I just sat down and started writing this. It's not polished yet, and it's not finished. But, I thought I'd share it anyway.

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The world was brown again. It began to rub onto our faces and creep into our hair. The edges of our fingernails were caked with it, our clothes were smudged. I watched River's eyes for comfort, trying to see past the dust into a place that was real. Nothing outside of his eyes was real anymore. We were covered in haze, sheltered by the canyon walls that fought the blue above it, allowing the sunlight that pierced our only softness. His belly had grown despite the heat, despite the meager meals, despite the rationed water. He forced himself to chew the bites of bread the same color as the earth around us. He forced his mouth to close when it wanted to come back up.

I kept watching his eyes. I waited for their beauty to be drowned by the dirt, for his soul to finally dry up like everything else, but even after these months they are still the only thing that's real to me.  

I thought under these circumstances that his belly would be small. His belly is anything but small. It grows straight out from him, a huge ball of flesh stretching his lean skin painfully. In the midday heat he removes his shirt, and the rest of us cannot help but stare. There's something breathtaking about his body. The smooth curves and arches, the sparkles of sweat as he moves in the sun. In the evenings I run my hands over the mound as it rolls, jumps, shudders. He moans in his sleep as if trying to get away, but I take comfort against it.

At night sometimes couples will dance with the high fire, sending shadows up the canyon walls. Nico and Emerald dance best, moving with exaggerated slowness and a rhythm that clicks to music only they can hear. River brought his guitar but never plays. There were times when he couldn't go a day without touching it, picking his fingers along the strings, but now I haven't seen it since we left.

Nico spins Emerald slowly and as she turns, her hips sway up and down. They are caught in a moment away from here. They are back in New York on a summer night, guitar music playing gently in the back, floating out to the balcony where they romance one another. His hand on her sultry skin, her cheek against his unshaved jaw, they make love with the dance.

River turns away from their display and sighs. Pain is on his face, but otherwise he hides it well. I want to ask him about it, but know better. 

"I think I'll sell my guitar when we meet with the Boorni." He says. 

"Are you sure?" I am surprised and don't know how else to respond. 

"They'll have food. I need something more substantial and a guitar would probably buy that." 

"How are you feeling?" I gently probe.

He rubs his eyes with the tips of his fingers and clears his throat. "I've been better." Then he looks up and smiles. It's the first I've seen him smile in months and it looks strange in the light of the fire, exaggerated by shadows. I know the smile is only for me.

The Boorni wear layers of clothing even in the sun. Their language comes from the back of their throats.

Helen, Jude and Tay are standing ahead of our caravan to meet with them. Helen has her fists on her hips. It is a stance to claim her rights, a fearless woman in a man's world. The tallest Boorni steps forward with his hand over his mouth: a shrewd trader, a shrewd traitor. The dog, Lucky, growls and then whimpers. Her owner, the midwife Petra, clicks her tongue once and Lucky lays down at her feet. 

River has gone to collect his guitar from the wagon, which is hiding behind the boulders a few yards away. He should have returned by now.

I slink away, as quietly as possible, to find him. He is resting against the rock, his arms around his belly, cupping it tightly. I'm afraid to startle him but he has heard me and looks up. 

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He shakes his head and I feel panic, but try to squelch it quickly. "Why not?"

"There's just..." He pauses, breathes, exhales. "so much pressure."

I smile nervously. "Well, bring the guitar and let's talk to them." I pause. "Before it gets worse, huh?"

He looks up and his eyes cut me. His breathing sounds more like air escaping.

"She's coming soon." 

I nod and glance back. He stands up straight and walks out to the sunlight without waiting for my response.

I should kiss his forehead, rub his neck, tell him it will be alright - but I have no strength. I feel no emotion but panic. 

The weight of the guitar and the pain in his feet, hips, groin, stomach and back make him limp as he walks out to the Boorni.

The tall one looks him up and down, interested, fascinated. 

"He is, how do you say..." he looks back at the others, his hand waving, searching for the word. 

I see a ripple go through River's body, he's trying to ignore the pain, but it's difficult.

Helen throws her head back, looking down her nose at the heathen. "Pregnant."

His eyebrows raise. "Yes, pregnant!" He hits the "R" hard, rolls it. 

"He is soon to have baby, yes? We would want to have him." 

I come swiftly to River's side. He stiffens. "You want my baby?" 

"No." The man smiles, rubs his chin. "We want you. Your baby can come too." He laughs.

I put my hand into River's and he squeezes it. 

Helen steps closer to us, protectively. "What do you mean you want him?"

"For good price, we want him." 

I shake my head slowly, in shock, curious how the leaders will respond. It's a tempting offer in these times of poverty. There's little food to go around, little to trade with. One less mouth to feed, a little money in the pocket. Not such a terrible prospect.

"If you take him you have to take me." I say, but I have spoken too soon. Nothing is decided, yet I speak as if it is.

"Very well." He says without missing a beat. "What is fair price, you think?" There is a stunned silence. We have never bartered for people before. What IS a fair price? We have no idea.

"A hundred dollars each." Tay barks. A hundred dollars of American money? I would not have bargained so steep with my own life. "Including the baby. Three hundred American dollars."

A gasp shudders through the crowd but then we silence ourselves again. How life-changing three hundred dollars could be!

River grips my hand tighter and gives a short groan. His breathing becomes more shallow suddenly and panic finds my gut again. Whether we are sold are not, this day will not end well.

The tall Boorni steps away to consult, but returns quickly and nods. He is handed a wad of money and passes it on to Helen. I haven't seen money for years. It reminds me of my old life and my old home and I feel that I'm going to be sick. 

Two Boorni take River by the arms and he looks to the crowd, terrified. Petra comes forward. "Do you have a midwife, a physician? Do you know how to care for a male?"

He shrugs. "This does no good out here. Live or die, no one can help."

She shakes her head. "A man's body is very different from a woman's. It is much more dangerous. You must have someone with experience!" When he turns around and waves her off she covers her face with her hands and begins to cry. Her guilt is shared by all. But three hundred dollars is three hundred dollars, especially when you're starving.

A short, thick man comes to collect me and I go easily.

We are shoved into a covered wagon, and surprised to find it not uncomfortable. It lurches away from everyone we know and I sob silently. 

"It's getting worse." River says and I remember that there will be time enough later to lament. He squeezes his eyes shut and I sit up to look at him. 

"Is there anything you...want me to do?"  

"It's so hot in here." He licks his lips and his mouth is dry.

I poke my head out. "Water?" I call to a woman on the left, leading a horse. She glances back and tosses me a jug of water she was carrying on her belt. "Thank you." I say, and then regret it.

River rests his head against the canvas and takes ragged breaths. "Baby, why do want to come today? Yesterday would have been so much better."

He drinks some water and poors a little over his head. It trickles down along the ridge of his nose, falls over the cheekbone and the indent below it. Beads glisten on his beautiful neck and I'm glad he's not here alone.