Today is the second day of terrible weather, which means we are plowing ahead with the next day of festivities—Song Day. It’s a mix of Christmas caroling and summer camp, as we are all hanging around by the blazing fire, roasting food on skewers and singing whatever songs come to mind. The sa-khui are terrible, tone-deaf singers and don’t have many songs that aren’t completely made up on the spot, so most of the actual singing falls back to the humans. It’s all fun, though. Everyone loved it when Tiffany sang ‘Ave Maria’ (perfectly, of course, because Tiffany is flawless) and they are currently enjoying Liz’s Batman version of ‘Jingle Bells.’ She and Josie are playing a game of one-up on who can think of the most annoying song, because between the two of them we’ve heard ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’ and ‘Henry the Eighth’ and ‘This is the Song that Never Ends,’ which the sa-khui found utterly hilarious. I’m having fun…or at least I was until the newest present showed up.

This is gift number four. Gift number two was a pouch of tea, and gift number three, a carved comb for my hair. I take the gift from Farli and hold it up, showing Ereven from across the fire where he sits next to Vektal and Georgie. He just shakes his head and laughs, amused at my frustration.

For a bit, I thought that Ereven was sneakily being the one providing gifts, but he’s been too surprised with each reveal, and it made me realize pretty quickly that it’s not him. It’s someone else, and no one’s coming forward. But who, and why? Frustrated, I pull open the tie on the pouch, acutely aware of the fact that a dozen people are watching me with interest. It’s a small tribe, and the gossip will be all over every hut before the hour is over. I peer inside, and the smell of toffee hits me. “Hraku seeds,” I announce. “Whoever it is, thank you.”

“Share the wealth,” Josie announces, making grabby hands at me.

I gladly hand them over to her. Josie’s having pregnancy cravings like mad and loves sweets. Stacy’s been trying to keep her supplied with things to munch on, but Josie’s been hoovering them up faster than Stacy can cook. “They’re all yours.”

“Oh, but it’s your gift. I only want a few.” She hesitates.

“I’m sure my gift-giver won’t mind me sharing with the tribe,” I say with a big smile, acting pleased that I’ve received another gift. In truth, it bugs me. I don’t like feeling beholden to anyone, and the fact that I’m getting all these gifts makes me worry what I’m overlooking. I’m afraid I’m going to turn around one day and someone will be there with their hand outstretched, expecting a favor or a gift of their own in return.

“I’ll get my skillet,” Stacy says with a grin, getting up from her seat by the fire next to her mate and child. “I suppose if we’re having a bonfire, we should have the Not-Hoth version of s’mores, too.”

Josie squeals with excitement. “Yay!”

“Who sings next?” someone asks.

“I will,” Megan says, standing up. She clears her throat dramatically and puts a hand out in front of her like an opera singer. “Me me me me me,” she sings, warming up. People giggle at her theatrics.

Her mate Cashol nods. “It is a simple song, but I like it. The words are easy to remember.”

“That’s not the song, babe.” She winks at him and then begins to sing the Hokey Pokey, complete with movements. A few people groan, but Esha and Sessah love it, moving along with Megan as she sings.

Stacy returns by the end of the song, and Georgie gets to her feet. “I just want to say how great the celebrations have been so far, and we have Claire to thank for it.” She claps her hands, and then everyone is clapping for me. It’s a gesture the sa-khui aren’t too familiar with, judging by the awkward smacks of their hands together, but the smiles and nods are universal.

“It’s nothing, really,” I say, feeling shy. “And Asha’s been such a big help.” I look around the fire for her, but she still hasn’t joined the group. Huh. I went to her house this morning, but Farli said she was sleeping in and she’d be along shortly. It’s been hours. Now I feel like the worst friend ever because I’ve been having fun and didn’t notice that she was missing. Is something wrong, I wonder? I look for her ex, but I don’t see Hemalo either.

And now I begin to worry. That’s not a good sign. I worry they’ve argued and Asha’s fragile happiness has disappeared again.

I get up and murmur something about heading to the ladies’ room, patting my belly as an excuse, and then head out into the village, making a beeline for Asha’s little house. There’s no smoke curl coming out of the teepee roof—no surprise given that everyone’s at the bonfire today—but it’s also super cold, which makes me worry about her. If I feel like my breath is crystallizing into ice in my lungs away from the warmth of the fire, it can’t feel much better for her. It’s more than that, though. She’s my friend, and I hate the thought of her being miserable when everyone else is having so much joy right now.

The privacy flap is over the door of the hut, and I hesitate, sa-khui etiquette ingrained in my brain. It’s the height of rudeness to speak to someone through the thing, but at the same time…she might need a friend. I drag my fingers over the edge of the flap, scratching at it in the alien way of ‘knocking.’ “Hello?” I call softly. “Asha, are you in there? It’s me, Claire.”

There’s a noise from within, but it doesn’t quite sound like a “come in.” I decide I’m going to interpret it as just that and claim poor human hearing if she gets upset. I push my way inside and glance around.

Asha’s here, all right. It’s bitterly cold inside, and the room is dark. She’s not sleeping, though. She’s seated in her furs, staring up at the roof, where a large gap has broken in the stitching of the hides that make up the teepee.

“Did that just happen?” I ask, moving to stand near her bedding. “Should I go get someone?”

“It has been that way for days,” Asha says in a curiously mild voice, almost as if she is half-asleep. “It is fine.”

Is it? I eye the hole and then look down at her. She doesn’t look upset, but has a thoughtful expression on her face. Her hair is braided and smooth, and she’s wearing her favorite tunic, which tells me that she hasn’t just woken up. “Are you feeling all right?”

She nods after a moment and then glances over at me.

“Can I sit?”

“Of course.” She moves over a little and pats the furs.

It’s no easy task to get my increasingly ungainly body down on the floor and into the pile of furs, but I manage it with her assistance. I tuck my legs under me and glance up at the hole that she’s watching, wondering what I’m supposed to see. “Did you…need another smoke hole?” I ask, teasing.

She looks over at me, startled, then laughs. “No, no smoke hole. It is just a mistake.” She sighs heavily and then glances down, rubbing her face. I notice that her hand—strikingly long and elegant compared to my own small one—is trembling.

My concern for her intensifies. “Asha, what is it?” I touch her arm. “What’s wrong?” When she hesitates, I say, “You can tell me, you know. I’m your friend. I won’t say anything to anyone if you don’t want me to.”

She nods slowly and looks down at her lap, clasping her hands there. “It is not a bad thing, Claire. Do not worry. I just…I do not know what to think of it.”

“What is it? Can you tell me?” I think of her missing mate. “Is it Hemalo? Did you fight?”

Asha gives a small snort. “I wish. We…” She glances down, takes a deep breath, and then looks over at me. “We resonated again.”

I sit back, rocked by this reveal. Holy cow. “Oh, girl.” I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “You must be a mess right now.”

She sniffs and then swipes at her face, brushing away tears with her free hand. “I like that you are not telling me to be excited. Any sa-khui would tell me that I should be pleased.”