The blood will rest on your head. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself.
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