I will fight the end
Ronin knows nothing of what plays out above the water, because he’s tearing at the log with gloved hands, weighed down by his gear and cursing out a stream of bubbles. As he finally frees the boy it feels like the river grabs them anew, tearing them along the current. And they bob up, briefly, Ronin gasping in a full breath of air, which is more than he can say for Sunjata. But they find each other, in the flood, and he hauls the boy up by the back of the shirt to keep his head above the water, anchoring him against his chest.
”Don’t struggle. We can’t waste our energy,” he pants. ”I’ve got you, just hold on. You’re okay.” Already Ronin feels the malleability of change infect the dream, the way things have played out differently, and it’s a row of dominos that begins to fall. It’s what allows Ronin to fight against the current with ease, until his feet find the mud of the bank, until he’s striding out of the river with Sunjata in his arms and a face like thunder.
”Don’t struggle. We can’t waste our energy,” he pants. ”I’ve got you, just hold on. You’re okay.” Already Ronin feels the malleability of change infect the dream, the way things have played out differently, and it’s a row of dominos that begins to fall. It’s what allows Ronin to fight against the current with ease, until his feet find the mud of the bank, until he’s striding out of the river with Sunjata in his arms and a face like thunder.
'til the end is here
