“Plastic.” I know the device won’t be able to do much with that word. I don’t want a hook or needles made out of bone. “I think wood could work, as long as it’s strong.”
He drops the bone. “The women of my tribe like bone.”
For a moment I think there might be some innuendo in there, but I’m not sure.
“I think I might try a hook first.” Crochet is a little more forgiving than knitting. “Shall I draw one for you?”
I kneel in the sand and sketch it out. “Not that big, but that shape.”
He laughs. “If you want to hold it easily, you need something to grasp.”
That definitely had a smutty undertone.
He amends my sketch to include a thicker handle. “Made to fit your hand.” He holds his out as though expecting me to offer him mine.
I do because refusing seems rude.
He places the wood in my palm. It’s too thick at the moment, but I don’t say that. He pulls out his knife and makes some marks. “I will start to carve, and you can test it.”
“Now?”
“Why not?” He sits in the sand.
I could walk back, but I need to give him a chance—he’s already told me that he comes from a wealthy tribe and that his mother is the leader. That he knows how to make knives and swords and all kinds of weapons.
I think I was supposed to be impressed.
I plonk my ass onto the sand next to him. The heat soaks through the borrowed pants, and I wriggle my toes, enjoying the way it feels. The sun is making its way down, and back at the camp the others will be making dinner and beds and all the rest of the things that need done.
Everyone is busy and I’m an outsider.
Yva has already started working on the piece of wood, whittling it into shape so it will fit in my hand.
“So who told you what I was looking for?”
He smiles. “Vari. I wondered if you’d notice that it doesn’t look like driftwood.”
At least he was honest.
“What else did he tell you?”
He shrugs.
Fine.I launch into my set of questions. “Who would make the worst mate?”
He pauses and looks at me as if he doesn’t understand the question. “Why do you ask when you are with me?”
“I am asking you all the same questions.”
He scowls and scrapes a piece of wood away. The coil falls to the sand. “What have the others said?”
“I’m not sharing that, or their reasons.” I use what Hrad said. “Pretend you are already mated. Which warrior would you advise me against?”
He shakes his head. “I will not speak badly of my brothers.”
Interesting. While the others gave a name and reason, I don’t think they were speaking badly of each other.
“Okay, who would make the best mate?”
