Token

Andrev blinked. “You want me to wear...?”

“One of my tokens,” Kana said. She slipped the bracelet off her wrist and over his knuckles, onto his wrist before he could protest. Then she beamed at him and proceeded to spit the pheasant with a sharpened, cleaned stick.

Andrev stared down at the trinket on his wrist, confused. “Kana, surely you know tonight that Kir is seeking your favor.”

“I do know,” Kana said, “but it’s not his favor I want.”

Andrev swallowed hard. Something strange was going on. This had to be a joke. “Why would you want my favor?”