Under other circumstances he'd have been happy to be offered a knife, finding them more useful, being more comfortable with them, than he was with the long spear he'd made off with. But he'd never been more aware of one as a killing tool, than he was of that one.

He took it reluctantly and quickly tucked it into his boot, trying to ignore the warm, heavy weight as he followed Max through the gap, the grass swinging back into place like a curtain.

"Stop makin' promises ya don't intend to keep, Max."