Two years later:
Camus stood in front of the great ice wall, legs slightly parted and eyes closed. He concentrated on his Cosmo and flared it brightly, before he pulled back his fist and delivered a well-calculated punch to the ice before him. His fist connected with the wall and the ice cracked instantly underneath as a small fissure snaked in a zigzag from his fist up and down before the ice splintered with a loud cracking noise, as the break widened into a big cleft in the ice. Satisfied, Camus looked at the hole, which had attained a size of several meters.
"Hey, what did that ice wall do to you?" he heard a mocking voice behind him. Surprised, he turned to see Anja approaching, clad in her thick coat.
"Aren't you supposed to do some homework at home?" he asked with an accusing scowl.
"Oh come on. Don't give me that look. You look almost as serious as my papa uses to do."
Your father is a great Saint and an even better teacher, Anja", Camus protested.
Anja walked up to him, shrugging her shoulders. "Yes, maybe. But he is also my father and I think that he often takes his duty way too serious."
"The Saints are supposed to protect the world. I think this is a duty to be taken very seriously. Moreover, I think he is a very good father. He loves you very much."
She sighed. "I know. Sometimes I just wish he would show it a bit more often." She crossed her arms over her chest and her face lit up, as she seemed to dismiss the thoughts about her father. "What do you think about taking a break from training and go to check out the lands a bit? The polar bear we observed last year should soon come out of her cave, and I bet she has pups now."
Camus hesitated. "I'm not supposed to leave my training. Tros will be furious."
Anja laughed out loud at his words. "Don't be ridiculous. Papa lets you get away with a lot more than he has ever done the other pupils. You're a natural and he is very impressed with the progress you have already made. He won't kill you for that." Her voice lowered to a conspiring whisper. "C'mon, you can't train all the time. Sometimes you have to have some fun too."
Camus still hesitated. He really was tempted to spend some fun time with his friend, but he also took his duty very seriously. He had grown to respect his teacher very much and wanted to do everything in his power to have the Saint's respect in return.
But Anja took his decision from him as she grabbed him by his arm and pulled him with her. Of course, he was much stronger than the slightly older girl, but part of him wanted to go with her and so he didn't put up much resistance.
They ran across the snow-covered plains until they reached the spot, where the great polar bear had build her cave last fall. Usually it would be pretty dangerous to have a female polar bear so close to humans, but Tros knew that Camus, as well as Anja, knew how to behave towards such beasts. The gold Saint wasn't into spoiling his daughter and preferred her to know to take care of herself. And for Camus? He wouldn't be fit to become a Saint in any case if he couldn't defend himself against a simple animal.
The two kids took cover behind a snow hill and glanced over its top at the field behind it. Twenty meters in front of them lay a small mound of snow. A bulging form, which looked clearly out of place in the white of the even land.
"She's still not out", whispered Camus.
"That's strange enough", answered Anja. "She is usually never that late." Anja had observed the bear for a few years already, since the beast always spent her winter rest in these surroundings. And ever since Camus had arrived in Siberia, she had found a friend who shared her likes for those little adventures. Never had she liked any of the other pupils of her father as much as she liked the French boy -- Apart from the fact, that no other boy had lasted more than a few weeks anyway.
"Hey, Anja. Something is happening", Camus whispered excitedly.
She leaned slightly forward to get a better look. Anja had always been amazed about his ability to see and hear things much earlier than she did. She concentrated on the pile of snow, but didn't see or hear anything for a couple of minutes, as, suddenly; a rasping sound could be heard. Some of the loose snow on the small bulge started to slide down on one side and come to a rest at its bottom. The layer of snow started to shiver slightly before a black nose broke through the white wall from the inside. The nose disappeared again, only to appear once more, followed by a massive white furred snout and head.
The big bear blinked once with its small black eyes, before it broke completely out of the hidden cave, breaking trough the snow-covered entrance.
The bear stepped out into the crispy air and lifted its head high into the air to sniff at the cold wind. Only after it had seemingly approved of the security of the surroundings, did the animal relax, shaking her heavy, furred body. The snow that had caught in her pelt while breaking out of the cave, now flew out in the air like large snowflakes.
"Looks like Donut finally woke up," whispered Anja smiling.
Camus threw her a disapproving look." You're not going to stick to that stupid name."
Anja chuckled silently. "I have called her that way since the day I first saw her."
"It's a stupid name for a polar bear."
"But it fits her. Her ear looks like a perfect Donut."
Camus studied the left ear of the bear, which carried a big hole in its middle. An injury she had no doubt gotten in a fight with another bear. But still, he thought it to be a stupid thing to name an animal after a piece of bakery.
"Look, she really has young ones", Anja whispered excitedly.
As Anja had pointed out, a little white fur ball now stumbled out of the cave, followed by its identical looking sibling.
"Oh Camus. Aren't they adorable", she called out full of delight and a little too loud. The head of the big bear jerked up high and it turned its eyes towards them.
"Shhh, Anja. Be quiet, she will see us", Camus hissed, throwing her an angry look.
"Wrong", the girl said, while she got frantically to her feet. "She has seen us already!"
Camus' eyes darted back to look at the bear, which was no longer peacefully with her cubs, but trotted in their direction with a fast pace.
Camus got to his feet as fast as he could and followed Anja, who was already running down the hill. "Run Anja", he shouted as he caught up with her. Absently, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him. He took the luxury to throw one short look back. The bear had already reached the top of the hill, and was now not just trotting anymore, but running fast. Camus knew that they didn't stand a chance to outrun a grown polar bear, and even though he may yet be strong enough to defend himself against it, Anja stood no chance.
His thoughts ran wild. He let go of Anja's hand and gave her a slight shove, while he stopped his pace. "Keep up running. I'll try to delay her!" he yelled at the girl.
Anja knew better than to argue with Camus. If anyone of them could deal with the enraged mother bear, it was the French Saint-to-be.
She didn't look back, not even as she heard the painful, outraged roar of the polar bear, but kept up running as fast as she could through the snow. It didn't take long though for Camus to catch up with her, and running alongside with her again.
"What have you done?" Anja asked, panting.
"I froze her legs, but this will not stop her for long. We need to hide somewhere."
Unconsciously, Anja slowed her pace. "YOU DID WHAT?"
Camus grabbed her wrist again and pulled her along to make her keep up running. "We can talk about this later. Do you know where we could hide? We are never going to make it home."
"I have an idea. This way", she shouted and turned to the left.
She led him towards a jagged ice field, where some of the ice pikes reached sharply into the sky.
An angry roar behind them made them jerk around. The bear had already freed herself and was now running on their trace and catching up fast.
"Come here," Anja said and slit over a small ice block and towards a bigger. Camus followed her.
The bear was already so close that they could hear her panting, as Anja suddenly got down on her knees and crawled into a small hole in one of the bigger ice boulders. Camus followed her, and barely found the narrow hole big enough to get his body through. He was crawling through some kind of ice tunnel, which grew constantly bigger. After a few seconds he looked up to find himself in an ice cave, of about six-to-six meters in diameter. Anja sat by one wall, catching her breath. "Donut shouldn't be able to pass the hole", she said between two breaths. As if on cue, they heard the angry roar of the bear, which saw herself cheated for her prey.
"What is this place?" Camus questioned, while he moved to her side and sat down too, his back against one of the ice walls.
"I found it about a week ago and came here a couple of times since then."
"And why didn't you tell me about it yet?" Camus asked a bit offended.
Anja made a sulking face. "I would have, if you wouldn't spend so much time in training. Sometimes I hardly see you, apart the time when we study."
Camus sighed. "And I should be training right now, as I remind you. Tros is going to be furious."
Suddenly Anja laughed out loud. "Don't be so silly. Didn't we have fun? No bear can take it on with us two. We're the perfect team?" She nudged him with her shoulder playfully.
Camus first looked at her with incredulous eyes, but then started to smile too. "We surely are."
Camus knew that the bear would not be bent to leave very soon. It might easily wait for an hour or so, before it would be forced to go back to it's pups, and until then, the Aquarius Saint would have found out that he had left the training without permission. This meant that he was in for some severe punishment. But somehow, he just couldn't be too worried about that right now. He still felt the adrenalin in his veins from the little adventure they had just lived. Never before had he had a best friend like Anja, whom it was so much fun to be with.
"So you claim that you have frozen the bears legs earlier?" Anja asked with raised eyebrows.
Camus nodded. "Yes."
"And how did you do that? I know my father can do it, but I never saw him teach it to you."
Camus shook his head. "He didn't really show me how to do it, but I observed him once perform this attack. But I think his freezing was much more efficient than mine."
Anja just stared at him with big eyes. "You're telling me, that you learned to do it just by watching my father? Wow. You're good."
Camus just gave her an innocent look. "I know." He stated dryly.
She snorted annoyed. "Oh come on you French toast. Stop being so full of yourself."
This time, Camus grinned at her. "Pest", he spat back.
She showed him her tongue. "Little boy."
Anja had called him little one from the beginning, but since then Camus had caught up to her and was as tall as she was, even though he was two years younger. But that didn't stop her using the old nickname.
Camus wiggled his fists playfully at her. "You want to fight it out, big girl?" he played along her banters.
Anja laughed at him and he joined her laughter. Forgetting the training once in a while really wasn't so bad, he thought.
It was a few hours later when they finally arrived at the cottage. The bear had held out longer than they would have thought and their good mood had disappeared, as they had approached the small wooden house. They knew that they were both in for mayor trouble and they were not really looking forward to it.
As they took the first wooden stair step, leading to the door of the cottage, said door opened groaning and Tros stepped under the threshold and welcomed them with a stare that was colder than the endless ice of Siberia.
Both children stopped in their tracks and faced the Aquarius Saint with a sinking feeling.
"Where have you been?" The words of the tall man were directed at no one in particular and as icy cold as his eyes. Apart of that, he didn't let out a sign of emotion.
Anja bit her bottom lip and lowered her head. Camus eyed her for a minute, before he answered the Saints' stare with high held head. "I am sorry maître. I left my training without permission. I knew that I shouldn't do that. It is my fault."
The face of the Saint didn't change but his eyes fixed the French boy. "At least you're taking the responsibility for your acts, but that doesn't excuse anything. You have a duty to fulfil. This training is not for your or my amusement. You want to gain a cloth? Others have had this wish. Others who had been ready to give everything for that. Even their life.
You act like a playful child. You may be a human boy, but you don't have the right to act as such anymore. If you can't handle that, you can stop the training right now and leave Siberia."
At his last cold words, Anja's head shot up, and she glanced at Camus in fear. But the indigo-haired boy didn't flinch and still held Tros' hard eyes.
"I know that I did wrong and I will not do it again."
Tros still kept his eyes on him for a moment, before he spoke once more. "Go to your room now. We will leave in a few minutes for your punishment."
Camus only nodded and disappeared into the house.
Anja followed him with her eyes until the door closed behind him. She felt bad for him, in prospect of the punishment her friend would be getting. She knew that she was to blame for the whole mess, and that her father would not be gentle with his pupil.
But as she looked back at her father, the feeling of being sorry for Camus changed into feeling sorry for herself. Her father's look was all but loving as he stared at her and she knew that the only reason why the Saint had sent Camus to wait in his room, was to scold her in quiet.
"What happened?" he growled.
Anja forced an excusing smile. "We just wanted to go see the polar bear."
"And whose idea was that?"
Anja felt the blood shoot to her head and she lowered her gaze again. "Mine. I'm sorry Papa. Please don't punish Camus. I talked him into it."
Tros' voice was still as icy as before. "Camus will be a Saint. As one, he should be putting his duty above anything. If he can be distracted or led from his responsibility that easily, he will never be a Saint, no matter how talented he is. You should know that by now. Camus isn't like you. He has other priorities than other human children his age. He exists only to protect the human race and Athena. I want you to keep your distance to him from now on. He can never have deep friendship or love. Nothing should taint a Saint, which will keep him from doing his duty. Not friends or family."
Anja could not stop the stinging feeling of tears, which threatened to fill her eyes. "Like you and me?" she whispered painfully.
"No Saint should have family. It is much too dangerous. It was a mistake I once made and which never should have happened."
At those coldly spoken words, Anja couldn't hold back her tears anymore and she felt them flowing down her cheeks. She lowered her eyes to the ground. No need that her father saw, how much his words had just hurt her.
But as Tros continued, it was with a sad, almost inaudible voice. "But this was not my biggest mistake. Much worse than to have a daughter, is to love her as much as I do. I am sorry that I can't be the father you deserve Anja. And neither can I be the Saint I should, for the same reason. So I don't want Camus to go through the same that I did."
Hearing this, Anja's eyes wandered to her father again and she felt her yaw go slack in surprise. Never had he told her so openly how he felt. He, who hid his feelings all of the time behind a perfect mask.
But on top of his words, he stepped close to her and held her gently by the shoulders, his eyes mirroring affection and regret.
"Do you understand child? Camus is destined to become one of the most powerful Saints this world has ever seen. But to be happy and truly fulfilled with his duty, he can't bond too closely with any human. One can either be a normal human, or a Saint. Never both."
Anja nodded miserably, biting her lower lip.
"And now go to your room, daughter. "
She lowered her head once more and disappeared silently into her room.
Tros sighed, as she had disappeared in the house. What he would be doing now was not something he enjoyed, but it had to be. Camus was blessed by the Goddess. His talent could not be wasted. Tros had felt how Camus had used his Cosmo some hours ago and felt the panicked vibes tainting his pupil's aura. So he had teleported himself to its origin.
There he had seen the children run from the bear.
Ready to interfere, he had been more than astonished to see Camus confront the beast and use a technique that he had never taught him. Of course the attack had been far from perfect and hadn't held the bear for long, but it had shown Tros that his pupil was indeed not like any other child he had ever met. Tros was certain now, that Camus was not meant for the bronze cloth. He was destined for bigger things. He had the talent, and a Cosmo energy inside of him, which may even equal his own one day. But for that he would have to start to think like a Saint. Especially an Ice Saint.
He walked up the steps to the cottage and turned towards Camus' room. He didn't knock as he opened the door and stepped into the small area.
Camus stood by the tiny window, hands behind his back. He had his face towards the door, expecting his teacher with a hint of silent acceptance and even a small trace of fear in his eyes.
The boy was not stupid and knew that he was completely at the mercy of his teacher. And he was aware why he would be punished. He was willing to carry all responsibility for his acts, like any true Saint and accept the punishment, the gold Saint had intended for him.
But there was one thing Tros needed to do first.
He turned to the small nightstand and lifted the photo of Camus' mother. He heard the sharp intake of breath from the boy and looked at him coldly.
"You still keep the photo of your mother? I thought I told you to destroy it."
The boy narrowed his eyes in defiance.
"It is my affair of what I keep. This photo is my property."
The stance of the boy didn't change, but his eyes dared him to do something to the picture.
"This Photo is the past. Your mother is dead. Your past is dead."
Tros' hand with the photo started to glow in a cold white light as he activated his Cosmo. The paper in his hand became milky white, as it first got covered with a slim layer of frost before it froze completely. Tros closed the hand to a fist around it and destroyed the photo into dust.
"NO!" screamed Camus and advanced towards his teacher. "You had no right…"
Tros stopped the boy's words and forward movement by slapping him straight in the face. Camus' head jerked to the side and he lifted his hand to the now reddened right cheek, tears in his eyes.
"I have every right. You want to be a Saint and I will make sure that you will become a good Saint. From now on, you will stop your foolishness. You have to be as cold as the ice of these lands. No emotions must hinder you. All that will be important to you anymore is to be a Saint and serve Athena. You either do that or I will send you away on the spot. Do you understand?"
Camus stared in shock at his teacher. He felt so mad at Tros as he had never thought possible. How could the Aquarius Saint have done something like this? The photo was the only thing Camus had possessed. All that was still his.
"Come with me now!" Tros ordered, turning around and walking out of the room. Camus was still too shocked to react any other than to follow the gold Saint.
His cheek stun, but his mind felt still muffled and under shock, as he followed the Aquarius Saint out of the house and into the icy fields.
They walked for about half an hour, until the gold Saint halted at an icy cliff, which fell into the freezing cold ocean a few meters below. Camus had never really been bothered by cold, but the hard wind here stung his whole body with a cold he had never felt before.
"This is the boarder of one of the most dangerous parts of the ocean. More than one ship has found its grave in those dangerous waters. The weather here is the harshest clime, that reigns over all Siberia. The sea is treacherous. Strong currents make it impossible to swim for the seals and bears and they never venture here. The air is so cold, and the winds so biting, that even the ocean is slowly frozen shut by it over the years.
Even for a trained Saint, with exception of ice Saints, it is not pleasant to be here for a longer period of time."
The gold Saint studied him coldly. "In time, you will learn to use such a cold and the storms that reign here as one of your attacks, but right now, you don't have the power to do so."
Tros closed his eyes in concentration and Camus could see the white glow around his teacher, which was even colder than the wind, as the gold Saint activated his Cosmo. Intimidated, Camus wanted to take a step back, but found it impossible to move his feet. Shocked, his gaze wandered down and he saw a thick layer of ice climbing slowly up his legs, freezing him to the ground. Simultaneously, he felt the biting pain, penetrating his legs. With big alarmed eyes he stared back at Tros.
"You will stay here tonight. I will come and free you in the morning. That means if you are still alive by tomorrow."
After having said this, his teacher turned and walked away without another look back.
Tros closed his eyes briefly as he walked away from his pupil. Camus didn't make a sound. He was not even trying to make him come back, and the Saint could not stop himself from feeling proud of the boy. Every ice Saint had to learn this lesson; to spend one night here in the storm called Diamond dust. But not before their fourth trainings year.
His gaze wandered to the milky white sky above him. There would be such a storm tonight the signs stood all for it. Camus was not like any other pupil. And only this would give him the chance to survive such a test yet. Tros hoped that he would. It was necessary to punish him this way. Camus had to become hard and cold so he would be the perfect Ice Saint. Not like himself, hindered by love for another.
As Tros had disappeared from his sight, Camus clenched his fists as hard as he could. He felt the cold in his body and especially his legs, but for now, he could handle that pain easily. What was not so easy to ignore though, was the pain in his heart. He had expected to be punished, but the destruction of the photo had simply been cruel. And still, he was powerless to hinder his teacher to do what he wanted. He had soon understood that the life he was living now, was not about considering his person, but the ability, which he would possess to serve Athena. At first he hadn't understood the concept of the Saints and ancient Goddesses, then he had been tempted by the power he would possess; and a little later, he had wanted to impress Tros and earn the cloth to prove something to the gold Saint and himself too.
But still. The photo of his mother was the only thing telling him that he once had had a normal life. And that he once had been loved. Tros didn't love him. All he would ever been able to get from the Saint was respect. He really worked hard to achieve at least that. So why had the gold Saint destroyed the photo? Camus closed his eyes to fight back the tears, which threatened to flow down his face "Maman", he whispered and couldn't hold back the sob, which shook his body.
*****************************
It was early next morning, as Tros walked out to the place, where he had left Camus the evening before. The storm he had expected had been more violent than he would have thought. Even off the shore. He hadn't slept at all this night, fighting with himself, not to go rescue Camus. The boy had needed this lesson and any giving in from his part would have destroyed all efforts to nothing. Instead he had prayed Athena to protect the boy and let him find the strength to survive the night.
He had heard Anja's silent sobbing in the neighboured room. After he had told her, what he had done to punish Camus last evening, Anja had screamed at him, cursing the Saints and their cruel rules. She had attacked him with her words, calling him a monster, but he had ignored her and left for his own room.
Anja would never understand. He had to be hard to Camus, or the boy would be one of the first to die in the holy war. He knew that Camus would understand someday, if he survived long enough. Every Ice Saint had to learn to be cold and stand above everything human. He himself had failed. The accusations of his daughter had hit him hard, even though he had learned not to show his emotions. He was not perfect. But Athena needed perfect Saints. Especially her main guards, which were the gold Saints. Tros had never been able to be completely cold. He loved Anja and - even though he would never admit or show it - Camus. He knew that he would not be part of the holy war. He was more danger than help to Athena. But until a couple of years ago, he had known that he would have to suffice. Now he had other plans. If Camus was still alive. If he had survived this terrible storm, and if he had learned the lesson then he would be trained by Tros as his successor. The new Aquarius Saint. Camus would be the perfect warrior. Cold as ice and powerful like no other.
He reached the place at the shore and saw the silent figure from some distance away. Camus was still upright, but his head and shoulders hung limp. Unconsciously he hurried his step until he reached the boy. A fine layer of frost covered Camus' entire body and his skin looked pale and dead. Tros wasn't sure if he was still alive and lifted the boy's head gently with one hand under his chin. The skin under his touch was clammy and ice-cold, but he could see a flicker of movement under the closed eyelids of the boy. Camus had survived. He was half dead, but he had survived.
"Thanks Athena", Tros whispered to the sky before he destroyed the ice around Camus feet with one good calculated punch.
Instantly, Camus' knees started to buckle, as the ice didn't support them anymore. Tros moved fast, caught him and lifted him up in his arms.
With a fast pace he walked back to the cottage. Camus was in bad shape and Tros held him a bit closer to his chest, trying to warm the boy with his own body heat.
He was grateful as he finally reached the cottage. He entered the door and was surprised by Anja, who had started a fire and laid out a nest of furs and covers at its side in the main room.
"Bring him here Papa. He must be frozen", she said in a neutral voice.
Tros came closer and laid the boy on the floor, on top of the fur closest the fire before he stood again. Anja started right away trying taking off Camus' shirt. Tros observed her with a hint of amazement. His daughter seemed so calm and knew perfectly what to do. He was surprised at the gentleness and the normality she showed. In this moment, she didn't look like an eleven-year-old child. No. She reminded him much more of her mother, as she had been before her death.
He watched, as she struggled with the half frozen clothes and kneeled down on the other side of Camus. "Come on, Anja. I'll help you."
Together they got Camus out of his clothes and Anja went to fetch hot water, which she got from a big kettle, hanging above the flames in the fireplace.
She filled a bowl about half full and filled it up with cold water from a jug. Then she kneeled at Camus' side again, soaked a piece of cloth in the warm water and started to wash his face and shoulders, trying to stimulate the circulation and get some warmth back in the icy body.
Tros got back on his feet again, seeing that his daughter seemed to know what to do. She was concentrated on Camus and talked soothingly to him, while she tended to him. The gold Saint observed them for a minute before he turned and left them alone. Camus was not awake yet, but Tros was grateful that Anja could help him get better. He didn't want Camus to think that his teacher cared for him more than it was his duty.
Anja stayed besides Camus for a long time, trying to get him warm again. And after about a half hour, she felt the warmth return to his chilled body and his skin finally started to take on a normal colour.
Anja sighed relieved. After her father had told her that Camus would spend the night out by the sea, and when the great storm had hit this night, she had feared that Camus would not be able to survive this ordeal. Only the knowledge of his born talent to deal with the cold and his Cosmo had let her keep a bit of hope.
After her father's words towards her in front of the cabin, she had been so happy. But then, when she had learned of what her father had done to Camus, she had again started to doubt of his ability to feel something towards the people around him, other than his stupid duty towards Athena, of which he talked so often.
How could anyone treat a simple child so cruelly, as she had seen her father do to his pupils? Of course she knew that they needed to work hard, to attain the powers they used. And Tros had once told her, that there were Saints, who were even more cruel and demanding of their pupils than he was. To the point, that in years of training out of dozens of pupils, none had survived the first years. Anja could not understand how a Goddess, who was supposed to protect mankind and earth, could welcome, or even tolerate such behaviour. But the more she saw of the Saints, the more she felt disgusted by their methods.
Her eyes fell back on Camus, who seemed to sleep peacefully now, only slight shivers running through his body occasionally. "Why are you doing this?" she asked sadly. It was not the first time she wished for her friend to leave this life and run away. Anja loved her father, and she enjoyed her time with Camus. But more than to suffer from being alone again, she knew that she would suffer from seeing him die. He was her best friend. The only real friend she had ever had. In the close by village were not many kids her age, and none of them could treat her without a certain respect and fear. She was after all the daughter of the legendary Aquarius Saint. She hated that. This was also part of the reason, why she didn't go to school with the village kids. The other reason was that her father wanted her to have a better education than what was taught at the provincial school. Tros himself was a very intelligent man and had gotten the best education possible by his own master. He had told her that all Saints were given that. Athena wanted only the best the human race could offer as her warriors.
Movement besides her pulled her from her thoughts. Camus stirred and moaned slightly.
"Camus?" she asked, while she bent down to him, stroking a strand of his hair back. "Are you awake?"
The French boy moaned again without opening his eyes. "I'm cold," he whispered while a shiver racked his boy.
"I know", Anja soothed. "It will take awhile for you to feel warm again, but you will. Don't worry. Can you open your eyes?"
Camus eyelashes fluttered and then opened, revealing dark blue, pain filled eyes.
"That's better", she smiled.
Camus gave her a weak humourless smile back. "I didn't think I'll survive."
"But you did. You're much too strong to be defeated by such a little storm", she tried to lighten the situation.
Camus didn't laugh about the joke. He turned is head to the other side, his eyes searching for the door, which led to Tros' room.
"Why did he do that?"
Anja sighed sadly. "Because of those stupid Saints rules. You know it. They don't consider that one applicant of a cloth may get killed."
Camus' head turned back and he looked at her again, his eyes watery. "That's not what I meant. I don't mind the thing with the storm. It was his right. But why did he destroy the photo of my mother."
Anja gasped shocked. "He destroyed the photo of your mother? Oh no. That's the only souvenir you had left of her."
Camus closed his eyes again and turned on his side, away from her, pulling the furs high up to his head, hiding his emotions from Anja.
The girl kept on studying him, with a stinging in her own heart. Camus didn't say another word, nor did he cry, but she had the feeling that something had been shattered in the other child's soul. And there was nothing she could do or say to help him. So she just sat there with slump shoulders