“I can’t simply wait,” Nari replies. “They’re going to be looking for me.”

“In this predicament, you have to wait.” Seeing her bleeding hand, I take her knife and use it to cut off my sleeve. “We’ll find something to clean the cut. For now, we have to stop the bleeding.” Carefully, I wrap the cloth around her hand. She winces and attempts to retract her hand, but I hold on tightly and continue until the cloth is firmly tied. I clean her knife on the blades of the grass, and then I slide it into my other boot.

“I’ll be keeping your knife.”

“It was a gift” is all she says in a slight tone of defense. She brushes by me. “What now?”

“Hide until I know for sure that your return to the Capital will not be threatened.”  I stay behind her and make sure to keep her in sight. I have to deceive her until the end. “For now, we find a place with water. We can clean the cut, and we can find something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be.”

We walk without speaking for an hour. As we walk, I absorb my surroundings. The area looks unfamiliar, but I am confident I can bring us to the Nights’ base when the time is right. We will be together in the forest for many days, perhaps even weeks. The Capital is going to want to recuperate from the shock of the attack, and once they do, they will become more dubious about their own citizens. When that time comes, suspicion will rightly fall on me. That is when I must take her to the Nights.

Nari’s foot catches on a fallen branch. She totters lazily before she finds her footing. She’s tired. At this hour, she would still be asleep.

“Let’s find water tomorrow,” I say. “You need to sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine.”

“I’m not tired,” she groans.

“It’s useless for me to protect a person who can’t keep up. Rest now. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

By the light of the moon, I discover a thick gathering of foliage where Nari can sleep and I can keep watch. “Here,” I say. She stares at the floor with its trodden grass and fallen, rotting leaves.

“On the ground?”

“Unless you want to sleep in a tree.”

She looks up, sincerely seeming to consider it, and then shakes her head. “Tomorrow, let’s find an inn. Perhaps if I explain the situation, they can help us.”

I snicker at the notion, but I don’t say anything. She lies down and uses her two hands as a pillow. It takes her a few minutes to discover how uncomfortable it will be to sleep in that position. She gathers all the healthy leaves she finds and warily leans her head against them. She sits up immediately once the leaves wrinkle beneath her head.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” I say. I am sitting cross-legged in front of her. I sharpen the knives against each other’s blades as I reply, “You’re capable.”

“It smells. And there are insects everywhere.”

“I apologize that you’re so uncultured.”

She frowns. “It’s been a long time since I’ve lived like this.” She lies down once more. I ignore her. I am not going to entertain her complaints.

I sharpen the knives until I hear the change in her breathing pattern. I glance over to see that she has fallen asleep. Her dress is stained and her hair is sprawled amongst the leaves. If she were to have a mirror, she would be horrified to see her reflection.

She shivers. Since my tunic is ruined anyway, I take it off and wear just my father’s shirt. With the knife, I cut the tunic at the seams until it resembles an abstract blanket, and then I lay it over Nari. There is a smudge of dirt on her cheek. I reach out to erase it, but then I change my mind.

-----

I wake up only because my head had hit my knee. I rub my eyes. I can’t remember the time when I fell asleep. I glance over to check on Nari when I notice that the only thing on the ground is my discarded tunic.

I scramble to my feet and look around. I don’t see any human in the light of the early morning. Panicking, I start to run when I see Nari step out from behind the thick waist of a tree.

“I told you to stay next to me.”

My angry shout jolts her. She rubs her hands together in shame. “I was hungry … “

“I can’t protect you if I can’t see you,” I remind her.

“I’m sorry.”

I sigh. “Let’s find food.”

I take the tunic with me in case it becomes useful in the future, and then I lead the way around the forest. We walk for hours without seeing game. Nari continues to talk about food, making me hungry, as well, but I can’t do anything to satisfy our need for sustenance when nothing is available for me to capture and kill. It’s as if the animals of the forest had sensed last night’s danger and fled the Capital, too.

The sun is hot, and I become thirsty. My throat feels as if it is closing on itself. My black clothes gather heat as if I were a storage unit for it. As a result, I can’t stop sweating. The stickiness is unbearable, and I hate feeling uncomfortable when it is out of my control.

“Is that it?” Nari points. I squint. I am sure she isn’t referring to the heat waves shimmering from the ground, but that is all I see.

“Perhaps.”

“I think it’s a river,” she says. “Do you hear it?”

As if my ears were suddenly , I hear it. I’m surprised I did not hear it before; it is so loud and so clear that it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. I can almost feel the cold, rushing water pour over my skin. Fueled by this image, I take Nari’s hand and run.

“Why are we running?”

“Because it’s hot.”

The forest scatters around the river, which is wide and beautifully alive. I drop Nari’s hand and lift my shirt.

“Wait – “

“I’ve no care for formalities,” I say as I toss my shirt to the floor. “We’re outside the Capital now.”

I slowly wade in and feel the cold water tie its slithering fingertips around my ankles. The smooth, round stones shift and wobble as I step on them. I reach down to splash water on my face, and then I duck my entire body underneath the coursing river. I swim until my breath runs out, and then I rise for air. I find Nari sitting on the edge with her arms around her knees.

“Get in,” I coax.

“I’m hungry,” she replies. Just then, her stomach grumbles. The timing is so embarrassing that I laugh. “Why are you laughing?” She asks.

“It’s funny.”

“You never laugh.”

“Get in,” I repeat more firmly. “I know you’re hungry. But water is just as important, if not more.” I wave my arms through the surface of the river and push little waves toward her. “I don’t know when we are going to find a place to hydrate ourselves again, so you need to take advantage of this.”

“I’m not going in.” She sets her chin on top of her knees. “I’m in a dress.”

“We aren’t in the Capital – “

“I know that,” she huffs. “But I was raised this way. I can’t discard my manners as easily as you did.” She blushes and looks away. I remember that I am bare-chested.

“I would think you were raised with reason.”

She says something, but I do not hear. I crane my neck and say, “I can’t hear you.”

“I will get in,” she finally stands, irritated at my unintended sarcasm. “But I can’t swim in this dress.”

I swim to her as she dips her feet into the water. “Come on,” I say. “I’ll help you.” I offer her my hand. She gives it a curt look.

“You usually take my hand without asking.”

“I’m not in a hurry.”

She watches me suspiciously before she accepts my hand. Slowly, she sinks into the river. Her feet land on something unstable; I hold her shoulders, and she grabs onto mine.

“Sorry,” she says. She pulls her hands away, and I see the bandage I made for her.

“We need to clean this,” I say. I hold her hand once more and gently untie the cloth. She grits her teeth as I peel the fabric from her skin. The gash that came from the broken piece of the vase looks like a red stamp on her palm. “I have to wash this.”

She inhales deeply. “I know.”

I quickly duck her hand into the water. When I bring it out, I rewrap her hand. “It isn’t deep.”

“Thank you.” She looks up. She smells like sweat and dirt. Her hair is unruly from the humidity, and there is a small nick on her cheek. Yet I find that she’s beautiful, an inconvenient realization that gives me that unconventional feeling much like the day when I first saw her.

I release her. She coughs, and I lift myself onto the bank of the river. I cup water in my hands and drink several large gulps, and then I splash water on my face. I look up to see that Nari is already leaving the water. She shivers when she reaches the bank. Her dress embraces the lines of her body, so I throw her my tunic.

“Thanks,” she murmurs and covers herself up. For her sake, I put my father’s shirt back on.

“All right, Capital’s daughter,” I say. “Let’s get something to eat.”