“Hi, Isla.” He falls into step beside me. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You look…” He trails off, studying me with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. “Different…somehow. Still beautiful.” His eyes drift to my breasts, but quickly lift to my face.
“I feel the same as always… Why?”
“I thought I would ask. Can I carry those for you?” He gestures to the hides. “They look heavy…too heavy.” He starts to move toward me.
“No,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
He blinks, then nods slowly. “Well, then. Take care of yourself. Drink plenty of water.”
“Um…I will.”
What in Hades?
There was no invitation to dinner. No suggestive comments. None of that.
He walks away.
I stare after him for a moment, bewildered, then shake my head and continue toward the tanning pits.
It’s turning out to be a strange day indeed.
The pit is a series of shallow stone basins cut into the rock, filled with mixtures of lime water and oak bark solution in various stages of the curing process. The smell is sharp and acrid, cutting through everything else. Several females work at different stations, scraping hides, checking the curing process, and wringing out leather.
I set down my bundle and get to work, kneeling beside one of the basins and pulling on the thick gloves that protect against the lye.
I haven’t been at it long when one of the older females approaches. Her name is Mira, and she has been working the tanning pits for longer than I’ve been alive.
“Do you need a rest?” she asks, her brow creased with concern.
I look up at her, confused. “I just got here.”
“I know, but…” She wrings her hands. “Perhaps you should sit down. Have some water. You’ve been working so hard lately.”
“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “Really. I appreciate the concern, but I’m not tired.”
“You should probably go back and work in the kitchens,” she tells me.
“Why? Am I not doing a good enough job?” My heart sinks.
“You are a wonderful worker.” She gives me a smile. “I just think it might be better for you.”
“I might in a few days. I will see how I feel.”
“If you are sure.”
“I am.”
She nods but doesn’t look convinced. The female retreats to her own station with one last worried glance over her shoulder.
I turn back to the hides.
What is going on?
The question nags at me as I work, scraping the flesh side of the leather. I’m getting better at this every day. I might not be as good as the others, but I do well enough…at least, I thought I was.
