A Gift for Drenol

by jessicamadden

  A GIFT FOR DRENOL

  AN IPB SLICE OF LIFE

  RUBY DIXON

  MY GIFT TO YOU. <3 HAPPY NO-POISON DAY!

  1

  DRENOL

  I t is hard to be old in a tribe full of young ones. I watch

  the tribe move about the village, racing about as if

  they do not have hand after hand of years ahead of them. There

  are females everywhere, their kits darting back and forth across

  the cobbled stone walkways that make paths through the new

  village.

  Bah. New village. I prefer the caves of my youth. They were much

  warmer than these little huts, and the worn, smooth floors were

  easier on the feet than the cobblestones. But times change, and

  tribes change. Hektar is no longer chief, but his son Vektal. And

  Vektal has a human mate, a pale, stringy-looking creature with no

  nose to speak of and a bushy, curly mane. She has a nice smile, at

  least, and has bred him two strong daughters and carries a third

  kit. He seems happy enough.

  They all do, actually. Now more than ever, the tribe is full of

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  R U B Y D I X O N

  happiness. It does not matter that it is the brutal season and the

  winds roar overhead, carrying blankets of thick snow to cover the

  landscape. Here in this canyon, we are protected, and so everyone

  wanders about, smiling like fools. Even Haeden, who has always

  been reasonable and quiet in the past, has an idiot smile on his

  face as his little mate chatters and chatters, rubbing her rounded

  belly and they string up colorful seeds along the walls of

  their hut.

  Jo-see. Bah. That one is determined to repopulate the entire tribe

  with her womb alone.

  I snort, amused at my own joke.

  Everywhere I look, I see families moving around the village. They

  dart from hut to hut, decorating with banners and boughs, seed

  chains and tiny basketed trees that Salukh’s mate brought out

  from the long-house. The base of each tree is covered with a red-

  dyed leather covering to protect the roots, and the tree branches

  themselves are covered in strange ornaments. Each one has been

  placed in front of the entrance of a hut, and the kits are so excited

  at the sight of each one that they scream and laugh, racing

  around like crazed metlaks.

  My bones ache just looking at them.

  Drayan moves out of our hut and to my side, stretching. “They

  enjoy this No-Poison thing, the kits.”

  I grunt.

  “I like that they decorate the huts,” Drayan continues, oblivious

  to my surly mood. He crosses his arms over his chest, his snow-

  white braids stark against his skin. “You know who would have

  liked this?”

  I stiffen, my eyes narrowing.

  A Gift for Drenol

  3

  “Koloi.”

  “My mate would not have approved of this nonsense,” I grumble

  at him. “She was sensible.”

  “She painted everything she could get her hands on, you old

  fool.” Drayan just grins at me, as if bringing up my mate will

  make me pleasant. He should know better.

  I just scowl at him. Some of us age cheerfully, like Drayan, who

  greets every day with a smile and does not mind that he some-

  times has to walk with a cane to support his weight. Some age

  into fools, like Vaza, who went to the other village with his

  female. And Vadren, who loses his wits a little more every day.

  Me, I aged into an old, bitter hunter. My mate, my sweet Koloi, is

  long gone. There are no grown kits to look after, no family at my

  fire. Our son died not many turns after he was born and there

  was never another. Such is life. If it has made me unpleasant to

  be around, I care not. Fools like Drayan will always try to talk to

  me. Koloi’s sister Kemli tries to include me when she gathers her

  family to her hearth, but she has all of her kits alive and grown,

  with families of their own. Even now, she is cooking a mountain

  of food for her son Zennek and his mate, and the mates of Pashov

  and Salukh. Her hearth is full of human females and their kits,

  and I do not want to spend my time there. I know if I stay here,

  she will bring me food and that is all I need.

  Stupid No-Poison haul-day.

  As if he can read my thoughts, Drayan gives my shoulder a

  thump. “Are you going to Kemli’s fire this night?”

  “Why?” I frown up at him. “So the humans can talk my

  horns off?”

  “Jo-see will not be there,” he teases, knowing my particular

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  R U B Y D I X O N

  dislike for that one and her chattering mouth. “Stay-see and Teef-

  nee are not noisy like her. And Mar-len is amusing.”

  I just roll my eyes.

  “You should spend the evening with them,” he encourages. “I will

  be going to Meh-gann’s fire. She is cooking for myself and Suh-

  mer and Warrek. It will be nice. And Vadren has been invited to

  Air-ee-yon-uh’s fire since her mate is gone and she wants to cook

  for someone. If you do not want to go with Kemli’s family, go and

  visit her?”

  “No.”

  He gets a sly look on his face. “I bet if I tell Jo-see that you are eating alone she will come and insist on you spending the

  evening at their fire. Humans love this haul-day.”

  I glare at him and get to my feet. Or try to, but it’s a struggle. My

  old bones do not respond like they used to. I manage to get up,

  and then I straighten to my full height and glare at him. “I am going to Kemli’s, if only to shut you up.”

  Drayan laughs, pleased. “You will enjoy yourself, friend.”

  I somehow doubt that very much.

  I ARRIVE at Kemli’s hut as late as possible. Even before I walk in, I

  can smell delicious scents…and I hear the murmur of voices. The

  hide she keeps over the door is pushed aside, welcoming any to

  walk in, and so I do and sit down by the fire immediately.

  “Brother,” Kemli says warmly, smiling at me. She is still lovely

  despite her age, and I imagine my Koloi might have looked like

  her if she would have lived longer. It makes my heart ache, but I

  manage to nod at her. “I am glad you are here. Are you hungry?”

  A Gift for Drenol

  5

  “No,” I say stubbornly. “I am only here because Drayan would not

  be quiet. I would rather be at home, where it is quiet.” And I glare

  at the kits playing on the floor nearby.

  Kemli only rolls her eyes and tweaks one of my braids. “I will get

  you a cup of tea anyhow. The food is not quite ready yet, is it, Stay-see?”

  “Soon,” the human woman says. That one is Pashov’s mate, her

  son holding a bowl for her as she ladles a sweet-smelling mixture

  onto her flat metal baking tray. Nearby, Teef-nee’s boy plays with

  Mar-len’s daughter, a set of carved bone figures in front of them.

  Mar-len holds Stay-see’s newest kit in her ar
ms as she talks to her

  mate, and Teef-nee fiddles with something in her hands as she

  talks to Borran. It is crowded and hot in the hut, and I do not like it.

  Kemli returns to my side and gives me a cup of tea. “Here, your

  favorite.”

  “I do not know how I am supposed to drink it when I am already

  melting,” I tell her, scowling, but I take the tea anyhow.

  She just pats my shoulder and moves back to the fire, stirring

  something before moving past Stay-see.

  I notice Teef-nee’s son watching me, and I frown in his direc-

  tion. My backside aches from sitting on this rock, and I can

  already tell this will be a long evening. I bite back a sigh of irri-

  tation when the boy gets up, a carved figure clutched in his

  hand, and comes to my side. His eyes are wide and curious. He

  has the same mane that his mother does, the wild, tight curls

  that spin out like a cloud around his head and horns, but his

  skin is the same shade as his father’s. He tilts his head at me, ignoring my scowl. “Do you want to play hunters with me and

  Zalene?”

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  R U B Y D I X O N

  And he holds out a carved figure to me. I take it from him,

  studying it. The carving is a dvisti. “Who did this?”

  “Aehako.”

  I grunt. “He needs practice. His animals are not very good.” I

  hand it back. “No, I do not want to play.”

  Lukti’s mouth purses, unhappy. “Why are you mad?”

  Am I to get no relief this day? “I am mad because I have to be here.” I gesture at the too-crowded room, where there is barely

  room to breathe. “It is crowded. It is noisy. People want to feed me

  when I just want to be left alone. And my backside hurts because

  these seats are uncomfortable.” I glare the last part at Kemli, who

  ignores me, a smile on her face.

  “But it’s a holiday,” Lukti says, confused. “Everyone gets together

  with family on the holiday.”

  “Bah. Haul-day.” I wave a hand in the air. “So you can put up ugly

  decorations? My mate could make a hut like this pretty. Koloi

  could paint better than any of these fools.”

  Instead of being offended, he looks interested. “Koloi? I haven’t

  met her. Is she visiting Icehome like Pacy’s Papa?”

  His innocent words cut deep. “No.”

  He gets even more excited. “Is there a story about her?”

  I wave a hand irritably, trying to shoo him away. “Leave me alone.

  My bones ache.”

  “Will you tell me a story next time? I love hearing stories.” He is

  persistent, this one.

  “I do not like you,” I tell him, scowling. “Go away!”

  Kemli is there a moment later, ushering the kit back to his

  A Gift for Drenol

  7

  mother. “Come, Lukti. Stay-see’s cakes are almost done and you

  get the first one.”

  I grunt, pleased that she is taking him away. Far too many kits in

  this village, I decide. Far too many.

  This haul-day cannot end quick enough.

  2

  LUKTI

  A fter spending the evening at Nana Kemli’s hut, me and

  Mommy walk back to our hut in the dark. I want to ask

  Mommy a bunch of questions, but she’s real quiet, like she is

  when she’s thinking about her spindle, so I’m quiet too. I know it

  makes her cry sometimes and I don’t want to make her cry.

  We go into our hut and our fire is nothing but coals, the inside chilly. “I’ll make a fire, Mommy,” I tell her.

  “No, baby,” she says absently. “It’s bedtime. You know what

  that means.”

  It means that we do our No-Poison presents in the morning. I’m

  excited about that, but I know it won’t be the same without Papa

  here. Mommy says he’s being a good man and helping others that

  can’t feed themselves and so we have to be strong, but sometimes

  I cry baby tears and wish he was home because I miss him. I

  A Gift for Drenol

  9

  think Mommy misses him, too. She’s sad a lot of the time and so

  that’s why she’s always playing with her spindle. She told me once

  that if she got it to work, it’d almost be worth Papa being gone.

  I take my boots off and set them in their drying spot, and then change into my sleep-tunic with its soft fur and the long “cape” in

  the back that Mommy made so I can tuck my feet into it on colder

  nights. I get under the blankets and wait for my kiss and my

  lullaby, but Mommy doesn’t come over right away. She looks

  distracted, toying with her spindle by the faint light of the coals. I

  watch her tease the clump of Chompy’s hair on it over and over

  again, but she gets frustrated and tosses it aside…and then picks

  it up again, frowning at it.

  Maybe she won’t mind if I ask… “Mommy?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Can I play ball with Holvek in the morning? After we share No-

  Poison gifts?” Normally I play ball with Papa in the morning on

  No-Poison day, but Papa isn’t here.

  “Sure, baby.”

  “I have to play ball with Holvek because Raashel’s gone with her

  mommy and papa to Icehome.”

  “Mmm.” She fusses with the spindle.

  “Raashel’s my bestest friend, but she’s gone, so I guess Holvek can

  be my bestest friend now. He’s not as good with the ball.”

  “Maybe if you play with him more, he’ll get better,” Mommy says,

  glancing over at me.

  Oh, that’s a good idea. Pleased, I settle back in the blankets and

  think about Papa over at Icehome camp. I hope someone made

  him a good No-Poison dinner tonight like Nana Kemli made for

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  R U B Y D I X O N

  us. Then I think about old Drenol and how mean he was. He

  didn’t like my toys and scowled at us kids all through dinner.

  “Mommy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How come Drenol’s so mean? Nana Kemli always invites him to

  No-Poison dinner and he’s always mad at everyone.”

  She moves over to my bed and sits down next to me, curling her

  legs under her. I sit up, because I love it when Mommy comes

  and hangs out in my bed. We sit together like we’re sharing

  secrets and it makes me feel so special. “Was he mean to you,

  baby?” She touches a tuft of my mane, toying with it. Her spindle

  is in her lap, forgotten.

  “Not to me. But he was mean to Nana Kemli and she was trying to

  be nice.”

  Mommy smiles, her teeth bright in the dark. “He’s sad, baby. He’s

  an old man and he doesn’t have anyone left.”

  I scrunch my face up in a frown. Not have anyone left? But there

  are people everywhere, every day. “He has the tribe. He has all

  of us.”

  “But it’s not the same. Remember when Raashel left and you

  were sad?” She squeezes my hand. “You’re going to play ball with

  Holvek tomorrow instead of Papa or Raashel. You still have the

  tribe, but it’s not the same, is it?”

  It’s not. I miss Papa so much, and Holvek is a good friend, but Raashel was different. She was smart and funny and always

  saying interesting things. Holvek just likes to wrestle and

  get dir
ty.

  Maybe Drenol is missing his bestest friends too.

  A Gift for Drenol

  11

  I sniff and wipe my hand across my nose. Thinking about sad

  things makes me sad and my eyes water.

  “Oh, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay.” Mommy’s fingers brush over my

  face, and I immediately feel better.

  “I don’t like that Drenol doesn’t have his friends. Should I ask him

  to play ball in the morning instead of Holvek?”

  Mommy laughs softly. “He might be too old for that, baby.”

  “He did say his butt hurt when we were at Nana Kemli’s.” Butts

  must hurt when you get old.

  Mommy just touches my cheek. “No ball for him. But I bet he’d

  like it if you’d go and talk to him for a while. Keep him company.”

  I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want to spend more time with him. He

  didn’t like my toys. “But he’s mean, Mommy.”

  “Only because he’s unhappy.” She tweaks my ear. “Remember

  when Elly first got here?”

  “She was smelly,” I agree.

  “Because she was scared and lonely. And she never talked to

  anyone, did she?” When I shake my head, Mommy continues. “It

  took time for her to be comfortable. Sometimes we do things

  when we’re afraid because we’re worried we’re going to get hurt

  again. It takes time for us to relax and realize that people are nice

  just because they’re nice. Give it time. I bet he could use a friend.”

  I think of Drenol. His face was covered in lines and his braids were snow white. Nana Kemli says that she has a gray hair for

  every story. Drenol must have a lot of stories…and I love stories.

  “I’ll try, Mommy.”

  She pulls me into her lap and cuddles me, and it’s the best.

  Mommy cuddles make everything better.

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  R U B Y D I X O N

  MOMMY and I share presents in the morning for No-Poison, and

  then I go out and play ball with Holvek for a little while. He has a

  new tunic from his mommy and big, padded gloves that his

  mommy called bahk-sing gloves. They’re so you can hit each other

  as a game and it won’t hurt. It’s fun for a little bit, but Holvek wants

  to keep playing after I’m tired. He runs off to find Talie because she’s strong, and I go inside. Mommy’s still playing with her spindle, twirling it like a top. Her expression is excited, like it’s doing

  something cool, and I slip back out again so I don’t bother her.

  I think about what Mommy said last night.