The bed I made for Orik’s return has been well used from the scent and the rumpled blankets. I turn away as my chest threatens to split open.
“The clothes are this way.” I offer her my hand, and she stands like a child just learning to walk. I open the chest that belongs to Tiril, hoping that he has the chance to rail at me for loaning out his clothes. There’s isn’t much in there. Spare pants and two shirts, some of which might have been on the ship when we stole it. We’d all gotten new clothing that day.
“Who do they belong to?”
“Tiril.”
She nods. “I hope he is alright.”
“Would your people harm him?”
She hesitates, and I don’t need to hear the rest.
“I want to say no, but I’m not sure. They’ll ask him questions and take some blood to study.” There is a note in her voice that suggests they might also do more.
If he is treated the way my tribe treats captured banished, he will not be coming back.
“He went willingly. The way a warrior should.” And he will be bravely facing whatever they do, even if they use him as a brute instead of killing him.
She pulls out a worn and patched shirt and then a pair of pants that will be far too big. “I’m going to need a belt.”
“You’re going to need your own spare set of clothes.” Though how we are supposed to come by them on this continent when there are no Honey tribes to raid and we are not allowed to raid the human tribe, I do not know.
“I can knit and crochet…but for that, I need wool and needles.”
I frown at her and tap my ear, wondering if the device has stopped working.
She picks up a sock. “Like this.”
“I have seen no grazers to gather wool from.”
“Hmm.” She nods, but I can tell she is thinking. She drops the sock back into the chest. I will remember that Tiril has a spare pair hidden in there should he not return.
I curse myself with my next heartbeat. I should not be dividing his things while he may still breathe and return. Though how long do we wait? We need to make a plan.
“Why was Orik not at breakfast?”
I stare out across the water, refusing to look up the creek to where he will be sulking in his blanket. “We disagreed. He probably doesn’t want to see me.”
That is partially true.
“Uh-huh. If you’re going to lie to me, you’ll need to do much better, Vari. Orik and I talked a lot. He spoke about you, and his tribe. So while I’m sure there are many things I don’t know, I know that he cares about you and that in his tribe, it is common for one woman to have two mates.”
“It’s not in mine. Or in most, or at least not the ones I am familiar with. He was from a mountain tribe. The only reason we were there to find him was because we thought the storm would be good cover for raiding.” It was before we had the ship, and we’d followed a river up into the foothills. We needed clothing and weapons and believed the inland tribes might be less used to banished raids. When the storm rolled in, it was a blessing. And not only because our raid was successful. It was chance we found him, and I can’t imagine not having him. Have I made a mistake?
“So you do not want that.”
I tell her the same thing I told him. That I am too used to being banished. Too old to make a good mate.
She laughs. “You don’t seem much older than Orik.”
“Ten years is a long time for a banished warrior. That we are alive is because of Sunif and Edilk.”
“Sunif is older than you.”
“Not by much. Orik will be a good mate. You should consider him.” I watch her carefully. “You want me to tell you about Yva and Hrad?”
“I want to know about you and Orik.”
