dearer to her. In some irrational part of her, she still thought she’d live forever, but she could see that he would not. She closed her eyes and slept until the heat made her stir. He woke and laid his palm against her hair. “Do you know the story of Lynx and Morning Star?”
“Tell me,” she said.
He stopped and looked at her, ran his hand forward through her hair.
“Morning Star wanted a bride, and out of all the animals, he chose Lynx. He’d seen her walking alone at night and fallen in love as he watched her move. Liquid, like a river.
“They were happy together, but no sooner had their union taken place than a shadow entered their lives. With hulking shoulders and hunger and jealousy, Hyena set out to break apart the marriage with her dark magic. She transformed the food of Lynx into poison that would rob her of her will to live. Lynx’s fur lost its shine. Her eyes grew dull. She no longer groomed herself or cared for anything.
“Hyena threw Lynx out of her hut and moved in. Lynx’s sister hastened to Morning Star and told him that the light of his life was in danger. Morning Star’s rage was unbounded. He flew to Earth with his spear in hand. Hyena saw him coming and rushed from the hut in terror. As Hyena dodged to protect herself from his spear, her hind leg caught on the coals of the cooking fire. She was burned so badly that from that day forward, she walked lopsided.
“Lynx grew strong again. Morning Star shone brightly between night and day, brighter than before because he knew he had to stay vigilant against the forces of darkness in the universe.”
“Vigilant against the forces of darkness,” she said. She lay with her back next to the tent wall, one hand under a bunched-up pillow, facing him. She could smell old rainy seasons, sun, and wind in the canvas. His elbow was bent, his hand holding up his head. She caught his index finger in her fist. “Are you afraid of anything?”
“Me?”
This amused her. As though someone else were in the tent with them. “Yes, you.”
He kissed her hair. “When I was a kid, I was terrified of great naked mole rats.”
She laughed.
“My father showed me a picture once in a book. I used to dream about them and wake up screaming. My mum would come rushing in, ‘What’s the matter, what’s the matter?’ and I’d say, ‘The Great Naked Mole Rats!’”
“What do they look like?”
“Tiny piggy eyes, so small they can hardly see.” He sat up in agitation. “Their skin is a pinky yellowish gray and all wrinkly, ending with a ratty tail; they have four huge yellowish buck teeth that dominate their face. I was obsessed with them. I did research at the local library, hoping to get to the bottom of it. It turns out their skin doesn’t have a neurotransmitter responsible for pain, so you can paint them with acid and they feel nothing. Their social life is like bees or termites. They have one queen and only a couple of select males who can reproduce. The rest are workers, functioning in a kind of caste system. Some are tunnelers, some are soldiers, protecting the colony. They tell who’s friend or foe by smell. They roll around in their shit to update their smell. When they’re cold, they huddle together in a disgusting hairless mass of flesh. When they’re hot, they head into the nether reaches of their tunnels. They live up to twenty years, longer sometimes, but a lot of that living is sleep. They’re like some great jaundice-skinned Uncle Harry who came to Christmas dinner and went to sleep on the couch and never left.”
“Do you have an Uncle Harry?”
“No. But if I did … You really wouldn’t believe how disgusting these naked mole rats are. I’ll have to find you a picture. In my young dreams, they were enormous. In fact they’re only a few centimeters long.”
She laughed again.
“Why? What’s so funny?”
She didn’t answer. “What about now? Are you afraid of anything now? You ducked my question.”
“Did I?” He held her palm and spread her fingers out one by one. He nibbled the webbed skin between her thumb and first finger. “I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of bad people. But right now, at this moment, I’m afraid I won’t prove good enough for you.”
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“You don’t know me