THIRTY-TWO
Not pigs, but men on horseback. Lots of them, armed and dressed like the warriors they were. They crowded into the clearing, and yet they held back, keeping their horses away from the pig carcass.
The girl she had been would have dropped the dagger and begged for help, but Sativa had not journeyed across the sea for nothing. She'd bury the blade in her own breast before letting any of these men touch her. So she brandished her knife and held her ground.
"There's your pig, cousin," one man said. "It seems the victor on the field is a girl today."
Laughter bubbled up from the other men.
"I'll thank you to keep your covetous hands off my pig," Sativa snapped. Her fury blazed bigger than the bonfire last night.
"This is the king's forest, his private hunting preserve, and
