“They came to visit us,” I say. I drag my eyes away from the boy’s face. His grimace stirs something uncomfortable in me. “They arrived just before you first camped on our shore.” I almost say more—that since you first arrived, our two clans have forged a friendship—but I know that your family is unpopular with the people you left behind, and I don’t want to start anything. Yet I can’t look at the boy. The look of haughty disdain on his face at the thought of your family offends me, though I’m not sure why.
“So of course Shava would stay,” says Lo. “I doubt she even realizes who Chev and his sisters are. She hadn’t yet joined our clan when they left. She and her mother were still living with the Manu until just two years ago. That was when our clan stopped to visit yours, Kol. Do you remember that?”
“I do,” I say, “but I don’t remember meeting you.”
“No.” Lo looks out over the water for a moment. She’s thinking about that visit, and so am I. “We’d been on a long journey. We’d been searching for mammoths, but hadn’t had success. My father took only the elders when he approached your camp.”
I remember this visit, of course, and as Lo speaks, all at once I remember the Bosha’s High Elder—Lo’s father. He’d come into our camp looking thin and tired. All the Bosha elders had looked hungry.
“Your clan fed our elders and sent heaps of mammoth meat out to where the rest of us were camped. My father learned that the girl who cooked the mammoth—Shava—was descended from our clan. He took this as a sign from the Divine.
“He invited Shava and her mother back into the Bosha clan. Shava had prepared the mammoth that sustained us, and he believed she would bring good fortune to our clan.” Lo pauses, then hastily adds, “I believe that, too.”
“Let’s hope you’re reading the signs correctly,” says Orn. “I’m not sure Shava is very valuable. Or bright.”
My hands curl into fists at my side. I may find Shava irritating, but she grew up with me and my brothers. When Pek refused to be betrothed to her, one of his reasons was that she was too much like a sister to him. She may be pushy and tactless at times, but I do not want to stand here and listen to a stranger criticize her.
There is something about Orn—a smug sense of superiority—that I do not like. I turn away from him and Anki. I should say my good-byes to Lo and begin the trek back to my own camp.
That’s when I spot the paddler out on the water. We all seem to notice her at the same time.
“It’s Shava,” says Orn. “I thought you said she stayed behind.”
We all wait, watching as Shava, with some difficulty, steers the double kayak into shore. Lo and I run into the waves to pull her in.
“What’s going on?” Lo asks. “We hiked all the way here because you wanted to stay.”
“I came to get my mother. After you left, so many people asked for her. She lived with the Manu so long, and they miss her. I know she would love to see them, too. I looked for you so we could take the boat together, but you and Kol were already on your way.”
Shava stands with Lo on the opposite side of the boat. As we drag it onto shore, Lo speaks to her, but I can’t hear her over the splashing and the sea breeze. I hear only Shava’s reply.
“I will. I told you that I will.” Then she hurries up onto the sand. Without saying a word to me or anyone else, she disappears up the path that I assume leads to the Bosha’s camp.
“Don’t let Chev and his clan keep you away,” I say, once Shava’s gone. I would like to speak to Lo privately, but I’m forced to include Anki and Orn. “I want you all to feel welcome in our camp. Chev is our guest, but so is Shava. So all of you could be.” I turn to Lo. She fiddles with the pendant of bone around her throat. When I look at her she lowers her eyes. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there is a deeper rift here than could ever be bridged by an invitation to a single feast. “You promised to come tonight,” I say, in a quiet voice I hope only she can hear.
“And I will,” she says. Her voice is a low murmur, matching mine.
She glances up and meets my gaze. At my back, the sea spray is strong, and the breeze blows cold against Lo’s face, reddening her cheeks and pinning loose strands of hair to the damp skin around her eyes. “I’ll be there tonight, but for now, I need to go. I made a promise to my father, and I need to see it through.”
SEVENTEEN
I hike back to camp alone, thinking of Lo the entire time, except at brief intervals, when the thought of you somehow creeps in, unbidden and unwelcome. Your face appears in my mind’s eye—the memory of your expression when you sprang from the woods while chasing the elk, landing right in front of me. I remember the sound of your voice when you first saw my wounded back, the curve of your throat above the white bone pendant that hung around your neck at dinner.
The memory of that pendant takes on new meaning now. Do you, like Lo, wear a replica of the one you destroyed?