Taking the Knife

yet."
    Armin sneered as he assessed the girl. "Maybe the flame runna can keep up better than you. You want her to carry you?”
    Sefe knocked Armin's spear aside. The clash of the fire-hardened shafts echoed through the clearing. The status feathers on Armin’s spear trembled, and Sefe wanted nothing more than to show Armin who was stronger. The rest of the tribe would be glad to have someone finally stand up for them. With his spear's tip, he severed the rope and tugged the girl to her feet. "I can walk. Let's go."
    Armin growled. "The tribe will call a Hunger when they see her. No way to stop it."
    Sefe's boldness fluttered into indecision. Armin had a point. The tribe was close to calling a Hunger anyway. All they needed was an excuse. Even if he took her as a slave, it was only a matter of time before they would put her to the Knife. And if they killed her, the tribe could be doomed, cursed by the spirits she controlled. He looked at his brother, asleep and helpless on the Tox . Who knew what else her power might do?
    He swallowed and stared at his trophy. Her skin blazed greener than the autumn-hued amarantox leaves. He blinked as an idea settled on him. A way to save the woman.
    "Flame runna flesh is poisonous like amarantox . You can't eat her."
    Armin's face fell. His lip twitched. “How do you know?”
    “A healer understands poison.”
    The leader raised his feathered spear, this time its point directed at Sefe . "Then she's worthless. And so are you. The tribe's complaining they're hungry. I can tell them the flame runnas finally got you."
    Caught off guard, Sefe couldn’t suck in a breath. He fumbled with his spear. Armin was going to kill him?
    The leader’s chest muscles flexed as he jabbed a probing strike Sefe’s direction. Sefe pivoted, avoiding the point, knowing the next time he might not be so lucky. His own spear, used as nothing but a cane for so long, listed out of balance in his grip. In spite of the flame runna magic, he was no match for the seasoned warrior.
    Rotating to keep a circling Armin in sight, Sefe dropped the rope. He corrected his grasp on the spear’s shaft just in time to deflect another thrust. The flame runna had backed herself against the shelter, her brows furrowed as she watched the fight.
    The tribe leader darted the opposite direction in an attempt to flank him. Feet blessedly agile, Sefe whirled to face him. Still, Armin's spear tip grazed his shoulder before he could twist out of the way.
    He tried to reason with the leader. "You'd kill one of the Knowing? If the tribe finds out, they'll take you, too."
    Armin feinted and jabbed, missing Sefe's gut by a breath. "They're hungry en ithiighough not to ask too much." Probably true.
    Sefe tried another angle. "They’ll think it strange that flame runnas used a spear instead of fire."
    Armin hesitated, then thrust again. "I'll cook you up before I carry you back. You’ve got a duty."
    They circled. Out of the corner of his eye, Sefe saw the girl crouching by the shelter. "Run," he commanded. He would not give Armin the satisfaction of killing them both.
    Her voice cut through the fight. "There's a hunter in here."
    Armin jumped at the sound, nearly tripping as he backed into the amarantox . His spear tip swung toward the flame runna , and Sefe thought for a moment the man would throw it. Instead, he hesitated, shifting his attention between Sefe and the girl.
    Sefe stood stiff. He'd forgotten his brother completely. Outside the Hunger, Medo might beg family ties and return to the tribe – if Sefe vouched for him. He intended to vouch for him.
    "He knows." The flame runna's words shot through him.
    Her secret. Medo knew about her spirit healing. What would his brother do when he woke? If he men a dead man."
    Sefe to take such danger back to the tribe with them.
    The leader edged to the shelter. The girl skittered away, putting Sefe between herself and the tribe leader.
    As he pivoted to keep the other man in view, Sefe's stomach churned. The hand gripping his spear felt cold, and out of old habit, he planted the butt against the ground and leaned on it.
    With a scornful glance at Sefe , the tribe leader lowered his weapon and grabbed the hunter by the arms to drag him from the shelter. Straightening, he observed Medo a few heartbeats. "Your brother? What's wrong with him?"
    Sefe needed to claim his brother to protect him from Armin’s spear, but his lips refused to speak. The tribe would agree to take Medo back. But