She had no idea why she even bothered trying to teach him.She responded in the only way she knew. "What do you think?" She lay her head against his chest and heard the outtake of breath of his sigh. Guilt flooded her eyes, and she closed them for a moment. "Sorry," she said in a tiny voice."It's okay."Melinda's fingers curled into a fist, and she thumped it lightly against his chest. "No it isn't! I treat you like shit! Why do you still like me?"Jason stared, confused. "I just--" And then I get mad when you can't respond right away after I say something stupid like that." She pushed him away. "Forget it, just leave me alone." Melinda, what is it?" Jason said. "Why are you being so hard on yourself?" B-Because it's better than being scared." Victor's gone. After what Heather told us about her last vision--" It's not him, and it's not Kelly."Jason remained silent. Contrary to Melinda's opinion, he had learned something: that it was best to wait out pauses like this rather than guess at. He had begun to like that man, who had distinguished him in front of all, and was prepared to believe his story. ‘White man lying. No one cross sea in canoe.’ ‘Better let white man go to village. He can die, and Fighting Ladies not happy’, another of the group retorted. That idea seemed to scare the natives and they stopped talking. Kango turned to Rodrigo: ‘Master can come.’ The Portuguese sighed in relief. Whoever they were, those ladies seemed to inspire a healthy respect among the Kimbundo. But why had one of the Negroes supposed that he could be a member of their tribe? He made a mental note to discover about that later. ‘Good. But my boat has to be kept safe while I am at the village. Who volunteers to bring it here?’ Four of the men ran to the water line and carried it on their shoulders some thirty yards inland. Rodrigo was more assured now, the natives seemed not to object to his requests, and this was a good omen. He stood up, ready to walk to the village, but at that.
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