Savage

Six years ago.

“Hey, are you awake?”       The shoulder of curled-up on a bed of dry grass Phongsakorn is being shaken by the young master’s palm. It’s too early for sleep. Thoughts are messing up in his head, weaving intricate lace. Almost blurred images from childhood are replaced by the past day: their sword fight with Kornwit, his downcast look, lowered shoulders and a red mark from a whiplash on the cheek. “Yes, khun,” Phongsakorn is on his feet in an instant, standing with his head bowed. “Well, here you are again with these ceremonies,” the young heir frowns with displeasure, “I have already told you: when we are alone — no 'master' or “khun”. Is it clear to you? Call me by my name, or I’ll get angry.” “It’s embarrassing for me…” “It’s embarrassing for him,” Kornwit straightens up, “do you want to annoy me after all?” “No.” “Then call me by name. Did you get it?”       Phongsakorn nods obediently, noticing out of the corner of his eye that a hiking bag is hanging from Kornwit’s shoulder. Then he is told: “If you’re not sleeping, will you come with me?” “Where are you going, my mas…”       The look opposite is about to burn a hole in him. He understands what’s wrong. “Where are you going?” “To the mountains.” “The night is coming soon. We’ll get caught for such a late walk.” “Are you afraid?”       Phongsakorn shakes his head. In a good way, he is. If caught, they’ll be severely punished. “You’re afraid, you’re afraid,” they whisper mockingly to him, “you do not only have a girlish face, you’re also a coward!”       That sounds the most insulting. Well, what is his fault that he was born with such a face? But he’s not a coward. “For the last time, will you go or not?”       What is he up to? As if he doesn’t understand what threatens them when they are caught… “Well, stay here! And I’m not going to stand it anymore!”       Phongsakorn realizes that this is a pointless escape. They can’t get far. And if so, they won’t last long without food, warmth and protection. In their places, in the forests and mountains, there are a lot of enemy units, wild animals and poisonous plants. But Phongsakorn can’t afford to let him die alone either.       Apart from the young master, not a single living soul here showed any interest in him or even a semblance of a kind attitude. Ever since his own father sold him to Kornwit’s father in exchange for protecting his village. With the young master, it was possible to distract from the endless combat exercises, and the heir sometimes fed Phongsakorn with fresh honey pies that were baked for lunch for the royal table.       Phongsakorn was secretly glad of that, too. Although at first he refused treats every time. Pride did not allow him to rush to this glimpse of mercy. But he had to survive. And with what the young replenishment of the future army was fed, he risked dying from exhaustion and endless testing of his body for strength and stamina. “Stop!”       Kornwit turns to see Phongsakorn catching up with him. He grins and continues on his way a little slower. When they align, he whispers: “In those pavilions, he nods to the left, “everyone has already gone to sleep, after a day’s outing, people are sleeping without legs. If we slip through without noise, we’ll get out right to the forest. And there I know the way, got it?”       Phongsakorn nods and bends his knees. He prefers not to think about the inevitable consequences right now.       Well… let there be at least one night of freedom in my life.       Only being on a poorly trodden forest path, both allow themselves to exhale. “Where to now?” Phongsakorn slaps himself on the cheek — the local hungry mosquitoes quickly flock to fresh blood. “Don’t you trust me?” Kornwit curls his lips in reproach, “I’ve told you — I’ll take us out. Now there will be a river — we’ll drink and get water — it’s dangerous to go down in the mountains to get it later.”       It’s getting dark. Even faster in the mountains. They need to hurry. Phongsakorn has no choice but to follow his master. No matter what, he never forgets who is in front of him.

***

“Here,” a honey pie and half of a dried fish appear in front of Phongsakorn. “What are you looking at? Come on, eat,” Kornwit nods to him, taking a cheeky bite from the edge of his pie.       During these couple of hours of freedom they managed to jump into the river — the icy water applied both so that almost the spirit was knocked out. And Kornwit got angry, not catching the runaway hare. He took out all his anger on the trunk of an ash tree, stabbing it with a knife. “It’s not the tree’s fault, Kornwit,” “Really? And who’s to blame that I’m so worthless?” “How can you say that? Everyone is only hoping for you. Of course,” Phongsakorn hurries to correct himself, “health and long life to your father, but…” “Is this a sincere wish?” they interrupt him, getting very close and looking inquisitively into his eyes.       Phongsakorn is at a loss for an answer. Then the young master continues in his place: “I know how you came to be with us. You were bought like a puppy, and you wish him health and longevity.”       Words cut into the soul with a sharp edge. Even now, Phongsakorn is still replaying them in his head. He holds no grudge against the Kornwit. He knows that it makes easier for him when he takes out his resentment against his father on someone or something else. “Eat, I tell you. So?” “I’m not hungry.” “Yeah. It is visible. Eat,” Kornwit takes his pie and breaks it in half, “eat,” hands one half to Phongsakorn, “otherwise you will become not only by a face, but also a body like a girl. What’s the use of you then?” here Kornwit’s gaze turns dark plum. “Unless… Hmm… I’ll marry you as soon as the time is right.”       The blush of embarrassment spreads to the ears. “I’m kidding!” they’re laughing on the contrary, “why blush right away?”       Phongsakorn takes the pie handed to him and begins to eat it by both cheeks, trying not to look into Kornwit’s face who is not taking his eyes off him.       They settle down for the night in the grotto behind the waterfall. In addition to food and water, the heir had an old, rough-to-the-touch mat in his bag. Phongsakorn, of course, gives it to the young master. “What else! We’ll both fit here.”       They lie on their backs. At a distance of a palm. After a while, Phongsakorn feels the tips of his fingers slowly creeping along his arm, below the elbow.       He shudders. “What’s the matter with you? Are you scared of my hand?” “N-no,” Phongsakorn says in a strangled voice.       Kornwit rolls onto his stomach and touches him with his hip: “What are you thinking about?” “Ugh… I can’t sleep.” “Me too.”       Finally, he decides to look at the young master, lifting his head. “Are you still worried about our fight?”       He gulps loudly: “I didn’t want your father to get so angry at you and hit you.”       Kornwit finds himself on his back again, throwing with bitterness: “As if for the first time… He even once told me: It’s a pity that all my other sons died in infancy, and such an absurd and disgraceful one survived.”       Phongsakorn also feels bitter from what he has heard. He experienced firsthand what it’s like when a parent doesn’t put you in anything. “But the warriors like you very much.” “Is it true?” He archs an eyebrow mockingly. “They are ready to give their lives for you. That says a lot.” “And you?” The tips of his fingers slide over the blue veins on Phongsakorn’s wrist. “And me.”       They don’t talk anymore. By midnight, Phongsakorn manages to close his eyes. Waking up later, he will find himself in a strong ring Kornwit’s hands which are pressing him to the master’s chest. And he is very afraid that the too loud beating of his heart will wake up the heir and then he will have to say something, burning under his mocking gaze. Therefore, he closes his eyes again, trying to relax a little in the close proximity of the other boy’s body.       In the morning he wakes up alone. Leaving the grotto, he finds Kornwit sitting on the grass. He is making a flower crown of bright flowers allamandas. “There’s a piece of the pie and fish left in the bag. Eat them.”       Phongsakorn nods and goes to the water to wash-up. When he returns, the allamanda crown is ready. Strong hands deftly place it on his head — he does not have time to object with a word: “Well, that’s it. Now you are exactly like a bride,” Kornwit laughs loudly.       No. This is too much!..       For a moment, but he forgets who is in front of him, and abruptly tears the wreath from his head, throwing it to the ground. Catching himself, — for such disrespect, you can expect severe punishment, — he wants to pick it up, but Kornwit steps with his foot on it and tramples on the delicate petals. All that remains for Phongsakorn is to observe meekly. “Let’s go,” the young master finally commands.       Phongsakorn is not sure that his master has a plan and a route for their “escape”. They just go on and on. And for some reason, those yellow flowers are still dying in front of his eyes.       They’ll get caught. Phongsakorn will take all the blame, but the young heir will proudly tell the king that it was his idea, so “punish me alone, father.” But they both will be punished.       And even tonight, with sweet, fiery flashes in his heart, he remembers how tightly the young master’s arms pressed him to the hot and restless chest.