A/N: Thanks for all of the support guys. I hope I can live up to your expectations

Chapter 3

Beware the Bear

The following morning my pain is nearly gone. My body's still sore, but I can move again. I can even walk, albeit it slowly, and with a painful limp.

Twil seems almost pleasant today. Once I've tried out my legs, she provides me with breakfast. Banana yucca and a chunk of mole rat. The rat meat tastes terrible, but I crave protein. I chew on it for what seems like hours, casually, like its salty bubble gum.

Twil doesn't eat. She pulls a small caliber pistol out of her robe and sets it down on her lap. She wants me to know she's armed.

I think on this. Twil's forehead comes up to the center of my chest. I outweigh her by at least sixty pounds. If I tried, I could subdue her, easily. The legion teaches you how to disarm and incapacitate your enemy with a single, unarmed strike. I picture this in my head for a split-second, but only in passing. I haven't yet decided if she means me any harm.

Twil looks too healthy to have spent her whole life drifting through the wasteland, alone. My first guess is that she's from a local settlement or tribe. I'm curious which one, as that might tell me where we are.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A lot. Thanks. I thought you were going to kill me with that snake. I hate snakes. Almost died from one. Thanks for taking me off the cross and for feeding me. I'm more than grateful."

"Are you done eating?" Twil eyes the scraps I've left behind. She sniffs again. The gurgle is endlessly irritating. Her nose always seems to be running, and it doesn't look like she has a cold. Maybe its allergies. I watch, disgusted, as she wipes her wet nose off on her robe.

"Yeah."

Twil motions for me to stand. "Good. Turn around and give me your hands."

"Why?"

"I'm going to tie them together. We're moving camp."

"That isn't necessary. I'm really tired and sore. I couldn't hurt you, even if I wanted to. Which I don't. You have that gun, anyway. I won't heal right if you tie my hands up."

"Turn around and give me your hands." Twil repeats in monotone.

"That will slow us down. I owe my life to you. I wouldn't hurt you."

"You are legion." Twil scoffs. "I know the legion. They enslave and pillage. Rape and kill. Even though they crucified you, you are still one of them. A brutal, mindless savage. Give me your hands. Now!"

This is a game I cannot win. I decide to let her bind my hands, and she wraps my wrists with twine. The knot is tight enough to hurt, but loose enough for me to have a chance of slipping free. I duck down and follow her out of the tent, squinting at the sudden daylight.

While I squat above the sun-baked scrub, Twil dismantles the tent. It's hard work for one person, and the tent poles are taller than she is. I watch her struggle to pull them out of the dirt. The wrinkles of frustration that crease her forehead make me smile.

"If my hands weren't tied, I could help with that."

"I don't need help." Twil spits back. She finishes dismantling the tent, rolls it up, and ties it to her rucksack. The bundle is too much for her, but she carries it anyway . She looks like one of the hunchbacked slave girls who shamble up and down Fortification Hill.

Twil uses her pistol to signal for me to go ahead of her. I walk forward at a very slow pace, trying to go easy on my knees and ankles.

"Where are you taking me? Back to your tribe? Are you a tribal?" I glance back at Twil. "Is there a village near here? I was blindfolded when they marched me to the cross. I have no idea where we are."

Twil emptily motions for me to walk on. She only speaks when I'm not facing her.

"We're three day's walk from Zion. I'm a tribal. We were called the Yampa. I'm not allowed to live in their village. . .anymore."

"Why?"

"Mormons conquered my tribe. They exiled me. I wouldn't convert. Worship their God."

Twil's voice is steeped in bitterness. I try to disarm her with some empathy. A warm smile and a knowing nod. She points at the trail ahead, ordering me to look away - not at her.

I plod forward but continue to talk.

My nerves have always made me chatty. It annoyed my centurion, and everyone else in my contubernia, but to this day, I can't help myself.

"Mormons? Like the Burned Man? As far as I know, he's dead. . . .just a myth now."

"Their leader is named Jethro. He's a vile worm, but calls himself a holy man. When he took over our village he impaled my father on the gates and had my mother burned alive."

"Burned alive?"

Twil nods, gravely. "His punishment for practicing black magic is death by fire."

"Black magic? You're mother was. . .a witch? Like magic potions and spells?"

"She was a shaman." Twil hisses. "A Priestess of Hecate. Mock her memory again, savage, and I will gouge your eyes out!"

My sudden gallows humor evaporates. I stare at Twil to see if she's serious. She narrows her gaze into iron, but I convince myself it's an empty threat.

"My mother was a Follower of the Apocalypse until the legion captured her. She taught me how to read and write, in English and in Latin. Unusual for a savage - I know. Caesar teaches that books are for the weak, but he kept a library in Flagstaff. I was allowed to use it so I could help educate recruits on Roman history and values. My father was a tribal – just like you. A Kaibab. I only saw him once before he died in Two-Sun."

Twil shows no interest in my past. Every time I look back at her, she has a blank face. I continue to limp forward, but now my knees are throbbing.

"My father was a Yampa chieftain." Twil finally responds. "By birthright I should have taken his place as leader of my tribe."

The thought of the frail, unkempt woman behind me declaring herself chieftain strikes me as ridiculous. Maybe it's the misogyny that the legion has drilled into me, but Twil neither looks nor acts the part of tribal warlord.

"Your tribe allows women to lead them?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Twil squints.

"Caesar says that a woman's place is in the domus. The home. They are physically weak and feebleminded. Ruled by emotion instead of reason. Their role is to give birth and please their husbands, to whom they legally belong. They should be faithful, industrious, quiet, and obedient - honestas, industria, quietus, et pareo. They do not lead. They follow."

I keep my eyes locked on Twil as I speak. I believe almost none of what I've said, but want to see her stew.

Twil is seething somewhere deep inside. I can read it in her eyes. She can't help but clench her fists and her face becomes noticeably flush.

I don't know why I want to anger her. Maybe I feel emasculated by the way she's treated me and want a small taste of revenge. Maybe I'm just curious how she'll respond.

In general, something about making women angry has always fascinated me.

I honestly don't know why.

Twil is able to swallow her rage with a few deep breaths. "Keep walking savage. We're almost there now."

"Where's there?"

Twil provides no answer.

We continue down the trail for fifteen or so minutes. It meanders through a dying forest of naked tree trunks and dry earth. At the end of it is a tangled thicket, guarding a large cave mouth.

Its pitch black inside the cave. I approach its entrance, slowly, while Twil drops her gear, unclipping the knife spear from her rucksack.

The cave is damp. I can hear water dripping. It smells of mold and putrid fungus. Yellowish-green moss carpets the rocks. Something stirs from deep within, and I hear a faint echo.

"Why are we stopping here?"

"There's a yao guai den inside of that cave." Twil mutters. "A big male sleeps there when the sun's out."

I've never seen a live yao guai, but a patrol once dragged a yao guai carcass back to my camp to strip for meat. It was a massive, ugly beast. Six hundred pounds of fur, teeth, and brute muscle.

"Then we should leave. Before it wakes up."

"No." Twil gives me a cruel smile. "I brought you here to kill the yao guai. You will go into the cave, kill it, and bring me back its head. If you refuse, I'll shoot you. Right now."

I blink. My heart begins to beat a little bit faster.

"You're joking? Look at me." I stare down at my sunburned sun. "I'm still crippled from the cross. I was almost dead a day ago. I'm still exhausted. I'm in no shape to fight a bear. It'll kill me, easily, unless you're going to give me a fatman."

Twil walks over to me and uses her knife spear to saw through the twine binding my hands. She then tosses the weapon to me and retreats, quickly drawing her pistol. While I fumble with the knife spear, she takes aim at my chest.

"You will do as you are told, or I will shoot you where you stand. I took you here to slay that beast. You have no choice. Kill the yao guai or die now."

I inspect Twil's knife spear. Its crudely made. The shaft is flimsy, brittle wood. The tip is a kitchen knife that has been secured to the shaft with tree sap and twine.

"You expect me to kill a yao guai with this? It will shatter on its hide. I'll need a much better weapon."

"Every Yampa boy must slay a yao guai to become a man. They're cast into the wasteland with no food, no water, no armor, and no other weapon than a spear - just like that one. You've lectured me on what the legion thinks a woman's worth is, and how they should act - now I'm telling you what the Yampa expect from their men. Prove yourself a man to me, or die."

"I'm not Yampa." I shrug. "I don't want to be, either. Why do I have to prove myself to you? Why do you want me to kill a yao guai?"

"As blood-heir of the Yampa chief, I can challenge their new leader for control of the tribe. If I defeat Jethro in a duel, my honor will be restored, and the Yampa will follow me. If I lose; I'll die."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"By tradition, Yampa women aren't allowed to fight in duels. They must choose a champion to fight for them, for their honor. I need a champion to fight Jethro, and I'm only allowed to pick one. If he kills my champion, I'll be killed too. If you're going to be my champion you need to prove to me that you won't lose. Prove you can defeat him."

I look back at the cave for a moment.

"That's why you took me off the cross? To enslave me to fight for you?" I'm gob smacked. "No one from your tribe would do this willingly? You - you had to kidnap someone?"

"No. They wouldn't. None of them." Twil says softly. Her voice cracks and her eyes become a bit red. She sniffs back mucous, but this time the sound doesn't bother me.

"Well, I won't do it either." I let go of the spear. It falls to the dirt with a muffled thud. "I don't want to be your champion, or your slave, or whatever you want to call it. And I don't care about your honor. All I want is rest. I won't fight anyone. Not today. I'm too tired."

"Prove yourself to me or die. Savage."

I'm unimpressed. Although Twil has proven herself cold and calculating, I don't think she's capable of murder.

"You'd shoot me in cold blood?" I raise my hands and begin to approach her. "I'm harmless. Unarmed."

"I saved your life." Twil backs away and tightens her grip on the pistol. "That gives me the right to take it. And you are legion. You have no right to be on Yampa land. The punishment for trespassing on my father's hunting ground is death."

Twil's eyes quiver. She looks unsure of herself.

I call her bluff.

"Fine. Kill me." I kneel down in the dirt. "I should have died on the cross. At least I got to live an extra day. And I won't have to be your slave. If you're going to kill me, do it now."

Twil's eyes widen for a moment. She hardens her stare.

"You aren't the first one to refuse this. I killed the others. If you don't pick up that spear and go into the cave I will kill you. Your life means nothing to me."

I stay still, determined not to move.

A gunshot rips through the air. I duck, instinctively. My left ear rings and the temple above it feels wet and warm. I touch it and my fingers soak up a streak of blood.

My head's been grazed by a bullet. I can't believe it.

"Are you crazy! Are you [censored] crazy!" I scream, hysterically. "You just pulled me off a cross a day ago! You think I have the strength to fight a yao guai? With a spear! And you probably just woke it up with that [censored] gunshot!"

"This has nothing to do with strength. The yao gaui will always be stronger than you. Its about skill. Cunning." Twil says calmly. She points her gun at the cave mouth. "Go into the cave. Next time I won't miss, and I won't warn you again. Go inside! NOW!"

I have no choice. I clutch my head for a moment and then pick up the spear. The cave looms in front of me, and with bated breath, I enter.