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But just because Juth and Pak were considered Outcasts doesn't mean that nonsense has to continue. "How long will you all be gone?" I ask, hoping it's enough time that when they return, Juth and Pak will be just another part of the tribe. "All summer? I mean, bitter season?"
R'jaal and Raahosh exchange a look. Raahosh nods, face hard. "Those of us that stay will rebuild huts and work on stores. Those that go can return at the end of the bitter season with supplies to help us all through the next brutal season. Croatoan will help us resupply again, as well. It can be done."
"Great." Liz claps her hands. "It's decided, then. If you're going, pack your shit and if you need something, let one of us know. Be ready to go at dawn and if you can't, speak up."
Daisy raises a hand. "Does it have to be dawn?"
Liz just glares at her. "Yes."
"Just checking." Daisy smiles brightly.
Gail jumps to her feet. "Okay, well, now that's resolved, let's get some people fed, all right? We've got a fire close to the cliffs we can stoke up and there's enough food for a nice warm fish stew. Who's hungry?" She waves a hand at Flor and Sam. "You ladies want to help me out? Guys—" She gestures at Sessah and then turns to I'rec and O'jek. "Bring me some of the wood that's too shattered to use to rebuild and we'll burn it. Might as well make a hot meal for y'all before you head out."
Everyone bustles and gets to work. Everyone except me, that is, because I'm hurt. And it feels…terribly awkward. "Can I do anything to help?"
"You can sit next to Veronica and nurse that ankle," Gail tells me, and that's that.
17
JUTH
A short time later, I have a bowl in my hands full to the brim with good, hot soup. Pak has his fingers in his bowl, devouring his food as he sits on Steff's thigh, and my mate picks at her meal. I can tell she has a lot of worries in her mind, but she does not share them. Instead, she merely passes me her bowl after she eats half, and I share the remains with Pak.
It is strange and overwhelming to me that these people have so much food even now that they can choose not to eat much for a meal. That there is more than enough to share with everyone, and that second helpings are passed out. The Outcast tribe would not share their food. If you found a fish, it was yours. If you chose to share it, that was your right. If you did not, no one would be surprised. But here, they all keep their hands out as if food is expected for all.
So strange.
Pak runs his finger along the inside of the bowl, licking off all the gravy, and I do the same until I notice one of the females staring at me with a shocked expression. After that, I had the bowl to Pak and grab Steff's hand again, feeling foolish. Part of me wants to take my mate and my son and head back to the far end of the beach, to the cave we occupied before. But there is no food, no blankets, no nothing there. Here there are blankets and soft things to sit on. There is plenty of food. And there is even fire, tended by the dark-skinned female with the gray in her short mane and her sa-khui mate. They must be the elders.
Pak plays with the other children for a time and eventually crawls back into my lap. He falls asleep, a carving of a fish clutched in his hand. The oldest girl gave it to him and asked him to play with them again tomorrow. Despite his excitement, Pak is exhausted. Steff is quiet, too, just listening to everyone as they talk around us. She does not speak much, but I get the impression she pays attention to everything that is said. She looks as if she is absorbing all of it as the others chatter about trails and supplies and who is staying behind.
It is overwhelming, all this talk. I am used to quiet. I am used to no sounds but that of the waves and the creatures scuttling on the sands. I cannot hear myself think with all these voices pressing in around us. Pak has no such problems. He sleeps in my arms, oblivious. Steff glances over at me and her expression grows worried. She leans in, her breath moving over my skin. "Are you all right?"
I manage a nod.
She glances around the room as one female argues loudly with a bearded male, who raises his voice to match hers. Someone else laughs, and then one of the small kits begins to cry. Steff gives me a knowing look. "It is a lot, isn't it?"
