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The waiting was making me sick.

“The autumn moon ceremony doesn’t include gardening, Girl.” Niya’s giggled, wrenching me out of my thoughts. “But it does include sharing seed and possibly starting new life.” She stared me right in the eye, her lips pursed as if I would suddenly know what she meant. “The autumn festival is an evening of life, Girl. Life and love and...bedding.”

“Oh!” I hunched, curling my shoulders as if what we discussed could be kept secret. “You’re talking about mates?”

He touched my breast.

His hand had been heavy, possessive, tangling my stomach with so many thorny things.

“I’m talking about a night of freedom and celebration. A night where all adult members of the clan can choose to participate. You can participate too, Girl,” Niya whispered. “You can watch or spend the night with one of your choosing. The festival is about love in its purest form. Mated couples may stay with each other or lay with someone new. You may sleep with one or many, separately or together.”

Images of bareness and thrusting doused me with shyness. The short, sharp burst of bliss that left birds with fluffed-up wings and beasts with exhausted grunts. I’d seen a few clan members coupling—usually late at night when desires were inflamed by purple wine. I’d even stumbled over Way and Hyath kissing in the grasses when I’d gone to relieve myself one night. Their moans of ecstasy had chased me all the way back to the camp.

They all seemed to enjoy it.

But I wasn’t so sure.

I wasn’t comfortable being touched.

I still harboured a fear that something bad would happen.

He touched me.

He’d touched me where no one else had, yet we hadn’t been punished.

Clearing my throat, I did my best to stop thinking about him. “I understand what you mean now—that it’s a night of desire, but...I still don’t understand what that has to do with you and Leca.”

Niya smiled secretly. “It means there are no rules that night. No elders reading into an innocent chat. No matchmakers trying to pair up a new matehood from a single glance.” She licked her lips, her eyes catching the fire. “There are no rules. Only urges and passions. I’ve not been of age to join, but this year...I’ll be permitted. I’ve never been with a man before, and...if I’m with Leca on that night, he won’t feel any obligation to offer me a hearth and wed me afterward. He hasn’t participated in the festival since Dawi passed away and he never shared or chose anyone else other than her while they were together, but...I’m hopeful that this autumn, his heart will be healed enough to follow me when I take his hand.”

My chest ached with hope for her and longing for me.

Have I ever lain with a man?

I didn’t know what experiences my body had been through, and apart from my scars, gathered like mementoes on my lonely travels, I didn’t know my own skin.

Niya sighed heavily, her gaze locked on Leca across the camp.

I took her hand and squeezed. “I have no doubt he will go with you.”

“You think?” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m not so sure. What if another girl offers? What if he beds someone from a different clan? What if he leaves with them and I never see him again?”

“Then you deserve someone who loves you and sees how incredible you are.”

She squeezed my fingers in return, looking at where we were joined. “I know Olish will probably offer you to share his furs that night. I catch him watching you.”

I blinked. “The healer?” I untangled our touch and rubbed at my hot cheeks. “You’re mistaken. He took an interest in me because he helped me survive. His attention is purely from a healer’s curiosity. That’s all.”

She smirked and reclined, kicking her legs toward the fire. “I guess we’ll see when the festival is here, won’t we?”

Quietness suddenly descended over the camp, wrenching my eyes up as Niya fell silent.

Tiptu and Tral stood at the head of the fire. Intricate necklaces that showed their station draped down to their bellies, bristling with feathers, shells, and beads. On their left stood Solin, who clutched his lynx-skull staff and wore a rope of beads that swung from his throat to his fur-covered hips. On their right stood the chief’s other two children: Naben, a young girl I’d only spoken a few words to, and Aktor, an older male I’d avoided for the past moon—not because Niya and Hyath warned me of his temper but because whenever his black eyes landed on me, my instincts prickled to run.

He glowered at me through the fire, his lips a thin line, his handsome features youthful but already wearing the same authority as his weathered father.

I tore my gaze away, focusing on his mother, Tiptu.

In her arms rested her new son, Bon. He kicked his pudgy, naked legs at the star-studded sky.

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