“Two annums,” was his curt response.
Dethina sighed.
By the time they returned, tempting smells were wafting from the direction of Caris’s cook pit. “Thank you, Laiden. Please put it here by the door. It’s easier for Dethina if things are kept orderly.” Laiden set the jug where Caris indicated. “Sit down. I have some morning food prepared.” The grass seeds that had soaked overnight were on a hot rock cooking into a mush. Caris spooned a portion onto a wooden plate for him. Again, the meal was tasty. Dieth would be missing his bonded’s cooking.
Laiden stood. “Thanks, Caris. You make excellent food.”
“Thank you for saying so. Do you have plans for today?” she asked.
“Nothing that can’t wait. Is there something you’d like me to do?”
“We’re low on cactus paddles. It would be nice to have more; I would go myself, but I want to finish drying the elk meat. If you’re over that way, would you bring some back?”
“Sure, where’s the best place to find them?” he asked as he retrieved his spear.
“In the lower desert. At the bottom of the hills in the sun-rising direction.”
As Laiden spoke with Caris, Dethina quietly picked up the elk skin and began scraping again. His conscious nagged him; he had been rude to the girl when she’d try to converse. She would be nothing but a burden to him, but with an unhappy sigh, he asked, “Dethina, would you like to join me?”
The girl shook her head, “Not really.”
Caris interrupted her, “That’s a great idea; the best patch is hidden. Dethina knows where it is and can help you find it.”
“Fine.” Dethina entered the hut and then emerged with two leather shoulder bags, a leather glove, and a water satchel. Then with polite reserve, she announced she was ready.
“Lead on,” Laiden mocked.
Tap, tap, tap. She led the way until they reached another rock that was a landmark for her. “I don’t go beyond this rock unless I’m with someone else.” She pointed. “We have to climb up and down the gullies; there’s not much of a trail. If you walk slow enough, I’ll be able to hear your footsteps and follow behind.”
A plain, marred by several dry riverbeds, stretched between them and the three hills that descended onto the desert floor. She was right about the trail. The path disappeared after it entered the first riverbed and probably washed away every time it rained.
Laiden set his mouth in a grim line; he shouldn’t have invited her. Now he’d have to spend time navigating an easy walk for the girl rather than forge a quick trail by himself. He scanned the area for the easiest access to the other side of the floodplain. He started off, and Dethina followed. She struggled; he could hear her frantic tapping, and she momentarily stopped, surprised, when he inadvertently let a bush branch snap back and hit her.
As they crossed the sandy bottom of the dry riverbeds, Laiden studied the animal tracks left behind by recent visitors. Easily visible were plenty of rabbit, coyote, and deer prints. And a herd of three or four peccaries came this way often.
When they reached the hills on the far side of the plain, Laiden easily discovered a trail that hadn’t been washed away. Over time, the path had been worn smooth and wide. Dethina seemed familiar with the route and had little trouble following him. As the hands of time passed, Laiden grew more resentful of the girl. For some unaccountable reason, he wanted her to complain, but she remained stoically silent. He increased his speed.
Laiden stopped at the top of the third hill and looked at the desert spread before him. There was nothing but flat for as far as he could see. Breathing hard, Dethina caught up to him. Her arms glistened from sweat, and the hair around her face was matted, dark, and wet.
“Maybe we can stop and rest for a while,” she suggested. Laiden didn’t answer. She pulled out her water, took a drink, and then awkwardly held it out. “Would you like some?”
“I have my own.”
Still breathing hard she asked, “Can you see the paddle cactus?”
“No.”
“There’s a wide wash that runs along the bottom of this hill. It turns right, into the desert, travels some more, then turns left. That’s where they’re most numerous.”
Following her description, Laiden scanned the land that fanned out in front of them. “I see them now,” he said, and without waiting, headed off. Dethina followed at a smart pace, cursing the evil-tempered man in front of her.
Here at the edge of the desert, plants and animals were still numerous. But farther out the land became a barren, waterless, sand pit; a dangerous place for humans. Laiden carefully observed his surroundings paying particular interest to the flora as the plants in the area adapted to less water. When they arrived at the paddle cactus Dethina handed Laiden the long leather glove. Gratefully, he accepted the protective wear. The thorns looked wicked. After using his spear to lop the paddles off, Laiden was able to lift the thorny cactus pieces into the bags. The thick leather prevented the cactus spikes from poking through and he filled the bags quickly.
Whatever demon possessed him on the way out had lost its influence on the return trip. He was silent, and his pace slowed; Dethina was able to match his homeward steps with little effort.
Caris was pleased with the paddles. She used a stone to break off the large thorns then rubbed the paddles in a basket of sand to remove the small thistle-sized needles. Using a piece of sharprock she cut some of the paddles into strips and spread them on her cooking rocks to dry.
Laiden removed the sharprock point from his spear and repositioned it. It was getting small from being resharpened over and over. He needed more sharprock for another spearhead and wondered where he could find some. He was about to ask Caris when Dethina spoke up. “I sure hope that man doesn’t stay with us much longer.”
“Dethina!” her mother said in shocked reproach. She looked at Laiden. “We beg your pardon.”
Laiden shrugged. “It’s all right. She had no way of knowing I’m still here,” he said dismissively.
Caris winced. Dethina most certainly was aware of his presence. She had deliberately meant to insult him.
Dethina jumped up. “That’s where you’re wrong. I knew you were here. I’ll tell you what else I know.” Dethina lifted her chin. “You were restless last night before you fell asleep,” she said triumphantly.
Laiden guffawed a mocking sniff.
Dethina bristled. “You’re this tall.” She held her hand at his exact height.
“Phuh.” Laiden made another derisive noise.
Dethina shifted side to side as she tilted her head and listened to her senses. “This morning when you took the water jug from me, and again when you took the cactus glove, you used your wrong hand. Either you have injured your right side or you were born using your wrong hand.” To verify her claim, she grabbed his right arm.
Laiden had been unprepared for her lightning quick grasp, even more surprised when her fingers deftly found the scar on his forearm. He made a halfhearted effort to pull away, but Dethina held firm. Her fingers traced the scar up and down several times as she examined it. To his surprise the hair on his neck rose, and his body gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure; the soft strokes were as potent as a strong blow.
Barely touching him, Dethina’s hands slowly slid down to his fingers, palms, and wrist. The hold felt more like a lover’s caress then an investigation, and he froze; his body weakened as it was invaded by some strange foreign warmth. Somewhere in his distance, he heard her say, “Your fingers have no calluses from using a bow, so you must use a spear.”
She gently brushed her hands up his arms, and the air emptied from his chest. “Your arms are strong,” she said while molding his biceps.
She stepped behind him then kneaded his neck and back. Laiden groaned silently as his neck gave way and his head fell forward. “Your bones don’t stick out. You’ve been well fed lately.”
Laiden nearly begged her to continue, but she circled to the front, and he
r magic hands dappled up his chest and neck to leisurely roam his face.
“You’re very handsome,” she finished softly.
Shaking and unsteady, Laiden was stunned at the power of her touch. He took some forced breaths of air to recover himself.
Dethina returned to the log bench. It was some moments before she spoke again. “I’m sorry I was rude. We are honored to have you stay with us.”
Laiden made a final swallow. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I have misjudged you, and your skills.” He used an unsteady hand to brush the hair away from his face. “Everything you said is correct—especially the handsome part.”
Dethina smiled. Truce.
In the following silence, Caris picked up a shallow basket and said, “I’m going to the upper meadow to gather grass seeds.” Neither of the others seemed to be listening. Perhaps they would work out their animosity toward each other.
The warming season brought out the small animals that scurried along the ground looking for seeds left by the wind. The air buzzed with the life of birds and insects. Tiny buds at the end of each pine limb promised an abundant piñon crop later in the season. But Caris didn’t notice any of these things today; her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Dethina. She wondered for the many-ith time; had she done the right thing?
The truth had been fogged.
As a young woman in a far village, Caris had known Dieth but dismissed him as a childish goof. Her love was for the masculine Ulto. But a hunting accident had taken Ulto’s life early, and she had fallen into dark mourning. She had spent her days sulking over the loss of her beloved, vowing she could never be happy again. She had submerged herself in a morass of self-pity.
The following season the jolly young hunter Dieth had bid on her. Ugh. Caris detested the silly boy, but in an act of suffering self-sacrifice, she had agreed. Undeterred by her withdrawn behavior, he had treated her with loving courtesy. His natural thoughtfulness, gentle embrace, and respect for her opinions surprised her. Unexpectedly, she found herself eager for the affection of her bonded. And, by the time she’d delivered a child, she was deeply in love with him. The joyful, healthy girl child brought fountains of pleasure to her parents’ life and bound them even closer.
But tragedy struck. With the swiftness of the wind, their daughter had become sick, and her eyesight was gone. As was custom, the village Wise One suggested that the baby be given to the Water God. Horrified, they’d fled—following Bront and Sodi into exile.
Caris made up a story that Dethina had crawled out of the pond by herself to silence the curiosity of any inquisitive traveler who might question her existence. Most mountain people would be too intimidated to question a god’s decision.
When Caris reached the last rise before she would lose sight of the huts, she turned around. Laiden had seated himself comfortably next to Dethina, and they were fully engaged in conversation.
“What happened to your arm?” Dethina asked.
“I was scouting with some mountain hunters when a deer came in view. The youngest member of their group got excited and shot wildly. His arrow skimmed my arm.”
Dethina nodded. “A poor shot.”
“Yes. I was lucky; it could have been worse.”
Dethina reached for his arm and lightly rubbed the fresh wound.
“It’s healing properly?”
“I think so. It’s much better than it was.” Laiden froze; he liked the feel of her touch. Maybe if he sat still she would continue the soft strokes.
By the time Caris returned with the grass seeds, Laiden was telling Dethina wandering stories.
“The endless water goes on and on forever. Some men have taken their skiffs and traveled for many days. But when they return, all that they report seeing is more water.” Laiden told Dethina. “The Sea God is constantly trying to climb onto land. Over and over, his hands of water reach out of the sea, but when they grasp the shore, they can’t hold on and his body runs back into the ocean. Sometimes he’s angry and fights fearsomely to get out. Other times, he’s exhausted from the fight and merely looks at the shore.”
“Do any people live near the shore?”
“Oh yes. Many villages survive along the coast. The sea provides lots of food.”
“How many days walk to the endless water?”
Laiden rubbed his chin. “From here, I’m not sure what the most direct route would be. Half a moon maybe.”
“Is that where you’ll wander to next?”
“I’ve already been to the coast,” he said thoughtfully. “You’d have to like fish to be happy there. They eat a lot of it. Have you ever tried fish? I haven’t seen any in your ponds.”
Dethina shook her head. “No. I’ve heard of it, but never had any. It would have be be brought in by a trader.”
Laiden chuckled, “Don’t worry. You’re not missing anything. I don’t really care for it.”
For some unaccountable reason that seemed to make Dethina happy and she smiled.
After the ladies had retired to their hut for the night, Caris noticed that Dethina was unusually quiet until she finally asked, “Mother, do you think he’ll stay?”
Caris’s heart ached for her daughter. “He’s been wandering. Most likely he’ll continue his journey once the men return,” she responded honestly.
After some moments, Dethina agreed. “Yes,” she said softly. And through the darkness, Caris heard the sadness in her voice.
Dethina lay still in the fur blankets. She heard Laiden breaking sticks for the fire. Unconsciously, she could tell from the high-pitched snap that the sticks were small, little more than twigs. They would produce a small fire—not a big one meant for warmth but a talking fire to sit around for entertainment or to pass the time at night. She wished she were still talking to him. She was sorry that she had come inside when her mother had.
If she were honest, she would admit something unexpected, almost alarming, had happened earlier. She had intended to embarrass and humble the arrogant man. Instead as soon as she touched him her anger fled. A desire to examine him overwhelmed her; she wanted to explore his hands, face, and body. With every stroke of her fingers, she became more curious. She had been pleased for the excuse to touch him. And—she couldn’t be sure—had he enjoyed it? He had remained still, without objection, as her fingers skimmed over him.
She was breathing quickly. The fur blankets suddenly seemed so warm.
Chapter 3
When Dethina woke the next morning, she remained quiet on her sleeping mat and relived the previous day. She’d had a wonderful time with the newcomer. He’d brought the outside land alive for her. She had smelled the salty brine of the endless water, and feel the cold of Brumal. She could visualize far off places and taste foods that she’s never heard of before.
And she liked the timbre of his voice. She took some slow sad breathes. He would be leaving soon. Like the migrating birds, his stay was only temporary.
Once outside the hut, Dethina sensed his absence.
“Is he gone?” she asked her mother.
“No. His sleeping mat is still here.”
Dethina felt relieved. She resolved to squeeze every happy memory out of his stay.
Laiden returned from his early morning wandering. “Good morning,” he said as he drew near. He noticed the expression of pleasure on Dethina’s face. Not a coy come hither look, but a sincere smile. His own lips responded in an unconscious grin.
“I have something to show you…” He trailed off—show was a poor word choice. “I, uh…”
Dethina eased the awkwardness quickly. “I understand what you mean. That’s just an expression. Show me what you have,” she said eagerly as she held out a hand.
“After we’ve eaten,” he teased. “I see Caris has made a morning meal, and I’m hungry.”
When the meal was over, Caris said, “Sodi and I are going to the upper meadow. Do you want to come, Dethina?”
“I’ll stay and work on the elk skin. I’m alm
ost finished,” she answered.
When Caris had gone, Dethina turned to Laiden. “What do you have?”
Laiden produced a feather longer than his hand. He waved a few strokes, fanning the air in front of her face. “See if you can guess.” He ran the soft feather vane up her neck and over her chin. He wanted to produce in Dethina the same sensation that she had conjured in him.
Her head rolled in unconscious pleasure from side to side as he lightly tickled her face with the fragile plume. Laiden smiled in satisfaction at her uninhibited response. He pulled the feather back. “I had to climb a tree for this,” he said flirtatiously.
“I take it you didn’t fall. Then it was good practice for you,” she retorted.
He laughed. “I risk life and limb, and that’s all the thanks I get. Spirits.”
“No. In return, I’ll take you to a secret place.”
“Really. Now?” He stuck the feather behind her ear.
Although she couldn’t see, she directed her face toward the sun, gauging its warmth. “No. Not yet.”
So Laiden told Dethina about the playful otters that lived on the banks of the mountain rivers. She laughed as he described their silly antics until she said, “It’s time.”
They traveled silently. Dethina seemed in a reverent mood. Tapping her stick, she walked with secure confidence. Eventually, they came to a dry riverbed that joined from a different direction then the other gullies. The sand that had washed down was different, fine and white.
“My father doesn’t like me to come here,” she admitted. They worked their way down to the bottom of the ravine. “Lie down,” Dethina instructed.
“Huh?”
“Lie down. This is special sand. It’s soft and feels good.”
Laiden felt silly but did as she directed.
“Take your shirt off,” she continued. “You can take your shorts off too if you want.” Laiden removed his shirt.
“I can see why your father would object to your coming here and lying in the sand. It could be very dangerous if it rains at a higher elevation and the water rushes down.”