, and his shoulders slowly loosened. “Okay? I understand.”

As we continued walking, I kept at a distance at first, but slowly edged closer until I was up against his side, and my hand found his. His skin was warm against my palm, and when I traced my thumb along his inner wrist, I caught the steady beat of his pulse. Then I found the stitches by accident, and even as I began pulling my hand back, he turned away from me and drew his arms around himself. He tucked his hands under his armpits, his gaze on the ground. His lips were pressed together so tightly, they trembled.

“I guess there is one bright side,” he said as we kept going.

I looked over at him.

“Well, now we know for sure that you’re a koldunia.” His laughter came out forced, but in his voice, I caught a trace of the Vanya I knew.

I rolled my eyes. “Best be nice to me from now on, or I might put a curse on you.”

We smiled at each other for a moment, because we needed this. We needed to know that we were both okay. A few steps later, he placed his hand briefly upon my shoulder, far enough away from my hand that I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him, and a step behind so that I wouldn’t see the relics of his death.