“Guatan males,” Sorrel hissed. “My mother warned me about you.”

A voice outside the cave said, “What happened? Did you fall?”

Rashelope! Sorrel could not make out Sarane’s reply, but Rashelope said, “Wait here.” She came into the cave holding her shovel. Emrallie joined her, machete in hand, and they stood, shoulder to shoulder, facing the four males.

“Who are you?” Rashelope said. “And why the guata is Sarane bleeding?”

“He guatan hit her,” Sorrel said, pointing at Rapt. “He hit Lunar too. They were outside and –”

“They’re planning to take the PlAK and hurt us,” Pia said.

“They’re the band we saw in the valley. They know about the army camp. We should –” Sorrel said.

“He’s dangerous, there was no reason for –” Lunar said.

“Now just wait – ” Kes said.

“EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!” Sorrel shouted. Rapt said something under his breath and stepped forward, bringing the gun to his shoulder. In one smooth movement Rashelope raised and swung her shovel. She hit him across the face. He fell without a sound, his dark glasses clattering on the cave floor, the gun still in his hand. Rashelope grabbed it, ran her fingers along the side of the weapon, unhooked a small catch and pointed it at the entrance. She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. “It’s not loaded,” she said. “No more dangerous than a tree branch.” She threw the gun to the ground and resumed her place next to Emrallie.

“Sorrel, tend to Sarane. Make sure the wound is clean. Don’t waste the water,” Emrallie said. “You,” she pointed at Kes, “have one of your band see to him.”

Rapt stirred. His right eye had gone red and was beginning to swell. Sorrel went to the pile of backpacks to get her machete. She wondered where Caroni was.

She found a piece of cloth in her pack and went to Sarane outside. She called to Pia to bring one of the torches.

Sarane leant against a rock with her eyes closed and her face turned upwards. The cut near her hairline was small but deep, still bleeding. “Good thing you don’t have any hair,” Sorrel said. “Helps prevent infection.” She didn’t know if this was true. “I think we should use a bit of that sap from the tree in Jiba to hold the cut closed,” she said.

“Do you have any?”

“Emrallie has a lot – she’s been storing it for months. We’ll have to soften it in the sun tomorrow. Let’s go back inside now.”

“Sorrel? I’m starving. We need food.”

“I know,” Sorrel said. “I’ll look for the sap.”

Inside, the females and males sat randomly – some in small groups, others by themselves. Rapt leaned against the cave wall near the entrance, dark glasses on. She could see the bruise where Rashelope had hit him, spreading onto his swollen cheek and along his jaw.