Ivory and Bone(39)

For a long moment the three of us stand there in silence. Voices reach us from the huts—Chev and my father, laughing.

“I need to leave,” says Lo. “I need to get back to my own camp.”

“But there’s a feast—” I start, but stop when I notice the intensity of my tone. I won’t let myself sound desperate. I take a deep breath and start again. “Wouldn’t you like to stay?”

“I’m not invited—”

“You’re our guest. Of course you’re invited—”

Lo turns her face up toward the sky to the west, and for a moment I think she is wavering, but when she speaks, it’s clear her decision is firm. Perhaps she was just searching for words.

“I promised my father I’d help him with something after the midday meal. He’s our High Elder. I couldn’t break a promise to him.” Lo smiles, but distance opens between us. “Ready, Shava?”

Shava flinches when Lo says her name. It’s subtle, but unmistakable. “I didn’t make a promise to your father to return at a particular time.” She speaks in the tenuous voice of a child who knows she’s going to be in trouble.

“My father will be expecting both of us,” Lo answers. Her tone carries meaning beyond her words. Is a threat implied? “And how would you get back? We came in the kayak together. I need you to paddle it back with me—”

“But this is my old clan. I want to stay for the feast.”

“I have an idea,” I offer. “There’s a trail along the cliffs that circle the bay. It takes longer than crossing by kayak, but it leads to the other shore. I could show you the way. I’ll walk you back to your camp right now, Lo, if you’ll promise to come back later tonight for the feast.” I allow myself the indulgent risk of touching Lo—a light, brief touch on the wrist. Her skin is warm. “You could bring your father with you. My father, I know, would welcome the chance to meet him.”

Lo purses her lips. She shifts her weight from foot to foot as she thinks. “All right,” she says finally. “If you’ll walk me, I promise to return tonight. But Shava, may I speak to you briefly—alone—before I go?”

Shava looks from Lo to me and then back to Lo again. “Of course,” she says.

“I’ll go to the kitchen and get a waterskin for us to take,” I say. As I walk away, I tell myself that Lo is most likely giving Shava advice about Pek. I will not let myself hope that she wants to say anything in private about me.

Lo and I take the trail that winds through the thin forest of birch trees that grow in the rocky soil near the shore. This swath is among the few patches of trees we have within our hunting range—these weathered, spindly trees that manage to dig their roots into the narrow strip of soil that forms a buffer between the sea and the wide stretches of grassland. The path is steep in spots, climbing up the cliffs to a summit that overlooks the bay before turning and heading back down to the western shore. In a few spots, the forest floor grows rocky, and it’s dangerous if you don’t watch your step. Still, it’s mostly easy on our feet, carpeted by sedges and mosses that form a cushion under the soles of our boots. And it’s secluded and private, so it’s the path I choose. Lo doesn’t seem to mind.

The day is bright, and the path is covered in broken splashes of sun and shade. Wind off the sea stirs the branches, creating a rushing sound that almost sounds like rain. I glance at Lo as she walks just an arm’s length from my side. Her eyes are down, carefully watching her feet to avoid sticks and exposed roots. The light flits across her dark hair like stars in the night sky. Something inside me longs to reach out and touch her, and I find myself imagining her tripping, her toe getting stuck on the edge of a rock and her balance being lost just enough to justify a hand under her elbow or even better, an arm thrown hurriedly around her waist.

For some reason, this thought brings you to my mind. I remember the cold disdain in your voice as you made your excuses and ran away to your hut when I’d introduced you to Lo.

“Do you mind if I ask a question? If it’s something you’d rather not answer, just say so.”

Lo wobbles as her foot settles on a loose rock, and for a brief moment I think I will have to reach out to catch her after all, but she rights herself and regains her balance almost instantly.

“Ask me anything you want.” Her tone is open and inviting, and I convince myself that the reason she doesn’t look up is to ensure she doesn’t land on another wobbly rock.

“Well,” I start. I stop a moment and watch Lo’s hair bounce against her back, and once again, I can’t push the thought of you from my mind. Your hair is a bit longer and straighter than Lo’s. Hers has the waves of hair that’s been braided while wet.

“I wanted to ask you about the girls I introduced you to earlier. Seeri and Mya. Have you met them before?”

“Are you asking because they were so rude to me?”

A gust of breeze blows her hair, obscuring her face, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as she answers I know she knows you. There’s anger in her voice—a wound that hasn’t healed. Or a debt left unsettled.

“It was impossible not to notice,” I say.

“Of course it was. Those girls are worse than rude. They’re selfish. The whole family, the sisters, their brother . . .”