“She’s just feeling a little under the weather,” I said in what I hoped was a soothing tone. But apparently, it wasn’t soothing at all, because Wanda reared back in shock.
“She is under the weather!?” the girl gasped. Her sister looked equally as disturbed. “Someone must go and get it off of her! She is so verysmall!”
Wanda flounced across the cave’s floor, as if she was prepared to rescue Fiona from the weather herself. Vanda, her older sister, was hot on her heels, muttering what sounded like, “I will lead the way, Wanda! I am older! And I certainly know more about weather than you do!”
“Stop, you two!” their mother Salina said, striding towards the young would-be heroes. “We do not bother the new women in their quarters!”
“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a bother,” I said quickly. Seeing these two cuties might even cheer Fiona up a bit. But I felt bad for making them worry. “Being under the weather is an expression that obviously doesn’t translate well. There are no weather systems, um, on top of her.” Tilly snorted as I flapped my hands helplessly, trying to indicate that Fiona’s form was indeed weather-free. “She just isn’t feeling her best.”
“Is she ill?” Wanda asked, her bright blue sight stars intent upon my face. “She must see a healer!”
“No, not ill. She’s just…She’s feeling a bit sad,” I said, unable to come up with a convincing lie. “She misses her friend. He had to leave last night.”
“That angry man,” said Vanda observantly. “The one with eyebrows that always go like this.” She used her pointer fingers to create a sharp V on her own forehead.
“The man that could barely mount his braxilk in the vaklok!” Wanda added excitedly. “And then the braxilk ate up all his hair!”
“Why, yes, that is precisely the man!” Oxriel said with a laugh, clearly delighted by the girls’ memories and impressions of Dalk. “What clever cubs you are!”
Wanda preened, and Vanda tried to hold back a grin, just a little too old and cool, I supposed, to so easily accept the compliment. I could see Salina soften a little in response. The Deep Sky people still weren’t used to outside males like Oxriel and Zoren in their midst. Once, Oxriel and the others had been prisoners here. But Salina obviously thought Oxriel was decent enough if he would sincerely praise her daughters with such an obvious lack of ulterior motive. Even Zoren earned an appreciative glance from Salina as he murmured his agreement to Oxriel’s statement.
“Well, if they are so clever, perhaps they can help teach you what you need to know,” Salina said meaningfully. The girls immediately hurried over to an area at the far end of the cave that had stone shelves and woven baskets filled with supplies. They gestured animatedly for us to follow them. There, the girls proudly showcased their knowledge of the various fabrics – woven brolka wool in various weights and thicknesses, furs from different creatures native to these mountains, decorative braiding created from silver and indigo plant matter, and even something that seemed very much like silk to me, slippery, glossy, and pale purple in colour.
“Where does this come from?” I asked. Things like wool and fur felt fairly obvious in origin, but this satiny purple fabric was more mysterious.
“That’s silk from the spinner webs!” Wanda said. “We’re not allowed to go see the spinners or collect the thread yet.”
“That’s because you two are both too loud,” Salina said with a sigh.
“Not me!” Vanda protested. Loudly.
“They are cave-dwelling creatures that spin very thin but strong, smooth threads,” Zaria explained. “If we are careful, we can collect large amounts of thread from their older, abandoned nests once they move to another section of their cave. But ifthey get frightened, their new thread comes out coated in a toxic mucus meant to injure predators.”
“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want any toxic mucus,” Tilly said with a bit of a shudder.
“Exactly,” Salina said. “Which is why you two don’t go down there. Yet,” she added at her daughters’ crestfallen little faces.
But despite Wanda and Vanda’s obvious inability to go harvest the threads from the alien silk worms, they were more than capable seamstresses. They helped Salina and Zaria get us all set up, and once they were satisfied that Tilly and I had what we needed, they devoted themselves with ceaseless energy to supervising the far less proficient Oxriel and Zoren.
At first, the two males had insisted they didn’t need to work on any clothing for themselves, and that they were content to sit among us. But when Wanda had asked them, in nose-wrinkling consternation, how they expected they might smell after wearing the same loincloths for their entire stay in the mountain, they both humbly submitted to the girls’ instructions. Luckily loincloths weren’t particularly complex garments to construct, but it still involved some precise cutting of fabric and the folding and sewing of various edges to prevent fraying. Wanda and Vanda seemed to enjoy having someone to tell what to do – especially two adult men who studiously listened, dutifully adjusting their technique with every encouraging (or chastising) remark. The result was that both Zoren and Oxriel ended up hunched over the projects in their own laps, their tails and toes tense with focus, their sight stars tightened to bright bullets as they painstakingly worked with their bone awls and needles. If they had been human men, I had no doubt they’d be sweating their fucking asses off.
Not that I was judging. I appreciated the way both males had thrown themselves into the task when it was obvious they’d never had to do something like stitch their own loinclothsbefore. And it wasn’t like I was much better. I was quickly realizing just how rusty my own sewing skills had gotten. I’d also never worked with small, hand-held tools for larger projects before. For anything big, I’d used my mom’s old sewing machine. The little manual tools had always been for the simpler tasks of sewing on buttons or mending a seam. But I managed to somewhat clumsily figure it out, and was able to make myself two pairs of underwear from the purple silky stuff, as well as a very simple, thin wool top.
Tilly was absolutely in her element. Being short and curvy, she’d told me once that it was easier to make clothing that fit her exactly the way she wanted rather than try to find it, so she had loads of experience with this. She had no trouble working and talking at the same time, chatting amiably with both Zaria and Salina. I was glad she was able to keep up the flow of conversation. I was too absorbed making sure I didn’t mess something up to use the more social parts of my brain, and since I generally considered myself to be a pretty intense introvert, those parts were already harder to access even when I wasn’t trying desperately not to stab myself in my own finger, which I’d already done more than once. Before long, Tilly had created new underwear both for herself and Fiona, as well as a top for herself. She’d already begun working on a pair of wool leggings when Zaria suggested we stop for some food.
“Of course,” I said quickly, feeling bad I hadn’t suggested it and had waited for the poor pregnant lady among us to do so. “Want me to go fetch something?”
“Wanda and Vanda can do it,” their mother said, sending a stern expression the girls’ way when they appeared to be about to argue.
“I’ll go with them,” I said, standing and stretching. I needed a break anyway. My neck and my hands were cramping. I paused a moment to see if either Oxriel or Zoren would jump up toact as escort, but they both looked completely absorbed in the construction of their new loincloths, so I decided to leave them to it.
“Lead the way, girls,” I said as Wanda and Vanda hurried to my side. A look of haughty glee passed between them. Another grown-up to instruct! First Oxriel and Zoren with the sewing, now me. I enjoyed their obvious excitement at playing my tour guides, and listened closely to their chatter as they led me through the mountain.
It turned out I actually didn’t really need to let them lead me, as they brought me back to the main hall where we’d had breakfast this morning. The roasted meat and fish on spits had been cleared away, and instead large stone pots were now bubbling over the embers of the mornings fire, tended to by two older women. Sweetness tickled my nostrils, the scent reminding me so much of a milky chai drink. My mouth watered despite having eaten pretty well this morning.
“Moonbark!” Wanda and Vanda cried in unison. “Have you got any ready? We are to bring a midday meal to our mother and Zaria.
One of the women jutted her tail at a set of trays at the far end of the hall and the sisters hustled over. I followed, looking with interest at the creamy, white fudge-like substance in the trays.
