I tense up when Dorie comes back out. Her eyes are rimmed with red and she sniffles softly as she walks to the edge of the clearing and stares toward the sound of the ocean.
“Dinner will soon be ready,” I tell her. “Our little chief has already had hers, so that she could get some important business done.”
Dorie sighs, straightens her back, and turns around. “I see she doing chief work.”
I stir the stew and add some salt. “She does her best work asleep. If only all chiefs were like that.”
She picks up some rocks and places them in the playpen, around the edges of the skin sheet, keeping it in place. “What do most chiefs do?”
“Oh, they make decisions. They decide who’s right when there is a quarrel between two tribesmen. They have their faces carved into the totem pole and have the first use of the Lifegivers. They set fire to the pyres of dead tribesmen and decide which of the boys are to have which sword. They give names to the new boys and decide if they are to be allowed to stay or must be set out to die. At least our chiefs were like that.”
“Do they hunt in the jungle?” she asks, adjusting the woven wall of the playpen.
“The chiefs? No. I’ve never known a chief to go outside the village walls except for some special reason.”
“If a chief did that, and was married to a woman, and was chief of two tribes, and both tribes were the most powerful on Xren or almost—would you like that chief?”
I add some salt. “Is this the Borok chief you speak of? He sounds like a mighty man.”
“I never met him. But they say he is mighty.”
I taste the stirring stick. The salt makes the whole thing delicious. “And he hunts with his tribesmen? Truly a worthy chief for his men.”
She must hear the tone of my voice. “But not for you?”
I fish a root out of the stew and bite into it. Still too hard. “I think we’re done with tribes. Aker’iz is all the chief we need.”
“She is a great chief,” Dorie agrees. “Perhaps one day she be chief of a big tribe. Such as the Borok tribe.”
I’m starting to have had enough of that tribe. “Youreallywant us to go there.”
“It not about what I want,” she says. “But what happen when the ship works and I leave? Your safe place gone.”
“Then we will find another safe place,” I snap. “Or maybe we’ll stay. Maybe we’ll try to find that damn Borok tribe of yours. Maybe we’ll have no choice. And maybe you won’t leave. Maybe you can’t fix that cursed Plood thing.”
The clearing is silent except for the hiss from the beach.
I should not have spoken like that to her. She’s clearly pinned a lot of hope on the ship. But whenever I think of her leaving, it makes me afraid that she will. Because what is this place compared to her own planet? I don’t want her to leave. I wantus three to live here. Together, in safety. Already this clearing is halfway to becoming a small village.
“Maybe I can’t fix it,” Dorie says quietly. “Maybe I can’t leave. But I have to try. Is not just me. Is also the others. The other women. Only I am here and maybe can fix it. Callie is gone.” She looks down and her shoulders sag.
I lift Aker’iz and rock her gently as I make my way over to Dorie. I have this urge to hold her, too. To rock her and tell her that things will be good. But if I try, she might push me away.
Well, then she can just push me. It won’t kill me.
I gently put one hand on her narrow shoulder. “You feel the duty,” I state, matching her tone. “The duty to your tribeswomen. Any warrior would understand.”
She nods, not looking up.
Aker’iz reaches out too and strokes her fingers along Dorie’s forearm. “Breglgg.”
Dorie smiles and gives the baby her fingertip. “Really?”
Aker’iz grabs hold of it. “Blubrud.”
Dorie strokes a hair out of the baby’s face. “I see.”
“Googlurb!”
