28th of Nema

"I'm sorry," I whispered, staring at the coals in the fire pit. They weren't even smoking anymore.

Arramy's jaw tightened. Then he dropped the leaves that the extra fish had been wrapped in and got to his feet. "We'll just have to hope we find forage. Come on. The sun's already cleared the horizon."

I glanced around. The fog was still lying thick and pale among the trees and over the river, heavy enough that it blotted out nearly everything beyond a few meters. How he could tell where the sun was I couldn't guess, but it certainly was light enough to be morning. Yet another stroke to add to my tally of failures for the day. Not only would we have to travel hungry, we had already lost valuable time.

With a sigh I reached for my stolen boots and pulled them on, then got up and went in search of a place to attend to the morning necessaries.

When I came back, Arramy had finished burying the ashes in wet sand.

I made sure the binder and the journal were still tied firmly to my waist, and then we started walking, following the water south.

~~~

The river snaked along between broad gravel beds for several miles, and we made good time, even though breakfast was nothing but a few handfuls of rakii pods Arramy found.

The sun quickly turned the fog into a damp broil of humidity that had both of us dripping with sweat, and as if that was what drew them, the bloodsuckers began to swarm, and the swatting began.

Arramy spotted a deposit of white clay in the riverbed, waded out to it, scooped up a glob and rubbed it all over himself – even through his hair – which made him look like a big, dirty ghost. He swore it discouraged the biting insects and kept a person cool, though, so after only a brief hesitation, I allowed him to hand me some.

Arramy took one look at me trying to daub it on my cheeks, rolled his eyes, muttered, "City girl," came to stand in front of me, bent down to my level, and proceeded to slime my whole face with a thicker layer. "You gotta get it all over or they'll find you."

Startled, I stared at him, my breath snagging painfully in my chest as his fingertips slipped cool and wet over my skin, tracing the line of my nose and the contours of my cheekbones, then up into my hair. Frowning and squinting while he worked, he brought his thumbs to my chin to paint my mouth, then, slowly, his hands stilled, framing my jaw.

For several endless seconds his eyes locked on mine. Then his lashes lowered, his gaze dipping to my lips... before drifting further down to the high, lacy collar of my blouse. And the dark lines of bruises hiding beneath it. His jaw knotted. Then, abruptly, he let go, took a quick step back, and went stalking through the shallows to dry ground.

Dizzy, I stood where he had left me, my heart pounding, my legs oddly weak. It took too much effort to make my feet move again.

~~~

My stomach was gnawing loudly on my spine and I was daydreaming about arrensconne with honey and cold Praidani, when we came up a small rise, broke through a laurel thicket, and found ourselves at the top of a small, rounded bluff overlooking the valley. Even for me and my directionally impaired self, it was clear that the river we had been following south was about to double back on itself in a wide, undulating curve to the north.

Arramy lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he surveyed the valley bottom, his mouth set in a grim line. Then he glanced down at his own shadow on the ground.

"What's the matter?" I asked, coming to stand next to him.

He nodded toward the stretch of marshland across the river. "NaVarre's plantation is over that way somewhere." He rubbed the back of his neck. Then, with a weary sigh, he turned around and started down the way we had come. "We have to cross."

I swallowed. This day was just getting better and better.

~~~

I stood on a big, flat rock at the top of the bank and stared at the tree-dappled turquoise-green of the river, but the water didn't miraculously bring forth a bridge. Not even steppingstones. There was nothing for it. "I should probably mention that I can't swim."

Arramy was quiet for several long, agonizing seconds — during which I didn't look at him, the better to avoid seeing his disgust after what had happened that morning. Then he rotated on his heels and limped off, heading for a large tangle of driftwood that had collected on a spur of boulders a little way down the shore. He took hold of a good-sized tree trunk and dragged it clear. "Come here," he called, pulling the thing down the bank one-handed.

I moved to help him. "What are we doing?"

"Give me the stuff from the Vault," he barked, pain shortening his temper.

I stopped helping and looked at him, wide-eyed.

My distrust must have been plain on my face, because he quit yanking on the driftwood and shot a glare at me. "Put it on top of the log. We need to keep it dry."

I swallowed. It wouldn't take much at all for him to steal the binder and leave me to rot out there in the wilderness. And he could just as easily have done that yesterday, or when I was asleep. He could have taken them whenever he wanted, really. We were alone. No one would have heard me scream. But he didn't, and the binder did need to stay dry. I bit my lip, coming to a decision, then stepped back and turned around, hiking that awful orange skirt up over what was left of my petticoat. The pocket was there, where it had been since the damsel den, resting against my right thigh.

I was untying it when Arramy said, loudly, "Take off your shoes, skirt and petticoat while you're at it."

Incredulous, I whipped around to gape at him.

He had turned to face the other way. "Less weight pulling you down. And you'll have something dry on the other side," he said over his shoulder.

I opened my mouth to object, but he added a gruff, "No, I'm not going to look, yes, I've seen plenty of women in their under things – you don't have anything they didn't – and I'm not about to ravage you. You're not my type. Get moving."

I closed my mouth with a snap. Then bit my lip, more than a little disturbed by the flicker of disappointment that followed the 'you're not my type.' My cheeks flamed a million shades of pink as I stripped out of my skirt and petticoat. Then, telling myself I wasn't actually naked in my short-chemise and small-clothes, I made myself shuffle down the bank.

Arramy took the heap of linen from me without a word, wadded it into a ball and stuffed it into the gnarled branches that jutted from one end of the log. I tied the pocket to one of those branches, and then we began wading out into the current.

~~~

The crossing wasn't physically difficult once I discovered that I could float while holding onto the driftwood. Arramy showed me how to kick my legs to push the log forward, and then we were on our way.

The worst part was crossing the main channel of the river. The water flowed smooth and lazy, pleasantly caressing my overheated, bug-bitten skin, but there didn't seem to be a bottom. I had to close my eyes and repeat to myself that this wasn't the ocean, and the other bank was only a few dozen meters away.

The instant my feet touched something solid beneath me, I sprang up out of the water like a pop-along and went splashing for shore, leaving Arramy, log, binder and all, behind. I collapsed once I reached the rocky strip of gravel above the waterline, my chest heaving for air, my knees wobbling. Apparently, I hadn't taken a proper breath while I was trying not to imagine myself sinking into murky green oblivion.

Arramy pushed the driftwood closer before he got his feet under him and stood. Then he grabbed the pocket full of documents and my clothes, and slogged his way up the bank, his movements sluggish. He sat down next to me, breathing hard, listing slightly to the right, soggy and dripping.

My gaze landed on the damp stones behind him. They were tinged with pink. A moment later the pink was threaded with scarlet.

"You're bleeding again," I said quietly, scooting over to kneel next to him. I was glad I had listened and taken off my petticoat; now it was dry. I took it from him, suddenly not caring what he could or couldn't see of me as I began tearing the last ruffle off of it.

He didn't say anything. He just sat still with his eyes shut and let me unbuckle his vest, his only response to hiss in a breath through his teeth when I got the sodden leathers off of him and began peeling the old, soaked dressings away.

The clean-through on his shoulder was wet and oozing a little, but it didn't actually look too bad.

The one below his ribs was more concerning. The edges were a dark, angry red, and the skin around it was tight and tinged with yellow. Worse, as I drew the ruined bandage off, the clot came with it, and fresh blood began dribbling down his back.

Working quickly, I made a new pad, pressing it into the wound hard for several minutes before bandaging him back up.

He grunted when I finished tying off the one on his shoulder, then he stirred, holding out my skirt and the pocket. "Get your things back on. We need to keep moving."

~~~

A thick patch of dark purple rubbery leaves marched along the spine of a rotting log not far off the animal trail we were following, familiar stems of airy white flowers nodding over them in a patch of sunlight. With a smile, I took a quick detour to pick some, adding them to the berries and the bulbs of wild onion knotted into a flounce of my skirt.

"What's that?" Arramy asked when I rejoined him.

"Ancuicui. My aunt keeps a big pot-full in her arboretum. Her guides used to harvest it and take it with them into the mountains. It's high in vitamins and minerals, and the leaves retain water for a long time... I'm just surprised to find it growing here. It's native to Carak."

Arramy regarded me, eyebrow raised, then shook his head and started walking again, his jaw tight.

He had slowed considerably the longer we went on, and I wished for the millionth time that I could get that bullet out of him. Almost as if that thought had been some sort of cue, Arramy stumbled over a rock and reached out a hand to steady himself against a tree. Then he stayed that way, just standing there, breathing slowly through his teeth.

Without a word I caught up and slid my arm around his waist, just like I had the day before.

Arramy closed his eyes for a moment, then started moving again. I wasn't sure whether to be glad or worried that he had accepted my help so easily.

~~~

We had been picking our way along that animal trail for a little more than an hour when I noticed the silence for the first time. Arramy was leaning on me, his arm across my shoulders, my arm around his waist. We were both too tired to carry on much of a conversation, so it wasn't too hard to notice when the forest stopped talking: not just a few, but all of the birds fell quiet at once. The monkeys and rodents that lived in the trees even stopped screeching at us.

Curious, I came to a halt, wondering where all the wildlife had gone in such a hurry, but Arramy kept going, his grip tightening on my shoulder. "Don't stop. Not here."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"We're being stalked," he said bluntly. As if he were explaining the rules of a card game.

"Stalked! By what?" I gasped, instantly trying to crane around to peer over his elbow.

"No idea. Don't look back," he rasped out. "Whatever it is, it's just following us at the moment —"

"What?"

"Shhh... My guess... It's not hungry, so it's still deciding whether we're worth the trouble. If we look back and it thinks we've seen it, it might decide to take us down before we have a chance to run. Just keep walking and stay calm. We need to find a place to build a decent shelter."

"Oh," I managed, nodding as if I understood. "Right. Keep walking... Stay calm... You couldn't have just said it's the wind?"

Arramy gave me a sidelong glance, brow raised. "Would you have believed me?"

"Yes!"

"It's the wind."

I gave his right side a pinch. "Liar."

A faint snort of amusement had me glaring up at him, eyes narrowed. He looked at me, the traces of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Walk. We'll be fine."

"I think you're enjoying this," I muttered, but shouldered his arm a little more firmly and kept shuffling my feet.

Around us, the silence trailed like an invisible banner.

............................................................

Ancuicui: ANN-coo-EE-coo-ee.