sitting with my back to the plains. The bloodcat watched all this, and when I was settled, it moved back to where it had been stretching, curled up, and placed its head on its paws, red eyes watching me. I began to write all this down, and at some point the bloodcat closed its eyes. I am not sure if it sleeps, but I have no desire to rouse it.
I wish that I could sleep so fearlessly out here. I don’t think I will sleep until my body gives me no other choice. We will see at dawn if the bloodcat is hungry.
—
The fire had burned down to a few red coals, and at some point I must have nodded off for a few minutes or hours. The bloodcat remained. I was still in one piece, felt somewhat better, and miraculously had not woken up covered in insect bites. The sun was not up, but the sky was gray and I could see well enough to move.
“Hey, friend,” I said, and the bloodcat’s eyes opened like two more coals and blinked. “I would like to visit my family now. Would that be all right with you?”
If it wanted to have me for breakfast, it could. But it stuck its rear in the air and stretched. I rose and did the same in a more human fashion. I hoped that if it let me live, I’d find some water; I was parched. That didn’t mean I had nothing in my bladder. I stepped away, turned my back, and took care of it, looking over my shoulder at the bloodcat. It was still occupied with loosening its muscles.
Finding the wreckage of the Khose train wouldn’t be difficult. The path of the kherns was clearly visible as a swath of flattened grasses not far from the nughobes. All I had to do was follow it back to where they’d smashed into the wagon.
When I finished, the bloodcat completed its morning stretch, yawned, and then looked at me almost expectantly, its tail swishing idly in the air. “Well? Shall we go together?” I said, pointing in the general direction of the wagon. “Or is this where we part company?” The bloodcat simply returned my stare, tail moving of its own volition. “All right, I’m going. Come along if you want,” I said.
I turned to the plains and began to walk, muscles tight but not as painful as the night before. I had improved from a lurch to a slight limp, and my arms had their full range of motion with only a few minor stinging complaints. I thought it remarkable to be feeling so well.
After twelve steps or so I heard the bloodcat move, only a whisper but still audible in the silence of the early dawn. An unmistakable hiss of liquid told me the animal had its own bodily functions to complete. What would it do next? Disappear back into the nughobes and rejoin its nest? Sprint at my back and bring me down?
It did neither of those things. Before I had taken another twenty steps I heard a soft whisper of grass grow louder, and then out of the corner of my right eye I spied movement. It was the bloodcat, keeping pace next to me a short distance away, tail held high and head up, sampling the air.
“You are the strangest creature I’ve ever met,” I said, “but I’m glad you’re here. I’d be all alone otherwise.”
It purred, though I don’t know at what. Surely not at my words.
A mess of boards and planks marked the site of my family’s end. The carcasses of the wart yaks lay prone, ribs already exposed to the air after a single afternoon and evening’s rest on the plains. The scavengers had been efficient and thorough. A couple of lingering blackwings crowed a lazy challenge at us, but they were full and had nothing to fight about. They flew away as the bloodcat and I approached.
The wagon had been splintered apart and its contents tumbled across the grass, but the contents hadn’t been completely annihilated. There were colorful pieces of cloth strewn about, wraps that belonged to my mother or aunt or sister. Cooking utensils such as spoons and pots. I found a small knife suitable for peeling roots and palmed it in case I couldn’t find anything better. A minute later I found a spear—my spear, in fact, recognizable by the dyed red leather strips wrapped around the base of the head. When I