“Going to sleep already?” I said. “All right. Good night.” I put another branch on the fire. I was thirsty but afraid to go to the stream. I thought about eating. The bread was dry, and the fish was salty. If I ate either one I’d get even thirstier. Anyway, my stomach was queasy.
The fire dimmed. I added more branches. I had the feeling that someone was watching me. The skin on my back prickled, and I was beginning to sweat. I stood up and stretched, then casually looked around. There was nothing visible except a heap of rocks. I sat down. A pebble rattled. I stood again. What had that been? I listened but heard nothing.
I sat back down. After a moment I began to do my breathing exercises. I inhaled and thought the syllable so. I exhaled and thought the syllable hum. Gradually I relaxed. It was, I realized, a pleasant night. The air was cool and dry. The sky was clear. Stars shone brightly. A moon was rising over the canyon’s rim: a reddish point of light. I kept on breathing slowly and deeply. So. Hum. So. Hum.
A scream! I scrambled to my feet, looking around. Something moved behind a boulder. I grabbed my axe and ran.
Two bodies struggled in the shadows. They were both dark, both furry. I couldn’t tell them apart. They rolled out of shadow into firelight. A hand went up, holding a knife. Around the wrist was a wide copper bracelet. Nia wore no jewelry. I turned the axe and swung it, bringing the flat side down against the fellow’s arm. There was a groan. The hand opened. The knife fell. I stepped back.
They rolled again—almost into the fire. Nia was on top. She had a hammer in one hand. Her other hand reached for the fellow’s throat. He grabbed her tunic with both hands. Then he arched his back and heaved. Nia went up. She was in midair. I couldn’t believe it. How could he be that strong? She came down in the fire. Sparks flew. Burning branches scattered across the ground. Nia screamed.
The man scrambled upright and grabbed a branch. It was burning from one end to the other. How could he hold it? Was he crazy? He started for me. He certainly looked crazy. His eyes stared and his mouth was wide open. He was howling.
I raised my axe. He swung. I blocked the blow. I could feel the shock along my arm from the wrist to the shoulder. He stepped back and raised the branch again. It was still burning. He was still howling.
The branch came down. I blocked it again. He let go. The branch fell blazing, and he grabbed the handle of my axe, twisting and yanking. I lost my grip.
He turned the axe around—it was a single rapid motion—and raised it over his head. He was making a noise like an evacuation signal, a high even scream.
There was no time to get out. He had reached the top of his swing. The axe blade glinted. I tasted bile.
The screaming stopped, and the man grunted, then looked surprised and fell.
Nia stood on the other side of him: a silhouette against the light of the scattered fire. She was still holding the hammer.
I took a deep breath.
She asked, “How is he? I hit as hard as I could.”
I knelt and felt his throat. There was no pulse. Was that normal? I had no idea. I put my hand over his mouth. There was no breath. “Where did you hit him?”
“The head. With this.” She lifted the hammer.
I felt the back of his head and found a spot where the skull went in. I pulled my hand away. There was blood on my fingers and something else as welclass="underline" an object, stuck to the tip of my middle finger. It was hard and triangular. The edges felt rough. I couldn’t see the color, but I was pretty certain I knew what the object was. A piece of bone. I wiped my hand on the man’s kilt, then looked at Nia. “I think you killed him.”
“Aiya! Another one.” She dropped the hammer and rubbed her face. “I have to sit down.”
I stood up, holding out a hand. She tumbled toward me. I caught her, but she was too heavy. I couldn’t keep her upright. I fell, landing on the dead man, and Nia came down on top of me.
Damn!
“Nia?” She didn’t answer. I pushed and wriggled out from between the two furry bodies, stood up and rolled Nia over. It wasn’t easy. She was limp. A dead weight.
I felt her throat. Ah! There was a pulse, strong and regular, maybe a little rapid. I couldn’t be sure. I went to the fire and found a branch that was still burning and carried it back. What was wrong? Her tunic was torn, and one of the torn edges was smoldering. But I saw no other evidence of burning. I crouched and looked at her hands. One palm was puffy. Maybe that was a burn. I touched the palm. Nia winced and groaned.
“Are you awake?”
She blinked.
“Where does it hurt?”
She frowned. “My hand and my leg.”
I felt along her legs. There was no blood. I found no wounds.
“The ankle,” she told me.
I touched her left ankle. She winced again. I pressed in. Nia groaned. Something was wrong there. But what? How could I tell if anything was broken or out of place? I didn’t know how an ankle was supposed to feel. Not on this planet. Not an ankle belonging to an alien. I thought for a moment. There was always bilateral symmetry. I checked her right ankle, then went back and rechecked the left.
“They feel the same.”
Nia frowned. “To you. Not to me. What am I lying on?”
“The man.”
“Aiya!” She got up on one elbow. “Help me.”
“I don’t want you to move.”
“I will not lie on a corpse.”
I frowned, trying to remember my first aid. Would it be okay to move her? I was having trouble concentrating, maybe because I had just helped to kill someone and the body was right in front of me.
Nia struggled into a sitting position. I laid down my torch and helped her off the dead man. “Is your back all right?” I asked. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Do you feel any other pain?”
“I told you. My hand and my leg. Nothing else. I think I will lie down.”
I eased her onto the ground. She lay full length next to the dead man. I got up and grabbed hold of his arms. He was heavy, much heavier than Nia, and entirely limp. I managed to pull him a meter or so, then gave up and let go. His arms hit the ground with a thump. “That’s it. He stays here.”
“I do not feel good,” said Nia.
I didn’t think her leg was broken, but I wasn’t positive. I’d better put on a splint. And get cold water for the hand. And get a cloak. She might well be in shock.
“I am going to need your cooking pot.”
“Take it. What a strong man! I made a mistake. I thought he’d be old or very young. I am not as clever as I think I am.”
I got her cloak and covered her, then took the cooking pot to the stream, filled it with water, and brought it back. “Put your hand in. It will help the burn. I’m going to rebuild the fire.”
She made the gesture of assent. I went to gather wood. When the fire was burning brightly, I made a splint. I had an elastic bandage in my first-aid kit. For padding I used my undershirt and a spare pair of socks.
“I hope this is temporary,” I said. “I need those socks. How is the hand?”
“Better, but now my shoulder hurts.”
I pulled the cloak down. The fur on one shoulder was matted. I touched it and looked at my hand. The fingers were red. “Another wound. He did a good job on you.”
“I knew when I saw him I was in trouble. But it was too late to change the plan. Is the wound bad?”
I got a piece of gauze and wiped the blood away. “It’s a nick. He must have got you with the point of his knife.” I looked at the contents of my medical kit. What was safe to use? She wasn’t human. I had no idea of how she would react to any human medication.