Taking the Knife

outside the shelter. The rope connecting Medo to the flame runna coiled beneath the shelter, long enough to allow her to range the camp.

    Sefe pointed to the rock several steps away. "Sit there."
    She struggled to her feet, clumsy in her trusses. Once she complied, he eased to his hands and knees and stuck his head inside the low shelter. The enclosed space reeked of unwashed body and stale sex. In the dim corners, Sefe saw only Medo's discarded leather clothes and a few fish bones from a long ago meal. Not even a knife or stone large enough for a weapon. His brother traveled the Tox alone and without a weapon? Impossible . Peeling open Medo’s eye, Sefe found the pupil dilated. Filth caked the hunter’s beaded beard and hair, but other than the broken nose, he didn't seem injured.
    Backing out of the shelter on all fours, Sefe panted from the agony in his back. Thankfully, the flame runna remained sitting where he'd told her.
    "I'm called Ana ."
    He didn't answer, instead closing his eyes as he found the tenacity to get to his feet again. His brother's presence made Sefe long to lie down next to him as they had as children, to find peace and rest.%L14igh
    "Spirit healing could help your pain."
    He glared at the girl. "The Knife will end my pain. And yours."
    She didn't respond.
    Summoning all his reserves, he got one foot up under him. He planted the butt of his spear firmly against the hard, red earth and used the shaft to pull himself upright. Just a little more . He could do it. He could feel her scrutiny like the morning sun on his skin.
    Once he was standing, spine bent as if the weight of death already pulled him down, he focused his pain-blurred gaze toward the flame runna . She would feed the tribe for several days. But what to do with his brother? Medo had left the tribe and joined the hunters, but Sefe could ask the tribe to accept him back. They would gladly admit a skilled fighter into the fold.
    If he ever wakes up.
    Sefe shook the doubt from his head. He was a healer. He’d find a way to wake his brother. But first he had to catch the tribe. He couldn't carry Medo . And this slip of a girl would be no help. "Get up."
    She rose from her seat on the stone with lithe compliance.
    "Go over there." He pointed to the fire pit.
    As she moved to where he indicated, he took her seat, looking out over the muddy river. Someone from the tribe would come looking for him eventually. They would want to recover what they could for the Flesh Feast. Then he’d have help carrying Medo .
    One foot on the black earth of the fire pit, the girl cocked her head to look him up and down. "You're not very old. And you're marked a healer. Why would you take the Knife?"
    "When will he wake up?"
    Her nostrils flared with hatred. "I keep him asleep."
    She had such confidence in her power. His chest tightened, urging him away from her magic. But he held his ground. "Why don't you make him free you, then?"
    "When he's dead, I'll be free."
    Sefe raised one eyebrow. "Tied to a dead man."
    The angry lines on her face ceased twitching. "I can keep you from the Knife." She advanced on him, the rope snaking around her feet as it followed her.
    He rose from his seat, and fire raced down his hips and legs. His breath faltered as he fought the pain. She was so bold, he didn't think to get his spear between them until she was too close. Stars threatened the edges of his vision as the agony overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to suck in air, he caught the scent of tamarisk flowers coming from her naked skin. The dark circles of her irises reminded him of the Black Pool, where he and Medo had escaped the flame runnas so many years ago.
    "Kiss me." Her arms were still tied behind her. She lifted her chin and thrust out her tiny breasts, as if she were a woman fully endowed.
    "What?" He swayed, rock pressed against the back of his knees, and nearly toppled as his back cramped.
    "My magic requires a kiss."
    "I… don't need… your… magic." The words emerged between panting gasps.
    Rising on her toes, she leaned forward, entering his air, filling his vision. She smelled divine. He brought his hands up between them, but he had no strength.
    Her scabbed lips pressed roughly against his mouth. How long had it been since a woman had kissed him? He experienced little desire these days with the pain consuming him. Her tongue darted out, snaked between his lips, ran over his gums. A strange tingle laced through his mouth and crept like a pleasant