Chapter One: Blair

BEYOND THE END

Shit. Something bites me on the back of my neck, and it starts to itch right away. I want to scratch it but that's a little hard to do with my hands tied behind my back. I can't do anything about the insect bites, just like I can't do anything about the sweat pouring into my eyes, or about my hair falling all over the place, or about being scared to death.

Trying to be discreet about it, I lean forward a little to catch Dr. Vaughan's attention. Doesn't work. He's staring around at the people surrounding us, speaking every language he knows, but none of them react to anything he says. He tries to rise off his knees -- I guess he's planning on launching into his "God's Gift to Academia" act -- but one of the warriors levels a spear directly at his throat. Looks like he's not impressed.

Vaughan has the sense to settle back slowly, and the spear is withdrawn. I start breathing again. Welcome to the wonderful world of field anthropology, Sandburg.

I can't believe how soon this trip went bad. First of all, Vaughan convinced the pilot to ignore the flight plan so we could fly over one of his old sites. I thought it was a bad idea, but why should they listen to me? We were only a couple hours out of Lima when the pilot said he was having engine trouble, and his radio wasn't working, and he was setting the plane down. Well, he set us down, the idiot, right in the middle of the jungle. We all stumbled out of the plane. Vaughan was the first to see the warriors. He stepped up to them, started talking -- he seemed almost offended when he found out he didn't speak their language. Me, I just froze.

As for the pilot, he took off into the jungle the minute he saw the spears. A few warriors split off from the group and followed him into the undergrowth. I heard a scream... I really don't want to know what happened next. The others brought me and Vaughan to this village, and we've been waiting ever since.

Not too long ago, all I was worried about was if I'd packed enough bug spray and how I'd keep my research notes from getting mildewed in this jungle air. And -- no sense in kidding myself -- wondering how long Vaughan and I were going to last before we tried to strangle each other. Now, I'm worrying about becoming a shish kebab. Kind of puts it all in perspective.

Vaughan and I look at each other nervously as the low hum of conversation around us increases in volume. There's some kind of commotion on the outskirts of the group. The focus of everything seems to be one man, a lot taller than the rest of the tribe. I squint, trying to get a good look at him, but the smoke from the fire makes my eyes water. He's gone by the time my vision clears.

Sighing, I try to relax as much as I can. I keep telling myself that if they didn't kill us right away, they might not kill us at all. I don't quite believe myself. Maybe they're just waiting until morning. Naomi was right; I should have gone on that expedition to Spain. Hang out with the Basques, drive to town on the weekends -- nothing more dangerous to worry about than a herd of angry sheep or the wine going bad.

But I was stupid enough to be flattered when Vaughan chose me to go along on this trip, over everyone else in the anthro department. Sure, the guy is brilliant, but I never realized what a jerk he was when we were back at the university. He barely waited for the airplane to leave the ground before he started bragging about where he'd been published, all his groundbreaking work, how lucky I was to be able to watch him in action.

The guy's a legend, all right. That's not entirely his ego. I read a newspaper article on him once, a couple of years ago. Right when I was deciding on a major. The article described him as a cross between Indiana Jones and Margaret Mead. He has this reputation for gaining the trust of the most hostile indiginous peoples. Personally, after spending a few days with him, I started to wonder how accurate the profile was. I was about ready to jump out of the plane just to get away from him...

I hear someone come to stand behind me. Before I know what's happening, I'm yanked to my feet by two men and marched away from Dr. Vaughan. I hear him protesting, but I'm too startled -- okay, too busy concentrating on not pissing my pants in abject terror -- to pay much attention to what he's saying.

They take me to a hut set slightly apart from the others and shove me inside. The door is closed behind me. "Uhhh... okay." My voice is shaking. I don't care. "So is this where I find out what's going on?" It's pitch dark in the hut. I take a step forward... and, naturally enough, trip.

As I stumble, I twist my body around to try to regain some kind of balance. Then strong hands lock around my upper arms and pull me upright again. Not for long. I'm spun around once, twice... when I'm completely disoriented, I'm abruptly released. I feel myself falling backward, and I brace myself for some pretty major pain.

It doesn't come. Oh, sure, I get the breath knocked out of me, but I fall on something a lot softer than I expected. My relief doesn't last long. Whoever's in the hut with me flips me over onto my stomach, and a large hand comes to rest on the back of my neck. "Hey!" I start to struggle. Then I hear something that stops me. Even though I was raised by a committed pacifist, I recognize the whisper of steel on steel. I'm not all that pleased to have my guess confirmed when something sharp and cold slides down my arm.

Instead of slicing into my flesh, though, I feel a slight pressure on the rope binding my wrists as the tip of the knife slips under it. Then the man holding me down whispers, "I'm going to set you free. I'm not going to hurt you, all right?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, man -- " Then it dawns on me. His voice is a little rusty and he speaks hesitantly, as if he's almost forgotten the language, but there's no mistaking the accent. This guy's an American. Before I can say anything about it, though (and what's there to say? Am I supposed to break into a chorus of "It's a Small World After All"?), my hands are free and he's helping me sit up.

"Thanks." But my gratitude doesn't extend to wanting to be close to him, and I start to scoot away. I don't get far before he reaches out and grabs my wrist. It's a little sore from the ropes, and I draw my breath in sharply.

"I'm sorry." He lets go of me at once. "But they're watching us. We have to be... careful."

"Watching us -- why?" I sit against the wall and pull my legs up to my chest. This time, he doesn't try to pull me back. "What the fuck is going on here, man?" I try to study his features, but no luck -- I can barely make out his general shape, enough to tell that this is one huge hombre, but that's it.

Somehow, I get the feeling that he doesn't have as much trouble seeing me. He sighs. "This tribe is under a constant state of siege. You and your friend invaded their territory. You don't belong to a friendly tribe, so you're probably enemies. And even if you're not, they don't have the resources to take care of many strangers."

I freeze. "Where's Dr. Vaughan? They're not -- " I trail off and swallow hard. Not that I like the guy that much or anything, but that doesn't mean I want to see him skinned and turned into belts for the entire tribe.

"No." He's speaking a little easier now. "He's just locked up. I convinced the elders.... They're not going to kill either of you."

"Oh. Good." But I don't feel reassured. I start fidgeting with my necklace. It's the one Naomi gave me, the one with the ankh on it. Maybe not what every mother would give her son, but Naomi's never been your typical mother... I realize my thoughts are wandering, and this isn't the best time for spacing off. "So killing us was on the agenda before, but it's not now."

He hesitates. "No. There was another option. I'm the -- the guardian of this tribe. That gives me certain... privileges. If I claim you, place you under my protection, you and your friend will be safe until I can get you out of here."

I have a hard time remembering how to speak. When I finally do, I ask, "What does... 'protection' mean, exactly?" He doesn't say anything. I start babbling. "I mean, I think I have a pretty good idea -- it's not like there's not any precedent, there's this bit in Plato's Republic that talks about how the bravest warriors have the right to choose anyone that they want for -- and I can't exactly say that I've never done this before. Well, okay, if you're talking about the situation we're in here, I haven't done this --" I remember what the alternative to this is, and my throat freezes up again.

There's a long silence. Then he stands up and steps away from the bed. "No. We can figure something out --" He doesn't finish the thought.

I try to laugh. It doesn't sound like much. "Come on, man. I know tribal structures. They're not renowned for flexibility. If you break the rules, guardian or not, you'll probably be killed too, right? Or at least in a lot of trouble. As for me... even if they give you a break, they'd have no reason to keep me around, would they?" He doesn't deny it, and I take a deep breath. "Either we do... this... or Vaughan and I end up in one of those big cooking pots like you see in cartoons."

"That won't happen."

"Why not?"

"They don't have a big pot."

My heart jerks. "Please tell me that they aren't planning on chopping us up for little pots. I read about this tribe in the Belgian Congo back in -- "

He interrupts me. "No -- I was... it was a joke, all right? They're not cannibals. Really. Nothing like that is going to happen to you."

"...Oh." So he was just trying to ease my mind. Good. It wasn't much of a joke and I can't say that it relaxed me much. But knowing that he doesn't want me to worry.... It helps a little. He hesitates, then comes back to the bed. He sits down; not next to me, not exactly. But even though the bed is big enough for him, it's by no means huge and I can sense him only a foot or so away. Not much distance between us at all.

"Does that hurt?" I can't help flinching as he lifts his hand to my cheek. It's tender -- I hadn't even realized I was bruised. Must have happened when we got grabbed, or maybe in the crash. And I still can't figure out why he can see me so much better than I can see him. Maybe I've got hysterical blindness, or at least hysterical near-sightedness.

Shaking my head, I say, "No, it's fine, I've had worse. I got hit by a baseball once in sixth grade, had a shiner for about a month...." I try to think of something to break the ice, but none of my usual lines really seem appropriate. While my mind is floundering, though, his seems to be moving straight ahead. He moves his hand, brushes my hair out of my eyes. I concentrate on breathing.

Then I can't breathe, because his mouth is covering mine. One hand continues threading through my hair, and the other is resting lightly on the back of my neck. Right on that damn bug bite, but I guess he couldn't be expected to know that. Then that hand starts stroking my back, lightly traveling up and down my spine. Incredible. We're in a fuck or die situation, and he's initiating foreplay? Apparently he feels that even though this isn't something either of us really wants, and even though he's probably been stuck with a few extra Y chromosomes, that doesn't mean he can't be a gentleman about it. Maybe he'll give me flowers after this is all over.

He starts unbuttoning my shirt, and I suddenly realize that he's not wearing much in the way of clothes. He is, technically speaking, naked. I still can't see him, but I can feel him. Oh, I can definitely feel him as he pulls me a little closer. Not wanting to make him do all the work, I put my hands on his shoulders. Big. Hard, muscled, lean -- God, if he wanted to, he could break me. He could have just pushed me onto the bed, left my hands tied, and gotten it over with. But he explained, and offered to find a way out of it, and -- well, he's trying to make it... not horrible. He's trying to take care of me.

And I've gone to bed with people for much worse reasons.

Sliding my hands around his back, I lean into the kiss. I lean into him. He's surprised, I think, but he recovers nicely. His lips are firm and calm against mine. I can feel myself trembling -- I hate to admit it, even to myself, but it's not nearly as much fear anymore as it is arousal. His tongue plays against mine, filling my mouth but not forcing its way in; he's actually letting me set the pace here. Well, I can't say he isn't considerate. Any other time, any other place, and I'd be having the time of my life.

Pushing my shirt off, he breaks the kiss and lowers me to the bed. I whimper as his teeth scrape lightly across one nipple, then the other. Part of me wants to ask his name, or tell him mine, but the moment for introductions is long past. It might come again later.

His hands start unfastening my pants. I lift my hips as he slides them down. He has a moment's trouble with my boots, but then they're off -- dimly, I realize that he used the knife to cut the laces.

I have time to think, "Okay, I'm naked, too. Yippee." Then he's silently urging me to roll over on my stomach. I do it. He stretches out on top of me, but doesn't put any weight on me. I'm lying on some kind of animal skin. It's soft, and thick, and I curl my fingers into it. My heart is pounding so hard that I'm sure it's making the bed shake. He can feel it, too, because he slides a hand under me and presses his palm against my chest. He murmurs something soft and kind-sounding, but I can't decipher the words over the blood roaring in my ears.

Wriggling against him, I bury my face in the fur. His hand eases down my stomach. My muscles twitch in response, and I groan as he carefully grasps my cock. Somewhere along the line, I got hard. When did that happen?

He pulls his hand away, sits up and straddles my thighs. Rather than -- than doing anything, though, he kneels there. I can feel his tension and alertness. Then I understand what caught his attention as I hear the shuffling of feet outside the hut. He was right. They're watching us, making sure we're both playing by the rules. And I don't even know what the rules are.

I try to stifle it but I feel a sob rising in my throat. He must have heard, because he leans forward and gently kisses the back of my neck, over and over, until I calm myself down a little. I look over my shoulder and nod. "Okay. I'm -- " He kisses me again, barely more than a flick of his tongue against mine. And I give up on speech.

He straightens up again. I hear him fumbling with something. A single finger, cool and slick, brushes against my anus. I do my best to relax as his other hand clasps my hip, kneading my flesh -- deciding where to hold on, I guess. Then another finger enters me, and I stop worrying about why he's doing anything. I thrust back instinctively, rising to my knees as his fingers start moving slowly inside me, stretching me, preparing me. He adds a third finger.

As I squirm against him, he reaches around me to fondle my cock again. I can feel his shaft pressing into my leg as his fingers slowly withdraw. Before I can protest, the tip of his cock is inside me. Oh, God. He rotates his hips a little, working into me steadily until I cry out. He stops moving until I buck against him again. Then, with one hard thrust, he's inside me, pushing me flat against the bed.

I cry out again, but this time he knows I don't want him to stop. My hips start to echo his rhythm as he pounds into me. I feel the fur beneath us grow damp with the sweat pouring off our bodies; my erection had faded when he first entered me, but it comes back as I rub it against the bed. I'm so hard it hurts. It feels wonderful.

The kisses begin falling on my neck and shoulders again, then turn to nibbles and sucking. A hand snakes around and tweaks my nipple hard, making me groan. I don't know what to react to anymore. He darts his tongue inside my ear, and that's all it takes. Lights burst in my head as I explode, and I try to muffle my scream in the fur. Then he's gripping my shoulders, holding me down as he bites the back of my neck hard. I feel him shudder and tense, and then he's shooting inside me, hot and strong and claiming me as his.

We stay nestled together for what feels like hours, my sweat drying on his body, his on mine. Finally, I turn my head to the side. He pushes my hair aside and gently kisses my temple. As he withdraws from me, he whispers, "My name is Jim."

And that's more than I can stand. It makes it too real. He has a name now, so that means that it actually happened, it means that I'm going to have to deal with... this.... I feel the tears building again, and I'm too tired to even try to stop them. I wish I was strong enough to get out from under him and run away from here. I wish I had someplace I could run to.

I'm hardly aware of being turned over and lifted for a moment, of the damp fur being pushed away. Then I'm lowered to the bed again, quickly wiped clean and cradled against a broad, smooth chest. Against Jim's chest. I change my mind. The last thing I want right now is to leave this bed, or, worse, to be thrown out of it. If I've got to let myself be used, well, that's one thing. But being used and thrown away... God. What if that's what he has in mind?

Jim keeps on holding me, making little shushing noises into my hair. I can't decide how much to trust him. I don't want to fall asleep; all the same, I can feel my mind starting to slip away. I jerk myself back into consciousness a few times, but it gets harder and harder to fight. Finally, I just decide to let go.

I wake up by stages, fighting it all the way. I don't want to be awake yet....

Almost clinically, I start the catalogue. There's a stinging pain on the back of my neck from the bite. My wrists are still sore. My lips feel a little tender. And yes, I've definitely been fucked recently. So I guess last night really happened.

I'm alone in the bed, curled up on my side, facing the wall. A blanket is pulled up to my chin. Even though it's too warm, I'm not about to uncover myself. I stare at the wall. Pretty much your standard construction for this area -- a framework of loosely-woven thin wooden strips. Provides a certain amount of privacy, while at the same time allowing for the air circulation that's so important in this climate --

I hear a sound behind me as someone enters the hut. Gee, and I always thought it was a ridiculous exaggeration to say that you could feel your heart stop. Mine does just that. I close my eyes tightly and pretend to be asleep. I don't want to look at him. It's one thing to know his name, but I'm not ready to give him a face yet.

He -- Jim -- isn't fooled. "Blair?... I brought your gear from the plane. Vaughan told me what was yours. I'm afraid that the plane is beyond repairing -- the radio, too -- but nothing inside was damaged...." He finally trails off. He's waiting for me to say something, I guess.

Might as well oblige the man. "You -- " I swallow hard. "You know my name."

"I... saw your papers." There's a brief silence. "You should eat. There's breakfast outside. Or I could bring you something." I shake my head. There's a longer silence, then I hear him moving away. "When you're ready -- " He breaks off, then contines in a rush, "No one here is going to hurt you. I'm not... I won't...." He hesitates at the door. "I... fixed your bootlaces." Then he's gone, the door closing softly. And I bury my face in my arms.

I stay like that for a long time, doing my best not to think, not to remember. It doesn't work. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about the way his lips felt on mine, the way his cock felt in my ass. I can still feel his arms around me, and I remember how he stayed and held me when he would have had every reason to get up and go.

Why am I reacting this way? It seemed awfully straight-forward last night: have sex with this guy and I get to live. Hell of an incentive.

Besides, it's not like I haven't had my share of one night stands. That's how I should classify what happened between us, right? It was just one time, and it's not going to happen again. It's not. So I can stop thinking about it now. That doesn't do a lot of good, though, because every time I stop thinking about last night, I start worrying about what might happen today.

After all, what do I know about this Jim guy, other than the fact that he's not bad in bed? What's an American doing in the middle of the jungle? Hell, for all I know he's a drug runner or a mercenary or a poacher or a white slaver or --

Before I can work myself into a state of complete hysteria -- not that there's too far to go -- Vaughan comes barging into the hut. Thinks he's riding to the rescue, probably. "Sandburg? Come on, we can make a run for it --" He runs over to the bed and grabs my shoulder.

Keeping my face to the wall, I jerk away. I don't want him touching me. I don't want anyone touching me. "No."

He bends over me. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck as he speaks rapidly. "I know what they did to you last night, I know what you're feeling -- "

"Oh, I really doubt that." Vaughan's pissing me off. Looks like I'm getting back to normal. "Get out of here. Just -- just leave me alone."

Ignoring me, he grabs me and tries to turn me over. "Be quiet -- I have to get you out of here before they try and stop us!"

That does it. Flailing back blindly, I feel my elbow connect solidly with his midsection. Good. As he sits down heavily on the floor, I sit up and glare at him. "Get me out of here? You son of a bitch, you're the one who got me into this!"

The idiot struggles to his feet and reaches for me again. "You're traumatized, you don't know what -- " This time I hit him in the nose. He falls back, stunned. Holding his hand to his face, he says, "For God's sake, calm down -- I can get you to safety -- "

Vaughan freezes as the door opens. There are three people standing there. It's safer for me to look at the smaller two. One's a man, probably my height but a lot bulkier. It's only a guess, but I'd say the feathered collar he's wearing means he's an elder or a chief or something. The second person is a tiny, elderly woman with short gray hair. She looks first at me, then at Vaughan, who's still holding onto his nose. She raises her eyebrows and makes a comment to the first man, who just shrugs in reply.

Unable to avoid it any longer, I finally make myself look at the third person. At least a full head taller than the other man, the chief. Darkly tanned skin, contrasting sharply with close-cropped light brown hair and clear, pale blue eyes. He's wearing what seem to be some kind of military fatigue trousers and nothing else. So that's what Jim looks like.

I try to hide it, but I can feel myself starting to shake again. Jim stares at me, then turns to the others. He never even acknowledges Vaughan. There's a brief conversation. Then the two strangers walk out, leaving me alone with Jim and Vaughan.

Jim spares me only a brief glance as he walks over to Vaughan. Speaking quietly, he says, "I already told you, I can't let you leave."

Vaughan pulls himself upright and glares at Jim. He clenches his fists. Oh, swell. Now I've got two alpha males fighting over me. Every boy anthropologist's dream.

They're about the same height, but not only does Jim have a good twenty pounds on the professor, Vaughan's spent the past few years on the lecture circuit and he's out of shape. I guess Vaughan realizes that, because he chooses another way to attack. Waving a hand at me, he sneers, "Why? Protecting your property?" And any regrets I might have felt about punching him fly out of my head. I'm so humiliated -- so furious -- that I literally can't see straight.

Jim stiffens. A muscle in his jaw starts to twitch. Through his teeth, he says, "We're at least fifty miles from anything that can be loosely called civilization. There are about ten unfriendly tribes between here and there. I can't spare any warriors right now to escort you to safety. If you want to live, you'll stay here with the Direma."

"I'll take my chances, Ellison." Vaughan points at me again. "And so will Sandburg."

"The hell I will!" It's hard to say whether Vaughan or Jim is more shocked when I finally speak up. I'm pretty shocked. Taking a deep breath, I look at Jim. "You told me... if we stay here, nothing will happen to us?" I want to add, "Nothing will happen to me", but I don't want to say that in front of Vaughan.

Jim seems to hear it anyway. He nods, just once. "That's right. Nothing will happen to you, I promise."

"Do you?" I stare into his eyes, then look at Vaughan. "How about you? Do you know which direction we should head? What are you going to do if we run into another hostile tribe?"

"I guess I can always trade my ass, the way you did." He stalks out. I just keep on staring at the spot he was standing in. I can't seem to make myself move.

I'm vaguely aware of Jim folding my fingers around a wooden cup. I hear him telling me to drink it. I haven't got any better ideas, so I do. It's water. Only water. I guess he's not about to drug me or anything, it's not like he'd have to....

Sighing, Jim pulls a stool up to the foot of the bed. He sits down, well out of reach.

Waiting until I decide that my voice won't tremble too badly, I say, "So. What are the ground rules here? I still... belong to you?"

Jim stares out the window. "As far as the rest of the tribe is concerned... yes." I feel like all the blood is draining out of my body. I'm not aware of making a noise, but he looks at me sharply. "As far as they're concerned. I'm not -- expecting anything out of you. I give you my word, I'll never make you do anything you don't want to. You'll have to stay here with me, in my hut, but that's all."

"Oh." I try to make sense out of this. "So they'll think we're sleeping togther. What about Vaughan?"

"He'll sleep in the men's house --"

"No. I mean... what about him? Is he going to be -- I mean, just because you and I are...." The words dry up in my throat.

Somehow, Jim figures out what I'm trying to say. "He's protected, too. The assumption is that the two of you belong to the same clan, so your... position gives him protection, too."

"...Okay." My position. I don't want to think about my position. And I don't want to think about what Vaughan will do once he realizes that he's only alive because of what I'm doing. What I did. Past tense, Sandburg. It's in the past.

Jim's still talking, trying to fill up the silence between us. "There are always sentries posted all around the village -- I've told them not to let him leave. It's too dangerous in the jungle, even if he is some kind of explorer. He can come and go in the village as he chooses. So can you."

I put the cup down beside the bed. Pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I say, "As long as we don't try to leave."

"I'm afraid so." He stands up but doesn't come any closer to me. "Do you want me to bring you something to eat?"

"Not really."

"Blair, you have to eat -- "

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Rubbing my hands over my face, I lean against the wall. "I don't -- I can't right now."

Jim pauses, then nods reluctantly. "All right. I'll be back in a while to check on you." He heads for the door.

"Jim?" My voice is barely a whisper, but he turns around as soon as I speak. I think we realize at the same moment that this is the first time I've said his name out loud. I stare at the floor, but I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I ask, "Would it sound too weird if I said 'thank you'? I mean, for saving my life and everything."

He stares at me. When he speaks, there's only the barest ghost of a smile in his voice. "Would it sound too weird if I said, 'I'm sorry'?"

"Yeah. So I guess we'd better not say it, huh."

He opens the door. "Yeah. I guess we'd better not." He closes the door gently as he leaves me alone with my thoughts.

I suppose I should say that the next few days are the hardest of my entire life. I can't really see it that way. This situation, this new world that I'm in, is so far removed from what I consider my life to be that I can't make myself connect the two.

The first time I try to venture outside is about an hour after Jim leaves me. I get dressed and stand at the door for an eternity before I push it open a few inches. That's enough to make my heart start beating like a jackhammer, and to send cold sweat pouring down my body. I let the door swing shut as I back up and sit down heavily on the bed.

Wonderful. Blair Sandburg, this is your new life. Sex slave by night, agoraphobic by day. That's going to look great on your transcript.

I sit like that for hours, lost in thought, racking my brain to remember any reference I might have read about this tribe -- I think Jim called them the Direma -- but I can't come up with anything. Let's look at the bright side. If Vaughan and I really end up spending more than a few weeks here, we might get a hell of a paper out of it.... I jump when the door opens. I don't know if it's Jim or Vaughan, and I'm not up to dealing with either one.

Instead of either of them, though, it's the old woman from before who's standing in the doorway. She's carrying a bowl. When she sees that I'm watching her, she comes in.

She places the bowl next to me on the bed. Standing over me, she crosses her arms and waits patiently. I look at the bowl -- it's full of fruit. Even though I know she won't understand me, I say, "I'm not hungry." I hold the bowl out to her.

Raising an eyebrow, she stares at me with bright black eyes. She's obviously not going anywhere. I try again. "Look, maybe later, okay?"

The old woman sighs impatiently and shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Her gaze remains locked on mine. I might not know the fine points of their body language, but I know when someone's telling me that they can be just as stubborn as I am.

Sighing, I pick up a piece of fruit and bite into it. I chew and swallow. "There, are you happy now?"

Apparently, she is. Pointing to herself, she says something. I frown. She repeats it, more slowly. Frowning, I try to repeat the word. "Chirga?"

She shakes her head. Speaking even slower and tapping her chest, she says, "Chirigua."

"Chirigua?" I nod toward her. Is that her name?

Seems that way, because she smiles and straightens up. "Chirigua." She says something rapidly in her language, nods toward the fruit, and leaves.

I stare at the door. So now I know somebody's name. It might not be much, but it's a start. I start to shove the fruit aside, but I stop myself. Jim's right. Starving myself won't accomplish anything. Sitting back against the wall, I start eating.

I gape at Jim, appalled. "You mean they all died?"

He doesn't look up at me. "Yeah. Five of them in the helicopter crash, two of them after. I tried to save them -- I had some medical training -- but they were too far gone."

"What... what did you do?"

"I buried them. Then I tried to make my way out of the jungle, and found this village instead."

I don't know what to say about that. At least now I know what he's doing in the heart of the jungle. "And no one ever came looking for you?"

At first I think he's not going to answer. Then he says, "After I'd been here about a year and a half, I heard reports that there were American soldiers in the area. Maybe they were looking for me, maybe not. But the Direma were at war with another tribe, and I couldn't get away in time to meet them. That was over two years ago. I haven't heard anything since."

"You mean you honestly haven't had any contact with the outside world in what, four years?" I'm appalled on his behalf. What must it have been like for him? Four years with no one to talk to....

"That's right."

I look at him. I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice. "Isn't there anything that you miss?"

Jim finally raises his head. "It doesn't matter whether I miss anything or not. I can't have any of it, so why think about it?" He stops talking. The subject is obviously closed.

My God. It occurs to me to wonder how he got the Direma to accept him, but I decide that now wouldn't be a good time to ask. I look around the village. "Everyone is staring at me."

"No, they're not." Jim keeps on fashioning new arrowheads out of a piece of metal torn from the plane's fusilage. As far as Vaughan and I are concerned, the airplane is useless. For the Direma, though, it's a bonanza. They've been stripping it bare all week.

Vaughan was furious when he found out. When he couldn't make them stop -- when he couldn't even make them understand him -- something seemed to snap inside him. He's spent the past few days on his bed in the men's house, staring into space. I tried to talk to him a few times, but it didn't do any good. The last time I tried, he just told me that while he used whores on occasion, he never spoke with them. After that, I didn't care enough to bother.

I pick up one of the completed arrows and look at it. "Trust me, Jim. I know when I'm being stared at."

Jim shrugs. "They don't see too many strangers," he says awkwardly. Awkward. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Since that first night, Jim's been careful. He doesn't touch me, barely even looks at me. He even offered to sleep on the floor. It took a lot of talking for me to convince him that it'd kind of defeat the purpose of the whole set-up if the Direma were to figure out that he's not sleeping with me.

So we sleep together. Or, more accurately, Jim waits until I'm asleep before he lies down beside me, and he's gone by the time I wake up. Like I said, it's awkward.

I look up as Chirigua leaves her hut and walks to the far end of the village. She's the only member of the tribe who isn't giving me a wide berth -- in fact, she seems to think that it's her mission to make sure that I'm eating, and she's been teaching me the rudiments of the Direma language. Jim tells me that she's an herbalist, a healer. He doesn't say so, but I'm starting to suspect that she was the one who helped Jim convince the elders not to kill me and Vaughan. She and Jim seem pretty close. Like most of the tribe, he calls her "grandmother." She hasn't invited me to call her that, though, and I don't want to push my luck.

There's a group of young women -- girls, really -- standing a few huts away. They look at me and Jim and giggle among themselves. Nice to see that teenage girls are the same all over. Not looking at them, I jerk my head in their direction. "Come on. You really think that they're not waiting for us to...." I can't bring myself to say the rest of it out loud.

"Well...." Jim reaches for another scrap of metal. "Actually, they're not expecting to see us do anything." He finally looks directly at me. A little apologetically, he adds, "I told them that you're -- uh, shy."

"Shy?" Irrationally, I'm offended. "I'm not shy, man."

He snorts. "Sorry. I thought you'd like it better than the alternative."

"Oh." I put down the arrow and look at the one he just finished. "Okay, there is that. So what were they laughing about?" I'm surprised to see Jim bite back a smile. "Come on, what were they saying?"

Jim's smile widens. I try not to notice that it's a nice smile. "Let's just say that they're very interested in your hair."

"My hair?" Makes sense, in a way. All the Direma keep their smooth, black hair fairly short, men and women alike. As for Jim's hair, while the color isn't what they're used to, it's probably too short to attract much attention. My hair, though, is long and curly -- it has to look exotic to them. I push it back self-consciously. "Sorry, but I'm not getting rid of it -- what?"

If anything, Jim's grin gets bigger. "It's not just that hair they were talking about."

It finally dawns on me. I look down at my open shirt, at my chest hair. "Well, I'm definitely not shaving my chest."

"Damn right. It's hard enough to keep an edge on my razor as it is. Anyway, I think you'd need a machete to get through that."

"Oh, that's funny." I can't believe we're joking about this, about anything, for that matter. "Just because you -- "

We both look up as Kurali comes up to us. He's the chief elder, the man who came into Jim's hut the first day. Unlike Chirigua, he hasn't shown a lot of interest in me. Okay, he's shown absolutely no interest. Looks like that's about to change.

He says something to Jim, who answers. I can't follow any of the conversation, but it doesn't take a lot of work to figure out that they're talking about me. At one point, Kurali pounds his fist against the door of Jim's hut. There's a symbol carved there, three horizontal lines over a circle. Until now, I haven't cared enough to ask what it means.

The conversation ends. Looking distinctly unhappy, Kurali walks way. Even though I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like the answer, I ask, "What was all that about?"

Jim's face closes up. "Nothing."

"Took you too a long time to talk about nothing." He doesn't answer, and I start to get angry. "Look, man, I'm not in any mood to have something sprung on me. If you guys were talking about me, I think I ought to know what you were saying."

I can tell Jim's not happy, but after a few moments, he says, "Kurali was saying -- you see that? On the doorpost?" He nods toward the hut.

"The lines? Yeah, I see them. You're telling me that's what you were arguing about?"

Very levelly, he says, "That's my mark. Kurali says that since you belong to me, you should wear it."

That doesn't sound good. "You mean 'wear' in what sense, exactly?"

Jim says what I expect him to. "A tattoo."

"You're out of your fucking mind."

"Don't worry, Sandburg. I told him that we've got this custom, and we'll have to wait about six months before we do anything... formal. Kurali isn't happy, but he'll wait." Jim turns his attention back to the arrows.

I try to calm down. So now the Direma think Jim and I are engaged. Oh, this keeps getting better and better. "Well, Vaughan and I are going to be out of here by the time six months are up, right?"

"I hope so."

There's no way I can keep my voice from rising. "You hope so?"

Jim keeps his own voice down, but he's definitely losing patience. "It depends on a lot of things. For all I know, we could be at war any time now. I told you, as soon as it's safe, I'll do everything I can to get you out of here. Him, too." He indicates the men's house. Vaughan is standing in the doorway, watching us. I wonder when Jim noticed him, because I never did. When he realizes he's been spotted, Vaughan goes back inside.

I guess something crosses my face, because Jim's voice softens a little. "I'm sorry. I know he's making it hard on you."

I manage a smile. "I think he was expecting to play Great White Explorer. He's used to saving the day and being the hero. Didn't really work out the way he was expecting it to."

Jim touches my shoulder briefly. "A lot of things don't work out. All you can do is learn to live with what happens." Not giving me time to react, he gathers his arrows, stands, and walks away. I watch him go and wonder what he meant.

"Good, Lerri." The little girl looks up at me with wide, anxious eyes. "Now take the other one -- no, the one next to it. Yes, that one." Moving cautiously, Lerri pulls her fingers away from mine. She spreads her hands apart, and the string forms a new pattern on her fingers.

Thrilled, she beams up at me. "It works!"

Her happiness infects me. "I told you it would." We're sitting outside her family's hut, under an awning to keep the rain off. Her brother is standing a few feet away, pretending he isn't interested in what we're doing. He's almost nine, after all, far too old for children's games.

Lerri extends her hands to me again. "Show me another."

"You should say please." But even as I say it, I'm already reaching for the cat's cradle.

"Please show me another," she says obediantly. A shadow falls over me; Lerri stares up, and her face clouds up. I don't have to look over my shoulder to see who's standing behind me.

Sighing, I untangle my fingers and give the string to Lerri. "I'll show you another one later, all right?" She retreats to her brother's side without a word. Putting his arm around the little girl, he gives Vaughan a distrustful glare as he guides her inside.

Without looking at Vaughan, I get up. "What do you want?" I glance around the village. Good. People are watching, so I don't have to worry about him trying to drag me off again.

Vaughan comes around in front of me. I can either look at him or let him think I'm afraid to. I look at him. He seems more unkempt, more disheveled -- more insane -- every time I see him. The rain has plastered his dark hair flat against his head. "What does the chief say about letting me go?"

"Ask him yourself." I know he won't ask, because he can't. It's been almost two months and he hasn't even tried to learn any of the language. This from a man who reputedly became fluent in Tagalog in three weeks flat. I'm far from fluent in Direma -- I stumble over words and my accent makes them smile -- but I usually make myself understood. Vaughan can't be bothered to try. I start walking back to Jim's hut. He's not there, but I hope Vaughan will be too uncomfortable to follow me there.

My plan doesn't work. Falling into step beside me, Vaughan says, "I see you're making yourself pretty for your owner." He lifts a hand to my hair, which I started braiding a few weeks ago. It was the only way I could keep it under any kind of control.

I dodge his hand. "Leave me alone, okay?"

Vaughan nods wisely. "Saving yourself for Ellison. It's so nice to see monogamy these days. That's why he hasn't done anything about getting us out of here, isn't it? He probably can't bear the thought of giving you up." I don't answer, but he goes on anyway. "I've been wondering. Just what was it that made Ellison decide to choose you? Oh, not that I wish he'd chosen me or anything, but I'm curious. Maybe it was your mouth. He probably got one good look at those lips of yours, wondered what they'd feel like wrapped around his -- "

Abruptly, I change direction and head for Chirigua's hut instead. She's sitting on a sheltered bench in front, watching me and Vaughan as she ties herbs into bundles for drying. I'm not suprised when Vaughan doesn't follow me. He doesn't want any contact at all with the Direma, and he seems to despise Chirigua in particular.

Wearily, I sit down next to her and wipe the rain from my face. She barely glances at me. "You are troubled."

I point at the basket sitting by her feet. "Can I help?" Wordlessly, she nudges it over to me. It doesn't take long for us to achieve a system: I give her a handful of herbs, she ties them up and lays them on the bench beside her. Neither of us speaks. The rhythm of our work and the sound of the rain finally starts to ease my mind.

When we're almost finished, Mura comes over to join us. She's Kurali's daughter -- about sixteen years old, pregnant, and intensely proud of it. Unlike her father, Mura and I have become friends. Her baby's father, Hamo, wasn't happy about it until Mura very helpfully reminded him that I was Jim's lover, she was his, and she didn't see why any of us should have a problem. After that, Hamo more or less accepted me. I never told Jim about the conversation. We're more comfortable with each other now -- we can even go to bed at the same time -- but there are some things neither of us wants to discuss.

Lowering herself to the bench, Mura smiles at me. "Tell me another story, Blair."

I can't help grinning. One day I started telling her about American fashions, and she didn't believe a word of it. So that's what we usually talk about. Sometimes I tell the truth, sometimes I lie through my teeth, and she never believes a word of it. When I told her about high heels, she laughed for an hour.

"Have I told you that we wear live birds in our hair?"

Mura shakes her head in mock wonder. "What happens when they want to fly away?"

"That depends on how large the bird is...." Chirigua gives us both an exasperated look -- she thinks we're far too old for this kind of thing -- and takes the herbs inside.

Before Mura and I can continue our conversation, a group of hunters comes back into the village. I spot Jim right away, but I'm unnerved when his eyes unerringly meet mine. He always seems to know where to look for me.

Helping Mura up, we go over to meet them. While she talks to her father and Hamo, Jim pulls me aside. I try not to be too nervous as I ask, "What did you find?"

"We're going to have to move the tribe further into the jungle." I close my eyes. This is going to delay getting back to the outside world.

"I'm sorry, Blair." Jim sounds sincerely apologetic. "But the way the logging companies are chipping away the edges of the jungle, all the tribes are moving. The Direma can either stay here and be overrun, or move voluntarily while they have a chance to claim the best territory."

I open my eyes and look at him. "Yeah. I understand." The hard part is that I do understand. Even though Jim's never really explained his position in the tribe, I've figured out that he's some kind of guardian -- I don't think he'd be able to abandon them if they needed help.

Jim glances over at Kurali. "We don't know when we're going to move. Maybe I can talk the elders into letting me take a few warriors sometime in the next few weeks...."

I almost say that I don't mind staying, but could he get Vaughan the hell away from me? I stop myself. If I tell Jim about that, I'll have to tell him about the things Vaughan is saying. And I can't bring myself to do that. I don't want things to get any worse than they are.

"It's okay, Jim." I walk back to his hut, because I don't have anywhere else to go.

Later that night, I'm almost asleep when I hear Jim say something. "Pancakes."

I peel one eye open. "Excuse me?"

Jim sighs, and I begin to think that I misheard him, or he was talking in his sleep or something. Then he says it again, almost reluctantly. "Pancakes. I miss pancakes."

After a moment's frantic thought, I remember the conversation we had that first week about whether or not he missed anything. Moving carefully, I prop myself up on one elbow and look down at him. There's moonlight coming in through the window and I can see him clearly. He meets my eyes; he's undoubtedly awake, but his face looks so... lost. I'm not really sure how I should handle this. "What kind of pancakes?"

He answers immediately. "Blueberry. With maple syrup. The real stuff, not fake." He's quiet for a long time, and I begin to think that he's regretting giving me that glimpse of his private self. Then he speaks again. "And hot showers."

"Toilet paper," I shoot back immediately.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely toilet paper. Basketball."

I have to contradict him. "Baseball."

Jim doesn't seem to mind. "Cold beer. Coffee."

"Compact discs. My computer," I say feelingly.

He nods and makes an all-encompassing gesture. "Electricity."

"Talking to someone...." His face goes still when I say that, and I wince. Good one, Blair. I just picked the best possible way to cut off whatever was happening between us.

But then Jim sighs and puts his hands behind his head. He looks up at me. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting that I've had a few years to get used to this. When my team died -- I suppose I just made myself stop regretting things I couldn't have. Didn't do any good to think about it, so I didn't." He smiles very slightly. "You don't strike me as the kind of person who's much good at not thinking about things, though."

"What can I say, man? My mother always told me -- " I feel my throat closing up, and I realize that my hand has gone to my ankh. I'm not going to cry in front of him. I'm not going to spoil whatever's going on here. God, if he starts pitying me....

"You miss her." There's no pity in Jim's face or voice, only regret and sympathy.

"Yeah." I lie down again. I almost expect him to move away, but he doesn't. In fact, he rolls over on his side so we're facing each other.

"Blair -- " He takes a deep breath. Very quietly, he says, "I... heard what Vaughan's been telling you, that I'm refusing to take you two out of the jungle because I want to keep you." I can't stop myself from blushing. God, when did Jim hear that? Vaughan's always been so careful to corner me when Jim's nowhere in earshot....

Something is nagging at the back of my mind, about other times Jim's heard and seen things he shouldn't have been able to. It's about something I read a couple years ago, a few references to tribal sentinels... I'll have to talk to him about that later.

Now, I think we'd better discuss the matter at hand. "Are you? Keeping me here, I mean."

Jim's body tenses next to me. "Is that what you think?"

I shake my head. "No." He searches my eyes. I wonder what he's looking for. Whatever it is, he seems to find it, because he slowly relaxes. He tenses again when I carefully lift my hand to his face. He seizes my wrist. "Blair, I just told you that I don't want -- "

"Maybe I want to," I blurt out. I sit up, but keep my hand on his face. I feel the warmth of his skin, the slight prickle of whiskers. I feel the controlled, gentle strength of his hand on my arm. And I'm so tired of being alone.

"You... what?" He's shocked. Completely, utterly caught off guard. That's okay, I kind of surprised myself.

Not sure of what I'm going to say, I just start talking. "Remember that first day? You told me that you'd never make me do anything I didn't want to." I bend down until my lips are only a few millimeters from his, and I whisper, "I'm going to hold you to that, Jim."

He gasps as my hair slips over my shoulders, shrouding both our faces. Then I kiss him. I slide my tongue across his lips, teasing and tasting him. He doesn't respond. Just when I think I've made a major mistake, his mouth opens to me, and his tongue begins moving against mine, with mine. My cock twitches in reaction. I'm almost dizzy with mingled arousal and relief.

Jim's hand releases my wrist and travels up the length of my arm, coming to rest on the back of my neck. Moving slowly, he rolls on his back, carrying me with him until I'm lying full length on top of him. I settle myself more comfortably, which, not quite coincidentally, brings our cocks together. Jim groans. His hands slide down my back and come to rest on my ass, bringing me even closer. He's holding me so tightly... I finally realize that what I'd interpreted as indifference was really restraint.

I pull away from Jim's mouth. His almost incoherent plea is cut off when I begin sucking on the side of his neck, right where it curves out to meet his shoulder. "Ohhh, God. Chirigua was right, she told me I was crazy for not sleeping with you...."

"She knew?" I'm too preoccupied to be more than mildly surprised. Licking a path up to the corner of his jaw, I taste the salt on his skin. It's delicious.

"Ummmm." Jim grinds his hips against mine, and I become temporarily insane. "She's going to be happy when she finds out."

"Hope she's not the only one -- " I stop talking as Jim claims my mouth again. I can't wait much longer. I don't want him to have to wait.

I slip a hand between our bodies to grasp Jim's shaft, slick with both our pre-ejaculate and throbbing. It feels different in my hand than it had in my ass. I don't quite understand how, but this is so much more... intimate. Intense. Personal.

Jim groans as I start pumping him. His hands tangle in my hair as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. But right now, for this moment, I'm in control and we both know it.

Then, too soon for both of us, Jim's taut body begins to tremble. He cries out hoarsely as he climaxes, his semen coating both of our bellies.

Without a word, Jim turns us over until he's on top. He stares down at me, his gaze traveling along my body. His head dips down. Almost reverently, his tongue flicks against my nipple. "Ah, Jim -- oh, God. Please...."

When he speaks, his voice is a throaty growl. "Tell me what you want me to do."

I'm breathing in short, harsh pants, and I can barely say a word. But I manage to gasp, "Suck me?"

He doesn't answer. But a second later, a soft, wet warmth wraps around my aching cock. I moan as the hand remaining on my chest continues playing with my nipple, pinching it lightly, then rolling it between his fingertips. Jim's mouth continues working my shaft. My hips start bucking upwards, and he doesn't do a thing to restrain me. My orgasm almost takes me by surprise.

Both of us are breathing hard as Jim moves to gather me into his arms. I tell myself that this isn't about forever, or true love, or anything that can possibly last. It's just because we both need someone. Right now, that's enough. I return the embrace, and we fall asleep like that, together.

Obviously, things change for me and Jim after that. I'm not climbing a tree and screaming, "Hey, we're really lovers now, wanna watch?" or anything, but it'd be impossible to hide what's going on. Jim touches me. A lot. It's nothing blatant, but it's kind of hard to miss. A hand on my shoulder, brushing his fingers against my cheek, pulling me close when we sit by the fire.... The Direma are a little confused at first, but they deal with it. They just seem to assume that I've gotten over my "shyness."

There's one thing that bothers me. Okay, it doesn't bother me, but... Jim doesn't want to fuck me. Maybe I shouldn't put it like that; it'd probably be more accurate to say he doesn't want to penetrate me. I mean, it's not like he shows any hesitation about touching me there, or anywhere else, for that matter. But if he has any interest in anal sex -- either giving or receiving -- I can't see any signs of it. And I'm not sure if it's something I should ask about. It's stupid, I know. But I definitely get the feeling that Jim's still restraining himself around me.

Vaughan figures out that things have changed for me and Jim. He doesn't like it. His comments to me stop, but he's always watching me. Since Jim is almost always with me now, though, he doesn't approach me for a while.

Things finally come to a head one evening. I'm sitting on the ground in front of Jim's hut, showing Lerri and some of the other children more cat's cradle figures. I haven't bothered to tie my hair back, and it keeps falling into my eyes.

"You'll go blind that way." Jim leans against the wall of the hut and grins down at me.

"Hey, my hands are occupied, man. If it bothers you so much, why don't you do something about it?"

Jim doesn't answer, but he sits down on the bench directly behind me. Gathering my hair into his hands, he starts deftly braiding it. He and Kurali are going on a scouting trip in a few days. They might be gone for as long as a few weeks, and I'm surprised to realize that I'm going to miss the intimacy that's grown between us.

As Jim's fastening the end of my braid, Vaughan saunters over to us. "Oh, my. This is domestic." The children quickly disperse. They're all afraid of him. They're not the only ones.

My first instinct is to get up off the ground, but I change my mind. This is the way things are, and I'm not about to let Vaughan make it into something to be ashamed of. But Jim puts a hand on my shoulder and silently urges me up. I sit down on the bench beside him as Jim says, "You have something to say, Vaughan, say it." His arm goes around my waist, protective and proprietary and comforting all at once.

Rather than answering him, Vaughan looks at me. "Why did you get up? I thought your favorite place was on the ground at Ellison's feet."

I try to stay calm, but I can feel Jim tense beside me. I don't want him to say anything, because it'll just make the situation worse. "Stop it, okay?"

Vaughan shrugs. "I guess you were facing the wrong way. So what's the story, Sandburg? You watch too many Tarzan movies as a kid and you always wished you were Jane?" He turns his attention to Jim. "You'll never be able to really keep him, you know. One way or another, you'll lose him."

Jim surges to his feet, but I grab his arm and hold him back. Vaughan gives us both a cheerful smile and walks away. "Jim, don't."

He glares down at me. He's plainly furious, and I think if I let him go, he'd follow Vaughan and hurt him, maybe more. And I don't want Jim to do that, not over me.

But after a minute or so, Jim starts to calm down. He stares in the direction Vaughan went, then down at me. Wordlessly, he takes me inside the hut.

Before I can say anything, he wraps his arms around my waist and picks me up, lifting me until our heads are level. He kisses me, forcefully but not harshly. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I return the kiss.

Jim lowers me to the bed. He sits next to me; his face is inscrutable in the dim light. I get the impression that he's listening to something I can't hear. Then he bends down and covers my body with his. Stroking his hands down my sides, he nuzzles the side of my neck.

I sigh and wriggle against him. "It's all right, Jim, he doesn't bother me."

"Don't lie to me, Blair." His lips press against my chest, directly above my heart. He murmurs, "I hear the things he says to you. I know how he terrifies you. But you're right, he won't bother you anymore." Then his hand slides down my body, and I forget about Vaughan altogether.

Early the next morning, Jim and I are awakened by our door opening. I'm more than a little embarrassed to see Kurali standing there... well, at least now he can't doubt that Jim and I are lovers.

Typically, Kurali speaks to Jim alone. "The other one is gone."

Jim sits up, carefully easing me off his chest. "I know." Kurali nods and leaves.

"Who's gone? Who's the other one?"

Not quite looking at me, Jim says, "Vaughan. He sneaked out of the village last night." He gets out of bed and starts dressing himself.

It takes me a few moments to catch on. "What? How -- you knew about this?"

Jim shrugs. "A few days ago, I told the sentries not to stop him if he wanted to leave. I guess he finally took advantage of it."

I stare at him, shocked. "What, so all of a sudden, you think he's capable of handling himself in the jungle?" Jim doesn't answer. "Or do you just not care if he can't handle himself? If he gets his throat ripped out by a panther, it's fine with you?"

Jim sets his jaw. "He's causing too many problems in the village. He's terrorizing you. We couldn't afford to waste any more of the guards' time in watching over him, Blair."

My hands shaking, I push my hair out of my eyes so I can see him clearly. "And besides, now you don't have to worry about getting me out of here, right? Now you can keep me here if you want. Tell me something, Jim. If I decide to walk out, will the sentries let me go or take me prisoner again?"

He finally looks at me. "Is that what you think?" I can't read the expression in his eyes. "Well, if you have any intention of following him, forget it." He doesn't wait for an answer before he leaves the hut, slamming the door behind him.

I sit there alone, as my world crumbles around me yet again.

Jim and I don't speak for the rest of the day. He doesn't come back to the hut that night. When he finally comes the next morning to gather his gear for the scouting trip, I leave and go to Chirigua's hut. I know she's curious about what happened between me and Jim, but she doesn't ask.

When Jim leaves, I don't say good-bye.

(continued...)