Текст книги "Barbarian's hope"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

2

HEMALO

“You have my thanks,” Ereven tells me with a clap on my shoulder. He gazes up at the new cover for his howse, pleased. “I do not want to wake up in the middle of the night with Claire soaking wet again. My mate is far too fragile for that.”

I nod absently. Ereven is a good hunter, but it is clear that his thoughts lately are focused solely on his quiet mate. It is a tricky thing to discuss with a man that has recently parted ways with his own mate, but Ereven has no malice in his words or thoughts. He is just happy and wants to share his happiness. “It is no problem. The fix was an easy one once we pulled the leather cover off the frame.”

“You must let me give you my next set of skins as a show of thanks,” he tells me. “What do you need? Dvisti? Snowcat? Ask and it shall be yours.”

“Save them for your mate and your new kit. I have more skins than hours in the day to work them.”

“Then you must eat with us this day,” he continues. “Though I must warn you that because she is carrying, my mate likes her food charred.” He makes a face but looks pleased at the thought regardless.

I raise a hand in protest. “I have dried food. I am fine.” I would rather eat smoke-dried meat than choke down a mouthful of the hot, burnt flesh the humans are so fond of. “Feed your mate, not me.”

He grins. “All right, but the next fresh kill I have, it shall be yours.”

I nod absently at him, studying my work. I am pleased with how the cover turned out. With each howse, Kashrem and I have gotten better with creating the covers for each one. The seams on this howse are tight and invisible. The edges are pulled taut with the stone, and not even a breeze will be able to make it through to bother Ereven’s fragile human mate. We have done good work this day, and I am proud. It is not necessary for Ereven to repay me, however. I would do the same for any tribesmate. “If you have extra meat, perhaps bring it to Asha,” I tell him, thinking of my glimpse of my once-mate from earlier.

She looks thin, my Asha, her eyes hollow with grief. I still want to comfort her, though I know she will not allow it. She is proud, and she struggles. Our once-mating was not healthy, and I ended it because our misery together felt worse than being apart. I miss her. She is my heart, but on that awful day seasons ago, she lost our daughter.

I lost my mate and kit both.

I know she has never wanted to be mated to me. I am not flashy, like Harrec, or easy with words like Aehako. I am a simple male…but I have always loved Asha, even when she did not know I existed. I will continue to love her, even though we are apart. And I will always care for her.

Thinking of the mate I have lost sours my mood. I nod a goodbye at Ereven and head back toward the howse I share with the other hunters. It is on the far end of the vee-lage, since we are all sa-khui and do not suffer from the cold as the humans do. We keep quarters together to save on resources, and most days the other hunters are out on the trails, which means I am alone in the howse. On bad weather days, when everyone remains in the vee-lage, however, it gets cramped. Today is one of those days. Harrec, Taushen, Bek, and Warrek are in the small hut. Bek is busy carving something, his tools spread out around him. Harrec is lazing in his furs, chatting with Taushen as the other works on sharpening his spears. Warrek works on fishing nets, and between all of them, there is no room for me to spread out hides and work on my own projects. Annoyed at this, I grab a few rolls of hide and my pots and take them across the cobbled road to one of the empty howses with no lid. Here, it is colder, but I can spread out.

And here, I will have no one to disturb my thoughts.

Many of the tribe are not fond of making leather. It is a necessary task, but one that few enjoy. It is messy, hard work that requires scraping the hide over and over again, and even fewer have the patience to make truly soft, supple leather. I enjoy it, though. I like the chance to create soft, beautiful, functional things for my tribe. I can hunt and I can fish, but I am truly good at making leather. I do not mind getting my hands dirty or spending hours rubbing brains and fat onto the leather. It allows me to think.

Lately I have needed to think quite a bit.

I roll out the hides, spreading them on the stone surface. It is hard on the knees but good for making hides, and I set my pots down and remove the lid off of one. The hide I am going to start with today is a snowcat hide. They are smaller than dvisti, but the resulting leather is as soft and delicate as a kit’s backside. This particular piece is flawless, and I have scraped it clean on both sides. If I do this right, it will make a piece of clothing that will be the pride of its owner. I picture my Asha, lovely and proud, in a new hood or perhaps a tunic made of this particular piece. I will cure it and dye it for her and make her something beautiful to wear. Perhaps that would make her smile again. I like the thought and get to work.

My hands smooth over the hide. It is thick right now, and inflexible. It has been de-furred and de-fleshed, but it needs more work before it can be worn. I take out my framing materials and lash the frame together, then stretch the hide over it until it is taut, like a drum. I head to the bathing pool and use the pump that spits out hot water, filling one of my pots before returning to the hut. Once back, I tug another small bone pot over to my side and bring out the frozen brain of the snowcat. It has turned to a block of ice while waiting to be used, and I dunk it in the hot water, waiting for it to thaw. When it does, I break it up in the water and work the mix with my hands until it forms a thick, gooey paste. Then I take a handful of the paste and begin to slowly rub it into one corner of the hide.

Working during the brutal season means that hides take twice as long to cure. In the warmer season, back when we had the cave, I would slather the entire hide with brains, let it sit out until the solution soaked into the leather, and then work on softening it. Because it is so cold, I cannot leave the brain-mash out on the hide or else it will freeze instead of soaking in. So I take small handfuls and rub over a small portion of the hide, moving my hands over it repeatedly to let the warmth of my body keep the solution from freezing. It means I must go that much slower, but that means my thoughts can turn inward, to Asha.

I know she is troubled. I know she hungers for another kit. I have seen the starved, desperate looks she gives the human females, especially No-rah, who has two kits. She will not do anything to harm them, of course, but I know it cannot be easy for her. Back before the humans arrived, it was just Maylak she envied. Now it seems like every female of childbearing age is pregnant or has a kit under her arm, and my poor mate suffers because of it. She was getting better before the humans arrived, I think. But once the first kit was born, she retreated. With every new kit born to a happy couple, she retreats a bit further.

And there is nothing I can do. I would give her anything that would make her smile. Anything that would rid her of her pain. But I can do nothing. She will not accept my love, so I gave up on trying.

I do not resent Asha. I try not to resent the humans, though sometimes it is hard. They are kind females, and they do not mean to harm her. It is just that their presence is a dagger in my mate’s heart…and I will not let anything harm her if I can help it. So I keep to myself and let others fawn over the humans.

Let them be pleased with their pale, strange mates and their flat faces. I have the most beautiful female in the tribe, whose vibrant blue skin and laughing eyes are the most spectacular thing a male could see.

And…I gave her up.

Disgusted and miserable at my own thoughts, I slap another handful of brain-mash onto the leather and rub it even harder, taking my frustrations out on it.

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3

CLAIRE

I’m utterly focused on holidays and Christmas all day. Even though I volunteered to organize things, it still feels like a massive undertaking, and I want to make sure everyone enjoys the holiday. It’ll be spread out over several days, of course, because that means we can get a reprieve from the endless snow and boredom of the brutal season.

We’ll need food, because no holiday celebration is complete without a feast, but we’ll have to be mindful of tight supply stores.

We’ll have gifts, because every holiday involves gifts, and we’ll need to make sure everyone is included and feels like they can participate. We’ll have games and decorations so everyone can share in the fun.

And I can’t make things too complicated, because then people will just get confused. So many human customs don’t translate over to sa-khui. I still remember from our last holiday and the fact that the tribe couldn’t figure out what mistletoe was used for. Hunters ended up giving their mates piles of leaves, expecting kisses for gifts of ‘not poison.’ In fact, everyone I’ve chatted with so far has referred to our holiday as ‘No Poison Day’ instead of Unity Day, like had originally been suggested.

I sit by my fire and make notes on a tough, pale hide with a bit of charcoal. I want to make sure I get everything right, and I want to make sure I don’t forget a thing, so I need lists. I wish I had paper, but coal and hide must do. I first make a list of all the ideas from all the holidays I can think of and write them out. Easter egg hunts. Secret Santa. Valentine’s Day and cards for your sweetheart. Heck, New Year’s and kisses. Since No Poison Day is a mashup of everything, as long as we make things fun, it doesn’t matter if it’s a Halloween tradition or a Christmas one, because the sa-khui will be none the wiser and the humans just want to enjoy themselves.

Secret Santa is a good one to start with, I think. We can have everyone in the tribe pull names and be assigned a ‘secret’ person to give gifts to. Everyone will enjoy that, and the act of making gifts as well as giving them should be fun. I pull out a second hide and start writing out names. Someone will have to run things, and I can do it. It means I’ll be in charge of the rules and making sure everyone plays, but if I’m going to have things running smoothly, I need to take control of it myself and I need to make sure no one is forgotten. I still remember last year, when everyone was being showered with gifts and poor Josie only got one from Liz, and how guilty I’d felt that I hadn’t thought to give Josie a gift myself. I won’t let that happen again. Everyone’s going to share in the fun. So I write. I list each person’s house and then everyone living there. I’m going to have to chat with each person individually to make sure everyone’s clear on the rules. It might even take me a few days just to get everyone squared, so some of the other ‘holiday’ fun things will need to be easy. A feast day. A football day. A decorating day. A—

I’m so caught up in my plans for the holiday that I almost miss my baby’s first kick. My stomach flutters, and I think it’s gas, but when something smacks against my insides again, I gasp and sit upright, clutching my stomach.

“What is it? Are you well?” Ereven moves to my side, shoving away the skins I’ve been scribbling notes on. The look on his face is one of concern. “Shall I get the healer?”

“I think the baby kicked!” I beam a smile of wonder at him. “It’s incredible.” My stomach’s been rounding out steadily for the last month, but I haven’t felt more than the occasional flutter that made me wonder if it was a kick or just my imagination. What I just felt? That was most firmly a hello from my insides.

My mate’s face lights up, and he shoves his tangled hair behind his ears, leaning in. His hands reverently touch my stomach, moving over the layers of furs I’m wearing. “You are sure?”

“Positive. Maybe he’ll do it again.” We’ve been calling the baby a ‘he’ just to have a gender, but something in my gut tells me I’m not wrong. I think it’s a boy, and I hope he’s as handsome and kind as his daddy.

Ereven waits, crouching low next to me. He keeps his hands on my belly, and he’s so still, his gaze so intent, that I want to laugh partially out of joy and partially out of the absurdity of the moment. But then it happens again, and the sheer happiness and wonder on his face makes me want to weep. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “I felt it,” he whispers. “Do you think he is trying to talk to us?”

“I think he’s just restless,” I say softly, sniffing back my emotions.

A slow smile curves Ereven’s mouth. “He is not the only one.” He leans in and speaks to my stomach, as if the baby can hear. “Your father wants to go out and hunt to feed your mother, but the weather does not permit it.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in with me,” I tease. Like it’s a chore to be snuggled in our little house together, especially now that the roof has been fixed. I don’t mind the lazy days when the weather is bleak and awful and that means the hunters stay in. I like those, because it means we get to sleep late and cuddle, and it means I get to spend the entire day talking to Ereven about nothing at all and just enjoying his company. It’s certainly not the worst way to spend the time.

He smiles at me, and I feel warm and good inside. My life is so wonderful with Ereven. He’s so perfect for me in every way. His confidence in me makes me stronger, mentally. He gives me courage. I don’t hide away any longer—now I do my best to take part in the tribe and participate every day. I feel like I’m making up for lost time. Heck, sometimes I feel like a different, better person. It’s all thanks to him.

The baby kicks again, and Ereven sucks in a breath.

“You felt it?” I say with a laugh.

“I did.” His voice is soft with awe. “He is strong.”

“Like his father.”

He brushes at my furs. “He is also covered in ash. Why do you have soot all over you, my mate?”

I do? I dust my fingers over my clothing, just now noticing the dark smears all over my gray leathers. Of course, that just makes things worse, and I realize my hands are far filthier than my clothing, my fingers black from where I’ve been holding the coal to write with. “I forgot all about the coal when the baby kicked. Did I smear some on my face?”

“You did,” my mate agrees with a wry smile. “Let me get a cloth and you can tell me about what you are doing.”

“I’m writing.” I sit and wiggle in place, trying to tuck my legs under me. It’s getting harder to sit compactly the more my belly grows. I kind of hope the baby will kick again, but when Ereven returns, all is quiet once more. I obediently let him clean my face with a damp, warm cloth.

“Ry-ting?” he prompts. “What is this?”

So I tell him about my plans. Well, I also have to tell him about writing and written human language, but he seems to grasp it enough that I move on to talking about the plans for the holiday—No Poison Day—and the events I’m trying to set up. “I want things to turn out well,” I tell him. “So I’m writing it all out to make sure I don’t forget anything. My memory’s been terrible ever since I got pregnant.”

“That is normal,” he says, used to my complaining about that. “Maylak says it will pass.”

“Which is why I’m writing,” I say, and offer him my filthy hands. “Because I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to forget to include someone, or forget to do an event someone is looking forward to. Holidays are important.”

“So let one of the other humans help you organize things. It sounds like a big task, and you are busy growing my son.”

I snort. Busy growing a baby isn’t exactly a full-time job. “I can handle it. I want to do it myself. And everyone else is busy, too. Most of the girls already have babies. They don’t exactly have free time.”

“Tee-fah-ni does not have a kit yet. She is pregnant, like you.”

Tiff’s also obsessed with trying to grow her fruit trees despite the lack of sunlight in the gorge. And when she’s not busy with that, she’s busy with a million other things. “She already has a ton of projects. I doubt she’ll have time to hang out with me.”

“What about the sisters?”

Maddie and Lila? I like them, but I don’t know them as well as the others. “They’re still learning how to cope with day-to-day life. I don’t know that they’ll have time to help either. I can do this, I promise.” I clasp his hands. “I won’t over-exert myself.”

He thinks for a minute, then a wide smile crosses his face. “I know who can help you.”

I’m starting to grow annoyed with my mate’s ‘helpfulness.’ I don’t need help with this project, but it seems he’s determined to get me assistance. “Who?”

“Asha.”

“Asha?” If he’d have said ‘President Reagan,’ I couldn’t have been more surprised. Me and Asha aren’t buddies. Actually, I’m not even sure we’ve said more than two words to each other in the last month. When Asha does emerge to spend time with the tribe, she makes a beeline for the women with babies so she can hold them. I’m not interesting to her…yet. “Why on earth would I get Asha to help me?”

“Because she needs a friend.” His big hands are gentle as he places them on my belly once more. “I saw her yesterday and it made me think.”

I saw her yesterday, too. “Think about what?”

“About how lonely she has been since the human females arrived.” When I gesture for more information, he leans down and presses his ear to my stomach, resting his head against me in a picture of perfect contentment. “Look at things from her perspective, my mate. She has grown up desired and wanted by all the males in the tribe because there are so few females. She mates someone she is barely even friends with, and they lose their kit. Then, just when she is almost over her grieving, many new females arrive. They are all friends with each other and have their own customs. They share stories and talk and do chores together. They sit together by the fire. They are all friends. And it is something Asha has never had.”

I frown to myself. I don’t think anyone has been trying to deliberately exclude the prickly Asha, but now that he says it this way, I feel guilty. “What about Sevvah, Kemli and Maylak? Farli?” The tribe had females before we arrived.

“Sevvah and Kemli are both old enough to be Asha’s mother. Maylak has always been Asha’s rival for attention. They have never been close, and they drifted apart further when Maylak came into her healing powers and her kit lived and Asha’s did not. And Farli is too young.” He closes his eyes and rubs his hand on the swell of my stomach. “Do you think he will kick again?”

He’s trying to distract me, I think. I poke him with my finger. “So you think I should befriend Asha?”

“I do. She could use a friend. Not just someone that is trying to hand her a child to watch. Someone that will be her friend just to be her friend.”

“And you think I’m that person?”

Ereven opens his eyes and gives me another sweet smile. “Who would not want to be your friend, my Claire? You bring me such joy. I cannot imagine you doing any less for others.”

He really is the dearest man. And he’s got such a good heart, too. I wonder that anyone else would think about Asha’s feelings, but Ereven tries to make everyone happy in his own quiet way. God, I love him. “All right, I’ll go visit her and feel her out.”

In the next moment, the baby moves again, and we both forget all about the holiday and Asha, focusing on the baby doing somersaults in my belly.

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4

ASHA

Next Morning

I’m lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t want to go eat the morning meal with the humans today, because I can smell eggs even from here, and the thought makes my stomach hurt. I would rather not eat than eat more eggs, but Stay-see’s feelings would be hurt if I turned them down. So I hide, and I contemplate the roof of the howse and watch the curls of smoke escape from our fire up to the hole at the center of the teepee.

Over in her furs, Farli’s shoving on her boots and getting ready to go out, her pet dancing around her legs eagerly. I do not know why she bothers with the animal. Since we have moved to the gorge and the vee-lage, taking care of her dvisti has eaten up many of her days. Farli takes him out every day the weather is clear to graze, and just getting him out of the gorge is a time-consuming process involving a set of ropes and a thing called a pull-ee that Har-loh created. Once the creature is hauled back to the top, Farli spends her day collecting dried stalks of plants to feed him on the days when the weather is bad, and taking the bundles back to the vee-lage. Taushen goes with her and checks his traplines, but I know it is a burden. She should give up and let the stupid animal go back into the wild.

She should give up on it like Hemalo gave up on you? I do not like the thought that immediately pops into my head, and focus on something else. What should I do this day? It will be quiet since the weather is fair and warm (well, for the brutal season) and the hunters are already out, making the most of the day. Rokan says the weather will be clear for two or more days, so most of the hunters will not return home until the last moment, taking every opportunity to gather food for the tribe.

I should do the same. I should get out of my furs and see what I can help with. Stay-see loves those terrible eggs, and they are easy enough to get; I could climb and pull some nests for fuel and get more eggs for the humans. Maybe I will. Soon. But it is hard to get out of the furs when you feel there is no reason. If I do not go get eggs for Stay-see, someone else will. I do not matter, not to anyone in my tribe.

Certainly not to Hemalo.

Farli bustles out of the howse, leaving me alone with my dark thoughts. I hear her boots crunching on the fine layer of snow dusting the stones, and then her low murmur as she pauses to speak to someone. Her pet bleats, drowning out her words. Then, a moment later, she sticks her head back into the hut. “Asha, you have a visitor.”

I sit up slowly, surprised. “I do?”

She nods. “I told her she could come in. I must go while the weather holds.” She gives me a cheery smile and then dashes off again, letting the leather flap covering the door fall once more.

I gather my furs close to me, curious, and I am surprised when the human Claire meekly peeks inside a moment later. “Can I come in?”

“Why?” I ask.

She blinks at me with big eyes and then moves inside the howse. I notice she is carrying several large rolled-up animal hides under her arm, and she wears a bright smile on her narrow face. “I wanted your help.”

I study her, trying not to scowl. I do not know Claire well. Of all the humans, she is one of the quietest of the lot, content to sit and listen when others like Jo-see would blurt all their thoughts out for all to hear. I remember that she was Bek’s pleasure-mate for a time, but things soured between them, and she resonated to Ereven days after moving back to the main tribal cave. I like Ereven. It is impossible not to. But I do not know his mate well enough to say whether or not I like her. “My help?” I ask. “In what?”

Claire moves to sit next to the embers of my fire, dropping down onto Farli’s favorite stool. I notice that when she moves, her thick, bundled furs make her belly look more rounded with kit than usual, and I feel a stab of jealousy and grief at the sight. I would give anything to be with kit once more, my Hashala safe in my belly.

She smooths out the hides, and I see they are covered in strange, swirly designs made of charcoal. They leak soot everywhere, and Claire grimaces as she spreads them out. “I realize this looks a little crazy, but hear me out. You heard us talking about the holiday celebration yesterday, right?”

I nod slowly, not entirely sure why this involves me. “No Poison Day. I remember.”

“Yes, that’s it. We’re going to have another, except we’re going to spread it out over several days. Well, several bad weather days.” She sounds breathless and nervous, her words almost tripping over themselves in her rush to speak. It is all very curious. Why is Claire anxious about speaking to me? I am no one to her. I may be sharp to some of my tribesmates, but Claire is such a delicate, shy thing that I would not lash out at her. I fear it would break her.

“Several No Poison Days,” I echo, still not sure what this has to do with me.

“Correct. I think we’re going to go with eight, as a nod to Nora and Hanukkah. I think she’ll like that. And it’s almost kind of sort of like Epiphany or Kwanzaa, though people don’t celebrate Epiphany much anymore. So I guess it’s more like Kwanzaa.” She stares down at the skins, thoughtful.

“Am I…supposed to know these words?”

She looks over at me, and a light flush touches her pink face. “Oh. I’m sorry. Of course not. I’m just thinking out loud.” She gestures at the skins. “There’s so much that I need to mentally unpack and get down on paper so I don’t forget, and I feel like it’s all in my head, and I don’t want to forget anything. So I’m writing it out.”

I frown down at the skins, then at her again. “I do not understand.”

“I’m sorry. I know. I’m babbling.” She clasps her hands in front of her, and somehow in the last few moments, she’s managed to smear soot on her pale, flat brow. “I keep doing that. Ereven tells me to stop, too. It’s just rambling and then I get away from my point and…I’m doing it again.” She gives me an apologetic little smile. “Right. No Poison Day. Focus, Claire, focus.”

“You wish to celebrate No Poison Day over several days,” I say slowly, still trying to guess why she is involving me. “Do you…need me to show you where the local poisons are? I am not familiar with this area, but I can identify the plants if you need.” I am still not sure why she would come to me instead of Kemli, who is the expert, but this is the only conclusion I can come to.

Claire blinks. “Oh, no, I don’t need poison. I need help organizing things.”

I am intrigued. No one ever comes to me for something like this. “You want me to help you…”

“Run the holiday celebrations, yes.” She clasps her hands and puts them to her chin, her expression thoughtful. “I can try to run it all myself, but I worry I’ll forget something important and mess things up. Plus, I’m not all that outgoing, and you know everyone. You can be my sa-khui ambassador.”

“What about your mate?”

“He’s out hunting. He won’t be back until at least tomorrow, and I want to start getting the word out to people soon so they can start working on gifts.”

“Farli would help you,” I suggest. I think I am still in shock that someone has come to me and wants my help.

“She’s busy getting food for her dvisti. And besides, Ereven told me you would be perfect to help me.” Claire’s smile is timid. “He said you’re great at getting people to listen to you, and I’m not so good at that sort of thing.”

“He suggested me?” I know Ereven well, but I had no idea he thought so highly of me. Warmth blooms in my belly. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps this is something I would be good at. Claire is definitely one of the quieter humans and could use a louder partner. “If you are certain…”

“Oh, absolutely.” Her smile widens.

“Then tell me more about what you have planned.” I pull my boots on and join her by the fire. I glance over at my sorry hearth. I have no food for a guest, no drinks. It has been so long that someone has come to visit that I have not given it much thought. “Do you want some tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

As I throw a blend of my favorite tea flavors into my boiling pouch, Claire unravels her skins with the strange charcoal wiggles on them and tells me her plans. There will be a secret gift exchange, which sounds amusing and will allow everyone to participate and receive gifts, even if they do not have large families. After the great khui sickness, many of the tribe found themselves alone, and Claire’s thoughtful suggestions about the gift game will give everyone something to look forward to.

“So you like the Secret Santa idea?” Claire asks me as I pour the tea. She looks pleased. “It’s not too confusing?”

“The only confusing thing is the name,” I tell her, sitting down with my own cup. It is rather nice to sit inside and talk of plans and things other than wallowing in my grief. Perhaps I have been stuck in my own head for too long. Perhaps I am just making myself miserable and need distractions. Whatever it is, Claire’s presence is making me feel more like myself than I have in a long, long time. “You call it Sahn-tah?”

“Secret Santa, yes. It’s because you’re acting like Santa, who is the human figure that hands out gifts. He’s an elf that wears red and comes down the chimney, uh, smoke hole.”

I glance up at the smoke hole in my own ceiling. “It seems a strange way to deliver presents. Will they not burn?”

“It does sound weird if you pick it apart. And no, we don’t have to really send our presents through smoke holes. We can leave them on people’s doorsteps, or have others deliver them for us. The spirit is to have fun above all else. We can call it Secret Gifting or something else, since the Santa thing will be weird.”

“I like the idea of secret gifting. It sounds fun.”

Claire beams happily at my praise. “It’s one of my favorite traditions, too.”

We go through her list of suggestions as we drink our tea, and I help her describe them in ways that the sa-khui will remember. A day to celebrate ‘Thanks-giving’ becomes ‘Feast Day.’ An ee-stur egg hunt is changed to a seed hunt, as eggs are now a staple of our brutal season food supplies and should not be wasted on a game. The seeds of the intisar plant are big and bulbous and have a hard shell that can be painted like the small eggs Claire mentions, and then hidden around the vee-lage. It seems a silly game to me, but when she tells me it is for the kits, it makes more sense. They will enjoy such things, and the parents will enjoy watching them. There will be a day of foot-bahl and games, a day for songs and tribal gathering, and so many other plans that I find I am impressed with Claire’s enthusiasm and determination to create so many things for people to do. “This is a great many tasks,” I tell her. “How will you possibly keep it all straight?”