As we settle near the fire with our bowls, Claire stifles a yawn. “So tomorrow we go out and start talking to everyone about the Secret Gifting celebration, right?”

I nod. “It will give people time to prepare their gifts. Even small ones must be created by hand, and everyone will want to participate and make sure their tribesmate receives things they will enjoy.”

She chews, nodding her head. “We can start telling people about it, hit up the hunters when they come back, and then start the celebrations at the beginning of the next moon. We’ll start with Decorating Day, and then we can stagger the other days as the weather permits.”

“It sounds good.” I hold up my bowl. “This is good, too. Thank you for sharing.”

Her smile is shy but proud. “It makes the food go further, and I don’t put in too many roots because I know Ereven isn’t a fan of them. And I like the company. It gets lonely when my mate is out on the trails all night.”

I am absurdly pleased that she enjoys my company. I have enjoyed the day spent with Claire. She is quiet and thoughtful, unlike some of the other humans, and genuinely wants my opinions. She makes me feel…needed. Perhaps Hemalo is not the only one that has felt lost all this time. “It is good to have a friend,” I tell her, and when she agrees, I think I am not the only one that feels this way. We chat quietly over the food, and then spend a bit of time sewing by the fire, until Claire’s yawns become more frequent. I send her off to her furs and promise I will be back early in the morning so we can start on our plans.

When I leave her house, I am happy. It feels strange and yet welcome to have a purpose—and a friend—again. The other humans have been friendly, of course, and my own tribesmates would perhaps not understand the difference between merely lingering by the fire next to others, and feeling truly and genuinely welcomed.

Or perhaps it has all been in my mind all this time. It is hard to say.

I return to my own little howse and find the fire is nothing but embers. Farli has not returned, and probably will not until the hunters do. Even though I complain about her company and that of her smelly pet, it feels too quiet to be here by myself. The temperature is bitingly cold, but since I am the only one in the howse, it seems a waste to make a fire for only one sa-khui. I pull a few extra furs out of my store, pile them onto my bed, and crawl under them, waiting for my body heat to warm the blankets.

As I do, I stare up at the ceiling. In the darkness, I can just make out the thick stitching on the seams, where the hides have been pulled together tightly and made to form one large covering. I think of how good I feel, how I am humming with plans and thoughts, not sadness. And I think of Hemalo and how he needs to feel needed. How I have not given that to him. How strained things are between us.

I get up out of bed, move to the wall, where the teepee top is tightly lashed down, and begin to pick the seams apart.

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5

HEMALO

There is a mental calmness to working my skins. The vigorous twisting of a hard hide to make it soft, the endless rubbing of brains onto the surface, the scraping of hair. The silent weave of an awl as it guides cord through punched holes. I enjoy my task. It lets my mind settle, even when it is full of chaos. I barely notice the hour, only that the sunlight is beginning to fade. A shadow falls over my hands, making it impossible to see the tiny holes for stitches, when someone approaches and stands behind me in my leatherworking hut.

I glance up and am surprised to see Asha and the human Claire.

They stand together, Claire’s strange human face wreathed in smiles. Asha wears a smile as well, but hers is warier, more cautious. It makes my heart ache to see. She is my mate. She should never be afraid to show her feelings near me. “How can I help you?” I ask, keeping my voice level and calm, as if it is nothing to have my once-mate and a friend show up as I work.

Claire looks at Asha and then steps forward. “We wanted to talk to you about the upcoming holidays.”

“Haw-lee-dehz?” I echo. “We are doing that again so soon? I thought it was for a special occasion?” I remember how Asha hated the last round of celebrations. How noisy and happy all the human females were. It seems like it was only a few turns of the moons ago.

The human looks crestfallen that I am not excited at the prospect. “Oh. Well, yes, it was not too long ago, but we thought everyone might need a little something to look forward to in order to break up the monotony of the brutal season.”

She is bored? Does she think there is not enough to do? I give a wry look to the piles and piles of hides I have waiting to be worked. There has been such demand for blankets and clothing and hides for the roofs of the new howses that even my seemingly endless supply has dwindled. There are even one or two tribesmates just waiting to have a roof for their howse. There is so much to do that I cannot imagine taking the time out to play games. “If someone is bored, it is because they need to work harder.”

“Oh.” Claire’s voice is very small. “Of course. I’m sorry we bothered you.”

“Wait, Claire.” Asha’s arm goes around the smaller human’s shoulders. She glares at me, all defiance. “This is not about you, Hemalo. You might be happy trapped in here with your piles of smelly hides, but not everyone is. This is about everyone in the tribe.”

I am surprised. In the last few moons, Asha has had difficulty rousing herself to care about anything. Now she is lecturing me on tribe unity? Even though I am irritated at this sudden change, I am also fascinated at the demeanor of my mate. She is no longer listless and miserable, her eyes and her very spirit seemingly faded. Her eyes snap at me with irritation, and the hug she gives Claire is protective. There is a strength and confidence in her that I have missed seeing for a very long time.

She is beautiful, my Asha. Fiery and beautiful.

“Very well, then,” I murmur. “Tell me about your haw-lee-dehz.”

Asha’s chin goes up, a challenging look on her face. “Are you going to listen or have you already made up your mind?”

She knows me well, my once-mate. I cannot help but smile and gesture at an open spot on the floor between spread-out skins. “You can sit and tell me about it as I work. I promise I will listen to everything you say.”

“Good,” Asha says, a little imperiously, and I have to bite back an even wider smile. Some of the hunters find Asha’s attitude irritating, but I have always loved how strong and sure she is. I do not mind if she is thorny. Her challenging nature is one of the things I love about her, and one of the things I have missed the most.

She shepherds Claire over to the empty spot on the floor and then sits next to her. When Claire hesitates, Asha gives her an encouraging gesture, indicating that she should speak. I find this fascinating. Is it Claire that is in charge of this, or is it Asha? My fierce mate seems to have adopted Claire as a friend—startling to me, considering I have rarely seen this particular human mingle with the sa-khui. She went from Bek to Ereven and seems content to let others speak. Perhaps this is why she gets along with Asha. My mate will never let others speak for her, not if she can help it.

I feel another pang of sadness in my gut. At least, that is how the old Asha would have acted. I am not sure I even know the new Asha.

Today, however, it seems like the old Asha has returned. I continue my stitching as the two females speak. Claire’s timid voice barely registers in my thoughts, though I murmur agreement to indicate I am listening. She speaks of human traditions and gift-giving and presents, but I am less interested in that than in watching my once-mate. Asha nods as Claire speaks, as if agreeing with what the human says. She occasionally adds a thought or two, and it is clear they have been hard at work thinking out this ‘No Poison’ celebration. It is also clear from the tension in Asha’s shoulders and the stiff set of her back when our eyes meet that this is important to her.