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Nothing.
It was just a fire, crackling and sizzling, keeping the clan warm and food cooked as night deepened and the full moon shone from its throne above.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry, Girl? You’ve hardly eaten anything.” Niya passed me one of the bone platters full of fruits, vegetables, and smoked meat that had done the rounds amongst the clan. The feast in honour of the chief and chiefess’s new son had been a great success, judging by the happy smiles on the faces of older and younger generations. The pipe and its sweet-smelling smoke had been passed around, along with the purple liquid I’d been taught was wine.
“I’m not really hungry, Niya.” I smiled at my friend before glancing at Solin who sat outside Tral and Tiptu’s lupic at the head of the fire. I cringed as he caught my eyes. I swore he could hear me, even though we weren’t close—almost as if the fire stole my words and fed them back to him in their smoky whispers.
“Okay.” Niya sighed, about to pass the platter to another.
“Wait.” I grabbed it. “On second thought, I am a little hungry.”
She beamed. “Excellent. Eat anything you want.”
Placing the platter on my lap, I selected two small flatbreads, wrapped them around some charred root vegetables that grew in the carefully tended gardens, thanks to traded seeds and bison dung, and dunked the ends in honey.
“This is perfect.” I held up my dinner, letting Niya grab the platter. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She grinned and passed the food to a male I recognised but hadn’t had much to do with. He winked and carried the feast to a small group on the outskirts of the camp. The men there smoked a pipe, laughing loudly at something someone said.
My skin prickled as I looked around, at the happiness and merriment, at the abundance of food, drink, and friends.
An aching filled me as I slowly ate my vegetable wraps. The man from the grasslands...did he have food to eat? Did he have lupics to sleep safely in? Did he have friends to laugh with?
The aching grew worse at the thought of losing what I’d been so lucky to find.
Niya danced where we sat on the ground, her upper body swaying to the steady drumbeats, thanks to three older males thumping wooden bowls with cured skin stretched over the top. The sound ranged from so deep it throbbed right in my heart to so soft it tickled my memory-lost spirit.
“Leca looks happier tonight,” Niya said softly, leaning into me.
I finished my food and licked my fingers clean. The meal sat heavy in my belly, but at least I’d obeyed Solin and eaten.
Glancing at the men standing in their own cluster just out of the fire’s reach, I studied Leca—the male who’d lost his mate and was lucky enough to have caught the eye of my friend.
I nodded and gave her a smile. “He does. You should go talk to him.”
She blushed. “Oh, I couldn’t. Not with the whole clan watching. That’s basically a declaration of desire.”
“Isn’t that what you’d like, though?” I asked, still learning the Nhil customs.
Looking around to make sure no one else could overhear, she shifted closer. “When autumn slips into winter, we celebrate the last autumn moon. The seasons will change, and there will be a festival of life and death.”
“What does that have to do with Leca?”
She blushed a duskier pink. “The Aium festival honours the life cycle. Autumn brings winter, which brings death to so many things, but then spring renews everything that winter kills. We celebrate by choosing to share life, plant seeds, and invite rebirth for next year.”
“So...you tend to the garden? You plant seeds so they may sprout in spring?” I tilted my head, gathering up my colourless hair and coiling it into a thick rope over my shoulder.
She shook her head with a soft chuckle. “I keep forgetting that you have no idea about our ways. We’ve only been friends for a short while, but I feel as if you’ve been in my life for far longer.”
My heart swelled with affection and gratitude. “Me too, Niya. I couldn’t imagine life without you and this clan now.” I shivered at how true that was. I’d chosen the Nhil over the strange man, regardless of our similar marks, foreign tongues, and forgotten memories.
I’d made my choice, yet guilt twinged my heart.
Was he okay?
Was he still bleeding, or had he reached his home and been tended?
I shot a furtive glance at Solin. He bowed his head with Tral, deep in conversation. Both dark-skinned men cast an aura of authority and power, making my pulse stutter with worry.
All night, Solin had remained with the chief and hadn’t shown any signs of what he had planned. But the air was different, poised, hinting he was up to something.
