In Search of Home

Chapter 82

Viktor growled his frustration after he fell to his knees for the tenth time that morning.

"Remember, little champion, to -"

"I know!" he exploded, feeling his throat constrict with the force of his shout. He didn't get much louder than a quiet yell, but it cut the alien off nonetheless. "Use my arms for balance! I know how to walk."

"Of course, little lord," the alien murmured, helping Viktor to his feet with gentle claws. He resisted the urge to tear his arms out of their grasp, knowing they were only trying to do their job. It was just frustrating learning how to make his limbs move the way they were supposed to.

"I'm not a lord," he muttered, appalled. He gripped the walker - some terrible contraption that looked like it had been slapped together in an hour - with all his strength. His arms shook with the force of it.

"Our Majesty insisted. Now," the doctor said, stepping away from Viktor, "would you like to try again? You were very close this time."

Viktor, who had been nowhere near the finish line, sucked in a deep, rattling breath and nodded.

Yesterday had been the first day he had been allowed out of his bed. His vitals were, apparently, good enough for him to be free of all the drugs pumping into his system. It meant that there was a low thrum of pain around his neck, spine, and head now that the painkillers were filtering out of his system, but he was free to move.

Well, free to move if he could walk.

He had managed to swing his legs over the bed without any issue, but standing up had been a dizzying experience. If his dad hadn't been there, he would've crumpled to the ground in a heap. As it was, he had only gotten the hang of standing by the time night had fallen.

Today was all about walking. Standing had been a piece of cake compared to this.

The doctor suggested only walking a few paces. Putting one foot in front of the other was hard enough when his legs felt like Jello, but it was only made ten times worse by the sheer humiliation that Viktor felt. Being unable to do the simplest task of walking a few steps made him burn with shame.

"It's okay," Oskar reassured him from across the room. Viktor gritted his teeth. His dad always seemed to make the simplest of statements that much more irritating. It was probably just Viktor's bad mood, though. "You can do it, buddy."

"Easy for you to say," he rasped grouchily. He took another breath, feeling the air catch in his throat.

He fell three more times. Each time, the alien would step forward to help him up, and his dad would say some other encouraging line. When he managed to get across the room, he was drenched in sweat and his legs shook like leaves in a breeze, but his chest was full of pride.

"Take that, you stupid fucking legs," he gasped in exhaustion.

It got a little easier after that. He was determined to get back to his old self - he wouldn't let Nhafka and Turrkn take something as simple as walking away from him so easily; they had already taken enough - and he did everything in his power to do so. He did all the stretches and practicing that the doctor recommended, though he did have to modify some things (he did not have a tail to balance himself with, thank you).

He tried to take his friends' encouragement at face value. They really did love him, he knew that, but after he heard the hundredth "you can do it!" of the day, he thought he might go a little crazy.

Vok'Rul swung by, too, complete with Thruul's cooking. But the evil bastard wouldn't let him eat it until he crossed the room to get it.

"Come on," Viktor frowned up at him. "Are you really gonna make me? I've been walking all day!"