“Take Kesh with you,” he says finally. “Even with that cat dead, we don’t know this land. I don’t want you wandering off alone.”
As the meal ends and people get to their feet, several of your clan’s elders greet me with the customary nod. They congratulate me and introduce themselves. Though I try to learn their names, my head buzzes like a hive. I return their nods and smile, hoping my distraction doesn’t show.
Chev comes back from the kitchen, a bulging skin full of mead slung over his shoulder. You stand and announce you will bring cups from the kitchen for us to drink from.
Watching you stride away, I wonder what side you fall on in the matter of Pek and Seeri. Do you want to see them together and happy, or do you believe Seeri should follow through on her betrothal?
“I think you’ll be impressed by this mead,” Chev says, interrupting my thoughts of you. Had he seen me watch you walk away? “It’s unlike any I’ve ever had in the north—it will fill you with the warmth of the Divine from the inside out. There is a berry here in the south that grows on a climbing vine—a bright red berry with a strong flavor. It makes all the difference.”
You return with the cups. Like my mother’s bison skull bowl, these cups are carved from the skulls of some smaller prey—small enough to fit perfectly in the palm of a hand, but large enough to hold a generous portion of drink. Your brother circulates, dispensing the mead, releasing the heady scent of honey. A cup is poured for my mother, my father, Pek, Morsk, and Seeri. Kesh pushes into the circle, a cup in his extended hand.
“Wait,” I say, glancing around when I don’t see Roon. “Where’s your little brother?”
“Calm down. I didn’t leave him alone. He went off with that girl. She followed us down to the beach with a waterskin of mead she snuck from the kitchen. Anyway, they seemed more interested in each other than in the boats, so I came back. They kept talking about going exploring.”
Sometimes, I am jolted out of a sound sleep by the sensation that I am falling. It always happens the same—one moment I am on solid ground, and the next, everything beneath me disappears.
This is the feeling I have as I process what Kesh is saying.
He’s left Roon and Lees alone in the murky twilight of a summer night, when the ghostly pale sky conceals the stars and the unbroken shadows make it impossible to judge direction. Roon—a boy whose favorite activity is to explore the coast alone. Home he would be safe, but here? And what do we know of Lees? By now she could be back in her hut, and Roon could be just realizing he’s lost.
I glance from face to face. My father, my mother, Chev—everyone is distracted, chatting about the craftsmanship of the cups, the quality of the mead. Only you have a look of alarm on your face that matches the feeling in my gut.
“Let’s go,” you say.
You stride off, turning back only briefly to glare at me and Kesh and our empty hands. “Neither of you has a spear?”
“Who brings a spear to a meal—” Kesh starts.
“Who are you to speak to me like that? You—stupid enough to leave two children alone in the dark—”
“It’s hardly dark—”
“Who knows what kind of predators are out there—”
“I left them on a beach. When was the last time you saw a saber-toothed cat attack from the sea?”
“Do you think that cats are the only hunters out at night? Or that the only dangers are predators? They could climb the cliffs and fall from a ledge. They could take a boat out and get pulled away by the current—”
“All right, all right,” Kesh says. “You talk like they’re little babies. They’re only a few years younger than I am—”
“See this?” You shove the left sleeve of your tunic up to your elbow, revealing a jagged scar on the underside of your arm. “I was Lees’s age. My best friend became lost at night. It was late summer—the days were long like they are now—there was the same half-light sky. But half-light is also half-dark, and climbing over rocks searching for her, I fell.
“I was the same age as my sister—the same age as your brother. Do you think only babies can get hurt?”
“I never said—”
“Both of you, stop,” I say. “Look . . .”
While the two of you argued, we had hiked all the way to the beach. And just as you predicted, a boat is out on the water. A long canoe, its silhouette standing out against the pale blue sky.
“Lees!” You call to her at the top of your voice, and a head pivots in our direction. While we stand on the sand and watch, powerless to stop her, she gets to her feet and waves her arms. The canoe rocks violently.