Once the food was boiling on the rack above the fireplace, I set out to make another bedroll. I’d been collecting cotton so that I could try to make a bassinet for the baby, and maybe even a winter sleeping bag of sorts, but all of that would have to wait.
Sage was here.
The very thought had me looking down at her to make sure she was real.
Using a bone needle and twine, I pierced the edges of two large pieces of suede cloth and started to make a sleeping mat. I was sure it was going to be comfortable, but the stitch work needed help. I just didn’t care. I was too tired and too excited and nervous for Sage to be here. Once I had roughly sewn three sides together, I started to shove the cotton inside. I’d already shelled it and picked off the little hard bits that were left over, including the seeds. Then I’d pulled the buds apart, making it fluffier and as big as possible. By the time I stitched the top of the mat, I’d gone through all the cotton I’d harvested for the baby, but I had made a four-inch-thick mat for Sage to sleep on.
I had one deer skin left, and I could probably harvest another before I went into labor. I’d started hunting big game recently, knowing that when baby came I would need things like animal skins to keep her warm in the winter. I took what meat I could and left the rest for other animals nearby.
Shaking off those thoughts, I stepped back inside the hut and lay the mat in front of Sage’s wolf, who was still asleep. The scents of the delicious fish soup had completely saturated the cabin, and I was so starved I wasn’t going to be able to wait for her to wake up.
Pulling the pot off the fire, I set it on the ground and grabbed a clay bowl and matching spoon. I’d tried many times to replicate whoever had made these, but whenever I tried to fire them like you would in a kiln, they cracked. Whatever skill the person who had made these had, I wasn’t going to learn it anytime soon. Pouring myself a large bowl, I scarfed it down while I watched Sage sleep.
“Sage,” I called to her in between slurps.
Her wolf stirred slightly but stayed fast asleep, panting in a heavy rhythm.
“Hungry? Thirsty?” I sucked down the last bit of my soup and then poured a large bowl for her from the clay pot, using the same bowl and spoon. There was only one set, so we were going to have to share from now on.
From now on.I wanted to cry at the fact that I wasn’t alone anymore. The steam from the soup filtered up to the roof of the cabin as I watched Sage’s wolf and prayed she would wake up and be okay.
Running my fingers through my hair to detangle it, I pulled it into a tight braid and then brushed my teeth with some clay powder and ground mint leaves. Sometimes I had silly thoughts like the fact that I could probably sell this homemade toothpaste to the hippies back in Spokane for like nine bucks a small clay pot.
After rubbing my teeth vigorously with the dried abrasive moss brush I’d made, I spit into the sink.
“Holyshit, you’re pregnant!” Sage screeched in a weak and raspy voice, and I jumped backward so quickly I nearly tripped over the bowl of soup I’d put down for her.
I looked down at my best friend, wide-eyed, heart pounding in my chest.
She spoke … that meant. “You’re real?” Tears streamed down my face.
The scars on her cheek were still there, like she’d been attacked by an animal, and so was the bruising, but she was talking and breathing and sitting up … so that was good.
Reaching out, she pulled my suede blanket over her naked body and took in a few deep breaths. “Are youreallypregnant? Or am I hallucinating?” she questioned again, her eyes on my belly.
I chewed my bottom lip, nodding as more tears fell, and then I dropped to my knees before her. “From the night Sawyer proposed, I think.”
She burst into crying laughter and reached out to lay a hand on either side of my swollen tummy. As she extended her right arm, she winced and retracted it. With her left, she stroked my stomach, looking at it wide-eyed. “Demi … you’refuckingpregnant.”
Now it was my turn to burst into crying laughter as she pulled me into a hug, cradling her obviously injured arm between us.
“I’m so … glad you’re here,” I said, between sobbing and laughing like a lunatic. “How long have you been here?”
I felt like being social was hard for me right now, like six months without another human conversation had made me a bit crazy and I needed to relearn eye contact and pausing to let others speak and all of those things you would teach a child.
When she pulled back, she looked at my belly and then at the soup. “Is that…?”
She seemed about as socially awkward as I was.
I nodded. “For you.”
She looked skeptical. “I won’t take food from a pregnant lady. Are you sure you’ve had enough?”
A grin pulled at the corners of my lips. “I have, and there’s more.” I pointed to the steaming pot in the corner at the hearth of the fireplace. Without another word, she grabbed the soup bowl and started to chug, only stopping when a chunk of fish or potato made it in her mouth, and even then she only chewed once or twice. She’d lost weight, her hair was caked in dirt and blood, and she smelled like a zoo.
“Sage, how long have you been here in the woods?”
She shook herself, moaning as the last bit of soup went down her throat. “Forever? I lost count. It got too depressing so I stopped.” She looked behind me, to the doorway, as if expecting someone to charge in and attack her.
