by Ruby Dixon
“Like his father.”
He brushes at my furs. “He is also covered in ash. Why do you have soot all over you, my mate?”
I do? I dust my fingers over my clothing, just now noticing the dark smears all over my gray leathers. Of course, that just makes things worse, and I realize my hands are far filthier than my clothing, my fingers black from where I’ve been holding the coal to write with. “I forgot all about the coal when the baby kicked. Did I smear some on my face?”
“You did,” my mate agrees with a wry smile. “Let me get a cloth and you can tell me about what you are doing.”
“I’m writing.” I sit and wiggle in place, trying to tuck my legs under me. It’s getting harder to sit compactly the more my belly grows. I kind of hope the baby will kick again, but when Ereven returns, all is quiet once more. I obediently let him clean my face with a damp, warm cloth.
“Ry-ting?” he prompts. “What is this?”
So I tell him about my plans. Well, I also have to tell him about writing and written human language, but he seems to grasp it enough that I move on to talking about the plans for the holiday—No Poison Day—and the events I’m trying to set up. “I want things to turn out well,” I tell him. “So I’m writing it all out to make sure I don’t forget anything. My memory’s been terrible ever since I got pregnant.”
“That is normal,” he says, used to my complaining about that. “Maylak says it will pass.”
“Which is why I’m writing,” I say, and offer him my filthy hands. “Because I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to forget to include someone, or forget to do an event someone is looking forward to. Holidays are important.”
“So let one of the other humans help you organize things. It sounds like a big task, and you are busy growing my son.”
I snort. Busy growing a baby isn’t exactly a full-time job. “I can handle it. I want to do it myself. And everyone else is busy, too. Most of the girls already have babies. They don’t exactly have free time.”
“Tee-fah-ni does not have a kit yet. She is pregnant, like you.”
Tiff’s also obsessed with trying to grow her fruit trees despite the lack of sunlight in the gorge. And when she’s not busy with that, she’s busy with a million other things. “She already has a ton of projects. I doubt she’ll have time to hang out with me.”
“What about the sisters?”
Maddie and Lila? I like them, but I don’t know them as well as the others. “They’re still learning how to cope with day-to-day life. I don’t know that they’ll have time to help either. I can do this, I promise.” I clasp his hands. “I won’t over-exert myself.”
He thinks for a minute, then a wide smile crosses his face. “I know who can help you.”
I’m starting to grow annoyed with my mate’s ‘helpfulness.’ I don’t need help with this project, but it seems he’s determined to get me assistance. “Who?”
“Asha.”
“Asha?” If he’d have said ‘President Reagan,’ I couldn’t have been more surprised. Me and Asha aren’t buddies. Actually, I’m not even sure we’ve said more than two words to each other in the last month. When Asha does emerge to spend time with the tribe, she makes a beeline for the women with babies so she can hold them. I’m not interesting to her…yet. “Why on earth would I get Asha to help me?”
“Because she needs a friend.” His big hands are gentle as he places them on my belly once more. “I saw her yesterday and it made me think.”
I saw her yesterday, too. “Think about what?”
“About how lonely she has been since the human females arrived.” When I gesture for more information, he leans down and presses his ear to my stomach, resting his head against me in a picture of perfect contentment. “Look at things from her perspective, my mate. She has grown up desired and wanted by all the males in the tribe because there are so few females. She mates someone she is barely even friends with, and they lose their kit. Then, just when she is almost over her grieving, many new females arrive. They are all friends with each other and have their own customs. They share stories and talk and do chores together. They sit together by the fire. They are all friends. And it is something Asha has never had.”
I frown to myself. I don’t think anyone has been trying to deliberately exclude the prickly Asha, but now that he says it this way, I feel guilty. “What about Sevvah, Kemli and Maylak? Farli?” The tribe had females before we arrived.
“Sevvah and Kemli are both old enough to be Asha’s mother. Maylak has always been Asha’s rival for attention. They have never been close, and they drifted apart further when Maylak came into her healing powers and her kit lived and Asha’s did not. And Farli is too young.” He closes his eyes and rubs his hand on the swell of my stomach. “Do you think he will kick again?”
He’s trying to distract me, I think. I poke him with my finger. “So you think I should befriend Asha?”
“I do. She could use a friend. Not just someone that is trying to hand her a child to watch. Someone that will be her friend just to be her friend.”
“And you think I’m that person?”
Ereven opens his eyes and gives me another sweet smile. “Who would not want to be your friend, my Claire? You bring me such joy. I cannot imagine you doing any less for others.”
He really is the dearest man. And he’s got such a good heart, too. I wonder that anyone else would think about Asha’s feelings, but Ereven tries to make everyone happy in his own quiet way. God, I love him. “All right, I’ll go visit her and feel her out.”
In the next moment, the baby moves again, and we both forget all about the holiday and Asha, focusing on the baby doing somersaults in my belly.
4
ASHA
Next Morning
I’m lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t want to go eat the morning meal with the humans today, because I can smell eggs even from here, and the thought makes my stomach hurt. I would rather not eat than eat more eggs, but Stay-see’s feelings would be hurt if I turned them down. So I hide, and I contemplate the roof of the howse and watch the curls of smoke escape from our fire up to the hole at the center of the teepee.
Over in her furs, Farli’s shoving on her boots and getting ready to go out, her pet dancing around her legs eagerly. I do not know why she bothers with the animal. Since we have moved to the gorge and the vee-lage, taking care of her dvisti has eaten up many of her days. Farli takes him out every day the weather is clear to graze, and just getting him out of the gorge is a time-consuming process involving a set of ropes and a thing called a pull-ee that Har-loh created. Once the creature is hauled back to the top, Farli spends her day collecting dried stalks of plants to feed him on the days when the weather is bad, and taking the bundles back to the vee-lage. Taushen goes with her and checks his traplines, but I know it is a burden. She should give up and let the stupid animal go back into the wild.
She should give up on it like Hemalo gave up on you? I do not like the thought that immediately pops into my head, and focus on something else. What should I do this day? It will be quiet since the weather is fair and warm (well, for the brutal season) and the hunters are already out, making the most of the day. Rokan says the weather will be clear for two or more days, so most of the hunters will not return home until the last moment, taking every opportunity to gather food for the tribe.
I should do the same. I should get out of my furs and see what I can help with. Stay-see loves those terrible eggs, and they are easy enough to get; I could climb and pull some nests for fuel and get more eggs for the humans. Maybe I will. Soon. But it is hard to get out of the furs when you feel there is no reason. If I do not go get eggs for Stay-see, someone else will. I do not matter, not to anyone in my tribe.
Certainly not to Hemalo.
Farli bustles out of the howse, leaving me alone with my dark thoughts. I hear her boots crunching on the fine layer of snow dusting the stones, and then her low murmur as she pauses to speak to s
omeone. Her pet bleats, drowning out her words. Then, a moment later, she sticks her head back into the hut. “Asha, you have a visitor.”
I sit up slowly, surprised. “I do?”
She nods. “I told her she could come in. I must go while the weather holds.” She gives me a cheery smile and then dashes off again, letting the leather flap covering the door fall once more.
I gather my furs close to me, curious, and I am surprised when the human Claire meekly peeks inside a moment later. “Can I come in?”
“Why?” I ask.
She blinks at me with big eyes and then moves inside the howse. I notice she is carrying several large rolled-up animal hides under her arm, and she wears a bright smile on her narrow face. “I wanted your help.”
I study her, trying not to scowl. I do not know Claire well. Of all the humans, she is one of the quietest of the lot, content to sit and listen when others like Jo-see would blurt all their thoughts out for all to hear. I remember that she was Bek’s pleasure-mate for a time, but things soured between them, and she resonated to Ereven days after moving back to the main tribal cave. I like Ereven. It is impossible not to. But I do not know his mate well enough to say whether or not I like her. “My help?” I ask. “In what?”
Claire moves to sit next to the embers of my fire, dropping down onto Farli’s favorite stool. I notice that when she moves, her thick, bundled furs make her belly look more rounded with kit than usual, and I feel a stab of jealousy and grief at the sight. I would give anything to be with kit once more, my Hashala safe in my belly.
She smooths out the hides, and I see they are covered in strange, swirly designs made of charcoal. They leak soot everywhere, and Claire grimaces as she spreads them out. “I realize this looks a little crazy, but hear me out. You heard us talking about the holiday celebration yesterday, right?”
I nod slowly, not entirely sure why this involves me. “No Poison Day. I remember.”
“Yes, that’s it. We’re going to have another, except we’re going to spread it out over several days. Well, several bad weather days.” She sounds breathless and nervous, her words almost tripping over themselves in her rush to speak. It is all very curious. Why is Claire anxious about speaking to me? I am no one to her. I may be sharp to some of my tribesmates, but Claire is such a delicate, shy thing that I would not lash out at her. I fear it would break her.
“Several No Poison Days,” I echo, still not sure what this has to do with me.
“Correct. I think we’re going to go with eight, as a nod to Nora and Hanukkah. I think she’ll like that. And it’s almost kind of sort of like Epiphany or Kwanzaa, though people don’t celebrate Epiphany much anymore. So I guess it’s more like Kwanzaa.” She stares down at the skins, thoughtful.
“Am I…supposed to know these words?”
She looks over at me, and a light flush touches her pink face. “Oh. I’m sorry. Of course not. I’m just thinking out loud.” She gestures at the skins. “There’s so much that I need to mentally unpack and get down on paper so I don’t forget, and I feel like it’s all in my head, and I don’t want to forget anything. So I’m writing it out.”
I frown down at the skins, then at her again. “I do not understand.”
“I’m sorry. I know. I’m babbling.” She clasps her hands in front of her, and somehow in the last few moments, she’s managed to smear soot on her pale, flat brow. “I keep doing that. Ereven tells me to stop, too. It’s just rambling and then I get away from my point and…I’m doing it again.” She gives me an apologetic little smile. “Right. No Poison Day. Focus, Claire, focus.”
“You wish to celebrate No Poison Day over several days,” I say slowly, still trying to guess why she is involving me. “Do you…need me to show you where the local poisons are? I am not familiar with this area, but I can identify the plants if you need.” I am still not sure why she would come to me instead of Kemli, who is the expert, but this is the only conclusion I can come to.
Claire blinks. “Oh, no, I don’t need poison. I need help organizing things.”
I am intrigued. No one ever comes to me for something like this. “You want me to help you…”
“Run the holiday celebrations, yes.” She clasps her hands and puts them to her chin, her expression thoughtful. “I can try to run it all myself, but I worry I’ll forget something important and mess things up. Plus, I’m not all that outgoing, and you know everyone. You can be my sa-khui ambassador.”
“What about your mate?”
“He’s out hunting. He won’t be back until at least tomorrow, and I want to start getting the word out to people soon so they can start working on gifts.”
“Farli would help you,” I suggest. I think I am still in shock that someone has come to me and wants my help.
“She’s busy getting food for her dvisti. And besides, Ereven told me you would be perfect to help me.” Claire’s smile is timid. “He said you’re great at getting people to listen to you, and I’m not so good at that sort of thing.”
“He suggested me?” I know Ereven well, but I had no idea he thought so highly of me. Warmth blooms in my belly. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps this is something I would be good at. Claire is definitely one of the quieter humans and could use a louder partner. “If you are certain…”
“Oh, absolutely.” Her smile widens.
“Then tell me more about what you have planned.” I pull my boots on and join her by the fire. I glance over at my sorry hearth. I have no food for a guest, no drinks. It has been so long that someone has come to visit that I have not given it much thought. “Do you want some tea?”
“That would be lovely.”
As I throw a blend of my favorite tea flavors into my boiling pouch, Claire unravels her skins with the strange charcoal wiggles on them and tells me her plans. There will be a secret gift exchange, which sounds amusing and will allow everyone to participate and receive gifts, even if they do not have large families. After the great khui sickness, many of the tribe found themselves alone, and Claire’s thoughtful suggestions about the gift game will give everyone something to look forward to.
“So you like the Secret Santa idea?” Claire asks me as I pour the tea. She looks pleased. “It’s not too confusing?”
“The only confusing thing is the name,” I tell her, sitting down with my own cup. It is rather nice to sit inside and talk of plans and things other than wallowing in my grief. Perhaps I have been stuck in my own head for too long. Perhaps I am just making myself miserable and need distractions. Whatever it is, Claire’s presence is making me feel more like myself than I have in a long, long time. “You call it Sahn-tah?”
“Secret Santa, yes. It’s because you’re acting like Santa, who is the human figure that hands out gifts. He’s an elf that wears red and comes down the chimney, uh, smoke hole.”
I glance up at the smoke hole in my own ceiling. “It seems a strange way to deliver presents. Will they not burn?”
“It does sound weird if you pick it apart. And no, we don’t have to really send our presents through smoke holes. We can leave them on people’s doorsteps, or have others deliver them for us. The spirit is to have fun above all else. We can call it Secret Gifting or something else, since the Santa thing will be weird.”
“I like the idea of secret gifting. It sounds fun.”
Claire beams happily at my praise. “It’s one of my favorite traditions, too.”
We go through her list of suggestions as we drink our tea, and I help her describe them in ways that the sa-khui will remember. A day to celebrate ‘Thanks-giving’ becomes ‘Feast Day.’ An ee-stur egg hunt is changed to a seed hunt, as eggs are now a staple of our brutal season food supplies and should not be wasted on a game. The seeds of the intisar plant are big and bulbous and have a hard shell that can be painted like the small eggs Claire mentions, and then hidden around the vee-lage. It seems a silly game to me, but when she tells me it is for the kits, it makes more sense. They will enjoy such things, and the par
ents will enjoy watching them. There will be a day of foot-bahl and games, a day for songs and tribal gathering, and so many other plans that I find I am impressed with Claire’s enthusiasm and determination to create so many things for people to do. “This is a great many tasks,” I tell her. “How will you possibly keep it all straight?”
“Oh, well, the humans can read, so I thought we could post a skin with a schedule on it at the longhouse, and then maybe do pictures for the sa-khui?” She bites her lip. “It’s not a great answer, but I can’t think of another way to do it other than going house to house and reminding everyone what the next day will be.”
“We can do both,” I assure her. “I will help you.” The more I think about this, the more I am determined to help Claire make this a success. It is a big task, but I am looking forward to it.
The day breezes past as Claire and I make plans, and by the time the suns slide into the horizon and the chill in the air grows too deep to ignore, we have many more scribbles on Claire’s skins, many plans, and have drunk many, many cups of tea. Claire invites me back to her small howse to eat leftover stew, and I join her. She lives in one of the small howses closer to the long-howse, where the floors are warm under the feet and the walls are decorated with strange figures. Her home is cozy but bare, much like my own, and I cannot help but think that she needs decorative skins on the walls to trap the heat and to make things pretty. I had such things in my cave back when I first mated with Hemalo, I think sadly. They were all lost in the cave-in, and I have not had the heart to decorate my new howse. Claire, I imagine, does not know how to. I can show her, if she does not mind my company. Or perhaps I will make her gifts for the exchange. I like the thought.
As we settle near the fire with our bowls, Claire stifles a yawn. “So tomorrow we go out and start talking to everyone about the Secret Gifting celebration, right?”
I nod. “It will give people time to prepare their gifts. Even small ones must be created by hand, and everyone will want to participate and make sure their tribesmate receives things they will enjoy.”