Dravi stepped away from Shruti’s side, and Rastaban saw that he was armed only with a single, long-bladed knife. Rami hunted with the same sort of knife, and Rastaban knew what that meant. Dravi came to stand beside Rastaban and Khouri, pretended to sharpen his knife a few strokes.
“Father is pleased with whoever brings back the biggest kill,” Dravi said.
“Then may the best hunter prevail.” Ritual words were cheap, but Rastaban had tired of Dravi’s games.
“You know,” Dravi said, keeping his voice low, “there’s no bigger kill than another man.”
Rastaban shrugged. “Good luck with that.”
No comments:
Post a Comment