Flies settled around the soldier's head, nesting in the crooked curls of his straw colored hair. His netted helmet was halfway buried in the ground, next to a pile of tangled weed and grass. I could make out my reflection in his muddy boots, which had most likely been polished or shone that very morning.

When I stared at the dilapidated storehouse, I knew that George had left his mark there. It was empty; the footsteps of his men littering the ground. The Red Mamba camp around me was nothing but an ice bath; the corpses of weak men motionless around me. Except for this one. He had seen me coming to him and blew out his brains with a small pistol, bits of it scattered across the ground. He was not a fool like the rest.

I dipped my index finger into the blood seeping out of his shrunken ears and nose. When I placed it in my mouth, I could taste nothing at all this time. Not even iron or metal. His lifeless eyes met mine, full of everything and nothing at once.

* * * * * *

During many evenings, the sensation of my beloved’s flesh against mine was too much to resist. I craved her. She made a muffled sound as I gently entered her, and I quietly exhaled, clearing a few strands of hair out of her face.

Her small breasts were firm against my chest, and her scent comforted me. Her naked body was heavenly against mine, and I yearned for her touch, the way that her hips were soon rolling up and crashing against mine. She was figuring me out far too quickly—her fingers glided across my sweaty, sticky skin, soft lips guiding me to paradise. I was breathless, on the verge of losing my mind, biting back the noises that were coming from my mouth.

My right palm then rested on her buttocks; I led her into a deep kiss, fighting back a groan building up in my throat. Her hips rose, her breasts were beginning to lift, like a flower blooming in the spring time. Those large gray eyes of hers were bright, and I found myself unable to look away from her freckled face. Then she laughed, clearing a strand of hair hanging over my forehead with her index finger.

I slowly planted kisses on her face, her bare feet tangled around mine, my hips rising and falling—I tried to slow myself down. But we swayed back and forth like palm trees caught into the wind, and I hardly knew what to do with myself. Her face was pink, caught in a relaxed smile, and I held her in my arms, listening to her grunts and sighs as she gripped my left shoulder for support. Hungry for more, she heavily gasped and secured her wet thighs around my waist. I readjusted my hips, kissing her breasts and protruding nipples.

With each thrust I delivered I applied more force; while going slower, I rotated my hips, providing deep, heavy strokes. Sensing her reaction, I gradually went from shallow to deeper. Her sticky thighs were glued around my swaying waist. Fighting the unbearable sensations growing in my own body, with a stifled gasp, I suddenly scooped her up from behind in my arms, my lips on her freckled shoulder, maintaining a steady pace.

Her hand pressed against my upper thigh. She bent her legs as I gently began to fully guide myself upwards into her, my palms pressing against her breasts. The dark hair between my legs brushed against her buttocks. I was losing control. I could feel a dark red shade gathering on my face, and, greatly overwhelmed by the sensations taking over, a deep moan fell from my lips.

She leaned against me.

While guiding myself into her, I drew her up higher up on my lap. My breaths were short, uneven, and as she cried out, I slowed my thrusts down, moving my hips in a way so I could fully ease myself into her. She nearly shouted again, and I let my fingers settle on her upper thighs. Her hand grabbed a fistful of the blanket. She groaned as a sharp wave of pleasure coursed through me. I kept myself going slow, and I felt her body stiffen up, tremble, a sudden wetness gathering between our legs. I slipped into her as far as I could, laying my full length, while gently leading her into a soft kiss.

She gasped.

The sensation coursing through my body made a moan erupt from me. By now, I was drenched in sweat, and everything was so slippery. I wrapped my arms around her bare waist, breathing heavily. Another loud sound escaped from me, and I had to press my palm against the bed for support. My parted mouth was pressed against her cheek, close to the tip of her ear—guiding her into my rhythm. Her hips danced with my own, slow and steady.

She firmly hooked her thighs around my legs, and as her hand suddenly wrapped around mine, her sweet noises filled my ears. Her face was caught up into pure bliss, her breaths slow and simple. I held her, driving my waist upwards, listening to her body. And I kept thinking to myself, I want to make you feel this way all the time.

Her fingers dug into my skin. The rumpled blankets were strewn around us, around my thrusting hips. Her messy hair was tangled around her shoulders, her brown skin warm against the cool night air. I studied the irregular shape of her top lip. Her palm caressed my left cheek, and when I gazed at her, I could see stars in her eyes.

* * * * * *

I raised a sharp stone and bashed it deep into a wandering soldier’s skull. Blood spurted onto the dead leaves beneath him. It only took two blows to finish him off, and as I dragged his body into a ditch, I found that he had cigarettes in his pocket. I smoked three of them and hid the rest under a rock.

* * * * * *

“You’ve got something in your hair.”

My beloved’s words made me look up. The heat was so unbearable that we were both bathing in the stream, even as the morning sun had begun to rise. The freezing water was numb against my skin, and she laughed at my dazed expression as she stepped forward, crystal drops falling from her chin and her breasts. Her laugh was as sharp as a bell. Water sloshed around as she waded into the deepest part of the stream to where I was. The stump on where her left arm once was remained still, although the rest of her limbs moved gently across the surface of the water, creating endless circles.

I could not tear my gaze away. The moment her fingers lightly touched my scalp, she curiously held out tiny speck in her palm.

”You see?”

My arms settled around her waist.

“The mites, Sandwich King,” she signaled. “They’ve come back.” She made an irritated noise with her mouth, then planted a quick kiss on my face. “Why do you not use the herbal paste I make for you? Turn your head and let me get a better look.”

I studied her.

“What’s the matter?”

”You’re beautiful.”

”Let me at least get the comb,” she signed, fighting back another laugh.

“What?” I whispered in her wet hair.

“The comb, silly,” she signed. “I need to get it before you scratch your head off clean.”

Her wandering fingers gently stroked my soaking wet hair, my scalp; the metal band on her index finger glowing in the sun.

I could feel the smile creeping on my face. “Lean back.”

A confused expression fell on her face.

“Here.” Slowly, I lowered her onto her back to the still water. It crept up to her nose, causing her to sputter and burst out into a fit of laughter, but when I helped her again, she stretched her arm and legs out, her breasts and stomach visible under the dark blue surface. I released her. Her hair floated around her head, and a broad smile fell upon her face as she gazed up at me.

”It feels like you’re flying, doesn’t it?” I murmured. “All you’ve got to do is relax—let the water carry you.”

When she sat up, I scooped her into my arms, the cold liquid sloshing over our bodies. She smiled, snuggling in my embrace. Her wet skin was soft, so very soft against mine, and she smelled like the calendula fields. I slowly exhaled, the sensation of her breasts pressing against my chest.

”I don’t want to see you scratching like that all day,” she managed to sign as I began to kiss her shoulder. “I left the herbal paste under the oak tree. It’ll only be for a moment.”

”Please, stay here,” I breathlessly whispered. “Please.”

A soft giggle escaped from her. “I’ll just be on the other side of the bank. I’ll come back in.”

“Ah, but you don’t have to get out of the water.” I felt the cool water on my neck and back. “It’s too hot anyways. What’s the point of stepping out and becoming more sweaty all over again? Stay here with me. We can live here forever. Just you and I.”

My beloved’s face was pink with laughter, and she playfully splashed me as I grinned. “We will be wrinkled as raisins if we don’t get out. The last thing we need is for you to get an infection. This wouldn’t had happened in the first place if you’d used the paste I’ve made for you. It can’t be that bad. Why do you insist on tormenting yourself?”

“Amore, how could I ever be tormented in your presence?”

My fingertips pressed into her skin. Gently, I cleared a few strands of hair out of her face, whispering her name in her ear, feeling a smile form on my lips—only wanting to give her every part of myself.

“I have never met anyone who enjoys suffering from lice as much as you.”

“We can spend all day taking them out one by one,” I barely managed to say, softly kissing her mouth. “I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

She lightly ran a hand through my hair. “That’s disgusting.”

* * * * * *

Throughout the next month I dragged the mens’ corpses across the mud. My wet hair clung to my face as I sank my hands into their slimy organs, their still warm blood coating my fingers and arms. I softly began to sing to myself in the shadows, continuing to apply the substance over my chest and back, my ragged pants and shirt, my legs. I smeared it all over my hair. My feet. When I reached my face, I added several long three marks under my eyes, on my cheekbones.

Flies had collected around the soldier’s carcass, and maggots were growing and spreading across its bones, devouring every ounce of flesh. I dragged the knife around its tough skin, hunks of flesh filling the air, discarding the remains into a ditch, where the vultures would finish it off. I heard a soft sound not too far from me. When I turned my head, there was a rustling of branches, panicked footsteps. I tried to follow them, but whoever had been there a moment before was gone. A ringing noise settled in my ears; I closed my eyes and waited until it stopped.

I stumbled towards the river to clean the soldier’s remains off me. When I splashed cool water over my face and nose with shaking hands, I released a weak breath and rose to my feet, beads of water clinging to my hair. Shivers ran down my spine.

As I pushed my way through the bushes; I could see a figure crouched below a small cliff, settled in between the rocks. At the sight of me, they pressed themself deeper against the wilted tree roots and bamboo sticks. I blinked again. They were gone.

A cold wind had settled in the damp air as I began to concentrate, receiving a strong distribution of force. The trees bent in front of me and violently swayed as liquid tendrils spread from my arms. Their roots were taken up. The figure rushed through the woods, breaths shaky, fighting against the hanging vines. I swung from tree to tree, making my way through and running across branches, the trail of ice forming beneath my bare feet.

I landed and crouched down on my legs in a field, with my knees bent, the entire plot of land becoming white, covered in ice. Once when I slipped into the cave, Honda’s form was curled up in the corner, fast asleep. Her closed eyelids trembled a bit as I gently placed the back of my cold palm against her sweaty cheek and kissed her forehead. I studied her for a while. Her whole body was hot under her grass stained nightgown, like she had been running frantically. A few leaves were stuck in her hair; and fresh soil clung to her fingernails.

As I slowly laid down next to her, and rested my chin on her shoulder, the blankets slightly shifted above our legs. I hugged her from behind, but she seemed to shudder under my arms, like she was trapped in a bad dream of some sorts.

* * * * * * *

My hands were damp, raw from constant scrubbing. I rubbed and scraped at myself in the swamp, sinking underwater for a moment, my eyes closed. My skin burned and was pink from trying to get everything off me, and I smelled. I knew I did. Each person wearing the Red Mamba symbol became nothing but a cluster of the increasing pile of dried, brittle bones that became picked on by scavengers. I hid these under a mound of rotting leaves, soon to become one with the earth once more.

As I descended down a grassy hill, I paused, my hair blowing in the wind. Honda sat at the edge of the stream, drawing on a sketchbook; pencil lead smeared across her palm. I was not sure how long she had been awake—the morning sickness that seized her seemed to have departed, at least, for today. Yet there was a stiffness to her posture, an unease. Her long curls fell down her shoulders, free from its usual braid; legs sloshing against the surface of the flowing water. My bare feet were silent against the grass as I approached her from behind.

When she noticed my shadow she suddenly looked up, and a red haze on her nose appeared.

"That's beautiful," I whispered, gesturing at her drawing. As she gazed at me, I faintly smiled at her again. "May I?"

As she nodded and I took it from her, I noticed her palm was shaking. The ring on her index finger had left a indentation on her skin. It was obvious that her skills had tremendously improved. I ran my hand across the surface of the page, observing the detail. I was dying to ask her more questions about her job up north but didn't do so. I was curious to know what people she was around---if anyone recognized her. I wondered why she was so jumpy and on edge lately. My throat suddenly grew tight.

"It is not finished yet," Honda signed, although she kept looking down. "I need to add a few more touches. It...it would be a shame if I didn't."

I settled next to her in the grass. A long silence passed between us, and I desperately wanted her to tell me what was on her mind. She shifted uncomfortably and reached for my arm. Before I could muster enough courage to ask, her hand slowly placed my own on her abdomen.

When she made a cradling motion with her arm, I froze. Thousands of thoughts rushed into my mind and crashed against each other like rocks. I knew absolutely nothing about fatherhood—I never got to meet my own, but a wave of excitement washed over me. Immediately, I reached over and held onto her hand. She briefly gave me an anxious glance, as if anticipating something, but appeared surprised at the huge smile that slowly spread across my face.

“You are not…upset?” she quickly signed. “I…I know it is a lot to take in all at once. You work to provide food, and most days I see how we barely scrape by. But do not worry. I have a bit of money saved, so I was thinking I could purchase some material to make some clothes by the time the baby comes here.”

I continued to rest my palm on her stomach, staring at it for a long time.

"I found out two weeks back," she continued. "Was unwell, throwing up a lot. I missed my cycles. Lots of smells make me nauseous lately. I went to Svetty, told her my symptoms, but I wanted to convince her it was a stomach bug. She told me to go to a pharmacy. I was up north in the city and brought a test, you see. I took several more to make sure. Eight to ten." When she finally made eye contact with me, she had begun to tear up. "I am sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"No, no, no, why apologize? Are you..." My voice was raspy. I cursed myself for not even realizing how terribly exhausted she had appeared lately. Her nausea, her sudden reluctance to eat anything. How could I have been so foolish to not put things together? To fail to recognize such a possibility?

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Another deep nod. "Yes.”

It took me a minute to process her words.

A torn look fell upon her face as she read my expression. "I am so, so sorry. I don’t intend to hide anything from you; I never meant to. But I knew you had so much on your mind, and I was afraid that you would become—”

"No, no, no. Shhh," I murmured, wiping the tears that were starting to spill down her nose and cheeks with my hand. A muffled sob came from her. The moment I pulled her into my arms, she buried her face in my shoulder. "I know I haven't been here as much as I should have. I'm sorry. You’ve given me the best thing I’ve…” My voice trailed off. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

"So have I,” she signed, wiping her face with the sleeve of her dress. "But what if I am a bad mama? I lost mine when I was real young. I think of her a lot sometimes. I try to remember what she looked like. But I can't. Her face is a blank slate."

Me too. But I didn't want to face the memories right now, or the fact that I hadn't really slept in days because I kept imagining her reaction if she fully comprehended what I was doing. She was already disturbed. If she feared me as much as the others; it would cut deep; even far more than Ki's or Covey's reactions when they saw me for the first time. It would be an absolute nightmare if a villager would find her out here and she, along with my unborn child, would be taken away from me. I couldn't tell her about myself, which she knew little of, or the kind of people I used to be associated with. I couldn't tell her a lot of things. I hated holding them back from her; I only could beg her to trust me, so that she would not become so horribly frightened. The thought of enduring another year of loneliness, with no one to talk to except for the shadows was too much. I couldn’t go back to being so unbearably alone again.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I just couldn’t.

"It's okay," I replied, trying to not look at the blood outlining my dark fingernails. I said these words more to myself in order to snap out of these thoughts in my head. Attempting to be reasonable cleared the clouds momentarily. "It will be okay, I promise." Please, don't be scared.

"I only want to be a good mama," she signed, blinking repeatedly. “I want to be a help to you. You work far too hard.”

"What, as if you don’t do enough around here? You’ll be a wonderful mother,” I whispered. “The best one in the world. And you’ll never have to worry. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Honda gazed at me, her eyes a bit red. I knew that wasn't the only thing she was concerned about. She was absolutely terrified.

"I'll take care of you," I whispered, leaning my forehead against her own. "All this stressin' isn't good for...the both of you." A faint smile crept on my face. "I imagine this little one will take up their mother's stunning looks as well. With many freckles, I hope.”

She slowly smiled. While I was not ready to tell her that it was a strong possibility that my child might inherit the curse I carried in my blood, I knew I had to be prepared. And when I slowly placed a hand on her flat stomach again, I knew how foolish it was to do so, since it was far too early to sense any movement. I wanted to pick up a kick, the imprint of a tiny foot against my palm. I wanted to feel all these things.

A robin landed on a nearby branch, chirping, its song mixing in with the trickling sound of the water. When it flew away, I lightly kissed her ear, making her look up at me with surprise. Then she slightly blushed.

"You can tell me anything, you know,” I softly said, breaking the silence. "You needn't be afraid." The familiar ache in my chest returned.

My beloved stared at her sketchbook lying in the tall grass. When I handed it to her, she hesitated, before taking it. She studied my raw, peeling, freshly washed palms, the callouses on my fingers.

* * * * * * * *

When I made my way through the fields behind the village, after a great deal of searching; I noticed a long, frayed rope hanging from a tree branch, tied in a fresh knot. The thick noose glowed in the dim light, slightly blowing in the wind. Several more times the following weeks; I saw Fritz standing underneath it, sometimes adjusting the rope. He came out to this spot alone before dawn or after dusk, sharpening a knife as he watched Honda draw water from a stream with broken plastic containers and gather mushrooms from the dark soil for an evening meal. He silently stared at the trees ahead at her, rage in his eyes at the sight of her large stomach. And I watched him.

I made sure to stay in the woods each night in the clearing as Honda slept, when he often came out of the village; his face and nose tied up under a cloth. The blade in his hand shone in the dim light—-he was planning to cut the baby out of her. I didn’t dare leave, nor even after he finally retreated and stumbled back. When he tried to venture forward, I blew out the torch he held with a slight gust of icy wind. He didn’t make it past the reeds, because in the dark he couldn’t see it was only he and I.

* * * * * * * *

In that same darkness, Honda’s warm body clung to mine, curled up into a fetal position. She was in my arms, her breaths steady, her soft fingers in my hair. Her long nightgown was soft against my skin and clothing. The blankets were rumpled and spilled out on the ground. Her kisses on my face were slow, gentle. Her thighs and hips were strong; they bore her growing abdomen, which I rested my palms upon.

* * * * * * * *

The snow storm followed me everywhere I went, freezing everything in my path. But there was nothing but the empty natural world and man's failed attempts towards civilization. And finally, something in me snapped, the deep, fierce fire that I had tried to long to suppress came back and dragged me down by force. It made me more afraid of myself than the others. I fixed my eyes on the village, waiting for the darkness to come to me.

In the dense evening fog, I studied the man, who was perched out on a tree, watching him wander across the dirt. He had made it past the swamp. He knelt by a spring of water in the warm night, placing a small canteen on the dirt. And he looked a lot different from when I saw him last. Less muscular, more frail. Less stronger, shorter. Yet the look in his wretched eyes made a knot form at the pit of my stomach.

My mouth went dry.

He was on his knees. He began to greedily sip it down, obviously parched from working in one of the wheat fields. I glared at him from behind the bushes, a drop of blood slowly trailing down my nose and mouth as I lifted my fingers, concentrating. The clear liquid morphed and reached out, wrapping around his flailing arms and pulling him down across the muddy bank, leaving behind several marks across its surface.

He tried to shout, but frost settled over his lips, his eyes wide with panic as he squirmed and kicked. As he slipped under the surface of the water, bubbles rose in the surface. My hands slightly shook as he struggled to break free from the force that came from me. The taste of iron in my mouth was sweeter than before, and the water kept sloshing, splashing, foaming white. He tried to scream, but could hardly get out a whimper, coughing and sputtering.

I raised my left hand, jumping down from the tree and crouching on the slippery grass. The sound of ice forming on the wood made his eyes focused on me.

Fritz began to float above the water, coughing and spitting, finally being able to breathe. His eyes were wide, bulging. A strangled cry came from him as his limbs fell under my control, like wretched puppet strings. The sound of his bones snapping gave me immediate satisfaction, and when he landed on the soft mud with a thud, he attempted to scoot away on his side.

Around us, it began to snow.

He tried to move away from my shadow, with his broken arms. Despite his struggles, years of laboring in the fields made him no match for me. I dragged him backwards, and with one swift motion, slammed him hard on the ground again with another thud. As he struggled to sit up, I dug my knee into his back and yanked him up by the hair to face me. His eyes were wide, bulging. In a desperate attempt, he struck me hard in the mouth, causing one of my teeth to dislodge and blood to seep down my tongue.

We both stared at each other for a while. He began to weep uncontrollably.

"Please," he wailed. “Please. Please.”

I wondered, what was he asking for? My bare feet left patches of ice with each step I took, making an imprint on the water. Grunting and attempting to wrestle free, he squirmed on the ground like a snake. My fingers wrapped around a broken, rotting log with small white mushrooms growing on its surface. Tears streamed down his face, trickled down his nose and mouth. I barely looked him in the eyes, nor listened to his pleas. Raising the log, I brought it down his head with one swift, heavy motion, hearing the satisfying, crunching sound of broken bone, and his neck snapping in two. I think I screamed, but I couldn’t remember. Couldn’t hear much. Just swung over and over again.

And again.

Ribbons of his paper skin piled up into my hands. Bits of flesh and fat and muscle became congealed together like gelatin.

His weak cries for mercy did not reach my ears. Neither did his pleas. Splinters of bone dug into my sweaty palms; my shoulder burned. I could not hear him, although his mouth was wide open. I began hitting him harder than anything I'd ever hit in my life, gritting my teeth. Even when the noises went away, and he finally became silent, I kept heavily swinging for ages, blood soaking my shirt and skin and hair, bits of flesh and brain matter clinging to my skin. Red sprayed on the tree trunks; the earth. His face was unrecognizable, only a mound of flesh. I only stopped when my arm was about to give out on me. The block of soaked, mangled wood slowly slipped out of my hand and fell on the mud.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping and wheezing. A wave of nausea came over me. My heart was thudding so hard I expected it to pop out of my chest any moment. As I placed my hands against the soft dirt, beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, burning my eyes, unable to face his limp form in front of me.

Finally, the surface of the now pink water became still, birds still chirping in the distance. I snapped out of my trance, my breaths shaky, peering from behind my disheveled hair. His dark eyes lifelessly stared at the sky. The canteen he had brought with him had rolled down and splashed into the water, traveling down into the current as well as his limp arms and legs. Using the knife, I sawed at his neck until his smashed head came apart. As I stumbled off, tripping and sloshing uncontrollably in the water, I did not look back. A heavy dizziness had descended upon me.

When I reached the woods, I sat at the entrance of the dark cave, gasping heavily. My eyes were wet, stinging and burning. Here Boy looked at me, tail wagging, but did not make a noise. With the blade in my hand, I shoved it deep into Fritz's battered, fragmented skull, making a large crack across its surface. I began to softly sing to myself, I was not sure what, but my voice weak in the wind, barely getting out the words. Once my breathing had slowed down some I kissed my beloved on the cheek, who was fast asleep under a blanket in our cave, gently clearing a few strands of hair behind her ear with my blood soaked hand.

Her hands were smudged with paint.

It only took me a few moment to bury Fritz’s head in the ground. I tried to not look at his eyes. My breaths shook my body as I stumbled out back stripped and scrubbed at my skin in the river until it bled. I then burned my blood soaked clothing in a small fire, shivering, standing naked in front of the flames and watched the smoke rise in the air until it was nothing but ash and cinders.

My fingers shook so badly that I could barely push the buttons through the holes on a clean, faded shirt after I slowly slipped my arms into its sleeves. Water beaded in my eyes, and I remained huddled in the shadows for a long time under the trees, hugging my knees and slowly rocking back and forth, burying my head in my arms.

When dawn arrived, I silently picked up the notes I had written for George and headed through the bushes to deliver them to him. He had done what I had told him to do with my previous ones. A great deal of men had become more skilled with their weapons over time; it was common to see more Khonie who possessed firearms.

* * * * * *

For the rest of that week the villagers covered their skin with ashes, holding a large ceremony in which flowers and the body was cremated. Everyone's face was downcast, and not a single word was spoken; only the sound of the fire crackling filled the air as the orange glow fell upon the people. But what had been rage before slowly fell into tremendous, horrible guilt. Guilt towards how George wept for days, his face and eyes a deep red color. And slowly, their crops began to fail and dry up.

I hardly recognized, or understood what I was becoming. The villagers were crowded around that same spring, talking to themselves, until Jene, still clad in black clothing, yelled at them to shut their mouths and get back to work, or else they were all going to starve and have nothing to eat that week.

* * * * * * *

I sat in the darkness.

My bad leg was beyond functional. I didn’t look at the village lights this time during the night. My hands rested on the wrinkled, stained papers I tightly held onto. When I heard footsteps in the grass I slightly turned my head to the side, trying to see properly out of my busted eye. Honda stood near an oak tree; her bare feet smeared with mud. She had a thick folder tucked underneath her only arm. The bump was visible on her lower abdomen, poking through the faded, tired dress she wore, which was covered in multiple patches she had sewn to keep it together. Smudges of dirt were visible on her face; most likely she had been working in the garden and harvesting more food for the people who wanted to kill us. As I studied her swollen stomach, my heart pounded faster. And I struggled to remember how many months she was along now—four or five?

A chill ran down my spine.

In midst of this dying, rotting world, this young’un would have diapers, warm blankets, and a roof over their head. They would never be trapped in a lab with tubes attached to their arms and surrounded by faceless men in long white coats. They would be able to go to school, chew gum, climb trees and learn how to ride a bike and lose their first tooth. They would eat ice cream and learn how to play an instrument. They would roller skate, play soccer and go explore in the woods and swim and solve puzzles and pop bubble wrap. They would do all of these things.

I would make sure of it.

She squinted to see in the pitch black, scuffling along in the grass, hand resting on her stomach. Her ankles had already begun to swell. A shy grin broke across her face when she sensed my presence. Her nerves around me hopefully had begun to wore off. She stumbled a bit forward again.

”Adlai!” she signed.

I softly smiled at the sight of the pink hibiscus she had stuck in her wild, tangled curls, which seemed to defy gravity. She had been in the flower fields, most likely. It looked like a cloud was on her head. She kept looking around her, hugging herself a bit tighter. The empty sleeve on her dress where her missing arm was had been folded back down to her stump.

”Where’d you go? It’s been hours.”

I said nothing.

”You’ve been gone for a long time. Do you know where Svetty might be? She hasn’t been near the village. They are in mourning; someone passed away. An animal attack, they said. I tried to look for her but couldn’t find her anywhere. I wonder if she went up north.” Honda wiped her forehead. “I hope that she’s alright.”

I didn’t say anything.

"Are you cold?" she signed. "There's no fire. Why didn’t you tell me so? I could’ve brought you something warm.” She gave her back a good stretch. “I recently milked Eli. Would you like some to drink? I can’t believe I almost forgot; he had been fidgety all day.”

Strands of my hair fell over my vision. “Did you happen to see a villager come up here?”

A very confused look fell on her face. “No. Not at all. How come?”

”No reason,” I gently said; a wave of relief washing over me. At least Fritz’s undeniable fear of the woods made him unable to carry out his plan when I least expected it.

”Where are you?”

”I’m here, amore,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

She nervously produced the folder, abruptly turning at the sound of my voice. "I...I know you get a bit worried about me going up north. But I was real careful this time. I have more information. Enough to help you.” With her hand, she slowly pulled out a thick wad of bills from her bosom and held them out to me. “I…I got paid. That is what the civilians call it. Here.”

”Oh, I couldn’t take your money.” The sight of the currency was a shock to me. I hadn’t seen rupees in a long time, not since I left Selva. “That’s all yours. You earned it.”

”But I don’t know what to do with it. I figured you would.”

“Hold onto it,” I replied. “You never know when you might need it.”

She quickly nodded and put them neatly in the folder. “I can get more information for you.” Her eyes lit up. “That general, he didn’t notice a thing. Once he stepped out of his office, I slipped this under my dress. I…I think it may help you and George.”

I kept my head low, the stench of Fritz’s blood heavy on me, even though I had bathed four times in the stream. I could still feel its texture. After a brief pause, Honda placed the papers on the tree stump and took another step forward. "Are you hungry? Let me make something real quick."

"No, amore," I softly said. "It's best you aren't up on your feet too much anyways through the day. “

"But you haven’t eaten. Where are you?" she signed. "I can't see you."

I scared you.

She hesitated, the moonlight shone on her wild curls. "You sure you don't want supper? Or at least let me get a fire going. It can get very chilly here. I hate to see you with an empty stomach.”

I focused my gaze on the grass.

A panicked look fell on her face. “Are you ill? You don’t sound so good. You sure you’re not coming down with something? The flu?” Then she came a bit closer. “Let me make you chicken soup. And then you go rest. Stay right there. I’ll grab that blanket.”

”I’m fine,” I said. “I don’t need anything.”

Honda then reached into the pocket of her ragged dress and pulled out three mangoes. "Well, you should make sure you have your fruits. They aren’t sour this time; I checked. Plenty of vitamins. You need to at least get them in." When she set them down next to the folder, she gazed at the pitch darkness that hid my shame, my filth. Her gray eyes finally focused my shadow, beginning to adjust a bit. "If you have any dirty clothes, give them to me. I need to wash them.”

"You don’t have to do all that,” I whispered. “Go on to the cave and sleep. You need it more than I.”

”That’s not true, and you know it. What if you catch a cold out here?”

”I never get sick.”

”Stop it,” she scolded. “Let me bring a blanket.”

I tried to ignore the throbbing pain at the back of my skull. “I’m alright, really. I’ll eat twice as much as tomorrow to make up for the lost meals today.” My face was wet as I weakly smiled. It hurt to do so because my top lip was split. “I’ll have no problem doing so.”

This made her shyly hug herself. “Adlai?”

I bit my lip, letting my tongue linger on the sore space where my missing tooth once dwelled in my mouth.

“Villagers are saying Fritz got killed by a wild animal. You know who he is, right? One of the leaders who brought Jene and us over here. Maybe a mountain lion or a bear. They said he was ripped apart. But I haven’t seen one around here before. Have you?” Honda peered at the dark. “They’re big creatures.”

“They are indeed,” I answered. My hands shook. I saw how hesitant and afraid she was; I wanted to hold her. I needed to tell me what she saw me doing that day in the woods. How she felt. How she saw me now as a person—or rather, monster. I just needed to know.

“I wish I were brave, ” she replied, her words breaking through my thoughts. “I wish I wasn’t afraid of anything. I reckon bears don’t give you much of a fright, anyways.”

I wish I had never made you afraid of me.

Courage and I had never known each other. I whispered, “I’m alright. No need to worry. Go on back to the cave. I’ll be up there soon. You’re shivering.”

”But—”

”No doubt you are exhausted. It’s been a long day. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” The dried blood on my body made my skin itch. “Best for you and the little one.”

“Do you think it was a mountain lion?” she asked. “Or do bears attack people like that? Maybe there were a lot in that area.”

I looked down, unable to face her.

”Adlai?” she slowly signed.

“Yes?”

“The villagers think that there is a dangerous beast amongst our midst. They guard their homes at night now. So please, be careful. I don’t want you to be attacked by a bear or a giant creature.” A slightly panicked look rose in her eyes. “They said it was one of the most painful ways a man could go.”

”I know,” I quietly said. “But you shouldn’t worry about such things. Not ever.”

”Why?”

”Because I am here. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

”Here?”

”Yes.” Yes, my love. “Right here.”

“I can barely see or hear you.” There was a timid tone in her words. She hesitated, before moving a bit forward in the dark. Dead leaves crunched under her bare feet. “Your voice is very far.”

”I’m here,” I said, wanting to hold her badly but anticipating she would pull away. And then I realized how much I had missed her. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Honda squinted her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Come,” I whispered in the dark. “It’s alright.”

Her searching hand found my own, her fingers loosely wrapping around mine. Very gently, I scooped her up in my arms, slowly settling down on a tree stump. Her long, bare legs under her skirts dangled off my left thigh. I inhaled her scent; she smelled of flowers and grass. As her large gray eyes studied my hidden face, I buried my head in her shoulder, relieved to have her touch. She was uncertain in my arms, but once my warmth reached hers, her muscles began to relax.