The sun droops lower and lower. In the distance, the swirling sharuq glows dusky, shimmering orange against the sky’s blue-violet gradient.
Gil’s dry lips crack when he opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t stand the silence anymore. He sidles up closer to Kiddu.
Kiddu opens her mouth wide, as if to proclaim something momentous. Then she pauses, squinting her eyes.
She leans closer to Gil, at whispering distance, her mouth wide open—
Her snot comes out in a fine spray all over Gil’s neck and chin. She had neglected to hold up her hand.
She stands there, grinning at him.
He wipes her mucus off on his robe.
In a way, though, he’s glad she instigated. It feels like they’re kids play-fighting back at the Temple orphanage, which helps calm his nerves. And now he has something to occupy his mind as they walk—dreaming up a suitable revenge.
