I kept the one thing he wanted

Naledi reopened the bite. That is the line my body keeps returning to. I can list the rest — the last ampoule, the affidavit, the Section 65, the fuel-card hold, the predawn run to the Cederberg with one working hand and a sealed female in the red bag — but what is stuck in me is Naledi's palm against the tailgate and the wet heat in my glove two seconds later. I have been stung by Parabuthus twice and by a Cape cobra once and none of those felt like getting hurt by a person doing Pieter's paperwork.

She smelled like suntan lotion and hand sanitiser. I keep thinking about her watch — a cheap Sekonda with a cracked glass. She had a kid, probably. I could tell by the way she leaned on the bakkie like someone used to a small body leaning on her.

Pieter sent a woman. I am sitting with that. He has never come himself. He sends the operator, the affidavit, the clerk, and today Naledi with the immobilisation order. I do not know what to call what that is. Custody, maybe. He is keeping me like he keeps the females — sealed, labelled, logged in the register. The thought makes me want to drive into a culvert.

I signed the receipt. I did not sign the clause about the unborn young. He wrote 'all progeny from the gravid female, in perpetuity' and I left that line blank and Naledi saw me and did not make me sign it. I think she knew what that line was. I think she let me keep it. I will not forgive her for the bite but I will not forget that either.