is several meters behind us, and she looks uncharacteristically pale. Humans are renowned for being weak, but I must admit to being a little surprised that she is becoming so ill, so fast. Stopping and turning to her, I sigh as I realize that we might have to pause for a rest. At the same time, I'm starting to think that perhaps there is something more urgently wrong with her. Even for a human, her skin is becoming increasingly pale. The last thing I want is for her meat to become weak and sickly: she must be full-blooded and strong when I slice her open in the banqueting hall.
"Hey," she says weakly as she reaches us. "What's going on? Are we stopping?" She stares at me, swaying slightly, almost as if she might lose consciousness at any moment. "Do you have something I can drink?"
"Water," I say, taking a small flask from my belt and handing it to her. "Drink what you will. There is a river coming up soon, so I can refill the container."
"Thanks." She drinks keenly from the flask, quickly emptying its contents before handing it back to me. "So how much longer are we gonna be walking today?"
"What is wrong with you?" I ask.
"Wrong with me?" She stares at me, looking a little offended. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just -"
"You have a weakness," I say firmly. "Do not try to hide it, human. You have some form of disability."
"What?"
"Tell me."
She nods reluctantly. "It's my back."
"What about your back?"
"I had an operation," she continues. "A little while ago. I had scoliosis, which meant that I was kind of bending over all the time. I was all curled up. It was getting really bad, and the pain was intense. So they put a metal rod in my back and screwed it to my spine. It solved the problem, but it means I can't bend my back, and it means I can't keep walking for so long without taking a break."
"Why did you not inform me that you were crippled?"
"Watch who you're calling a cripple," she replies.
"Does it hurt?" I ask.
She nods again. "It's more than pain. It gets too tight, and the muscles become inflamed. If it gets too bad, the muscles could swell. There's a danger of infection, and then the screws could come out, and then everything would go horribly wrong and..." She pauses for a moment. "Can we just take a few minutes to rest? Even just a short break could make a big difference"
"Of course," I reply, gesturing to a nearby shelf. "However, you should have told me before that you had this problem."
"I didn't think," she says, sitting down. "I kind of thought it wouldn't be a problem here. I thought my subconscious mind would give me my old body back."
"Is there anything else I should know?" I ask, starting to worry that this metal rod might have soured her meat.
"Nope," she says. "That's all that's wrong with me."
"For how long must you rest?" I ask, glancing back along the aisle. There is no sign of our pursuer, though I am quite certain that it will be keeping an eye on us. Even now, it is probably noting the human's weakness, and thinking of ways in which this could be used to its own advantage. If the human is unable to move at a sufficiently rapid pace, our plans will be significantly disrupted; I cannot help but wonder whether it would be more convenient to simply kill her now and accept that the meat will not be optimally fresh by the time we reach the Citadel.
"Maybe an hour?" she says. "How much longer is this walk gonna take, anyway? I mean, what are we looking at here? Hours? Days? Weeks?"
"I originally estimated five days," I reply, "but if we are slowed by your condition, it could be significantly more. Seven or eight, assuming we stop every few hours."
"And there's no quicker way?" she asks.
"The distance is the distance," I say. "One cannot cheat such things. Even a man of my strength cannot rip the soil open and pull two distant places together."
"So you haven't invented the internal combustion engine here?" she says. "No kind of public transport?"
"We will wait for you to get
"Hey," she says weakly as she reaches us. "What's going on? Are we stopping?" She stares at me, swaying slightly, almost as if she might lose consciousness at any moment. "Do you have something I can drink?"
"Water," I say, taking a small flask from my belt and handing it to her. "Drink what you will. There is a river coming up soon, so I can refill the container."
"Thanks." She drinks keenly from the flask, quickly emptying its contents before handing it back to me. "So how much longer are we gonna be walking today?"
"What is wrong with you?" I ask.
"Wrong with me?" She stares at me, looking a little offended. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just -"
"You have a weakness," I say firmly. "Do not try to hide it, human. You have some form of disability."
"What?"
"Tell me."
She nods reluctantly. "It's my back."
"What about your back?"
"I had an operation," she continues. "A little while ago. I had scoliosis, which meant that I was kind of bending over all the time. I was all curled up. It was getting really bad, and the pain was intense. So they put a metal rod in my back and screwed it to my spine. It solved the problem, but it means I can't bend my back, and it means I can't keep walking for so long without taking a break."
"Why did you not inform me that you were crippled?"
"Watch who you're calling a cripple," she replies.
"Does it hurt?" I ask.
She nods again. "It's more than pain. It gets too tight, and the muscles become inflamed. If it gets too bad, the muscles could swell. There's a danger of infection, and then the screws could come out, and then everything would go horribly wrong and..." She pauses for a moment. "Can we just take a few minutes to rest? Even just a short break could make a big difference"
"Of course," I reply, gesturing to a nearby shelf. "However, you should have told me before that you had this problem."
"I didn't think," she says, sitting down. "I kind of thought it wouldn't be a problem here. I thought my subconscious mind would give me my old body back."
"Is there anything else I should know?" I ask, starting to worry that this metal rod might have soured her meat.
"Nope," she says. "That's all that's wrong with me."
"For how long must you rest?" I ask, glancing back along the aisle. There is no sign of our pursuer, though I am quite certain that it will be keeping an eye on us. Even now, it is probably noting the human's weakness, and thinking of ways in which this could be used to its own advantage. If the human is unable to move at a sufficiently rapid pace, our plans will be significantly disrupted; I cannot help but wonder whether it would be more convenient to simply kill her now and accept that the meat will not be optimally fresh by the time we reach the Citadel.
"Maybe an hour?" she says. "How much longer is this walk gonna take, anyway? I mean, what are we looking at here? Hours? Days? Weeks?"
"I originally estimated five days," I reply, "but if we are slowed by your condition, it could be significantly more. Seven or eight, assuming we stop every few hours."
"And there's no quicker way?" she asks.
"The distance is the distance," I say. "One cannot cheat such things. Even a man of my strength cannot rip the soil open and pull two distant places together."
"So you haven't invented the internal combustion engine here?" she says. "No kind of public transport?"
"We will wait for you to get
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