The brothers headed back to the camp.

Jason lagged behind them. He wanted to watch Jeremy.

The boy was walking well enough – that was hard to judge after a fight, but he was not staggering, although he occasionally paused and put a hand to a tree. He seemed to be listening well enough to Josh talking faster than most mortals. He even spoke in response every now and then.

It was a slow walk, but Jason caught up to his brothers as they reached the camp. "Josh, grab some blankets. We're going up to the Pool. Jeremy needs a good soak in cold water."

"J-jason, th-there's still snow l-lying up th-there!"

"Then we'll know the water is nice and cold, won't we?" Jason put his hand on Jeeremy's shoulder and steered him the direction he wanted him to go. "Maybe you won't be too many different colors tomorrow."

"Huh. I th-think you j-just want to f-freeze me."

"Oh, aye. I'm always preserving you for the future. Here we are."

They stopped at the edge of the water.

"D-do I hafta take my c-clothes off?"

"Just your boots. The rest is up to you. Sure you wouldn't like to have them here waiting for you nice and dry when you come out?"

"Ain't that what the b-blankets are for?"

Josh came running up with the blankets.

Jeremy removed his boots and waded into the water up to his shoulders.

"Get your head good and wet," Jason instructed.

"HUH!"

"Either dunk your head, or it'll be vinegar and brown paper when we get back."

"On my HAIR?!"

"Your choice." Jason stood watching

Jeremy scowled at him, and quickly dunked his head.

"Again. Get it soaked, not just wet."

Jeremy mumbled something that Jason couldn't quite make out. That was good, he'd hate to have to chastise the boy after having fought a man's fight this day.

"His head must not be too busted if he's worried about his hair," Josh commented.

Jason laughed, his eyes not leaving his youngest brother. "Says the brother who hogs the mirror daily. Get the blankets ready."

Jeremy was visibly shivering and starting to move restlessly. The light was fading, so Jason called him in. Or was it out? He called him in out of the water. He also laughed at himself for thinking about the words for his thoughts, as he unfolded the first blanket and stepped into the water to wrap Jeremy up and carry him out.

The brothers piled blankets around Jeremy and he offered no protest, not even when Jason picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a rolled rug. Josh ran on ahead.

An hour and a half later, after a brief stop at the camp to warm and dry Jeremy and get him into warm and dry clothes, they were settled in at their cabin. Jeremy was seated closest to the blazing fireplace, alternately sipping hot soup and hot coffee.

"F-first you freeze m-me, then you c-cook me," he pretended to complain. He was also alternating between toweling his hair and combing it. "Wh-what kind of m-meat does that m-make me?"

"Tough and stringy," Josh answered. "Give me that." He took the towel from his brother and ran his fingers through Jeremy's hair, feeling his head. "Couple of knots, no soft spots," he reported to Jason, who nodded.

Jeremy jerked his head away. "Sore," he said.

"That happens when you use your head for a battering ram and throw grown men through the air."

"Headache?" Jason asked, and Jeremy looked at him like he was stupid.

"That, too," Josh teased, now carefully combing Jeremy's hair the way he liked it.

Jeremy put down his cup and looked at Jason. "You aren't m-mad at me, for g-getting in a f-fight at work?"

"Sometimes it can't be avoided. Some people are like that." Jason crossed his hands on the table, sat across from Jeremy, and looked at the boy directly. "Tell me what happened from your side of it."

Jeremy took a deep breath and started talking.

Jason just listened. His face darkened and his eyes sparked when Jeremy mentioned the thrown hatchet – he hadn't yet heard of that – but he didn't interrupt or ask questions. At some point, he had taken his notebook out of his pocket and occasionally wrote in it.

Josh also listened, while keeping the fire bright and Jeremy's drinks hot. He saw Jason when Jeremy told the worst bits, and he figured his own expression probably matched Jason's. It was a good thing Jason had that – person – jailed, for his own safety. He needed to lose a few teeth – maybe a few more, depending on if Jeremy had dislodged any. And a few (more) broken bones wouldn't be out of order.

Jeremy stopped talking.

Jason leaned back. "Well." he said, closing the notebook.

The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes.

Jason tapped with his pencil.

Joshua folded the blankets that had been drying and warming near the fireplace.

Jeremy just breathed.

"Well," Jason said again, putting the notebook in his pocket, and standing up.

"May I go to bed?" Jeremy asked primly.

"What?"

"Go to b-bed."

"I don't know. Come here and let me look at you."

Jeremy sighed, but did as he'd been told. If he told Jason he didn't feel like standing up, Jason would probably make him stay awake all night. That was what he did to anybody who got hit on the head, and the men all hated it.

Jason said it made them be more careful to not get hit on the head.

Jeremy stood in front of Jason, who looked him over carefully, as he had on the walk back to camp.

Now, as then, he saw no alarming signs. Clear eyes, steady on his feet, breathing well, color neutral (after all, he had been frozen and cooked.) He looked in Jeremy's ears and had him open his mouth and stick out his tongue.

Jeremy rolled his eyes at that, and didn't stagger.

Jason smothered a laugh at that. "Go ahead. We'll be here if you have any problems."

Josh wrapped one of the warm blankets around Jeremy and walked with him to his bed.

Jeremy was alone when he woke up the next day. He supposed his brothers must have gone to work. Which meant they (well, Jason) had decided he wasn't going to die or be broken from yesterday. That was good.

Funny they hadn't waked him up to say they were leaving. They had woke him up enough times to see if they could, after all.

They'd probably be back to check on him again, at least one of them would.

He was sore, but he didn't feel broken anywhere. One side of his face was bruised, and he had a black eye on the other side, but his eye was open.

He was examining his side in the mirror when Jason walked in. (He had stomped on the porch before he opened the door, so Jeremy knew it was him.) He had some faint bruising along his ribs, that would probably look worse before it got better.

"Let me see," Jason said, and Jeremy made a face at him but complied.

After a brief exam, Jason handed the boy a shirt and asked, "Still mad about your dunking?"

Jeremy grinned and shook his head. "No. Ya got any other m-magic cures?"

"One or two, probably. Fresh air, sunshine, and the like. Sore?"

Jeremy shrugged. "It'll be worse t-tomorrow, probably."

"That's to be expected. Do you feel anything off, otherwise?"

Jeremy shook his head "No. B-been doin' some stretching out, and ever'thing feels in the right place, just sore."

"Good." Jason pulled out a chair.

Jeremy poured Jason a cup of coffee and sat at the table with his own. Jason had something on his mind. Was he mad after all?

"What do you think of charging Bilby with trying to kill you?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

"It w-was just a f-fight."

"Until deadly weapons were thrown, yes."

Jeremy shook his head again. "Not really. Least, I d-didn't think so." He frowned.

"Think about it. You don't have to decide right away."

"I have to decide?"

Jason smiled, faintly. "Since you're man enough to fight, you're man enough to make that decision. It's only fair."

"Huh." Jeremy looked away, then jumped up to fidget with the fire. He was pleased with Jason's words – mostly.

He thought.

Maybe.

"Of course," Jason said, satisfied with Jeremy's reaction, "you can decide that you aren't sure you have the experience to make a decision like that on your own and leave it to me. No one but you and I will ever know if you want to put it off."

"I'd know and you'd know, th-though. B-besides, seems l-like if I c-can decide to f-fight, I oughta d-decide to –" he paused, trying to sort the feelings into words. Jason liked things in words. "I ought to f-face the p-problems that comes with it. And the d-decisions."

"Whoever decides, you'll have to face up to it. You can't get around that. If we make formal charges, you'll have to testify."

Jeremy swallowed hard. That sounded worser than fighting with axes.

"Legally, it's my decision. In the eyes of the law, you're a child. But I want to know how you want to handle things."

"What w-would you d-decide?"

"That's not important."

"Huh."

"I'm glad you're taking this seriously." Jason stood. "I need to get back to the camp, now that I've got the men back. Do you want to come, or to stay here another night?"

"You hadta g-go to t-town?"

"Of course. I should have gone last night; it would have been less costly."

"S-sorry."

Jason laughed. "It's probably just as well I had some time to think before acting last night, you know. I got myself in enough trouble as it was."

"Th-that M-man?"

"None other. The usual nonsense, turning a bunch of rioters loose on the town, allowing destruction and havoc. Not to mention my attempted murder of your attempted murderer."

"What did you do?" Jeremy was fascinated.

"Grabbed him by the collar through the bars and got nose-to-nose with the – with Bilby."

"Huh. I l-like that."

"I enjoyed it. Wish I could have – well, never mind. If I had, I'd be the one being charged with murder, and not the accidental kind that comes out of a fight."

"Th-that would b-be b-bad. If I stay here, will you 'n Josh c-come back tonight?"

"I will. Don't know about Josh; he'll make his own decision. So you're staying?"

"Yeah, I th-think so."

"I'll bring supper from the camp." Jason left.

Jeremy nodded, although Jason was already gone.

He guessed he had a lot to think about. How tempers worked, and could just happen, like fights, and being wrong, and decisions, and forgiveness and forgetness.

He felt small in the face of such large matters, but he wasn't a baby anymore. And he didn't want to be one.

He crossed his arms on the table and laid his head on them.

It was time for some of those big, deep breaths. (Cold water wouldn't help this, unless he drowned himself, and it was too cold for drowning.)

Jeremy giggled at his thought, and then cried.