Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 8: Youth And Whiskey

Why Thor had thought it a good idea to move so far from camp was entirely beyond him. They were forced to trek uphill now, scrambling through the dirt as though this was all another one of their games of chase through the vineyard or the rows of apple trees; as though the sound of heavy footsteps were those of young Volstagg as he roared, charged after them on his pony while they took turns playing at monster. Even the palace servants and the teachers, such as the man who had taught the youngsters to duel, had played with them on occasion, catching he or Thor and sweeping them into his arms with a quick "Gotcha!" But this was nothing like their games had been, for there had been no fear running amok with friends on the palace grounds, only laughter, and there was none of that here.

The two ran until their muscles burned, until Loki was sure that he'd end up coughing up a lung once he had chance to stop and catch his breath. But he couldn't think of that, of rest, as he grabbed Thor by the forearm and pulled him sharply off to the right. His brother hurried along behind until Loki shoved him towards a tree, told him to get to climbing or to get back to camp before the both of them were chewed bits of flesh.

The beast charged at him with a roar as Loki struck its hide with a sharp rain of daggers, feeling incredibly foolish for not having realized that such an attack would do nothing against hardened skin. The prince made a face as he rolled out of the way, the monster streaking past him and taking out several trees. He'd seen a bilge snipe only once before, though it had been easily felled by elder warriors when Loki had been but a child, and had remembered that godawful smell that radiated from their bodies, as though someone had left a pitcher of milk to dry out in the sun for a week. He gagged, shoved a sleeve against his nose as the creature skidded in the dirt, turned right back around and made a beeline for him.

Now would be a fantastic time for Odin to arrive on his horse, he thought. Though that had only happened once when Thor had dragged the lot of them into Svartalfheim some years before and gotten them stranded and captured. Dark Elves, as Loki would always remember, did not like him nor Thor. Not to mention his brother's haughty attitude. That, he imagined, had set them off more than anything else.

The creature didn't ram him with its antlers as Loki had expected it to, but slammed the side of its beefy shoulder against him, sent him across the ground and through a bush. His back ached as he twisted on the ground, grimaced and groaned as his eyes cracked open to stare up at the treetops. It was still near, its breath and stench foul and carried on the light wind that brushed through the pines. That metal tang shot through his mouth and he swallowed the urge to spit, fearful that even the slightest sound would set the monster off again. The ground shook as its heavy bulk wandered around, like to think that it had rid itself of any threat Loki may have posed.

He breathed quietly, stars blinking in the gray skies above as his head began to spin, blood pounding in his ears. Where the hell was Thor? Loki grimaced, hoped that his brother hadn't taken his order to climb a tree literally, otherwise he'd be stuck here for quite some time waiting for the bilge snipe to wander off. At the thought, the sound of rustling foliage stopped and the smell faded. He waited a few minutes, but it did not return, and Loki sat up, groaning as he began to suspect that the impact had broken something. The prince got to his feet, shook leaves and needles from his hair and tried to remember exactly which way they'd been running when he had separated from Thor.

"Damn..."

A roar sounded from behind as Loki was hit again, skidding through the leaves and wincing, now certain that he was going to go home with broken ribs. The bastard had moved downwind, hidden its wretched scent and circled around behind him. His forehead touched the dirt, and the trickster suddenly wondered how in the living hell the ground and the sky had swapped places.

A loud crack cut through the air, and the bilge snipe howled again, louder this time, as Thor came charging through the trees with a blade in hand, having whacked off a good portion of one of its antlers. He couldn't see the others, but heard them as they shouted, all took their turns at striking through the beast's hardened hide.

"Stay awake!" Sif hissed, and shook him, further rattling his head and strengthening the headache. "Stay awake!"

He said nothing, stared at her and wondered why the hell Thor hadn't yet plucked up the courage to accept the obvious affection she held for him. Then again, his brother was rather ignorant to such things. Loki scowled, turned in time to see Thor shove his blade up and through the roof of the bilge snipe's mouth as it fell to the ground in a dead heap, raining blood upon the thunderer.

That stupid half-smile made its way across Thor's face as he sighed, and Loki shook his head.

Naturally. Leave it to Thor to lure and kill a raging bilge snipe.

# - # - # - #

The fire raged stronger than it had the night before, and Thor watched as Hogun set to cleaning blood off his mace, a seemingly satisfied expression on his face, though it was still rather difficult to tell. The prince sat in silence, hunched over on the log and watching Sif from the corner of his eye as she appeared from her tent with a roll of bandages, a waterskin, and a cloth. She didn't seem to notice him though, having taken it upon herself to ensure that Loki didn't break anything else as he squirmed in Volstagg's grasp.

It was a terrible feeling, to know that he'd caused his own brother such pain, that he hadn't been fast enough to return to camp and get the help and weapons that had been needed. Not a word had escaped his mouth since they'd returned, dragging the body back with them as soon as they'd run across the horses, led back up the mountain by a man who hailed from the village below. Apparently, the mounts had been spooked by the sound of the beast in the night, had taken off running and been found in the man's camp early that morning. Fortune had smiled upon them, for the man himself, called Ghamrel, had seen them ride through the village and headed up the mountain for his own sport some hours later.

Thor flinched, golden brows coming to touch the bridge of his nose as he tried not to listen, tried not to hear as Loki growled, muttering to Sif that she was too damned rough. To which she had easily replied that he needed to be less careless. That boiled the prince's blood, made him want to stand and correct her, say that it had been his fault to begin with. He had stepped on the twig, he had been too late to keep Loki from getting hurt, and he had been the one who proposed this whole thing in the first place. All of it was his fault.

When Sif and Volstagg finally left his brother alone, Thor had a mind to sit with him, see if there was anything he could to to make it up to him, but the warrior woman took a seat on the log beside him, smiled gingerly and patted his arm. The thunderer said nothing, turned his attention to staring into the fire as Sif's hair burned even brighter gold in the flickering light.

"Don't worry," she told him, clearly trying to sound positive. "He'll be fine."

It didn't matter what Sif said, what any of them said, all of this had been his fault, and telling himself that everything would be all right wasn't going to cut it. Thor said nothing, and patiently waited until she got the hint, stood up, and headed back to her tent.

Hogun stared at him from across the flames, and when Thor opened his mouth to ask what he was looking at, the Grim looked back to his mace and shrugged. Apparently, he didn't want to have a conversation either.

The prince spent an hour beating himself up before the others all retired for bed, not at all offering up their words of encouragement, for they were sure to know that he wouldn't listen to them. Eventually, Thor downed half a loaf of bread and, too lazy to wrap it up and put it away again, held it in his fist until the thing was smashed, and forced himself to sheepishly sit beside his brother.

"How is it?" he asked quietly, noting the smell of alcohol on his brother's breath. Sif had likely filled the waterskin with it.

Loki made a face as though he were going to spit. His voice came out hoarse. "Terrible."

Thor chuckled, thumped him lightly on the head, threw the bread into the fire. "That's because you don't drink as we do. Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

He wove his fingers together, twiddled his thumbs and said nothing more. Thor had hoped that the jab would make his brother laugh, make him forget about all the chaos they'd been through the whole of the day. Blue eyes watched as Loki found a stone on the ground, frowned and threw it as hard as he could at the bulk of the bilge snipe, swearing under his breath before calling the thing a stupid bastard, recoiling violently and curling back in on himself in pain.

"It really is as Mother says," he sighed, and Thor made a soft sound of inquiry. Loki leaned back against the tree and raised the waterskin. "Youth is like whiskey. You can't get enough."

Thor grinned, clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course. Best to revel in it while it lasts."

The trickster breathed through his nose, drained the waterskin and tossed it aside, leaning gingerly onto Thor's shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Please, tell me we can go home tomorrow," Loki whined, closing his eyes. "I'm so tired of this..."

Thor only laughed.