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contents of the gourd, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her attitude
was businesslike, and she met my eyes only fleetingly.
She touched my wound, and only then did I notice there was
some sort of poultice on it, which she removed. It hurt, and I broke
into a sweat despite the cold. She seemed eager to be done with me,
but a moment later her hands slowed down and her touch became so
gentle I wasn’t sure whether she was caressing me or healing me.
Apacuana’s face was so close to mine I could feel her breath.
She leaned down and sniffed at me. I looked away and wondered
whether she knew what she was doing. She smelled of smoke and
ashes, of earth and onoto with a tang of fresh sweat, but there was a
scent about her that could only have emanated from her skin, and it
made me want to get closer and breathe it in.
Light was fading, but I could still see the glitter in her eyes. I
thought there was tension in the movement of her eyes, in the way
she pressed her lips together, and then I noticed her
mouth—bruised. Her nose was small and straight and her
cheekbones high; they were half-hidden under the long strands of
hair falling about her face.
She moved above me, and the tickling of her hair on my nipples
made it shockingly clear there was no cloth between her
nakedness and mine. I jostled her away, and in the process, my
hand touched her innocent and bewitching breast. The sheer
perfection of its exquisite softness burned itself into my memory
like a red-hot iron brand.
I gasped and writhed like an earthworm suddenly unearthed.
The pain was great, though, and put a stop to my struggle. She
pinned me to the ground with two strong hands over my shoulders.
Everything around me reeled, and I closed my eyes, breathing hard
and short.
“Yopimansa’?”
I didn’t know what she meant. Was she asking me if I felt dizzy? I
moved my legs to ascertain that I was not completely naked. The
cloth of my pants and the weight of my frock rested reassuringly on
my knees; only my chest was naked, thank God.
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