He was stronger than her, and she knew it. Almost healed now, moving freely. She regretted helping him with that. Helping people was always a mistake. A fight was an awful risk. She might be tougher than others, but she'd no wish to have her face broken into slop like that big man, the Stone Splitter. No wish to be stuck through with a sword, to have her knees smashed, her head ripped half off.

None of that held any appeal.

But he was too close to shoot, and if she ran he'd rouse the others, and they had horses. Fighting would probably wake them anyway, but if she could land a good blow quickly she might get away in the confusion. Hardly perfect, but what choice did she have? She slowly swung the bag off her shoulder and lowered it to the ground, then her bow and her quiver. She put one hand onto the hilt of her sword, fingers brushing the grip in the darkness, and he did the same.

'Alright then, pink. Let's get to it.'

'Might be there's another way.'

She watched him, suspicious, ready for tricks. 'What way?'

'Stay with us. Give it a few days. If you don't change your mind, well, I'll help you pack. You can trust me.' Trust was a word for fools. It was a word people used when they meant to betray you. If he moved forward a finger's width she would sweep the sword out and take his head off. She was ready.

But he did not move forward and he did not move back. He stood there, a big, silent outline in the darkness. She frowned, fingertips still tickling the grip of the curved sword. 'Why should I trust you?'

The big pink shrugged his heavy shoulders. 'Why not? Back in the city, I helped you and you helped me. Without each other, might be we'd both be dead.' It was true, she supposed, he had helped her. Not as much as she had helped him, but still. 'Time comes you got to stick at something, don't you? That's the thing about trust, sooner or later you just got to do it, without good reasons.'

'Why?'

'Otherwise you end up like us, and who wants that?'

'Huh.'

'I'll do you a deal. You watch my back, I'll watch yours.' He tapped his chest slowly with his thumb. 'I'll stick.' He pointed at her. 'You'll stick. What d'you say?'

Ferro thought about it. Running had given her freedom, but little else. It had taken her through years of misery to the very edge of the desert, hemmed in by enemies. She had run from Yulwei and the Eaters had nearly taken her. Where would she run to now, anyway? Would she run across the sea to Kanta? Perhaps the big pink was right. Perhaps the time had come to stop running.