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not such a wonderful name anymore. It is a name of shame and sadness.”
    “How so?”
    “What part of banished did you not understand?” she snapped at him.
    “Hoooookay, sorry.”  
    “Since you are awake, you should drink more of this. It will help you regain strength.”
    He took the offered canteen cup, noting there seemed to be some kind of meat in the broth, cut fine and several plants, some of which he recognized, some that he didn’t. It was actually quite tasty, particularly to a body that needed a lot of protein while healing.
    After a few moments, she rose, pushed aside the poncho covering the door and went outside again. He couldn’t help himself from watching her backside appreciatively as she went.
    So young to be in that much pain. He shook his head.
    He’d had his times of pain himself, and not the kind that he had experienced at the hands of Lester and Benny. Speaking of those two, soon he needed to go through their gear, filthy or not, to see if there was anything more to learn about this meeting they had set up in LaPine. He wasn’t hopeful, he wasn’t even sure if his former tormenters could read, much less write anything down, but he still needed to check.
    He figured they were meeting with the Red Slavers. He hoped to hell they weren’t meeting with the Road Sharks.
    He finished his broth, and set the can aside. That could wait. Right now his biggest needs were sleeping and eating ’til he was back to 100 percent.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Old Farm
****
    Dawn came with varying degrees of pink and gold. Ghost Wind watched as she sat against the shelter, carefully running an abrasive stone over the lawn mower blade Lila’s son had forged into the shape of her old war knife.
    The original had been taken from her when she had been banished, but Lila’s son had hammered this shape out without losing the metal’s temper. She had been giving it an edge one stroke at a time ever since. She had a passible edge on the last six inches and the point, but the four inches closest to the hilt had only the barest of bevels.
    “That’s kind of a ragged looking chopper ya got there.”  
    She turned and saw Eli half in and half out of the doorway of the shelter. She had come out to let him sleep and heal.  
    “What are you doing, you fool?” she yelled. “How are you supposed to heal if you get up and move around! Get back to your bedding!”
    “You’re worried about me!” He smiled at her as he stood. “I’m doing pretty good now, just a few fading scars and bruises.”
    He was wearing only an old pair of olive drab army pants, and looking at his well-muscled frame, she saw he was right. All of his injuries looked weeks old but it had been only two days and nights since she freed him. It was freakish, and she worriedly wondered if he was one of the old spirits in disguise, playing tricks.
    “Pull up your pant leg. I want to see the bear trap wounds.”
    The horrific tears on his leg had scabbed over, and were turning to scar tissue also.
    “How…” she whispered, astonishment lacing her voice. “Your wounds shouldn’t even be closed yet, much less scarring over. How is this possible?”
    He looked down at the ground, somewhat sheepishly, “Well, some folks heal pretty fast. Guess I’m one of that sort.”
    “That doesn’t explain anything. People just don’t heal that fast, it’s impossible!” Ghost Wind’s voice rose.
    “Empirical evidence points to the contrary of your hypothesis, miss.”
    She stared, until it became evident that he wasn’t going to say more on the subject. She turned back to the knife, and returned to the slow task of putting an edge on it.
    “It’s none of my business,” she said. “I guess we all have things we’d rather not talk about.”
    “Well, of course I’ll probably need a few days before I’m ready to travel. Thanks again for looking after me, Ghost Wind. I appreciate it.”  
    She was silent.
    “Look, I don’t mean any offense. There are