Mikael held his breath, not daring to interupt her in the slightest.
Didi performed different kinds of test, like lifting his eyelids and checking his breathing.
Nina came back a bit later, standing further away in the door frame.
She looked worried at Mikaels back and sometimes at Broms pale body, which in contrast to the coughing before now just laid there, as deprived of all life.
Silence was everywhere, occasionally interrupted by someone shouting outside or the sound of metal hitting wood.
After what seemed like hours for Mikael, Didi stood up, her back slightly bend and shoulders hanging.
Turning around facing him, she just got down on a knee before him, looking him into the eyes.
"What is it?" he asked with shaking voice. Her behavior showed anything but good news.
"Will father be better? Can you help him?"
His hope was still there, despite the atmosphere leaving no room for it.
"No, Mikael." She destroyed all his hope with just two words.
'Sure it is painful, and he is just a young boy, but the truth can't be sugar-coated. He has to get over it fast, or he most likely will not recover anytime soon.'
She handed him a small vial, containing a yellowish tincture that appeared omnious.
"Here, take this, how you use it is up to you."
He looked at the vial, and back to her, questions arousing one after another. But Didi took them before he spoke them out loud.
"This is my gift for you and your father. It is a mixture from a rare mushroom that got soaked in a solution of special water and other herbs. It can revitalize a persons body, be it strengthening it for some time in difficult situations or keeping you conscious after receiving a magic spell that influences your senses.
In Broms case..." She somewhat reluctantly peeked at the vial." It will most likely force him to awaken."
'Father is going to wake up?' he couldn't believe his ears. Such a treasure, to have so many applications.
"But!" She raised her voice, free of any leftover warmth. "he won't be living long afterwards. His body is already at its limit. Despite his leg injury, he was hurt at his lung, maybe even his heart. Truly a miracle he could stand at all and walk more that ten meters. When the tunic looses effect, he'll go back to sleep, and that for good, and most likely in pain!"
This revelation shocked not only Mikael, rendering him speechless, but also Nina, that still stood like a statue half outside half on the inside.
"But why would he use it on Brom?"
"What were the last words your parents said to you before you got separated?" She asked her instead.
Nina just pondered for a moment, afterwards her sight went to the ground, not making another noise and silently leaving the hut, letting Mikael decide completely on his own.
"Will father awake eventually by himself?" Mikael asked after a moment. Didi's words had to sink in for a moment, and he remembered what his father told him just moments ago.
"Maybe, maybe not." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm no seer. All I can say I that he is very weak, breathes and his heart sometimes misses a beat. My guess... very unlikely."
She spoke clearly, leaving no room for the hope of another miracle despite the little vial in Mikaels palm.
Then he, without hesitation, pushed the vial pack onto her.
"What...? Are you sure?"
A decision like that was something very important for a kid that may be around 10 years old.
After all he could loose his last family member today.
She looked at him wide eyed, the vial still pressed on her open hand that held it in an awkward position.
"Yes, I am." he confirmed with a firm voice, not letting argue with himself. That tone was totally unfitting to a young boy, but considering the time and place, it seemed no one but him could be as conclusive as him.
"My fathers words before he fell asleep were very nice, and I would never do anything that would harm him or make him regret anything.
I don't know how I would feel if father would awaken me with something like that," he pointed at the vial that was enclosed loosely in her hand, "but I'm sure fathers feelings wouldn't be good if I told him he would surely die when he falls back to sleep."
Even if his voice was shaking, and Mikael wanted nothing more than possibly hear Broms voice again, but not like that. Not with the thought that his father would leave not only back his wife, but also his son alone in this world. He shed not a single tear, but stood there, determined and accepting the outcome.
'In times like that children mature far to fast.' Didi felt as she met his eyes, clear of doubt. 'He still has the chance to live like a normal child, if we can just get in touch with the lord. But right now, he has to be a man. Relying on himself or be accepted by another.'
She stood up, brushing of some dust from her long skirt that was far too stained to be cleaned by that action, a old habit of her.
"I admire your thought, but do not regret it later." She took from her shoulder a small bag that was made with some pig leather and some kind of sturdy yarn. The craftsmanship was nothing special, but still was something valuable right now for their community, as it could be used for all sorts of things.
"Here, take this as a gift." She said, putting the vial in the small bag that had enough room for the small bottle and maybe some more small miscellaneous things.
Mikael accepted the bag somewhat perplexed, his outstretched arms unsure what to do know.
"Why are you giving me something that precious? I did nothing to deserve this."
The vial with the wondrous effect was far more worth than he could even estimate.
"Just take it, would you. I owned Brom here something, and as the situation is right now, he won't be taking in that favor. So you instead take it."
She walked away, past Mikael who stood there in a daze. Before leaving them completely, she said those last words to him:" Stay by your fathers side. The presence of family or friends can be quite beneficial for some patients, even if it just give them a bit of peace."
Now left alone, Mikael just sat besides his fathers side. He looked a lot of times just blankly into the dying down fire, as the sight of Brom was, no matter his resolve, still hard to bear.
As the time ticked by, the daytime passed, night descended. His Stomach grumbled, his legs protested from sitting too long, and his lips cracked from dehydration.
The howling of some creatures were transmitted by the wind, filling the refugees with fear and unrest.
They stayed awake till deep in the night, guarding their plot of land in this foreign environment.
Mikael heard nothing of this, only counting the breaths of his father, in, out, in out, in, out... .
He waited and waited, awaiting in a trance like state the next breath. His hand holding the vial shivering.
Countless times in the past hours he thought over if his decision was really okay. Maybe his father would like to talk a last time to him, say things like "I love you.", "I'm sorry." or "Take care."
But with the last breath that signaled the end, his shivering stopped. Only few tears rolled down his cheeks, but he wasn't sobbing, not crying out loud. He put the vial carefully back into the bag, tighten it with the belt and made sure it wouldn't slip.
Then he bend over his fathers body.
The weakly glimmering wood and a cheap candle brighten up the room. He made out the big, stern eyes that were closed for eternity, the proud beard his father kept clean under all circumstances. The crooked nose and the story how it became like that. Brom told him when his mother and him were on a date, some hooligans searched for trouble, and in the brawl he took some hits. But alone he bet down multiple enemy's.
His wrinkled skin worn down by the heat from the forge and burn marks, results of sparks produced by forging hot iron.
The muscular arms that held him and his mother in a warm, secure embrace so often. He still smelled like always; distinct of sweat and wood. It calmed him down a bit.
Mikael remembered many small moments. How his father thaugt him how to cut wood into shape, to wrap leather around the handle of tools or weapons.
How to even out an uneven table or stool; to swing a axe and how to hit the logs right, to sharpen and maintain tools.
Even how to spin a cord and use it to repair clothe or equipment were thought by him.
His values of being firm in ones own beliefs and not back down from responsibilities.
The love for him and his mother, the proud voice when he boasted of his luck when he was drunk.
All these memories felt like thorns, but flooded him with an bot explainable warmth.
"I will never forget anything you taught me father. Thank you for everything." He kissed his forehead, burying his face for a moment on the firm chest of Brom.
For a moment he waited for a raising, to show he still breathes.
But nothing came. And Mikael stood up, wiped away the tears and grabbed a crude shovel his father made.
It was by no means pretty, but Brom made it despite it may never be used.
'Maybe that's why he made it.' He guessed.
Mikael knew of the mass grave, where those without family members were thrown into or just to make less work.
'But he won't end up in there!'
He went out the hut, Shovel in hand and not caring for the cold wind that penetrated his thin clothes.
Some eyes looked at him, still awake from the threats that came from the forrest.
They knew what he wanted to do, not interfering when they saw him shoving the wide end into the ground, lifting pitiful amounts of earth to the side.
But Mikael didn't care, as he dug and dug and dug, one after another shovelful of earth.