I thought of you when I feared the cat might kill me. I wondered if my body would be found, and if you would learn of how I’d died.
When the silence between us stretches to an unbearable tension, I’m forced to speak. “I came for Pek,” I say.
“Yes.”
And that’s all. We stand still, looking at each other in much the same way we did at that first meeting in the meadow. Just as bitterness joined that circle, it seemingly has followed us here.
A large shadow passes between us—a buzzard is circling. Another joins it. “They were quick to find your kill,” you say.
At last you acknowledge it. I was beginning to wonder how long you could ignore the dead cat strapped to a sled behind me.
Your gaze fixes on a spot just below my left eye. Taking one slow step toward me, you lift your hand to touch my cheek. “You have blood on your face,” you say. Your voice is soft, as soft as light falling on leaves. I think you touch my face, but if you do your touch is just as soft, so soft I can’t be sure.
“The cat’s blood, I think. Not mine. He got me across the back, mostly.”
You move another half step closer and peer around my side, gently lifting away the shredded pieces of my parka. You stifle a gasp. “You should thank the Divine you’re alive. Your back . . . ,” you say, but you don’t finish. “I’ll fetch the butchers.”
“Thank you, but Pek already went. . . .” My voice trails off; you aren’t listening.
Before I can get the words out you turn and run, disappearing into the shade that cloaks the path.
TEN
I’m brought to your camp, but I don’t see you again. Instead, I see no one but Pek, Chev, and your clan’s healers—Ela and her twin brother, Yano. They are young for healers—maybe just a few years older than I am. Both wear their hair pulled into a single long braid; both are dressed in plain tunics of black bearskin.
“You will stay in my sisters’ hut,” Chev says. “It is large, close to the healers, and close to me. You have done a great thing for this clan and I want to be sure you are comfortable while you heal.” Despite the gnawing ache in my back, something in my chest stirs. My senses sharpen as I enter the place where you sleep each night, the place where you dream.
The hut is cool and well lit—a flap has been opened in the side wall facing west, letting in a shaft of sunlight. I’m struck by the rich array of pelts—not just forming the beds but also elaborate rugs and banners—furs and skins cut and sewn into ornate patterns, spread across the floor and hung from the walls. One design suggests the stars in the sky, another the sea.
The healers help me undress and lie facedown on one of the beds, arranged on the floor in just the right spot so the light will fall directly onto my back. A rich, musky scent floats in the air; some of these pelts are new. Ela and Yano stand on each side of me, helping me ease my aching body onto the bed. My hands reach out to brace my weight and I notice a blanket of sealskin. Despite my pain, inwardly I smile, knowing that you and your sister accepted Pek’s gifts.
The healers begin their work of examining the gashes in my back. They clean each one with the edge of a sharp blade, picking out small flecks of dirt and debris. The process sends spikes of pain through me, but I force myself to stay alert. “Deep cuts,” Ela says, either to Yano or herself—I can’t be sure. She calls for a certain type of leaf, but the name of the plant is unknown to me.
The process drags on, each individual cut painstakingly opened, painstakingly cleaned. Sweat drips from my face and neck and pools in the small of my back. I struggle to stay silent and still, but I can’t suppress every flinch or hold in every gasp. Now and then, pressure is applied to my back with a soft pelt that’s been soaked in cold water, opening a brief window of relief. Chants are offered by Ela and Yano, sometimes in turns, sometimes in unison.
Pain thrums a drumbeat in my temples, mixing with a roar in my ears, drowning out voices. I know that Chev is speaking, but his words fade to a hiss and I cannot distinguish what he says. All I catch is the tone of his voice, but even that is enough to startle me. His voice is gentle and warm, a tone reserved for a beloved child, or, more likely, a spouse. Could he be speaking to Ela? Could it be that she is Chev’s wife?
I lose track of time. The light in the room grows dim as the healers methodically work at their task, until finally, I feel the even pressure of fingers smoothing cool strips of leaves across my skin. And then, at last, there is no pressure at all. The task is done.
Through the throbbing, through the roar, through the hiss and buzz that fill my ears, whispered words reach me. It’s the voice of my brother Pek; I feel his breath on my cheek. “Chev has sent for our family,” he says. “Rest well, knowing that our parents and brothers will be here soon.”