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I overcame my instinct to laugh. There was a seriousness about her that did not seem to come from killing, but it certainly made her a better killer. She was not someone to trifle with so I followed her. Her clothing was far more revealing than mine and I wondered what polite society would have made of me had I worn similar garb. I doubt I could have worn it as well as Leanna though. I have always been slim but never any hint of muscle and my bosom could do with being larger for my height. She on the other hand was every bit the woman I was not. The leather ‘skirt’ (for want of a better word) swayed back and forth almost hypnotically as I followed. I saw her behind and her buttocks formed a perfect peach as they moved back and forth. I already felt strange in her company, looking at her accentuated body, but looking at her exposed flesh did something else far more basic deep within me. I was horrified that I was looking at her in that way and tried to keep my attention on something. And now what did the rest of her life have to offer? Would she and Ptarmigan once again be compelled to share the Chief’s semen together? Would Glade continue to share her body with whomsoever she fancied? Was this the best she could ever expect in her life? When Ivory’s fitful sleep was broken by the milky suggestion of daylight from the morning sun, she became aware that Glade had already arisen and was no longer by hers side. Ivory slipped out from under the blanket of furs that shielded her from the icy cold and grasped her clothes tightly to her bosom as she ventured out into the open air. Snow was coming down thick and fast. The bushes, shrubs and rocks that had been peeking through the shallow snow the day before were now hidden beneath a deep white coat. Where was Glade? Ivory stomped through the snow as she sought her lover and soon spotted the shaman in the well-constructed shelter the Cave Painter had erected in the shadow of a cedar. She was lying peacefully beside Ochre.
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