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I copied her and bit into the meat.
The first taste sent my stomach curdling.
The second sat like death upon my tongue.
And the third sent a fire tingling over my lips as if the bison was somehow still horribly alive.
I wanted to spit it out.
To wipe my tongue.
But I would never be so rude.
Forcing myself to eat the rest, focusing on the tartness of apple and candied sweetness of the honey instead of the salty rancid meat, I swallowed and willed a smile. “Very good.”
Niya gave me a strange look as I swallowed again, trying to shed the almost painful spark in my mouth.
She arched a dark eyebrow. “Just so you know, your face doesn’t know how to lie.”
“Lie?” I frowned.
I’d never heard that word before.
“To say things that aren’t true.” She studied me. “You didn’t like it.”
“How...how did you know that?”
“I just told you.” She plopped a piece of honey-dripping meat into her mouth. “You tried to lie, but your face doesn’t know how.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” I hung my head, my colourless hair draping knotty and pale around me. Fear that she’d cast me away from this warm fire and warmer company, I rushed, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m so grateful for the food and care. You and your clan have been nothing but—”
“Hey.” Niya rested her hand over mine, wrenching my eyes skyward again.
She followed my stare with a worried inhale. “Every time one of us touches you, you look at the sky. Why?”
It took all my effort to shrug away my panic. To look from the fat, gluttonous moon and into her sweet dark gaze. “I-I don’t know.”
She sighed, sitting back and passing the platter of food to a long-haired woman behind her who accepted it happily. “It must be so hard not knowing anything. To not remember who you are or where you came from, and I get that this is all so overwhelming, but allow me to give you some comfort. You are here because we chose to welcome you. You are free to eat things you want to eat, not what we tell you. And you don’t have to keep worrying that we’re going to withdraw our home or friendship. Guests are honoured and protected, and you are our guest for however long you choose to be.”
The smoking pipe made another round, the wispy smoke syrupy and cloying. I had a sudden urge to take it. To wrap my lips around the end and inhale—to chase that dreamy peace that seemed to infect everyone who smoked it—but Niya intercepted it and passed it to the man beside her. He winked at her and brought it to his lips.
“What is that?” I asked, grateful to change the subject. “What are they smoking?”
Niya licked a stray droplet of honey off her fingers. “Poimin. A dried leaf that relaxes you. It can also—”
“Give visions to those sensitive to such things,” Solin’s voice rumbled behind us.
We twisted on the log, looking upward.
Solin stood with his chest bare and hair heavy with decoration. He no longer held his skull-topped staff or wore bison furs wrapped around his feet. The handsome man beside him kept one hand on a bulky pouch tied to his hip as he smiled at me. His skin was as light as Hyath’s, with fire dancing over his pale complexion, highlighting blue eyes and chin-length hair the colour of sun-dried tussock.
The new male’s smile widened as he looked from me to Niya and back again. “Glad to see you’re alive.” A chuckle fell from his lips. He looked younger than Solin but older than Niya. His bright blue gaze glittered with knowledge. “It’s strange to see you upright. I’m used to you lying down.”
My eyebrows rose.
I didn’t know how to respond.
Solin laughed softly and spoke for me. “This is Olish. He’s one of our respected healers.” Patting the man on his bare pale shoulder, Solin added, “It’s thanks to men and women like Olish that the sickness is no longer such a threat. If one of us is struck with fevers, it no longer brings a death sentence.”
Clasping my hands to still the nervousness brewing in my belly, I stood and bowed my head with great reverence. “Thank you, Olish. For healing me.”
His grin deepened, revealing little divots in his cheeks. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad to know our remedies work so effectively.”
“Not that she was sick,” Niya jumped in, standing beside me. “She was just dehydrated and starving.”
“She had a fever,” Olish corrected. “The scratches on her leg were deep and had grown red with sickness. With Way’s help, we made a poultice that aided in healing.” Olish gave me another quick smile. “I also bathed you. We’ve learned that cleanliness is the best method of defence against most things that ail us.”
