‘Richard, have you ever used a spear?’ ‘No.’ ‘Take it,’ she whispered. ‘But . . .’ ‘Do it.’ Her voice was low and urgent. ‘Pick it up. Hold it at the blunt end.’ Richard picked up the fallen spear. He held it at the blunt end. ‘I knew that bit,’ he told her. A glimmer of a smile breathed across her face. ‘I know.’
