“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.”
She chews, nodding her head. “We can start telling people about it, hit up the hunters when they come back, and then start the celebrations at the beginning of the next moon. We’ll start with Decorating Day, and then we can stagger the other days as the weather permits.”
“It sounds good.” I hold up my bowl. “This is good, too. Thank you for sharing.”
Her smile is shy but proud. “It makes the food go further, and I don’t put in too many roots because I know Ereven isn’t a fan of them. And I like the company. It gets lonely when my mate is out on the trails all night.”
I am absurdly pleased that she enjoys my company. I have enjoyed the day spent with Claire. She is quiet and thoughtful, unlike some of the other humans, and genuinely wants my opinions. She makes me feel…needed. Perhaps Hemalo is not the only one that has felt lost all this time. “It is good to have a friend,” I tell her, and when she agrees, I think I am not the only one that feels this way. We chat quietly over the food, and then spend a bit of time sewing by the fire, until Claire’s yawns become more frequent. I send her off to her furs and promise I will be back early in the morning so we can start on our plans.
When I leave her house, I am happy. It feels strange and yet welcome to have a purpose—and a friend—again. The other humans have been friendly, of course, and my own tribesmates would perhaps not understand the difference between merely lingering by the fire next to others, and feeling truly and genuinely welcomed.
Or perhaps it has all been in my mind all this time. It is hard to say.
I return to my own little howse and find the fire is nothing but embers. Farli has not returned, and probably will not until the hunters do. Even though I complain about her company and that of her smelly pet, it feels too quiet to be here by myself. The temperature is bitingly cold, but since I am the only one in the howse, it seems a waste to make a fire for only one sa-khui. I pull a few extra furs out of my store, pile them onto my bed, and crawl under them, waiting for my body heat to warm the blankets.
As I do, I stare up at the ceiling. In the darkness, I can just make out the thick stitching on the seams, where the hides have been pulled together tightly and made to form one large covering. I think of how good I feel, how I am humming with plans and thoughts, not sadness. And I think of Hemalo and how he needs to feel needed. How I have not given that to him. How strained things are between us.
I get up out of bed, move to the wall, where the teepee top is tightly lashed down, and begin to pick the seams apart.
5
HEMALO
There is a mental calmness to working my skins. The vigorous twisting of a hard hide to make it soft, the endless rubbing of brains onto the surface, the scraping of hair. The silent weave of an awl as it guides cord through punched holes. I enjoy my task. It lets my mind settle, even when it is full of chaos. I barely notice the hour, only that the sunlight is beginning to fade. A shadow falls over my hands, making it impossible to see the tiny holes for stitches, when someone approaches and stands behind me in my leatherworking hut.
I glance up and am surprised to see Asha and the human Claire.
They stand together, Claire’s strange human face wreathed in smiles. Asha wears a smile as well, but hers is warier, more cautious. It makes my heart ache to see. She is my mate. She should never be afraid to show her feelings near me. “How can I help you?” I ask, keeping my voice level and calm, as if it is nothing to have my once-mate and a friend show up as I work.
Claire looks at Asha and then steps forward. “We wanted to talk to you about the upcoming holidays.”
“Haw-lee-dehz?” I echo. “We are doing that again so soon? I thought it was for a special occasion?” I remember how Asha hated the last round of celebrations. How noisy and happy all the human females were. It seems like it was only a few turns of the moons ago.
The human looks crestfallen that I am not excited at the prospect. “Oh. Well, yes, it was not too long ago, but we thought everyone might need a little something to look forward to in order to break up the monotony of the brutal season.”
She is bored? Does she think there is not enough to do? I give a wry look to the piles and piles of hides I have waiting to be worked. There has been such demand for blankets and clothing and hides for the roofs of the new howses that even my seemingly endless supply has dwindled. There are even one or two tribesmates just waiting to have a roof for their howse. There is so much to do that I cannot imagine taking the time out to play games. “If someone is bored, it is because they need to work harder.”
“Oh.” Claire’s voice is very small. “Of course. I’m sorry we bothered you.”
“Wait, Claire.” Asha’s arm goes around the smaller human’s shoulders. She glares at me, all defiance. “This is not about you, Hemalo. You might be happy trapped in here with your piles of smelly hides, but not everyone is. This is about everyone in the tribe.”
I am surprised. In the last few moons, Asha has had difficulty rousing herself to care about anything. Now she is lecturing me on tribe unity? Even though I am irritated at this sudden change, I am also fascinated at the demeanor of my mate. She is no longer listless and miserable, her eyes and her very spirit seemingly faded. Her eyes snap at me with irritation, and the hug she gives Claire is protective. There is a strength and confidence in her that I have missed seeing for a very long time.