“Can’t sleep?” Eevi asked.

Jere grunted. He’d been quiet since his encounter with the two guards, not that it was unusual. She knew Jere could open up over a couple of glasses of ale like most men, but his ability to steer the conversation away from himself seemed uniquely reflexive. In the grand scheme of things, he remained a stranger.

In a way, Eevi found a kinship in his laconicism. She could be conversational, sure, but that typically began and ended with coin. Of course, she tried sleeping around with the occasional trader as much as anyone, but those connections never lasted. They would move on, and she would go back to her tavern. Most couldn’t get past her scars.

Still, Eevi found herself unable to leave Jere alone. She had set up her cot across the second floor of the watchtower. It gave Jere space, but Eevi kept a close eye on him. She didn’t want him doing anything rash.

“I’m not sure what they told you,” Eevi said, “but I’m glad you let them go.”

Jere grunted again, but it was less tense. Closer to a ‘hmm’ instead of ‘hmph.’

“I wish you came to dinner. Adok looks better.” Eevi immediately regretted bringing him up. She barreled past it, hoping Jere wouldn’t notice. “Heikk tells me he’s going to get some water for us once the sun rises. He’ll take a couple of pouches with him. Adok will stay here as a gesture of good faith, but the lad certainly gave his all to protest that.”

“Reasonable plan.”

Eevi shuffled over to Jere’s cot. She stayed quiet, knowing how sensitive the screamers’ hearing became once night fell. She got a good look at Jere’s face. It was tired, bags beneath bags under his eyes. Jere had mentioned he rarely slept in the cells, and she doubted that changed much since he left.

The two settled into an uneasy silence. They looked out over the desert plain, watching the incoherent and erratic tumblings of the screamers amongst the abandoned trader tents. Most huddled near the wall, but a few would break away and wander the plains. Some looked worse for wear, having been out here for moons, but there were always a few that had turned recently.

Eevi fixated on a young shirtless boy who had taken refuge between two stands. He had broken his femur, though he had long ceased caring. He had already gouged out one of his eyes, but Eevi could still recognize the distinctive tattooed lines over his brow. The boy was a raider once, and he must have had come here from leagues away. The boy reminded her of people she once cared for years ago, people who she had done her best to push aside.

It was suddenly too much. Eevi needed a distraction. “Where do you think they came from?” she asked, waving her hand across the desert.

“Dunno. The healer never found out.”

“Did he ever talk to you? About what he thought was happening?”

“Too often. Certain your blind man was involved.”

“Makes sense.” The thought had weighed on Eevi’s mind for a while. “Even then, Isbibarra had to have gotten it from somewhere, right?”

Jere shrugged. “Perhaps the Gods got bored?”

“My village used to tell stories of the ‘Tungzind.’ It is customary to burn bodies to free the soul after one passes on. If it never happened, the soul would remain trapped here. Cursed to forever walk the steppe without care or love.”

“Always with the stories.”

Eevi laughed. For whatever reason, Jere did everything in his power to discredit her. “You know these aren’t simple beasts. When they aren’t screaming, what are they doing? They’re laughing, crying, clawing at one another. These are souls, trapped in rotten bodies. Is that so unreasonable to assume?”

Jere said nothing. Eevi knew she made a solid point. Even someone with as thick a skull as Jere would have to agree.

“Leave the thinking to the Heads,” Jere said, spitefully. “I was never one for scrolls.”

This was something Eevi could work with. “Can you read?”

“Never stuck. Letters kept mixing together.”

“But you were a priest, right? Don’t you have to go to school for a long time for that?”

“To get consecrated. I didn’t.”

“Well… why not?” Eevi didn’t want to push too hard. But Jere was talking.

“My lover convinced me to become a pirate.”

Eevi couldn’t help herself from giggling like she was eight years old. It was the funniest thing she had heard in months. “Excuse me?”

Jere’s tone remained melancholy, but his gaze shifted upward now, lost in memory. “You heard me.”

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“Must’ve been some unholy pussy to convince you to do such a thing.” Normally, Eevi wouldn’t have responded in such a crass manner, but she suspected a bit of banter would get Jere to open up more. They might as well have been back in the inn.

Jere shook his head. “Just better than school.”

“Still, you gave up a lot for this girl… did it work out?”

Jere sighed, frustrated he even had to clarify.

“Okay, I won’t prattle on about it… Were there others?”

“Nothing like her.” Now that Jere mentioned it, Eevi could see it. He never once talked to the few women that came through the tavern.

“I’ve been with many men,” Eevi said. “Most were shit, in bed and out of it, but some were good people. Maybe there were even one or two worth keeping around. Can’t say I loved any of them, though.”

“Did yourself a service.”

“I don’t know, Jere. Some days I stay up late at night wishing I had someone to talk to.”

“If you did,” Jere emphasized, “they’d be dead.”

“Not all of them.” Eevi paused, not sure if she could continue down this path without embarrassing herself. “You’re still here.”

Now it was Jere’s turn to laugh. No, it was more a chuckle, maybe even a giggle. It got under Eevi’s skin. She couldn’t let him get away with it.

“You ever wished we fucked?”

Jere suppressed a cough, surprised by the abrupt question. “No!” Jere recollected himself quickly, possibly realizing how rude his immediate answer came across. “I mean, uh… I don’t think of you like that.”

“It never once crossed your mind? I thought all men with lady friends consider it at some point.”

Jere looked extremely uncomfortable at the line of questioning. Eevi had succeeded. Men were so easy to rattle, and at this point a flustered Jere would be better to deal with than a depressed one. “It did not cross my mind,” Jere said, though nervously.

“Ah, I understand,” Eevi said, lowering her head. “It’s the scar, innit? Can’t make love to a woman who’s missing half of her face…”

“It’s not bad! You make it work, you’re still womanly.”

“Womanly?! As in, I have traits of a woman?” Eevi feigned shock, and Jere sheepishly turned away. He looked as if he wanted to melt into the floor. After an extended pause, Eevi playfully ribbed Jere. “Relax, just fucking with you. No hard feelings. I’m not the type to be wed, anyhow.”

Eevi wasn’t sure, but it looked as if Jere was trying to hide a smile. They both needed to hear a joke after all they had been through.

After sitting in silence for another moment, Jere sighed. “I lied.”

“Oh?”

“When we were in the spice house… hiding from the screamers.”

It took Eevi a moment before she realized what he was referring to. “Oh.”

“We were there for a while, and I was… distracted.”

“That’s because you could lick the brown ash out of the air, dummy,” Eevi joked. “You don’t want to hear about the things that crossed my mind during those hours.”

“Really?” Jere replied with surprise. Maybe even enthusiasm?

“It’s Brown Ash. Potent shit, works too well. You’d have to be a eunuch for it to have no effect.”

“Ah.” Jere shifted in his seated position. Now he seemed a bit disappointed. Did he find her cute, even once? Or did he ‘fancy her’, as her most kindhearted and loyal bar patrons often liked to say? Jere was attractive in a rugged sort of way, but she found him too muscular for her liking. She preferred men she could push around a little. But then again, Jere had lost weight in the proceeding moons. Almost toned, if anything. She’d be lying to herself if she hadn’t found his grown out hair and beard a little more to her liking as well, no longer confined by the clean shave required of all guards.

But this was the situation talking. She didn’t actually feel any sort of attraction to him. Jere, the most terse man she knew. The supposed priest-turned-pirate-turned-slave. There was no way she would have ever thought of him unless they were in a do-or-die scenario.

Yet here they were.

Without warning, Eevi suddenly found Jere’s face right against hers. Hazel eyes. She never realized he had hazel eyes. Suddenly, his lips were touching hers. No, it was more as if they slapped her chin before fleeing. Had he kissed her? Was that supposed to be a kiss?

Jere fell back into his seated position, shifting farther away than he was originally. “That was inappropriate,” he stuttered.

Eevi held her chin, smiling. “Now, why did you do that?”

Jere shrugged. “I never minded the scars.”

Jere was far from a romantic. Not that the surrounding desert helped at all. More likely than not, Jere and Eevi would be dead sooner rather than later.

But then again, would Eevi ever have another chance?

Eevi shifted closer to Jere, closing the gap between the two. “Now I believe you when you say you’ve only been with one woman. That was a dreadful kiss.”

Jere refused to make eye contact. “Sorry, I-”

Eevi cut him off, grabbing his neck and pressing her lips into his. Jere struggled briefly, but immediately fell into form. Eevi launched into an unexpectedly passionate kiss that even she lost control of. Some things were harder to forget than others. As they kissed, Eevi pushed Jere down to the floor. He offered no resistance.

“Wait,” Jere said.

Eevi stopped, realizing that she had already moved her body on top of his. “What?”

“I… don’t want you to get the wrong idea. That wasn’t the reason I came to your bar, or why I came after I escaped.”

“Jere. You really don’t need to worry about it.” The sudden realization that she could be dead at any moment had sent Eevi’s mind into overdrive. She had never made love with someone she cared about. Even marginally. She had sex for progeny, for lust, out of boredom. She had it many times when she never asked for it. But now, in this wasteland, Jere was all she had. He just needed to shut up and not think about it.

“No, I mean…” Jere struggled to think of a word, which wasn’t helped by Eevi sitting on top of him. “I’ve only been with one other. Sometimes… I think I’ve gotten better, but I don’t think I ever will. I don’t want to hurt you, and… I think I’ve been burned too many times.”

It was the most needlessly verbose thing Eevi had ever heard Jere say. It was also the dumbest thing he could have said.

Eevi kissed Jere again, this time sticking her tongue down his throat. Jere was shocked at first, but like the first time, he eventually found his rhythm. From what Eevi could tell, this was the type of kissing that he was intimately familiar with, even if out of touch. Before they continued much farther, Eevi abruptly stopped, staring directly into his hazel eyes.

“You’ve been burned?”

Jere gulped, looking at her face in silence for a moment, before the two began kissing again. This time it was slower, more gentle. Jere awkwardly placed his hands on Eevi’s shoulders, before gradually migrating to her waist. As he did so, Eevi began removing her garments. As she undid her shirt, she angled her chest to where Jere could see it. She watched his eyes migrate, following Eevi’s scar as it went past her collarbone, across her breast and down her waist. Most knew of her scar, but few realized it went all the way down to her right thigh. Most would never know.

Jere stopped, noting the scar. Not a moment later, he began kissing Eevi again. There was nothing else that needed to be said.

It would be the best night of sleep they’d had since the Holiday.