Page 10 of Across the Crimson Sands

I’d come so much further than I thought possible. I was nearly there, wherever “there” was. But at least I could relax on the way back.

I’d been caught, the jig was up. And unless I found a way to weasel out of these bindings, the whole thing was over. I had nothing left to do but sit back and let it happen.

What a waste of effort.

And what would happen to me when I was returned?

I shuddered, thinking about the level of bruising that would be the “appropriate” punishment for my escape. I wondered how much worse it was about to get. He had no idea what he was returning me to, and as I studied his lean form, I wondered if it was something I could educate him about.

I had nothing but straws to grasp at, I had to give it all I had.

“You know he treats me like property,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“You are his property.” His answer was indifferent to the fact, so I tried again.

“I’m his work of art,” I said, tugging back to make him listen. “He likes to paint a picture on me. My body is a canvas, painted in bruises.”

He didn’t say anything, but he pulled at me less, and after a while, I found we were walking side by side, and I kept stealing glances as the evening sun disappeared on the horizon.

In those last few seconds of daylight, I thought I saw the reflections of emotion on him. This Vinduthi meant to finish his job, but maybe he had a flicker of decency in him yet.

All I had to do was stall him, delay him. Talk to him. It was my only hope.

“It’s getting dark,” I observed, with the two of us walking in sync. I knew I had to give the pretense of trust, especially if I was to use it to slip away again.

“We’re not stopping,” he answered with a nerve in his voice. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“I can’t walk anywhere if I die from exhaustion,” I tried to point out.

“I can always drag you,” he remarked with a half-grin.

My bound hands made walking treacherous. When I hit a rock with my foot, I bumped into him, and to my surprise, he grabbed me by both shoulders, keeping me steady. I figured there had to be a beating heart in there, and if I was lucky, maybe a bleeding one, too.

“At least let me rest a little before you take me back. You don’t know what we’re walking towards.”

Nothing. A stone wall. But even a stone wall had to eat sometimes.

“C’mon, you’ve gotta be as tired as I am. I’m starving. Don’t you Vinduthi eat?” If I couldn’t appeal to his sense of reason, I’d try his sense of hunger.

He slowed down, mulling over my words, and looking around as if something I said finally made sense to him.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he said, walking me to a barren tree and tying me to it with practiced efficiency.

He stepped back into the brush and started gathering dry branches. I sat there, powerless to do anything but watch.

“I’ll start a fire,” he said, as he fastened the rope around a heavy rock and knotted it several times. “And don’t even think about running.”

“Why?” I asked, a hint of challenge in my voice. “You’ll get to catch me all over again.”

I could have sworn that I saw him smile at that as he left to gather more firewood. As the darkness settled around us, I watched him work, my mind racing with possibilities.

This wasn’t over yet.

Not by a long shot.

ROKAN

My eyes, now fully adjusted to the darkness, scanned our surroundings. Everything appeared clear. The crystal night sky had provided perfect conditions for the hunt.

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