Page 90 of Starside

“Ow,” I say, getting up and reaching toward the source—but a blur of light zips away before I can catch it.

It makes the mistake of getting near Raker’s hood. It tries to pull it down—and Raker’s hand smothers it in half a second.

I inhale sharply. He killed the small creature, just like the elk in the woods. But before I can even think about mourning the menace that has been trying to scalp me, Raker cocks his arm, and throws the tiny creature right through the waterfall, in a shimmering arc of light.

It’s alive. Still, that couldn’t have been pleasant.

“Damned pixies,” I think I hear him say to himself, like he has forgotten entirely that I’m here.

He packs his stuff without even a glance at me. Then he leaves.

I sigh as I follow him out of the cave.

The sun has barely risen. We walk through the near darkness, and I watch this glittering world wake up.

The grass rustles like a song. Birds chirp in response. Wildflowers bloom in mismatched patterns. Some have the same stripes and spots as creatures. Raker looks completely out of place in the middle of it. A towering shadow in the center of this fertile place, black cape curling in the wind.

Against my spine, my sword hums. I reach back and brush its hilt, even though I know I’m being ridiculous.

Has it seen this place? Did it battle here? I wonder about its history.

“Maybe you’ll return one day,” I say under my breath. “Maybe your next wielder will have bigger dreams than me.”

Green and arcs of reflected prisms fill my vision for hours. The grass is soft beneath my boots. My sword is heavy on my back, so I take it down and drag it behind me.

Raker turns to look at me for the first time in hours, and I can’t see his face—but I can almost feel his derision.

I glare at him until he turns back around.

The mountains are endless. We climb them all, one after the other, until my legs go numb. Just when I think my body has reached its limits, those limits expand.

It’s like my tears, I think. Just when I think I’ve cried enough for several lifetimes, they prove me wrong.

If you believe you’re limitless, then you will be, Stellan used to tell me. When I told him I was tired, he would say, You think you’re tired.

No. I am fucking tired, I would think back, scowling at the fact that he acted like tiredness was a choice. Like weakness was a choice.

Now I can’t deny that his unwavering strength was always more mental than physical.

We enter another grove. A small pool sits in its center, clear and sparkling, water running in from the mountains. It’s clean. Raker bends to fill a canteen from his pack. I should really try to get another one using the coin in my pocket.

For now, I sink to my knees and pool the water in my hands, washing my injured palm before rewrapping it. Then I drink.

When I’m done, and the water settles before me, I catch my reflection and wince. My face is still covered in the dirt I used to get rid of the pixies. Blood is crusted on my ear from where one bit me. My hair is a knotted mess, several pieces sticking up from the thick braids. My clothes aren’t faring any better.

I straighten my spine, turn to Raker, and say with what I hope is the utmost authority, “I’d like to bathe.”

He barely looks over at me. Then bathe, his silence says.

I swallow. Even if it wasn’t for my markings, I wouldn’t be rushing to strip in front of him.

Politeness isn’t getting me anywhere. My chin rises. “You need to leave.” I order him just as he’s ordered me countless times before.

He stills. Very slowly, he turns to face me fully. His voice is pure malice. “Do you think I would waste even a moment of my attention ogling you? Do you think you matter at all?” And now I realize that his silence thus far has been a gift, as I am reminded of how cruel his words can be.

“Then it shouldn’t be any trouble for you to leave,” I say through my teeth.

He does very much the opposite. He drops his pack. From it he produces a thick bar of soap. Another useful item I don’t have anymore.