The difference was subtle. A longer vowel, a harder ending.
"Ikka," I tried again.
More giggles, but approving ones this time. Sera patted my shoulder like I was a promising but clumsy student.
I didn't know what ikka meant. Probably something mortifying, judging by their reactions. But I grinned anyway, handing the bone back to Pym. He grinned back, then looked up and nodded.
I looked up to find Daska standing near the meat racks, a long strip of venison forgotten in his hands. He was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read, soft and hungry all at once.
Our eyes met. Heat crept up my neck.
He smiled, slow and wondering, then went back to his work. But I caught him glancing over twice more before one of the woman approached me.
"Mora," Vessa said, not unkindly, and adjusted my grip on the scraping stone.
I'd been doing it wrong for the past ten minutes and she'd finally taken pity on me.
Vessa was one of the elder women, maybe fifty, with iron-grey hair and hands like tree roots. She'd corrected me half a dozen times since I'd started working the hides, always with the same patient expression, as if teaching a slow but willing child.
She demonstrated the proper angle again, her weathered fingers sure and steady. Then she handed the tool back and watched while I tried to replicate her technique.
Better. The membrane came away cleanly this time, and Vessa made a small sound of approval.
She said something else—too fast for me to catch—but patted my shoulder before moving on to inspect another woman's work. The touch was brief, maternal, and it made my throat tight.
I bent back over the hide, blinking hard.
Don't cry over a shoulder pat, Ellie. Get it together.
But it had been so long since anyone had touched me with casual affection. Since I'd felt like I was doing something right, something useful, something that mattered in a tangible, immediate way.
Nathan's voice echoed in my head:You're too sensitive. Not everything is about you.
I shoved the thought away and focused on scraping.
Daska found me as the afternoon light turned golden.
“Ellie, food is ready at the main hearth. Will you come?”
I could now understand most of what he said, and though I couldn't speak nearly as much as I understood, it was making life here so much easier. The only downside was that Nathan, having heard about my newfound language skill, was constantly calling me over to translate when someone tried to talk to him. I'd been happy to at first, but it was getting trying now, especially as he and Megan had made no attempt to learn even a few words of the language. At least Dev had basic words and manners. Nathan seemed to think they were beneath him, and I had no idea about Megan. The woman didn't speak a word when I was around
"Thank you, Daska."
He smiled at my pronunciation. It was getting better, I thought. The words didn't feel quite so foreign in my mouth anymore.
He gestured at the ground near the fire, and I followed him over. The central hearth was enormous, always burning, the heart of the camp. People gathered here in the evenings—talking, working, eating. I'd started to recognize the rhythms of it, the way bodies moved through the space with comfortable familiarity.
We sat. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. Daska ladled stew into a wooden bowl and set it before me. The smell was meaty and earthy, undercut by the lemony tang of wild sorrel. He handed me a crude wooden spoon and waited, watching my face as I tasted the first bite.
"It’s good," I said, and it was. The meat was seared with hot stones so there was a faint smokiness to it, and the broth was rich. But it was also… simple. No salt, no pepper, none of thelayering of flavor I’d learned to crave since I was a child. Just food as fuel, pure and honest.
"You do not like?" Daska frowned, genuine concern creasing his brow.
"No, I do! It's just… back home I cook a lot. Food important for… um… for comfort, happiness." I poked at the chunks of meat with the side of my spoon. "I miss.”
Daska thought for a moment, then pointed at his hearth. “You cook here? Enjoy cook here?”
I nodded, smiling at the thought of cooking for Daska and myself. I'd love to make him something nice.
