The Desert Spear

the ground, Renna straddled him and lifted her skirts.
    “I…I’ve never…” Cobie stuttered, but she put a finger to his lips to silence him and sank herself onto him.
    Cobie threw his head back in pleasure, and Renna smiled. This wasn’t like it was with Harl, rough and unfeeling. This was how it should be. She covered Cobie’s face in kisses as she rose and fell, finding her own pleasure as his hands roamed her body.
    “I love you,” he whispered, and spent himself inside her. She cried and kissed him. They held each other in that warm glowing embrace for a time, and then stood, readjusting their clothes. Renna cast a wary eye around the corner of the barn, but there was no sign of her father.
    “My father goes out into the fields early,” Renna said. “Right after breakfast. If you come then, he’ll be gone till lunchtime.”
    “We ’ll be at the Holy House before he even realizes you’re gone,” Cobie said, squeezing her tightly. “Pack your things tonight and have them ready. I’ll come as early as I can.”
    “There’s nothing to pack,” Renna said. “I’ve no dowry but myself, but I promise I can be a good wife. I can cook and ward and keep your home…”
    Cobie laughed, kissing her. “I want no dowry. Only you.”

    Renna hid the necklace in her apron pocket, and was obedient the rest of the day and night, giving her father no reason to doubt her. It was true that she had nothing to pack, but she went to each of her friends, the animals, to whisper her goodbyes. She cried over Miss Scratch, lamenting the kittens she would never see.
    “You’ll be Mrs. Scratch when the kits come,” Renna said, “even if that good-for-nothing tabby don’t help you care for ’em.”
    She scanned the animals in the room, spotting the likely sire. “You take care of your kits,” she admonished, keeping her voice low so her father wouldn’t hear, “or I’ll come back and throw you in the water trough.”
    She lay awake all night as Harl snored beside her, and before the first crack of light came through the shutters, she had porridge on the fire and was out collecting eggs from the coop in the barn. She went about the rest of her chores that morning aware that she was performing each for the last time, and as she worked, she kept casting eyes up the road.
    She didn’t have to wait long. There was a galloping in the distance, but it faded before it came too close. Soon after, Cobie came around the bend in the road, sweaty and breathless.
    “Galloped all the way,” he said, kissing her. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”
    Pinecone needed a rest, so Cobie tethered her behind the barn while Renna drew water from the well. The mare drank greedily and began grazing while they fell into each other’s arms. Before long, she was bent over against the barn with her skirts around her waist.
    And it was there Harl found them.
    “I knew it!” he cried, swinging his pitchfork hard at Cobie ’s head. The shaft caught him on the temple and sent him reeling.
    “Cobie!” Renna shouted, running to him and cradling him in her arms as he tried to rise.
    “I knew sumpthin’ was up when I saw you weepin’ over them cats, girl,” Harl said. “You think yer da’s an idiot?”
    “I don’t care!” Renna shouted. “Cobie and I are in love, and I’m leaving with him!”
    “The Core you are,” Harl said, grabbing her arm. “You’ll get your ass in the house this instant, you want to keep the skin on it.”
    But Cobie’s meaty hand locked over Harl’s wrist, twisting and pulling it off Renna.
    “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but I ent gonna let you do that.”
    Harl turned to face him and snorted. “Well, boy, don’t say you didn’t ask for this,” he said, and kicked Cobie hard in the crotch.
    His pants still around his ankles, Cobie had no protection whatsoever from Harl’s heavy boot, and he crumpled in a heap, clutching between his legs. Harl shoved Renna to the ground and raised his pitchfork, striking merciless blows as Cobie lay helpless.
    “Typical bully boy,” Harl spat. “Bet you never been in a real fight in your life.” Cobie let go his crotch and tried to get out of the way, but his pants were still a tangle, tripping him up, and he screamed as each blow struck home.
    Finally, as he lay gasping and bloody on the ground, Harl stuck the fork in the dirt and pulled his long knife from the sheath on his belt.
    “Told you what I’d do if I caught you with my daughter again,”