I woke the next morning thinking the house was on fire. Until I remembered where I was, and woke up the rest of the way to find Tristan crouched next to a smoking pot, staring in worriedly. He looked up and smiled.

“Hey Caleb! I got up early to make breakfast. I’ll get the bowls.”

I looked into the pot myself. It wasn’t a stew so much as a thick, chunky paste. He hadn’t bothered to stir it either.

“What’s in this?”

“A rabbit I caught. Also some other stuff.”

He’d brought over two bowls, but no spoons. I went to get the ladle. Everything from my pack had been pulled out and scattered across the campsite. Even the tarp and spare blankets had been unfolded. I found the spoons in a pile of smaller things on top of a rock, and the ladle almost hidden under a bush.

Back at the alleged stew, the rabbit’s head had floated to the top. Its eye stared accusingly at me. ‘Some other stuff’ included the apples Tristan had brought, a single unpeeled potato, and what looked like grass. I did what I could to save the mess, and tried not to taste it as I gulped it down. Tristan cheerfully devoured it, burnt bits and all.

“No more cooking, okay?” I told him.

It took a while to put my pack back together and scrape the burnt bits of Tristan Stew off the pot, and Tristan insisted we make multiple stops throughout the day for everything from spying on a scarecrow and petting a cat to catching a bird for dinner. Still, we reached the ford by afternoon.

Tristan ran out in front of me and help out his hand, palm out.

“Halt, traveler!” He boomed, or tried to.

“What?”

He flung out his arm, gesturing behind him. “Beyond this point lies the unknown! Vast lands, unknown and unexplored! Wonder and peril, trial and tribulation, adventure undreamed of awaits you!”

I laughed. “How long have you been planning this speech?”

“This river marks the boundary line between the familiar and the strange. Once you cross these waters, you leave behind the safety and comfort of home. Beyond this river, anything could happen! Dark lords and dragons, monsters and magic, kings and knights and quests.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “So, adventurer, are you prepared?”

I stifled my laughter and struck a dramatic pose as well. “Ye- oof!”

The weight of my pack pulled me over backward. From my seat in the dirt, I looked up at Tristan, offering me his hand. “I think you’ll have to play the hero on this one,” I told him.

“We can take turns. Now let’s get this adventure started for real.”

We pulled off our shoes and socks and rolled up our pants. I frowned at the flowing water. Where it crossed the road, it spread out into a wide, shallow ford. Downstream, it started to narrow again, curving away into the brush.

“I don’t think it’s deep, but we should be careful. Might be holes under there. You should go first, since you’re carrying less.”

Tristan splashed ahead, kicking water into the air and back at me. I stepped into the steam, gasping with the chill of it after the warmth of the summer air. I followed Tristan’s lead, feeling my way with a stick. As the cold water rose past my knees. I moved slowly to keep my footing.

When he reached the opposite bank, Tristan turned around and waded back towards me. “Come on, stop being so fussy about everything! It’s just a bit of water. We should stop for a swim.”

“I’ve seen you try to swim.”

He kicked water at my back. “You don’t have to be so…” Splash.

I turned and almost fell, to see Tristan vanish below the water, tumbling downstream, arms flailing. For one terrible instant, I froze. Then I hurled my pack to the bank and dove in after him. Murky water, mud and rocks… but there was his arm, still thrashing. I grabbed his bony wrist and held tight, legs kicking until they found something solid, and dragged us both out onto the bank.

We lay there gasping.

“Thanks,” he croaked.

“Never do that again.”

After a while I pushed myself to my feet and went to find my pack. It had landed a few feet up the bank, and though a couple things had fallen out nothing was lost. I left it there and came back to check on Tristan. He was sitting on the bank where I’d left him, staring into the river.

“I lost it,” he said

“No kidding. You could have died, you idiot.”

“No!” He turned toward me. “I lost it. The sword.” He held out his pack. It had come half open, and the long, awkward shape of the sword must have slipped out.

I felt a chill that wasn’t just the water. Rhett would kill both of us if he found out we were responsible, and it wasn’t like anyone else was stupid enough to do something like this. And this was Rhett. Everyone knew he’d killed men in the war. ‘Killing us’ might not even be figurative. Tristan stood up, dropping his now mostly empty backpack, and stepped back toward the river.

I grabbed his arm. “Even if you could swim, there’s no way you’re finding it in there.” The cold, murky water rushed past us.

“Let go!” He tried to pull away. “I have to find it. I… we need the sword. Can’t have an adventure without a sword, right?”

“Tristan! You can’t really-”

“He’ll kill me, Caleb! It’s the only thing he owns he cares about!”

I was cold, and wet, and very, very tired. He had dragged me through so much nonsense, and now reality was finally catching up with him and he wanted… what? Sympathy? Something inside me snapped.

“What did you think would happen?” I was almost shouting. “This isn’t one of your stories! Actions have consequences! Miracles don’t happen! There are no Dark Lords or dragons, and no one is going to save you!”

“I know that!” He stared down at his feet. Sideways at the river. Anywhere but at me. “I’m not stupid. I just… I wanted that kind of world. Where orphans always grow up to be heroes and villains get what they deserve. I just wanted something better than this.” He turned back towards the river, and I grabbed his arm. “Let go!” He tried to pull away. “I have to find it.”

“I’m not pulling you out again.”

“Fine.” He stomped towards the river again until I pushed past him.

“You can’t swim, idiot.” I dove in, the cold water a little less shocking the second time. But despite finding a rusted axe head, a cow’s femur, and a very old boot, there was no sign of the sword. The river had swallowed it up.

In the end I pulled myself, exhausted, back onto the bank to lie beside Tristan. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, soaking wet and still shivering in spite of the setting sun’s warmth on his back.

“Come on. Let’s make a fire and dry off, okay?” I tugged on his arm until he got up and followed me away from the river.

Tristan silently helped me build the fire, with none of his usual horsing around. After dinner, he quietly curled up and went to sleep. But I found myself lying awake for a long time in the silence of frogs and crickets and flowing water, missing his stories.

In the morning, he didn’t do more than pick at the food I handed him, and I saw him slip most of it into his bag when I wasn’t looking. He’d probably be ready to head back, and I should have been relieved that this particular adventure was ending. But I didn’t feel good about it at all, and not just because of the fate that was waiting for us back home.

I remembered what he was like when I first met him: a small, scared kid hiding under a table, clutching a torn story book and a much newer Bardak. As the adults talked above us in hushed, serious tones, I crawled in after him and pestered him until he opened the book and read one of the stories to me, about a knight who slew a dragon.

I remembered one of the first make-believe games I played with him. Jay had told me Rhett had brought him into town, and I should find him and try to play. I’d finally spotted him hiding behind a couple of barrels, and he’d dragged me in after him. ‘Shh!’ he’d whispered. ‘I’m hiding from a basilisk. If it sees you, you’ll turn to stone!’ He pointed, and I looked to see Rhett stalking angrily down the street. We spent the whole morning avoiding the ‘basilisk’, at least until Jay found us and sent us both home.

I remembered when he’d come to me and dragged me away to hunt dragons, with red eyes and dark bruises he didn’t quite manage to hide. With thin arms and silent footsteps and an uncle who’d rather tend to his brewing than a kid. And I’d always known, really, what he was running from, even as I fell as deeply into the pretending as he did.

But that sparkling light I’d come to rely on was gone from his eyes, and in spite of the brightening morning sunshine the whole world felt grayer without it.

He stood up, his whole body a little slumped, as if his almost empty pack were heavier than mine. “Come on. We should be getting back,” he said quietly. “We’ve both got work to do. And I’ve got to face my uncle.”

Tristan was acting responsibly for once in his life. And it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be to see him finally facing the real world.

The real world where dead parents didn’t make you a candidate for saving the world. Where people worse than Rhett got away with everything. Where the real threats were more dangerous than dragons, and a lot harder to fight, and no knight or prince ever came to save the day. And I knew why, in spite of all my protests, I’d followed him all that time. And now it was my turn.

“What are you talking about? We can’t be wasting our time on farm work when there’s a world to save!” It sounded awkward, and forced, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me. “What about the Dark Lord?”

“Just stop. I gave up. You win. We’re going home, and I’ll be responsible. I get it. There’s no Dark Lords to fight. No dragons in the mountains.”

“Well of course there aren’t dragons in the mountains. You were there too, it was awful. If I had wings, I wouldn’t stay in a miserable place like that.”

“I said I give up. I won’t play games anymore. You don’t have to keep making fun of me, I get it.”

I ignored him. “I mean, we even got lucky and got rid of that cursed sword right away! Normally at least one person has to die before that can happen. I’ll bet river spirits realized what it was and stole it.” My smile was forced. It felt fake. But if Tristan could fake a smile, so could I.

He was staring at me like I’d gone mad. I had gone mad, encouraging him like this. But I just couldn’t stand to see that light die.

“Really,” I continued, “It should have been obvious that sword was trouble. Proper magic swords for a hero have better origins. Like… um…”

“Forged from a fallen star.” He finally joined in. “Or stolen from a dragon’s hoard.”

“Gifted to you by the King of the Forest.”

“Wielded by an ancient hero.”

“Made from moonlight and winter wind.”

“Reforged by the greatest blacksmith to ever live.”

“You probably did everyone a favor, losing that cursed thing. Your first heroic deed!”

“But Caleb…”

“Come on, Sir Tristan! We’re burning daylight!” I started down the road, away from the river. Away from home.

“I’m not a knight yet. We’ll have to save a kingdom before that happens.” But he followed me, and he was smiling again. I’d really missed that crazy smile.

“I’ll add it to the to-do list.”

We set off down the road, walking together towards the rising sun and an adventure neither of us could possibly imagine.

“So, are we really running away from home, then?” Tristan asked.

“I don't know about running away. I’d rather think of it as running to.”

He smiled at that, and as the sun rose above the trees the whole world lit up, every leaf and stone shining like gold. I knew Tristan’s stories weren’t true. There were worse things than dark lords or dragons, and two kids armed with nothing but courage and imagination couldn’t save the world.

But maybe we could save our world.