I wrap all Aker’iz’s dirty leather sheets into one bundle, take the baby into my arms, and follow Dorie.
She walks as if unaware of her own softness, each step heavy with grace. Perhaps I shouldn’t be watching. I tell myself it’s curiosity, but my body knows better. Her hips are so wide that they make her gait just a bit awkward, but it somehow looks immensely charming and attractive. There’s an immediate swelling at my crotch.
The breeze blows her scent towards me, sweet and different. Her hair is dense, fine, and smooth. She’s made for another world, that’s for sure. She has no place in the jungle, with its decay and deadly dangers. She’s far too good for all this.
For a moment I’m unsure.Isshe the Woman? The one the shaman told us about and prepared us for with his doll? He told us all we were to do with her. But I always imagined the Woman as different than Dorie, taller and more sure of herself. After all, she would be sent by the Ancestors to be the Mother of Xren. No, it can’t be that. Dorie is not from here at all. And the Envoy did say that the women on Xren now are not the Woman, and that She doesn’t exist and never will. But then, the Envoy said so many things that made me dizzy. Not all of them are true, I’m sure.
We walk all the way down to the foamy line where the last of the waves sink into the sand.
Dorie scoops water up in her hand, takes a small sip, and makes a face. “Not remember name of this.” She shakes the water from her hand and opens her arms. “You try. I hold baby.”
I stiffen. Only I have held Aker’iz since we left the village. And I was so sure that Dorie didn’t want anything to do with her.
I control myself. “Thank you. Watch out for her nails. They’re getting sharp.” I carefully hand the baby over. Dorie holds her askew, high on her chest in a way that looks natural. Aker’iz squirms but doesn’t protest much, just studies Dorie from close up.
I bend down and taste the water. “Salty. Very salty. But that’s good! Salt makes food taste better. We barely had any salt in our village.”
“Salt,” Dorie repeats. “Here have all salt you need. You like salt too, Aker’iz?” She bounces the girl in her arms, looking like she’s never done anything else.
“We shall soon find out,” I state, happy to see Dorie in a better mood. “Now we’ll put salt in all our food. But you said we can’t drink this?”
“Too many salt,” Dorie explains. “Very too many salt. It kill you.”
“Too much salt,” I repeat thoughtfully. “I would never have thought it possible to have toomuchof it. But I’ll take a chance on cleaning these things.” I unpack the dirty sheets and drop them all to the sand.
Aker’iz starts to squirm and whimper.
“She likes to keep moving,” I tell Dorie. “She gets bored easily.”
They start walking along the beach, and I hear Dorie talking softly to the baby in her alien language.
I stare after them. They seem to be friends already. I shrug and start the disagreeable task of cleaning the dirty leather sheets.
When I’m done, I lay them all out to dry on the sand as Dorie and Aker’iz return from their short walk.
“How old she?” Dorie asks as she hands her back.
“Almost five moons,” I tell her. “She’s small for her age, I think. But perhaps girls are just smaller.”
“Perhaps. Finish washing?”
“I don’t think this will ever finish,” I admit, looking at the leather sheets. “She uses a lot of those things.”
Dorie’s lips form a little smile. “They all do.”
I hadn’t noticed how perfectly shaped her lips are. Her face is different from mine and from Aker’iz’s. But there’s an extra softness there, like there is all over her. “Yes.”
For a moment we stay like that, just looking at each other. Her eyes have a darkness to them that I’ve never seen in any man or any Big or Small. And yet they’re clear, big and luminous.
Dorie looks away. “This you can try. If wish to clean Aker’iz, too.” She reaches out with the pot. “Makes clean. Not from here, but from the Borok tribe. Far away.”
“Thank you.” As I accept the pot, my fingers stroke along hers and I notice how cool they are. And yet the touch burns. I wonder if she feels it too.
Again we stand still for a moment, looking at each other, before she pulls her hand back.
She turns around and walks back towards her home. The griket comes bouncing, and for a moment I think it will attack her. But it simply jumps into her arms, curls its tail around her leg, and jumps back down, staring at me as Dorie keeps walking.
I watch her until the jungle swallows her shape. The salty wind still clings to my skin. It feels like her touch.
