“What? Why?” She gives me a baffled look and sits down with us, adjusting her chest-papoose that she keeps baby Pacy in.
“Because I think Cashol would want one,” I tell her, braiding away. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it in.
“She’s nesting,” Liz mock-whispers. “That baby’s coming soon.”
I shoot her a glare, my fingers never stopping in their endless braiding. “The baby is not coming yet. Cashol’s not home.”
“Whatever you say,” Liz replies sweetly, then coughs. “Coughnestingcough.”
Josie giggles and I hear Claire’s stifled laugh. I ignore them, just like I’ve been ignoring the backache that’s been nagging at me all day. The baby needs to wait its turn, and our son is not allowed to be born until his daddy comes home. So I’m choosing to overlook the fact that my back ache won’t go away, or the fact that my belly has been hard and tight all day.
Cashol needs to be here for his son.
And I need to work faster on this hammock. I braid with renewed vigor, shooting Claire an impatient look when she slacks off. They said they wanted to help, not sit around.
Stacy maneuvers her chest papoose, wincing. “Horn in boob, sorry.” She tucks Pacy against her again, settling him in. “That’s better. So you’re not scavenger hunting today?” She looks disappointed.
“Not today,” I tell her. “Busy.”
“What was yesterday’s gift?” she asks, oblivious to my need to work.
“A pouch of cooked hraku seeds,” Claire chimes in. “It’s so sweet of him to do this for her.”
“All the more reason to get the hammock done for him,” I point out, weaving my leather cords steadily.
Everyone in the cave has been following along with my treasure hunt. After I found my disk, Josie and I found a pair of carved hair sticks at the bottom of one of the bone baskets in storage. They were wrapped in a hide decorated with squiggles and scattered with leaves, and it took me a day or two to realize the leaves were from one of Tiffany’s precious plants that have been struggling to grow in the increasing snow. Because of the storms, it took several days for the weather to clear long enough for me and Josie and Tiff to make it the two hundred feet outside of the cave and check on the plants. Buried near the roots of one was a lovely bone cup that had a pinkish sheen to it. Farli shyly confessed that she had made it, her brother Pashov had traded her for it, and Cashol had traded Pashov.
She’d also let it slip that there were six gifts total, so I’d taken my time discovering each one. I had the hair sticks, the strange disc thing on the necklace, the pretty cup, and after that was a new bone knife that had been made for my small hands. For some reason, I treasured the knife the most, because I remembered saying to Cashol over and over again that all of our knives were sized for his hands, not mine.
After that, it was a few days before I found the hraku seeds pouch, hidden by Harlow’s stonecutter (which was now in disuse). The hide it had been wrapped in was decorated with what looked like drawings of animals. Either that meant I was going to find my next gift in food storage, or with Farli’s pet Chompy, or some other thing that had to do with animals. And I’d look for it…tomorrow. Maybe. The thoughtfulness of the treasure hunt was half the pleasure, and I was in no hurry to have it end.
Besides, I want to get the hammock done. My belly cramps, and I rub it absently. I don’t have much time to get this done and it’s a big project. I braid faster, my fingers aching.
“Is this a Rokan thing?” Stacy teases. “Are you sensing that your man’s going to be home soon?”
I shake my head. “Just wishful thinking. I don’t know when he’ll be back.” I sure don’t have the sixth sense that everyone jokes Rokan does. “But this needs to be done.”
“Where are you going to possibly put a hammock?” Stacy asks.
“There’s a nook in the corner of our cave with an outcropping that will work,” I say. I’ve already explained this to everyone else in the cave, but hey, what’s one more? “It’ll be fine.”
“What do you think the next present is?” Josie asks. “And did you ever find out what that disc-thing is?”
I begin to answer, and then my belly contracts, the ripple of muscles hard and surprising. I gasp and drop the leather strands I’m weaving together, putting a hand on my rounded stomach.
The cave gets quiet.
“Is it time?” Claire starts to get to her feet. “Should I get the healer?”
I put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I’m fine. Cashol’s not home yet.”
I ignore the uneasy look she casts at Josie and Liz. They think I’m crazy. I’m not, though. I’m just stubborn and I’m trusting in my mate. He said he’d be back in time for the birth. And since he’s not here, it must not be time yet. Any time now would be nice, though, I think to myself as I pick up my leather strands again.
CASHOL