A single drop of sweat rolled along her temple. It hesitated at the slight swell of her cheekbone, then hurried down the curve of her jaw, tickling the nerves beneath her skin. A blood-encrusted finger rose to brush it away before it could become any more annoying.
Some thirty yards off, a bright fire blazed in the pitch darkness. Too far away to be the cause of her own heated discomfort; no, the midsummer night was sweltering enough on its own. Her hands grappled briefly at her throat, and her tunic soon fell away, dropped to the dry earth beside her in a dusty heap. There was no wind to grant a respite. The clammy, sweat-damp back of her arm would have to do. She ran it across the feverish length of her forehead.
Against the piercing light of the distant flames, figures moved. They writhed, twisted, and danced. Drums pounded an implacable rhythm in the heavy air. Above the scene, a great figure loomed, half-hidden in shadow and smoke. A dragon’s head, carved from wood and bone. The ritualistic dance would go on through the night. While she could not clearly see their features, she could too easily imagine the ruddy faces, the drenched bodies, the stench of it all.
A river whispered through the black trees on her left. She could feel its rushing coolness already, in her mind. The sweet contrast of cold on hot if she were to step into its depths. It would sweep away the perspiration, the dirt and grime. The blood.
Her slate-colored eyes watched the dancing Wildmen while she nudged her soft, leather boots from her feet. She watched them whirl and prance while her hands pried away the sweaty constriction of her trousers. She stood for a minute or two, naked and motionless.
An imaginary sound shifted her eyes to the forest floor. Beside her pile of discarded clothing, a dead man lay. She knew he had not moved. He was no longer alive. Still, her mind enjoyed the playing of tricks now and then. She frowned, and nudged the man’s shoulder with her bare toes. His weight was lifeless.
Frowning, she turned and walked through the soft, warm maw of the night, to bathe in the river.
