Page 221 of Hunters and Prey

Mirror

“WELL?” THE OTHER male growled. “Speak.”

Black stared up the low slope at him, frowning.

He’d raised his hands in surrender, but more in habit from having a gun pointed at his face before, not out of any sense of concrete fear.

He didn’t really think this guy was going to shoot him.

“Really?” The male’s narrow mouth twisted into a harder frown as he took a step towards him, down the slope, aiming the gun deliberately at Black’s face. “That’s a pretty big assumption, little brother.”

“Little brother?” Black felt his jaw harden. “Fuck you. And maybe I just assumed you were sane. You want to shoot me for two pieces of fruit?”

“Three,” the other growled. “And maybe I’d shoot you just on principle. I don’t have to kill you. I could just shoot you in the leg.”

“Great,” Black said. “So you’re not a psychopath… just a dick.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Black grunted, but didn’t bother to respond.

The glass-eyed seer motioned towards the cow-dragons, his mouth still a scowl.

“Anyway, it’s not sadism. It’s prevention,” he said. “Like when I shoot these damned things with rock salt when they break down the fence and get into my garden. It’s meant to discourage them from doing it again.”

Black fought not to roll his eyes.

“Seriously? What is the big deal? I’d pay you for the damned fruit, but…” He motioned down expressively at his lack of clothes. “I didn’t do it to be an asshole. I was hungry.”

“So you raid my damned orchard?” the other growled. “Naked?” His clear, sharp eyes didn’t move. “Why the fuck didn’t you go to the communal store? Any one of those nice old ladies would have been ecstatic to feed you. Given the food surpluses right now, they would have fussed over you for hours, probably given you a damned baby niselthi to play with while they stuffed you with kilsrum and pripesti-astug and fixed you up with their daughters and sons.”

Still scowling, the taller male added,

“…Or hell, knock on my goddamned door, brother. My wife would have fed you.”

Looking down at Black’s naked body, as if remembering he wasn’t wearing any clothes, the male lowered his gun, his mouth still twisted in a frown.

“On second thought,” he muttered. “Don’t. The last thing I need is some tripping motherfucker scaring my kids.”

“Tripping?” Black frowning. “What the hell is that supposed to––”

“You’re part of that group, right? The meditators? Out on the coast? Given… that,” the male said, motioning with the gun down Black’s body. “I figured you got separated from the rest of your group. We were told you were doing your dream walks today. In preparation for the ceremony tonight.”

Black stared at him, utterly blank.

The other seer might as well have been speaking ancient Sanskrit.

When he didn’t speak, Black shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I’m not on a dream walk, tripping balls with a bunch of kneeler seers, brother. I’m lost. I went swimming… then I got hungry.”

He trailed, not sure what else to say.

He wasn’t sure how much he should say.

This was starting to feel a little too specific for a dream.

Maybe it was still a construct, though.

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