The tracks that are obviously Azrael's head off in a new direction that I didn't go before. It heads to the left, away from the forest and actually toward the ocean. I can tell that it's Azrael's since I recognize the boot shape.
I'm still making a turn around to look back at the house to search for an answer why exactly Azrael got so incensed. It's true that Azrael is not on the best terms with his father. That's been established; multiple times.
Not knowing exactly what happened in the kitchen is problematic for me to draw a conclusion to the situation transpiring. What the problem was. I don't know. I can only find Azrael and ask him exactly what happened.
The day has turned past noon, and the sun has already started to tilt down and near the horizon. I've noticed that the sun in Alaska during winter appears to be out a short amount of time. So the snow that appeared slightly white in the matutinal hour now past that is all shifted with the landscape into golden evening tones. The shadows have also intensified in blue as have the mountains. None of the trees look calm instead intensely asleep, getting ready for deeper slumber as the lumber pillars rest deeper into the ground underneath the snow.
The entire landscape is distinct from the morning. It's not as radiant, but seems afraid. Afraid of the night and the cold that will approach in hours.
Following the tracks more, I start to see the ocean. It's bitter and cold, white waves above the upper part and the sea wind blowing the droplets of the surf around. I'd not want to be in those waters.
I'm thinking that, when I start to notice that Azrael's tracks head toward it. Panicking, I quicken my pace to confirm the hope that he did not enter the waters. His tracks run along the shoreline that I am close enough now to throw a stone into, but doesn't touch it, thankfully. It continues to run along, and it enters a small cluster of trees where the shoreline curves away from.
Entering the cluster of trees, the pine needles above are not at all calming as before, instead quite encroaching. Not to mention unbelievably quiet to the point where the world around seems to listen in on my thoughts.
Exiting the cluster of trees, I see Azrael. He's walked out onto a frozen pond covered in snow. I can tell it's a frozen body of water as there's an indent into the ground in the circular pond, and I immediately am shocked from his position on the pond.
"Azrael!" I shout, and Azrael who is sitting on the icy surface with his knees pulled to his chest turns and looks over.
Carefully, I put a foot down on the ice, and think it best not to, and shout, "Get off the ice!"
Azrael tilts his head once, and then slowly gets up. He slipped off his shoes and socks to walk onto the ice without slipping, and his cold bare feet move through the snow and over the ice.
I shiver as I see his bare feet move across the snow, and more of my body trembles from cold I don't feel when I realize that Azrael doesn't have a coat on. Only his sweater is on his back and it's clear that because he rushed out of the house he didn't get the chance to grab any article of clothing to keep him warm.
Just as Azrael gets into range of me, I reach and snatch him up from the ice which causes Azrael to yelp in shock. But really, he shouldn't have been on the ice to begin with. And maybe I didn't like him being in danger.
"You shouldn't have done that," I say as I carry Azrael a good distance away from the ice, "walking out onto a frozen pond is dangerous."
"It was completely frozen," says Azrael as an excuse.
"And you took off your boots," I say as I point to the boots Azrael holds in his hands instead of on having on his feet, "in the middle of winter."
"The ice was slippery," says Azrael, though he doesn't say it with any real confidence, probably aware that he knew what he did wasn't quite smart.
Now sure that we're a good distance from the pond, I stop and set Azrael down. I didn't quite realize until now but one of my hands was around his waist while the other was under his thighs. I don't realize until after I set him down that I should have enjoyed that more.
"Firstly," I say with a huff, "put your boots on."
"Okay," says Azrael, but then is confused as the spot I set him down on has nowhere to sit down to do so, and so he tries to stand on one foot while doing so.
"Here," I say as I step forward and offer an arm, "lean on my arm."
"Thanks," says Azrael, and leans on it.
Well, it's more of I slip an arm around him to hold him up and he uses both of his hands to pull on his socks and boots.
"So," I say as Azrael straightens up with warm feet, "care to explain why you were on the ice?"
"Oh, um," says Azrael, looking down at his feet and pulling his finger, "I...I just wanted to get away from everything."
"And you thought it appropriate," I say, still upset from the fact that Azrael was in danger, "to walk on ice when you could have broken through the ice and drowned?"
"Well," says Azrael, "I did it when I was younger."
"You...you walked on ice all the time when you were a kid?"
"Yeah. Ice-skating."
"Not the same thing," I say with a bit of my anger leaking through, "and aren't you supposed to do that kind of thing with another person present?"
"Well," says Azrael with a withering shrug, "I didn't want to be near anyone too."
"Why not? What happened in the kitchen?" I ask.
"Well, there was some drama back there," says Azrael, not delving into details.
"Why is it that you and your father are on such bad terms?" I ask, "It seems to be getting in the way of your life and daily routine here."
"It..." says Azrael, "It's something I shouldn't share. It's far too private."
"You really can't share?" I ask, more because I'm hurting that he can't divulge it to me.
I'd think now that since we've become quite close, even is we're in a boss-and-assistant relationship, that he'd be able to tell me that. It's not as if he doesn't trust me, as he clearly brings me back to his house for the holidays and even comes to my home. So there's some element of comfort with me.
But it still hurts that we're not at the maximum that we could be. And him reminding me of that stings in my chest.
"It's not-I...there's a reason... and-I," stutters Azrael, trying to formulate a coherent sentence in absence of a coherent thought.
"It's," finally says Azrael, "I think...I need to tackle this issue alone."
I stand silent for a moment, and Azrael nervously continues to pull his fingers and look down. I want to press him more to get the answer to this whole mess. I want to know what's the issue with him and his family. Thinking now, it's now only with his father that the tension is present in, but with everyone as well. He doesn't really get close to his family, not that way I am. Compared to with his father, he's very close. But not when it comes to actually being affectionate is there any real way to say that he's so. In fact, he's distant to everyone.
If we were together, and weren't in a economic relationship, then I could ask him tell me the reason for his trouble, and he'd no doubt disclose it. He'd know to trust me. But we aren't in that situation. Rather, I have to figure out the trouble before we can be together. The inverse that is present between us isn't at all welcome.
"Well," I say as I pat his shoulder, to which he looks up, "let's go back, alright? It's getting cold, and it's almost night. I don't think we'd want to spend the Alaskan night outside."
"I've done it before," says Azrael, but then says, "but, I guess we should get back."
Before I can ask what he's talking about, he starts to head back, and I follow him as well. The sky has really started to get darker and soon there won't be any light at all.
"Speaking of," I say, and Azrael looks up at me as we walk home, "are there northern lights in Alaska?"
"I think there is," replies Azrael, "but I don't quite remember if there was. I know I've never seen it around the farm growing up."
"It'd be cool to see it," I say, and then add without realizing it, "with you."
Azrael blushes for a moment, and I do as well, and then he says, "I think I'd like seeing something like that with you as well."
I can't help but feel giddy with the words he's said to me, but I don't show it. It's not officially as if he told me he likes me, though there are many signs that he does. But for now, I have to just maintain some distance from him.
"When you said earlier," I say, "that you spent time outside during the night, what did you mean?"
"Oh, that," says Azrael, chuckling, "I suppose it's best described as adolescent recalcitrance."
"You acted up when you were younger?" I ask, not exactly able to imagine that.
"Oh, yes," says Azrael, "I used to grab the tent that our family had and then run out when I felt I couldn't take it anymore."
"How long did you stay outdoors?" I ask.
"Sometimes weeks," says Azrael, "I knew how to hunt, and I had my own rifle."
"You had a rifle?" I ask with surprise.
"Oh yes," says Azrael, "in Alaska, you can own a firearm from sixteen. I did, and I certainly used it in order to stay those days and nights outdoors. In a sense it was like camping."
"But you were alone during that whole time?" I ask.
"Yes," says Azrael, "that might sound dangerous and depressing; but it was during that time that I was able to gather myself again."
"What did you hunt?" I ask curiously.
"Not large game," says Azrael, "I learned to hunt with a friend of mine who was from a family of hunters. Native American hunters, that is. They thought me a great deal."
"Were you planning on doing that tonight?" I ask.
"No," answers Azrael, "I don't think I could even if I wanted to. I have no idea where the tent is, not to mention that my rifle is somewhere I don't know either. Actually, it's probably in my closet. But besides that, I'm far too used to having food at my disposal."
"Could you take me hunting?" I ask curiously, "One of these days that we're here?"
"I certainly could," answer Azrael as we approach the house, which in the dark evening fast turning to night has warm yellow lights from within, "if we're going into town sometime in the near future, we could acquire hunting tools for you and rifle rounds as well. Though if it snows again I don't know if going outside for game is possible."
"Well," I say as we walk up to the back door, and a light flickers on as it notices us, "hopefully we will."
Azrael smiles, and then we go inside. I hear Duke call out, and Azrael says he's back. Duke walks out of a room and over to us with a look of relief on his face when he sees Azrael alright and intact.
Before Azrael can resist, Duke has him in a hug and is lifting him of the floor.
"God, Azrael, I'd give you a shouting if you weren't capable of shouting back louder," says Luke as he gives Azrael another squeeze for insurance, to which Azrael surprisingly mumbles a sorry to Duke and gives him a hug as well.
Duke sets Azrael back down, and then sternly points at him with a finger.
"You might've pulled that kind of gig when you were younger and I might've tolerated, but as your brother-in-law, I'm telling you now you try it again I'll find a consequence. Got it?"
"Got it," says Azrael with a nod, and Duke nods once before he smiles.
"But it is really good to see you alright. At least you're in one piece this time."
"One piece?" I ask, "What do you mean?"
"One time Azrael went out in the forest, quite a distance," says Duke, "and then got into a mess with a pack of wolves. He had a nasty gash on his shoulder when he got back. The ER people were shocked enough for a lifetime."
"That happened?" I ask Azrael, and instinctually reach out and touch his shoulder.
"Yes," says Azrael, "though I didn't instigate anything. I just met a hungry pack of wolves and they met a nice meal walking around."
"Good thing you got out of it," I say, really worried that Azrael might have a habit of going toward danger instead of away from it.
"But that aside," says Duke as he nods toward the interior of the house, "let's go inside more. Shelly and Clementine went out to get groceries, but you could say hi to everybody else who worried about you."
"You're right," says Azrael, then connects his eyes with me, "thanks, Hogarth. I'm happy you came to find me. It was probably foolish for me to go out on the ice. You're my savior."
And then he leaves me blushing and without a word in my brain to go deeper into the house. Duke smiles at my flustered state then follows after Azrael, leaving me in the dark hallway with a heart that throbs even harder for the presence that departed.