Free The Headhunters Race (Headhunters #1) by Kimberly Afe

knit together. “Of course I am. What did you think?”
    I see the moment his eyes come to the obvious conclusion. “Oh, I get it,” he says. “You thought I was running off with them.”
    I shrug. What does he expect me to think? I wake up, he’s gone. The packs are gone. I don’t apologize for thinking it. He’d have thought the same. “Do you know which one was mine? I had something in it.”
    He goes back to filling the canteens. “Feel free to take a look.”
    I’d like my ninja knives back. I hope they’re still here in one of these packs and haven’t walked off before McCoy got them back. I rustle through six of them and come up empty handed. The seventh is lying across McCoy’s lap and I want to look through it but I don’t know how to ask. I’m trying to find the best way to approach the subject when he swings it toward me.
    “Do you want to look in mine too?”
    How did he know? It’s like he can read my mind. “I’m looking for my ninja knives. Did you come across any?”
    “No, but you can check with Jake,” he says, dropping his pack on the ground. “He might have seen them.”
    “I will.”
    McCoy gathers up the canteens. “Would you mind dividing the supplies into three packs? I don’t think we need to carry around seven of them. I’ll go get Jake so we can be on our way.”
    I nod. I’m fine with doing the arranging. That way I can make sure it’s all fair and everyone has an equal share of everything. Besides, if I go get the little raider I might strangle him myself, before King ever has the chance.
    While McCoy is gone I get everything loaded into three packs, the three that blend best with our natural surroundings. When I start taking stock, I realize there’s not an even amount of anything for three people. I split up the matches and the compasses first. We each get two blankets except for McCoy. I give him the extra one since he’s so tall. It turns out there are only seventeen bars left. With seven packs we would have started out with twenty-eight. It’s amazing to me how people don’t conserve, or maybe they got lost in the shuffle. I put six bars in mine and in McCoy’s, and only five in Jake’s. My reasoning tells me he’s a kid, he doesn’t need as much.
    The dried meat is as difficult as the bars. There’s an uneven amount. This time I give Jake the extra. My logic this time? He is a growing kid, even if he is a little raider. The nuts are the easiest to divide. Everyone gets an equal share. I put two canteens of water into each. But I have a dilemma—there’s one extra. I’d like to take it, until I realize the packs are already heavy with the supplies plus two filled canteens. I don’t want to carry the extra weight and if we’re going to run along the stream, there’s no reason to, so I give it to McCoy. As big as he is, he probably won’t even notice.
    He and the raider start down the hill just as I finish closing the ties. I swing one onto my back and hand them each theirs when they approach. “It’s as fair as I could make it,” I say.
    “Sure …” says Jake, eyeing me with disbelief.
    He’s got a lot of nerve. I snatch Jake’s pack away before he has a chance to take it. “You’re lucky, little raider, that I’m willing to give it to you at all.” I’m mostly calm when I say it, but Jake’s eyes go wide when I grab him by the collar and pull him close to scare him a little. He arches back like he’s afraid I’ll smack him. “Where are my knives?”
    McCoy puts a hand on my shoulder. “He deserves a good beating all right. I got the knives back though.”
    I release Jake and turn my attention to McCoy. He hands the knives to me. They look a lot like mine, but they aren’t. They’re his. I remember them from the day at the prison. I narrow my eyes at him. “These aren’t mine.”
    “Well, take them anyway,” he says, walking along the stream beside Jake. “At least you’ll have something.”
    If I take them, that leaves McCoy