The rain came down in sheets. The girl wandered between the bodies, stepping over outstretched hands, avoiding the streams of bloody water winding in every direction across the track and out into the dam. No-one but her, Jaime and the horses stirred. She knew she should be checking for weapons, coins, anything that may be of use, as Jaime had told her, but she felt incapable of doing so. She just walked, her mind blank.
She stood in the middle of the bodies and counted them. It's like when my father slaughtered pigs, she thought, but he never slaughtered this many pigs at once. She was thankful that most of them were lying face-down and she didn't have to recognise them.
Jaime was going through the saddlebags on the packhorse, then he mounted it and rode over to where Sooty stood on the side of the track. The packhorse reached its nose over to sniff Sooty's, and she snorted softly before turning her head away.
The girl came across a man lying curled sideways with an arm across his face, as if he were just resting. She nudged him with her toe, and he rolled limply onto his back. His open eyes filled with water as the rain poured down.
The poacher, she thought. I was talking to you only days ago. What made you come after us? Who will support your children now? She stared at his grey face, trying to make sense of a world that seemed to have become incomprehensible.
'Take his coat,' Jaime said, riding up behind her. When she did nothing, he jumped down and went over to the poacher, pulled the heavy oilskin jacket off the stiffening limbs. It matched the one he was now also wearing, long and black. Jaime handed it to the girl. 'Put this on,' he insisted. 'You're soaked.'
The girl hadn't noticed, but when she went to push her arms through the too-big sleeves, she saw that she was shaking all over. Water dripped off the end of her nose and her clothes were plastered to her skin. Her shoulder sent spikes of agony whenever she moved.
Jaime came over to stand in front of her. He pulled the sides of the coat closed, fastened them; fixed the hood so it covered her head. She felt like a toddler being dressed by a parent. It was just really difficult to get her body to cooperate.
'We have to go,' Jaime said. 'We don't have long before... this is discovered. It's out of the way here, in the hills, but these will start to smell soon. We need a decent head start.'
'I figured you as a soldier,' the girl said in a flat voice. 'But this is... ' she looked around at the dead scattered haphazardly across the track, lost for words. An icy wind whipped through the marsh. 'I don't know what this is.'
'Your horse killed half of them,' Jaime dismissed. As if it were nothing.
Sooty only killed three. Why try to minimise what you just did? she thought. Said out loud: 'I've never seen anyone fight like that. Ever.'
Jaime looked impatient. 'How many soldiers have you seen fighting, girl? Not many, I'd wager. These men were just villagers, untrained. They were foolish to come after us. Any soldier could have done the same.'
No they couldn't. Not like that. Not with every strike hitting exactly where it should; not without being so much as touched by an opponent's blade, But, nice try.
She decided to keep her thoughts to herself until she could make better sense of them. 'Was Callem... here?' she asked instead.
Jaime shook his head.
The girl felt a small rush of relief. 'I guess he didn't tell them. I guess he listened to you.' She was glad, for at least that one small thing.
'Or else he decided to go tell someone else,' Jaime said, ominously. 'Now, let's leave. Or am I going to have to carry you?' He swung back up onto the packhorse in an easy movement, gathered the lead-rope in one hand. The horse pirouetted and tossed its mane. Somehow simply by having Jaime astride of it; balanced perfectly as if born in the saddle, the packhorse had transformed from a humble beast of burden into a spirited destrier. Just another thing he's apparently incredibly talented at, the girl thought. It wouldn't have surprised her at that moment if Jaime had grown wings and flown away.
We're alive, against all the odds. We have horses, I have Sooty, and weapons, food, a tent. I should be celebrating. Why then do I feel so... nothing?
She turned from the sight of him and walked back over to Sooty, who lifted her head at her approach. The horse's flanks heaved and her eyes were dull. The girl stroked her neck, murmured calming words. She hooked the bridle from behind the horse's ears and gently slid it off. The bit came out of Sooty's mouth slimy with blood where the pressure of the chains had cut into her lips. The girl dropped the leather to the ground, then ran her hands over the many cuts and contusions all over the horse's body. The chest wound from the club was starting to swell and felt warmer than the rest of her.
The girl knelt and unstrapped the restraints from Sooty's hind fetlocks. Her hooves were stained red and there was a spray of blood all up the inside of her legs.
The girl wrapped the lead-rope around the horse's neck and tied it in a knot, jumped onto her back. They walked first to the dam, where Sooty lowered her head and immediately began to suck in water in huge gulps.
I don't think you've had anything to drink since they got you, the girl thought.
'Don't let her drink too much,' Jaime warned, riding up beside them. 'It's not good for horses to drink a lot when they're hot, and -' he gestured towards the overpass. The girl looked to where he'd pointed, and saw the run-off from the rain cascading down from the blood-soaked track into the dam. Little red strands and globs slipped through the pinkish waterfall. The girl, nauseated, pulled up Sooty's head and turned her away.
They kicked the horses into a canter and rode off through the rain.
An early darkness fell with the storm. Thunder cracked and boomed and the trees appeared again and again out of the night in the flares of lightning. They rode further into the bush for another few hours, until the girl thought they must be on the outskirts of Maidenpool. Rain fell in a veil from the hood of her coat. Sooty began to stumble. As they reached the base of a steep ridge the girl reined in. 'We have to stop and rest,' she called out.
Jaime wheeled his horse around, looked behind them. He seemed to be listening for something, through the patter of the rain. 'Just a little further,' he urged. 'Another hour or so.'
'Sooty can't go on... she needs to rest.' The girl had already dismounted and began to run her hands over the horse again. All around her the night was black without dimension, but she concentrated on Sooty's warm fur, feeling for increasing heat or lumps. Sooty's breathing was strained.
Jaime dismounted too, came over. 'What's wrong with her?'
'Nothing's wrong with her,' the girl snapped. 'She's just tired.'
Jaime must have known better than to argue, and he helped take the horses over to the ridge and unpack a thick tarpaulin. They set it up against the cliff-face to make a sheltered area, weighed down the edges with stones, then dragged up some dead branches and lit a fire. The wet wood hissed and smoke drifted in slow coils. Jaime stripped off his sodden outer clothes and wrung them out. In the glow of the flames his skin shimmered as the muscles beneath flexed, his wet hair shone. He looked perfect, like a sculpted deity come to life. Like the lives of those men he took have made him more alive, the girl thought, although she knew that was insane even as she thought it.
She dipped a cloth into boiled water and cleaned Sooty's abrasions. The swelling on the horse's chest was the size of her hand, burning hot. There was little blood, but she could feel a thumping pulse through the skin. She smeared ointment on the area and applied a dressing.
Sooty's head drooped, she barely reacted to the girl's ministrations. Her eyes were filmy. Beside them, the packhorse grazed on the long grass, but Sooty showed no interest. The girl tipped fresh water from the flasks into a pot and dipped Sooty's muzzle in it, but the horse turned her head away.
'It's alright girl, never mind,' the girl said, rubbing Sooty's neck. 'You don't have to eat and drink tonight, you can just rest. It's going to be alright, now. Everything's going to be fine.' She didn't know who she was trying to reassure more, her horse or herself. Sooty snorted and sighed deeply.
Jaime came up beside them, dressed in a clean top he must have found in one of the packs. 'I cooked some food,' he said. 'Come and eat something.'
'I've never seen her this tired before,' the girl said. 'I think I need to go into Maidenpool tomorrow, buy some tonic. There's a woman there I know, she has healing things -'
'Tomorrow,' agreed Jaime. 'Now, come and eat, and get out of those clothes before you freeze. Your horse will manage for a while without you.'
The girl packed up her medical things and followed Jaime back to the fire. She sat on the dry ground under the ridge, inside the shelter, hands between her knees. The fire was warm and steam rose from her wet clothes, but she felt cold all the way through, like she would never thaw out even if she sat there for a thousand years. Jaime handed her a bowl of food and she ate from it, tasting nothing.
'Are you hurt?' Jaime asked.
She moved her shoulder slightly. Pain throbbed inside, and she knew the next morning she'd barely be able to move it. 'Not bad. Just a bruise,' she said.
'I'm sorry about...' Jaime looked away, ran his hand through his hair. 'Those villagers. But you have to remember, it was us or them.'
'I know,' she said. She still didn't look at him.
'They would have killed you, you know. If they'd caught us. I'm the one they wanted, you were expendable.'
'I know.'
There was a long silence. Finally Jaime sighed. 'If you hate me because I saved your life... then so be it.'
'I don't...' She didn't know what she felt. She couldn't decide if it was nothing at all, or so many conflicting emotions that it was impossible for any one of them to affect her.
Jaime picked up another log and put it on the fire. Sparks rose and fluttered. 'Have you ever killed someone, girl?'
'Sooty has... trampled people. Other times.'
'I don't mean your horse. I mean you,' he said. 'Have you ever killed a person?'
'I've seen people killed before. I'm fine with it.' The girl stared into the fire, at the shapes of tree limbs gleaming incandescent orange in the coals.
Jaime stood up and walked over to her, took the still half-full bowl out of her hands. He put it on the ground and lifted her up into his arms. She didn't resist when he peeled off her soaked clothes. She was shivering uncontrollably and he wrapped her in a blanket. Then he led her over to the sleeping furs and lay her down.
He kissed her on her neck, her breasts, down her body. His hands were warm and sure and she responded to the rising feelings he woke in her. She wanted to be mindless again, to not think, only feel; to lose herself in sensation. He lifted her legs and spread her open, pushed up into her as if he owned her. She shuddered and gasped at the pure pleasure of it. Jaime's eyes burned as he moved on top of her. But when she closed her eyes, she saw again the sword going into Brodrick's cheek, the blood spilling out. She saw the same light in Jaime's eyes then, and knew that he'd felt the same way killing Brodrick as he was feeling now.
Outside, a brief rattle of hail on the tarpaulin, and then the slow drumming rain.