The water tasted brackish. She imagined that she could also taste the horse's sweat but everything seemed infected by the animal's smell. Everything that came from it seemed to stink and what was more disturbing to her was that it was slowly ceasing to bother her. It was as if the familiarity with the creature had made her accept its ways.

She blamed the computer it kept telling her just how useful it could be; not just as a draught animal but how its various excreta could be recycled. She'd built chemical stills for the dung and urine, and given the creature a coat just like her own to collect sweat just to recycle water.

Of course the stills needed flushing out periodically but she hadn't seen a fresh water source for almost a week now and even before that she had become worried by the suspicious looks she was getting from the locals. They had begun to ask awkward questions about her clothing, her horse and her cart. As a result she'd not slept in a real bed for the best part of a month, only stopping in the smaller villages to do odd jobs and earn money for food. Even that was difficult or, at least, confusing, the way that only a few people would be prepared to talk to her and the precision of the work they wanted from her. They always seemed to want a certain quantity of fruit picked or crops gathered, rather than asking for a day's work.

She looked around as she lowered her water bottle. The road seemed empty in both directions, stretching out in an almost straight line across the desert plain. The seemed to be little cover the land was almost featureless for miles. If the innkeeper from the last village could be trusted the next village was about twenty miles away. She knew that she could probably not trust him, somebody, she might as well call them Them, was out to find her. Those looks she got from passers-by, she was sure that they were saying to themselves or one-another “that's her”.

The horse took a few steps forward and she awoke from her paranoid revery. It had to be paranoid, didn't it, all this walking through the desert and and avoiding people was doing something to her mind. Still, the horse wanted attention and it was usually best to obey its needs. She walked to the side of the cart and unhooked a leather bucket and a water skin from it. She poured out a good drink -for a horse - into the the bucket and took it round to the horse. It dipped its head into the bucket with no hesitation, the salt content of the water didn't seem to bother it.

She laid a hand on the creature's mane, it still felt strange, as if she wasn't supposed to be allowed to do this. The horse twisted its neck slightly as if to acknowledge the touch but continued drinking. She still marvelled at her attachment to this creature.

The sun was going down, and she looked across the plain to see if the was any likely features. About four hundred yards away from the road was a very small outcrop of rocks, just a few boulders really but enough to provide a bit of camouflage for the night ahead. She unpacked the long reins and a broom from the back of the cart, propped the broom against it and walked back to the horse to fix the reins to it. The horse had stopped drinking and was waiting for something to do. She pulled the bridle gently but forcefully until the horse and cart were pointing towards the boulders. She laid a quick uncertain slap on the horse's rump and it began to move slowly forwards. She grabbed the bucket as she strode round the cart, replacing it on its hook as she passed. When she reached the back of the trundling cart she picked up the fallen broom. With one hand holding the long reins and another trying to direct the broom in attempt to cover their tracks, she gee'd the horse towards to boulders at a slightly faster pace.

The outcrop of boulders, maybe half a dozen of them were just a little taller than she was. As she reached them she stowed the broom and walked to the front to guide the horse and cart so that the rocks lay between them and the road.

Time to prepare for the night. Dig a hole, put the bucket in it, place a groundsheet over the hole, lead the horse and cart over the groundsheet. Then it was a case of taking out the roll of tent material and placing it in a doughnut shape at the edges of the groundsheet. Finally now she could do a bit of magic. She aimed one hand at the rocks and the other at the tent on the ground. A few quietly breathed commands and the tent material began to unroll and form into a dome even as its ground-touching edges began to bite and dig into the earth.

She swept her right hand so that it followed the approximate contours of the rocks and mirrored it with the left directed at the forming dome. The dome lost its regular semi-spherical shape crinkling and changing colour to match the boulders. Not really magic this, the tent material was a network of fluid filled tubes and micro-valves that could be inflated or pressurised under the computer's control, she, Hil was indicating the tents basic shape by moving her hands to near objects to be copied.

After a few minutes the material had formed a tent resembling just another boulder with almost no sign that it wasn't just another hunk of rock other that a stretch of loose cloth that acted as a entrance flap. Hil entered the tent and lit a small torch.

The horse had stood calmly throughout the whole operation, it was a remarkably placid creature and she hadn't had to hobble or tie it up for weeks now. Even the first time she'd built the tent around it, rather than trying to manoeuvre it and the cart into the tent after assembly, the horse had barely shifted its position.

She unhitched the poles and the yoke from the horse and took off its coat. She took out a brush and started to brush the horse. The computer had advised this, to keep the horses skin in condition under the the sweat collecting coat but she found the brushing therapeutic in itself. There was something about caring for a creature that just stopped her worrying too much about all the fears and paranoia that sometimes gripped up as they trundled across this strange landscape.

When she had finished, she attached a hobble rope to the horse and went over to the entrance flap. More mumbled commands and it became rigid tightly sealing her and the horse inside the tent for the night.

She unrolled a bed roll from the cart and took off her long outer water catching coat. She hung it next to the horses coat on the cart and attached both to one of the stills on the cart. In the morning any captured water would be drained into the still and approximately purified.

She went through all the usual nighttime checks on the carts equipment and systems, which she knew she would probably do all over again in the morning before they set off. She turned off the torch and lay down on her bed-roll, once again debating whether she should take off her belt. It could be described as a utility belt as it contained pouches of useful equipment as well as power packs for her mesh skin suit. The belt was bulky and stopped her from lying on her back but she was too worried about being without power if she was woken suddenly at night and had to feel around to reattach it in an emergency. In the end she lay on her front and stared at the horse's feet, listening to its breathing until she fell asleep.

She woke up, feeling as if she was falling. The skin suit had suddenly stiffened and tightened around her body straightening her from her foetal position. The suit quickly relaxed its hold as its processors realised that they had woken her up. Hil listened, and gently picked herself up. She could hear whispering and stealthy footsteps from outside. Somebody had found her and that meant that somebody was looking for her. It was unlikely that there was anything else of value in these boulders.

“I tell you I can feel a presence,” a voice coming through the tent wall, “You must feel it too”

“Suppose,” said another voice

“It is an honourable kill,” said the first voice, “it is permitted.”

There was the sound of a hand being placed on the wall of the tent.

“Anything?” Said the first voice a little more distant than before.

“Nothing,” said a third voice right next to the tent, suddenly so loud that Hil momentarily froze standing to the spot.

She heard this third man dragging his hand along the tent wall, even with the reshape and the texture that the mesh material created, he wouldn't be fooled for long. Hil crept to the wall near his hand and followed it. He would only need to knock on the surface of the tent to feel that it was hollow. In the night it looked and felt almost like rock but there were limits. The hand reached the join were the entrance flap had been. Hil sensed that the man outside was putting some weight on the structure. The tent had anchored itself into the earth but a concerted charge would knock the tent over and sufficient weight applied slowly might just do the same.

Hil ran her hand down the seam where the entrance was and it lost its rigidity turning into heavy cloth again.

A man's hand appeared through the flap as the man fell into the tent. He began to call out but Hil gripped his chin so that her wrist was against his neck. That action and a command breathed through her teeth activated a small cutting laser on her wrist. She saw the life leave his eyes as the laser bored a inch wide hole through the man's neck, brain and finally the skull at the back of his head.

She stepped out of the entrance, ducking and walking crabwise over the man's prone body. A quick glance seemed to indicated that the others weren't immediately nearby. She tugged the body out of the tent and touched the material so that it became rock-like again. She heard a foot fall nearby and moved silently away from it so that she was in a narrow gap between the tent and one of the boulders. It was dark out in the night but the starlight allowed her to make out movement and the vague shape of things. The dead man was wearing the standard leather and mail mix armour that said had seen on some men in the villages. Those men had appeared to be strangers just like her but had seemed to be more accepted by the locals. Even the fearsome weapons that they all carried didn't bother the villagers in the slightest. Maybe they weren't considered honourable kills like she was. It had been days since she had seen any armed men in a village and when she had none of them had appeared particularly interested in her. Something or someone had set them on her trail.

“Hey!” The shout made her jump slightly – the skin suit held her in a crouching position so that she didn't actually move. There was a figure crouched over the body examining it, sometimes looking around for his friend or friends. She could make out some movement that this new man was making near the body's waist. It looked almost as if he was robbing his dead colleague as he quickly removed objects and pouches attached to the body's belt, casting furtive glances over his shoulders to make sure the people or person he had called weren't actually too close.

In a burst of energy Hil dashed towards him and knocked him over. He rolled as she recovered and began to pick herself up. He found his feet quickly and was coming towards her with a drawn sword by the time she looked back at him. She wanted to run away but the skin suit seemed to have other ideas, its in-built computer automatically deciding strategy when it was in automatic mode. She had little choice but to go along with it at this point. The suit was holding her in a readied crouch as if it expected her to leap at the man as he bore down on her. This was madness he was going to swing the blade down any second but even as he did she rose quickly her arms suddenly outstretched. She realised what she was meant to do and gripped the man's sword arm at the wrist. She felt the suit making her twist so that as the man's body made contact with hers, his momentum carried him over her shoulder and onto his back several feet away.

He was dazed but picked himself up quickly while Hil found herself in a bent stance with her back close to a boulder, ready for his next charge. As ran at her he hear a whine that quickly became a scream – it was the pumps that pushed fluid around the mesh of tubes in the skin suit increasing the pressure and multiplying her strength. As the man's sword again crashed towards her, she ducked into his charge, grabbed him by the arm and belt, and – the pumps now wailing like a banshee – threw him head first into a boulder.

She was frozen in place looking back at the man's body still twitching as if it hadn't got the message that it's owner's head was fatally crushed. She realised that in the past few minutes she had actually killed two men. She had felt bad enough when she'd had to kill rabbits and had managed to justify it with the idea that since she was going to eat them it was a matter of survival.

She started to think about her bed and locking herself in the rock tent hoping that the third man – if it was just one more man – would go away. The skin suit tensed again and looked around to see a man standing silently watch her. He had picked a point where he was almost a dark shape against the darkness but the light from the stars just picked out his features. Presumably he had done this so that he could watch her expression.

“So,” he said, “you are my honourable kill”

Hil said nothing just waited for a charge.

The man drew his sword and paced a couple on steps towards her. He was a bulky man, maybe that was just his armour, but he moved deftly almost skipping like a ballet dancer.

“Aren't you afraid of what I did to your friends?” said Hil trying to summon up some kind of defiance.

“I am not sure that you know quite what you did to those men. And they were not friends, just my fighting group”

He watched her appraising her next move.

“You don't look like a berserker,” he said “but that is probably what you are. You even have the scream to go with it.”

He had approached to about two sword lengths away from her and he began to move sideways describing a circle around her.

“You never charge a berserker,” he said, dipping at the second man's body and quickly removing the man's belt in almost a single movement. “Berserkers work off fear and spirit, you should never try fighting them their way. Let them burn themselves out and always find a place to step out of their way.”

Hil didn't move. She was fixed to the spot, just rotating to keep her body in a good defensive posture relative to him.

The man had stopped and was looking slightly puzzled. Hil replayed his last speech in her head and realised that he had probably expected her to attack while he was speaking. It was probably what he thought a berserker would do. She was in no mood for any more fighting and was only being held upright by her suit. The skin suit's computer had probably already made a tactical decisions about this man and she simply had to react when it decided what to do.

“What kind of cloth is that?” the man asked in an almost conversational and friendly tone.

Hil found a voice from somewhere.

“It is a form of reconstituted flax and woven spider's silk” she said. Not the entire truth but he would have no conception of the polymers and artificial materials that went into the skin suits construction. However as the base of the suit close to a form of linen and spider's silk was polymeric enough she delivered her message with a ring of truth.

“Should you be here?” he asked

“I thought I was an honour kill,” she said, her confidence growing even as she felt his begin to diminish.