Not Your Own

Dravi eyed Rastaban warily. “Will I have to share my food with him?”

“He will earn food of his own when you two play games,” General Rami said.

The woman stared down at Rastaban. “Will I have to care for him? As my own?”


“He’s not your own,” General Rami said, “and he will care for himself. Won’t you, Rastaban?”

Rastaban didn’t like the way Dravi was staring at him. But he nodded. “I will. Teach me, and I will take care of myself.”

General Rami looked pleased. “Good. Find a place to sleep. We will wake you at dawn.”