Night had settled hard over the land. Thick dark clouds blocking out what little light the moon offered, plunging everything into inky darkness. Rosco had wanted to keep walking; he’d slept far too late into the day and wasted valuable time. But the oppressive darkness is making it nearly impossible for him to walk. He just keeps stumbling over his feet! Hayden, who seems to be able to see fine, always catches him. Big strong arms wrapping around Rosco’s waist every time his balance fails him, making him feel all warm and tingly.

The first time he’d been thankful, not falling and busting his face was defiantly a plus.

The second time, he was thankful and also embarrassed.

The third time he was really just getting annoyed. That was when the problem started, the fourth time he was starting to like it and the fifth time may not have entirely been an accident.

It needed to stop.

“We should find a place for you to rest.” Hayden says as if reading his mind. Rosco can hear the concern in Hayden’s voice even if he can’t see it.

The boy pushes away the arm that reaches out to steady him for the fifth time.

“You’re right,” He agrees, though probably for vastly different reasons.

Rosco straightens himself up, squinting into the black for a place to sleep. “Gods, Hayden I can’t see a bloody thing.” throwing his hands up in exasperation, “You’re going to have to help me.”

Hayden chuckles just behind his ear, “Very well,” the warm voice rumbles, “What would you like me to do?”

Rosco felt his breath on the shell of his ear when he’d spoken, could still feel his warm body blocking the cold air from brushing his back. Hayden is close, too close. Rosco is quite sure the proximity is not helping his thought processes. The boy spins in place, taking a single step back for safety. His hands knot in his hair, trying to shake his thoughts free by stirring his curls into a giant frothy mess.

“I- I don’t know! Aren’t you a god, don’t you have all the answers or something?” even in the darkness Rosco knows where to look to face him, Rosco doesn’t need light to feel the gods pull.

Hayden catches his wrists and Rosco stills instantly, calmed by the comfortable feeling that comes with his touch.

“You asked me to help you.” Hayden says softly, gently pulling Rosco’s hands from his hair, “That could mean a lot of different things. From my perspective, the number of solutions to any given problem is so vast you physically cannot fathom it. ‘Help’ in and of itself could mean a lot of different things. What I would deem most helpful for you, you may not appreciate at all. So, you must tell me,” Hayden lets his hands slip down Rosco’s wrists, brushing against his palms and the length of his fingers as he lets him go, “What would you find most helpful.”

“Don’t let me go.” The words fall out of Rosco’s mouth without thinking, they process immediately after though, of course after it’s too late to matter, “Wait!” Rosco shouts much louder than necessary, jumping back before Hayden can act on the unconscious request. One hand moves up to shield his face and the other pushes out between them to create a physical barrier, “I didn’t mean that. sometimes I talk without thinking, in fact, I often talk without thinking, as you’ve seen. It’s a bad habit. I’m doing it now, talking, no thinking.” Crouching, he presses his forehead to the tops of his knees and puts his hands over his ears, “Just give me a moment to restart my brain and I’ll work on some real words. Well, not real but, better.” Finally trailing off into silence.

He hears Hayden crouch down beside him, allowing him whatever time he needs, which only makes Rosco cringe a little harder. Hayden had been right when he’d said that stuff about help before. Most people might think he’d want help formulating a proper sentence, but what he’d find most helpful right now, would be to crawl in a hole and die.

Long after what would have been an appropriate period of silence has passed, Rosco raises his head,

“A lamp.” taking a stabilizing breath before continuing, “One I can carry, and then maybe hang off my pack so I could use it again?”

Haden takes his hand, moving to place something inside it. A lamp busting into being in the middle of the action. Soft orange light exploding around them. Rosco instinctively closes his hand around the lamp’s handle the moment it gained weight, blinking back against the sudden onslaught of light.

The lamp is made of brushed black metal, cool against his skin despite the fire burning within. The side are open, lacking the glass panels Rosco had seen on the ones in town. The top and bottom of the lamp have runes cut into them, casting intricate shadows onto the ground that seem to dance and change with the flickering flame.

“It’s beautiful,” The boy breathes when his eyes fully adjust. Quickly becoming enamored with the dancing shapes.

“It’s magic.”

His eyes flick to the god’s, hungry for an explanation. The smile Hayden rewards him with has Rosco momentarily forgetting the magic of the lamp.

“The oil will never run out,” the god tells him, pointing his attention back to the flame, “The fire will never jump out and catch on its surroundings, but anything you put inside will burn. And to light it or put it out, you simply speak to it.” Rising to his feet, “It will obey your commands and no one else’s and will return to you if it becomes lost.”

“It- it sounds valuable,” Rosco mutters, suddenly nervous of the object in his hands, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? What if I lose it or something?”

Hayden laughs, like really laughs, deep and warm. The sort of laugh that comes from the gut and bubbles out of its own will. The corners of his flame lit eyes crinkle, and his smile is unmatched by all the beautiful things Rosco has ever before seen.

“I literally just told you it can’t be lost, and yet you are still worried you’ll lose it.” the god chuckles, recovering from his outburst.

Captivated, Rosco laughs along with him, “I am really good at losing things.”

“Is that so?” Hayden muses, “Then we’ll just have to see who wins.” tousling the boy’s hair, “The unlosable lamp, or the boy who can lose anything.”

Rosco stands to join him on his feet, “This lamp is doomed.”

Added by his magic lamp, Rosco quickly finds a place to rest, a low point a few yards off the road, flat and dry with more than enough room for a small fire and two men to rest.

Hayden vanishes, presumably to get wood again, hopefully to get wood again. The boy ignores                                       his whispered thoughts that the god already saw fit to abandon him. Rosco hadn’t noticed how chilly it had gotten while he’d been busy walking, but now that he had, he was shivering. Doing his best to ignoring the chattering of his teeth as he made his bed.

It was tricky trying to get anything accomplished with the ever-changing shapes dancing of the lamp. Rosco kept getting himself stuck on the shifting patterns, whatever objects in his hands forgotten. The actual shapes cut into the metal remained the same, while the shadows they cast morphed from one into the next, on and on. The hazy nature of the shadows making it difficult to tell if every shape was new, or if at some point, they repeated. 

The clatter of sticks tumbling to the ground alerted him to Hayden’s return.

“What does it mean?” The boy asks in-lieu of a greeting, pointing to the shadows.

Hayden watches for a moment, head tilting slightly. “It’s a song.”

“A song?”

“Yes, about hunger. Flames spend quite a lot of their time singing.”

“You’re joking.” Rosco deadpans, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“I’m not,” the god replies, “Individual flames are not all that intelligent, so I cannot attest to it being a particularly good song.” shrugging his shoulders, “but that is what the shapes represent.”

Rosco blinks once “That’s amazing!” eyes retuning to the shadows with renewed vigor. The food in his hands once again forgotten. “Fire sings. Fire sings about hunger! I have a lamp that show the songs fire sings about hunger!” waving his hands like a mad man, “Yewin would never believe this! He fervently insists everything in life is boring and mundane.”

Hayden tilts his head slightly, “It is mundane. This is perfectly normal behavior for a flame,” he mutters, mostly to himself, tapping the waiting pile of sticks with his foot.

The tapping sound reminds Rosco of chattering teeth, which reminds him of the cold. Rosco’s eyes widen with recognition “Oh right, fire!” imminently delving into his new task.

Hayden shakes his head with a soft breathy sort of laugh as Rosco gets his fire going, settling in to sit beside him.

The fire was easy to start now that Rosco had the lamp. He’d only had to catch one of the sticks and use it to light the rest. No need to repeatedly strike the flint and blow on delicate embers. Far faster than he’d expected, he has a good-sized fire warming his hands and feet.

“Is this fire singing also?” the boy asks eagerly, just as his stomach rumbles loudly, “Oh, I was eating.” fumbling through his things to find the bread he’d been munching on.

Hayden tilts his head again, listening for something Rosco can’t quite hear, “Yes,” he answers the forgotten question with a nod, “This flame is a continuation of the first one, so it’s essentially the same song.”

Rosco grins around the bread in his mouth, “Mum!” quickly swallowing the dry mouthful, “Now that we have the fire, we can put the lamp out.” Setting it back in front of him, “what do I say?” eagerly waiting for some impressive magic words.

“Anything really.” the god shrugs noncommittally, “Doesn’t matter all that much, as long as the intent is there.”

The boy finds himself pouting slightly, feeling a bit letdown. He turns his attention back to the lamp, “Um, well, thank you for your help, but you can go out now.” Immediately the flame winks out, smoke melding with the night air. Incredibly pleased to have done ‘magic’ Rosco turns to Hayden with a massive grin to find the god staring at him with furrowed brows.

“What?” Rosco asks, running back over the last few minutes in search of what he’d done wrong.

“Did you just, thank, the lamp?”

Rosco shrinks in on himself a little, “Yes? Was that bad?”

“No,” The admission only seeming to make Hayden more confused, “I’ve given this lamp to hundreds of people before you, and yet you are the first to have thanked it.”

“S-should I not have?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t look happy.”

“Does that automatically mean you’ve done something wrong?”

Rosco frowns, “No?” wincing at his own answer, “Yes? gods I don’t know, won’t you just tell me if you’re mad or not?”

“I was surprised,” Hayden confesses. His expression softens but his voice still holds uncertainty, “I am unaccustomed to surprises, which is no fault of yours,” his confidence resolidifying, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, and go to sleep, it’s very late,” there’s a finality in his tone that leaves no room for disagreement.

Rosco easily complies, rather used to receiving indisputable orders, “Will you wake me after sunrise? I don’t want to sleep all day,” he asks once he is warmly snuggled in his blanket.

“We’ll see.”