41

“Look,” you insist, “the longer we stay here, the more likely we both die, no one gets wind of the monster lurking, and all your precious beasts are done for, as well as every other living thing in the valley. Tell me who your uncle is and how to get him to trust my word and I’ll go. I’ll hurry to him.”

She stares at you, unyielding, but you return it in kind. As she refuses to budge you decide to try and **** her hand, turning on your heel and making to leave. When the sun hits your naked body you nearly stop from embarrassment, having not yet taken the bundle of clothes from her, but fortunately she has already caved, and rushes to you.

“All right.” she huffs, “You’re not meeting him with your bits flopping around. Put this stuff on.”

“Your uncle. How will he know to take my message at face value?”

“He’ll know. My name is Elia; let him know I sent you, and tell him what we saw. He’ll know you’re telling the truth.”

“He’ll just know...?”

“He’ll know.”

Clad in her brother’s old stuff, that she called rags, but to you are fine luxury, you part ways at last, and turn your back on the farm, and start hurrying away. You fully intend to honour your word, but you’re eager to get away from the monster.

Turn to 96.