Somehow, he didn’t doubt it. Nicholas gave her an ironic little bow before setting about the task in front of him. Li Min had not returned by the time they had started the fire and brought the little pot they’d acquired to boil. Rather than try to talk to a stone-faced Sophia, Nicholas slid his right arm from the sling Li Min had knotted for him and lay down with his back to the fire.

His eyes felt too gritty to shut, but he tried. He tried relaxing his body against the unyielding dirt, and he tried to clear the swirl of dark thoughts rising up inside of him before they pulled him under. One hand dipped inside his loose tunic and closed around the string of leather. When he felt brave enough, he opened his eyes to study the bead in the image of a man and Etta’s earring.

He was seized by a compulsion he didn’t understand. He yanked hard on the cord, trying to rip it off by force, then reached back to fumble with the knot.

“By doing that, you’ll only feed the fire of regret that burns in you,” Li Min said from nearby, having returned from her hunt. “Not extinguish it.”

His hand relaxed, but didn’t fall away. Nicholas shoved himself up off the ground, intent on cooking now that she had returned.

“This reminds me of a tale,” Li Min said casually, before he could fully stand. She sat between him and the fire, casting a long shadow over him. “Would you care to hear it?”

Not precisely, but he grunted, knowing she would tell it regardless.

“It goes as follows. Many, many years ago, Emperor Yan had a daughter, Nüwa. She was as lovely and elegant as a crane, but stubborn as an ox. More than anything, she loved to swim, and often chose the East Sea for its wild beauty. I think you understand the impulse, no?”

He only seemed to be capable of grunting. His chest was too tight to manage actual words.

“But tragedy struck. One day while swimming, she drowned. Her will, however, was strong, and she would not give in, not completely. She broke the surface of the water and transformed into a Jingwei bird—have you seen one? They are quite striking. A gray beak, red claws? Well, regardless, she sought out her vengeance for drowning. Every day she flew to gather stones and sticks from the Western Mountains and dropped them into the East Sea. Her desire was to fill it, to prevent others from drowning. She never rested in her task. She continues to this day.”

He turned over fully, when it was clear her story was at an end. “Then it was an impossible task. What meaning am I supposed to derive from this?”

Li Min shrugged. “You may make anything of it you wish, Carter. The purpose of that tale was to distract you long enough for dinner to be served, and that has not been an impossible task after all.”

Nicholas sat up straight, outrage burning through the gray haze around his mind. “I told you I would do it!” What good was he if he couldn’t contribute his share of work?

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t actually prefer my meat shriveled and charred so far beyond recognition I mistake it for old firewood,” Sophia told him, turning the skinned rabbits over on the spit.

“That’s how you know it’s cooked!”

Both women gave him their variations of a pitying look. His stomach rumbling, he took his share of the meat with a reluctance that could only come from pride. When he finished, he accepted Li Min’s suggestion that he rest first, and take the later watch. On his bedding once more, he turned his back to the fire, resting his head on his arm and staring out at the dark mountains. He drifted to sleep, ignoring the warm grip of the gold band around his small finger.

A clang cut through the darkness, followed quickly by another.

“—better, better, but do not lean in so much as you thrust—no! To your left! Yes!”

Nicholas fumbled his way back to awareness, unsure whether he was hearing Li Min’s voice or dreaming it. Turning onto his back, he looked toward the fire, watching as two slight, shadowy figures sparred with swords.

“It’s useless,” Sophia said. “I’ll never get it right, not really.”

“You’ve done it perfectly, as well as you have everything else I’ve shown you tonight,” Li Min said, a smile in her voice. “You move through the world like a cat, all silk and sinew. Soon you’ll be better than me, and then I’ll really need to watch my gold.”

“No chance of that,” Sophia said after a moment. Frustration edged into the words.

“You are a superb fighter,” Li Min said, settling on the ground and resting her sword across her legs.

After a moment, Sophia lowered herself to her knees, placing her weapon down on a nearby blanket. “It’s just…I used to be better, before this.”

She gestured absently to her eye patch.

“Ah,” Li Min said.

“The world looks different,” Sophia said. “At first I thought it was only my imagination, self-pity, what have you. But the truth is, the shadows and highlights have peeled back. Colors seem flat. And my perception of how near or far something is from me is occasionally a little off. But the biggest problem is the blind spot.”

He closed his eyes, sighing. He’d expected as much, and felt rightly worse for not trying to help her overcome it in any way he could. Whether or not she would have accepted his help was debatable, but he should have tried, dammit.

“Stand up, I’ll show you something,” Li Min said. There was a shuffle of fabric and feet in the dirt as Sophia did. “Assume your usual stance.”