When it was close to full moon and the weather set fair, they journeyed far into the woods and built a shelter. They stayed there three days. On the third day, they armed themselves with spears and tracked a wild boar, and at dusk they cornered and killed it. It was Eyvind’s throw that pierced the creature’s heart, but Somerled’s spear had taken it in the belly and slowed it for the final stroke. They had done it together.

That night they sat by their small fire in a clearing encircled by dark firs tall as star-crowned giants. They roasted a little of the meat; the rest, neatly butchered, they would carry home tomorrow in their packs.

“You did well,” Eyvind said.

Somerled chewed on his strip of meat, saying nothing.

“I mean it. When you first came here, you could never have done that. Most of the boys couldn’t do it. They’d be scared of the dark, of wolves, of trolls. Scared the spear might miss. But you did it.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Somerled muttered.

There was a considerable silence while Eyvind thought about this remark.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” he said eventually.

“That’s the trouble with you.” Somerled’s voice was uneven. “You’re so good at everything, and yet you’re stupid. You’re so stupid you don’t even know how stupid you are.”

“Right,” said Eyvind after a moment. He threw the rest of his meat on the fire, pulled his blanket around him and lay down to sleep. With Somerled, sometimes there seemed to be no point in trying to understand. There was silence for a while, and he began to feel drowsy after the long day. His limbs ached with weariness, but it was a good feeling, the sort of feeling that went with the cool, clean air of the woodland, and the smell of smoke from the campfire, and the sight of the dark, jeweled sky far above them. He imagined his mother’s smile in the morning, when they returned home with their trophy.

“Nobody cares.” Somerled’s voice came out of the darkness like the whisper of a small, restless ghost. “Nobody cares what happens to me.”

“What?” Eyvind rolled over sleepily.

“My brother left me here to punish me. Now he’s taking me away to punish me.”

“But…” Eyvind struggled to get his thoughts in order. “Isn’t going to court good, if you want to be…you know, what you said?”

There was a silence.

“How could you understand?” asked Somerled bitterly.

“I am trying,” said Eyvind, propping himself up on one elbow. He could not see Somerled’s face; the boy had his back to him.