“Eh, Master?” he said as stupidly as he could. “I’m cold. I’m hungry.”

The cloaked man studied him and the ghost a moment longer, then turned away. “Get that stink away from camp.”

“Up, you! Get rid of the body.”

A whip descended on Shai’s shoulders, and he yelped just because he was so surprised. But he shuffled over to the corpse as the captives scooted away. The smell gagged him, harder by far than the slash of a whip to suffer easily. Her limbs fell every which way as he grabbed her under the armpits. His hands became smeary with the blood that coated her chest. His feet pressed into moist, warm nubs and rubbery leavings that squelched as his feet shifted to gain purchase. He dragged her backward. A trio of soldiers hustled up to guard him as a thorn-ornamented thicket scraped his neck and back, branches catching in his hair.

“That’s far enough!” barked one of the guards.

Her ghost shimmered up to him, child’s face working in a distorted grimace as insubstantial tears sparkled on white cheeks. He staggered away to heave, afterward made the mistake of wiping his mouth with a bloodstained hand, and the metallic taste made him retch again. His throat burned. He tried to wipe his hands on leaves, on dirt, but her blood wouldn’t come off.

“Come on now.” The guard poked him with a spear.

He took a slow step sideways, thinking to bolt. Even if the ghost followed him, they could not see it.

The haft of a spear cracked across his back, pitching him to his knees, and thwacked again, catching him at the base of the neck. Ears ringing, he stumbled up, too dazed to run, and they herded him at spearpoint back into camp. His face and hands and arms were scratched up by thorns, his head was pounding, and blinking made him dizzy. Once he grasped at the ghost, thinking to steady himself, but his hand passed right through her and he reeled to his left, brought up short by a soldier shoving him back.

“Aui! You reek!”

It started to rain.

“Heya! Get the big oaf over here to hold up the canvas what’s coming down. Sergeant don’t want to get wet while he’s doing his business.”

He caught his foot on a root and went down, his weight jarring up through the knee. Another soldier prodded him up, and he staggered to where a length of canvas tied up to form a lean-to was indeed caving in as rainwater pooled in a sag in the cloth. The watchful boy was already yanking on the cloth but he wasn’t strong enough to keep it taut, so Shai grasped the cloth and tugged hard, making water splash onto the ground.

The side was wide open. It was too dark to see clearly, but he heard panting, a release, and a sigh. Rain poured. Another man slid under the canvas.

“Heya. My turn. Get out.”

“Eiya! It’s wet out there! Just go ahead.”