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'I'm tired,' she said sulkily, sinking down beside the fire and extending her frozen hands towards the faint warmth which still came from it.
He bent and jerked her to her feet, shook her like a rag doll. 'Do as you are told!'
'My back aches and I'm stiff,' she muttered, on the point of weak tears.
'We are all tired,' he said. 'The horses need watering. Find as much wood as you can and get that fire going again…'
Marie stumbled away and began to search under the date palms. She found a few branches of thorn trees, withered and dried by desert suns, and hurried back to feed the fire with them, blowing on it and watching it anxiously. After a while she managed to get a few sparks, then a little flame, then eventually a blaze, which she continued to feed with thorn sticks until the fire was adequate. Wrapped in her loose, warm garment she sat beside it, huddling like a child at the hearth.
Meanwhile he had watered the horses, fed them from the saddle bags and then he moved towards the fire, a battered old iron pot in his hand.
'Fill this from the pool,' he ordered.
She reluctantly stood up and took the pot, returning to the gleaming water with it, filled it and went back to him. He had produced two tin mugs, a flat loaf of Arab bread and some oranges from the saddlebags. He thrust the pot of water into the edge of the fire with a practised hand.
'We'll have coffee soon,' he told her. 'Sit and eat.'
She looked at the unleavened bread with a grimace, but when he had wrenched it into two halves and handed her one, she found the taste quite appetising, hunger being an excellent sauce. She ate two small oranges as well and began to feel much better, although sleepiness was becoming a nightmare to her. Her head kept nodding down upon her chest. She had to force herself to stay awake, afraid to sleep. The warmth of the fire was so comforting that she longed for sleep with an almost passionate longing.
When he had made strong, black coffee he poured her a cup. 'It is unsweetened,' he warned her.
Marie cupped her hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth of it, and sipped, scalding her mouth.
He laughed as she spluttered over it. 'Good coffee?'
Warily she sipped again. 'Very good,' she said, suppressing a yawn.
He crouched beside her in the smoky firelight, his face carved into strange, disturbing hollows, the high cheekbones and ascetic lines of the face emphasised by the shadows around them.
'Sleep now,' he said, taking the empty mug from her. He laid a woven mat on the sand, taken from the back of his black horse. 'You will find this comfortable enough.'
She slowly lay down, watching him nervously as he walked away out of the firelight, his back as straight, his walk as steady, as if he had not spent the night riding across the desert.
Her lids began to flicker, to sink. She listened to the singing of the thornwood on the fire, the soft sifting of ash in the desert wind.
Another sound brought her suddenly awake. A muffled slithering across the sand… her eyes
moved nervously around the fireside… then she gave a scream, freezing immediately afterwards. A small black snake was lying close beside her, forked tongue quivering on the air, one eye watching her.
'What is it?' He had spun round from where he was attending to the tethered horses under the palm trees.
'A snake,' she whispered, not taking her eyes off the ghastly thing.
'Don't move,' he said, slowly coming back towards the fire. 'What colour is it?'
'Black,' she whispered. 'Very small and black.'
He swore under his breath, adding again, 'Don't move an inch. Don't even breathe.'
She lay rigid, her eyes fixed on the snake. It suddenly began to writhe towards her with an undulating slowness that terrified her. Then there was a deafening explosion and the snake was in two bits—blown into half with one shot.
Marie leapt up then and broke into scalding sobs, shaking from head to foot.
He pulled her into his arms, one hand on the back of her head, pressing her close against him. She wept softy, trembling like a leaf, clinging to him.
His hands moved against her back, stroking her calmingly, soothing her, while he whispered consolation. 'It's all right, it is dead. You were very brave. It's all right now. It can't hurt you now…'
'It… it was so silent,' she whispered. 'It… slithered towards me…'
