Free Unicorn Tracks by Julia Ember Page B

and they’re late. Oswe is waiting for them at the end of the road with a candle.”
    I pointed to Kara. Her head had rolled back onto the edge of the tub. “I can do this, Bi Trembla, honestly.”
    “Her hair hasn’t been washed yet,” Bi Trembla said, getting up from her seat and packing up her knitting bag. She picked up the stool and moved it to the edge of the tub. Kara didn’t stir. “Make sure you scrub right down to her scalp to get it all clean. She has so much hair, the dirt gets trapped.”
    “I know how to wash hair.”
    “Don’t take that tone with me, I still haven’t forgiven you. We have a standard to maintain.”
    I nodded and took a seat on the stool. Bi Trembla wearily stumbled out through the flap without glancing back. Kara’s long hair hung almost to the floor. Next to the bath, she had placed a narrow comb, a soft soap, and a bottle of fragrant oil. I lifted the oil to my nose and breathed in a blend of thistle and vanilla.
    I wet my palms in the hot water to warm them. Then slid my fingers through the layers of her hair, massaging the base of her scalp. She gave an unladylike snort, stirring from her sleep. I saw the shadow of her eyelashes blink in the dim light.
    Slowly, I increased the pressure of my fingers, massaging behind her ears and up to her temples. I’d washed many ladies’ hair before, but this was different. My fingers seemed to buzz with energy. The scent of the oil and the warm steam seemed to caress me and draw me into her. Kara tilted her head back and sank deeper in the water. “That’s amazing, Bi Trembla,” she sighed.
    I chuckled, and she turned around, her lips pressed together in a mocking scowl. “Sneaking up on a lady in her bath. Not very proper. Is that the kind of establishment you run here?”
    I dipped my head in a bow. “But, Miss Harving, I’m here to attend you.”
    She rolled her eyes but faced front again, leaning into my touch as I worked the soap and oil into the red tresses. Wet, her hair looked a different color. Like faded bronze, instead of brilliant copper. My own hair was so dark, I never noticed the difference, even when it was wet.
    When I finished washing her hair, I rested my hands on her shoulders. Kara turned to face me, water running down over her lips. She reached up and hooked her fingers into my hair, yanking me toward her with a little growl. I moved back so quickly I nearly fell off the stool, biting my lip and looking toward the flap of her tent.
    “We’ve kissed before,” she said, scowling.
    Nervousness made me shiver. How could I explain to her that every time might feel like the first to me?
    “I can’t.”
    Sighing, she dropped her hands back into the tub. “Are you afraid that it’s wrong?”
    “No… it’s just… don’t pull on me.”
    When she didn’t respond, I lowered my head and kissed the hollow juncture between her shoulder and neck. She shuddered as my lips brushed across her collarbones.
    I closed my eyes to preserve the scent of her in my memory. In two more weeks, she would get back on a boat and vanish forever. I wanted to ask her what this meant to her. Would she remember my scent too when she left? Or would I dissolve into a single piece of her memory of Nazwimbe?
    Kara purred like a chimera in the sun and turned to face me, waiting for me to lean toward her. On her lips I tasted the salt of my own tears.
     
     
    RIFLE BRACED, I waded through the swamp that bordered our camp. The thieves’ hideout lay at the center of the bog, enclosed by a fortress of reeds and cattail grass. I poked my rifle through the cattails, separating them enough to squint through the gap.
    The criminals sat on the bank, chattering to one another as they scooped out handfuls of their creamy bounty. The powder stuck to their fingers, and they licked it off with relish. One of them threw a handful of the substance at the other, coating him in a cloud of white. The thieves formed an uneven circle around the aggressor and