placing it into your hand. You hold it awkwardly, pursing your lips. Your eyes flit from the pouch to my face. “It’s honey. I gathered it last summer from several hives I was able to find—”
“No, thank you.” You hold it out for me to take it back, but I hesitate.
“It’s a gift,” I say. I feel my face flush, but I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger.
So much labor went into collecting this small pouch of honey. Every day last summer I got out of bed early, chanted prayers to the Divine and the Spirit of bees, and went in search of hives. The first I found easily—it was closest to the meadow—but the process of extracting the honey can be difficult and dangerous. Once the hive is found, the bees need to be sedated with smoke. That first hive was in a cluster of half-dead dwarf birch, surrounded by dry brush. I had to haul green kindling from young growth closer to camp. It took hours of effort, and yielded only small amounts of honey. That process had to be repeated over and over again.
“We have honey at home. Here in the north, honey must be extremely scarce. You should keep what you have for yourselves.”
I swallow and take a deep breath before I reply, striving to keep the anger from my voice. “I know our ways may be unfamiliar to you,” I say, thinking of the way you’d withdrawn at the start of the singing before the meal. “But I assure you, we don’t live in a barren wasteland. This may not be the lush south, but there’s plenty of honey on this side of the mountains. Finding it just demands a bit more patience.”
Behind me I hear laughter. I turn to find your brother, sister, and Pek just a few paces away. I take the honey from your hand and hold it behind my back, hoping that the others won’t notice it.
I’ve suffered enough humiliation for one day.
I know I should stand in the doorway and exchange pleasantries with your brother and sister, but in this instant, my sense of social custom is no match for my pride. I nod and say a hasty good night.
Still, I can’t quite drag myself away, and I duck into the shadows between two huts as your brother and Pek wish each other a restful night. I hear your sister offer a brief but sweet word of thanks to Pek for a lovely day. Then Pek walks right past me, under such a spell he doesn’t even notice I am here.
Once Pek is gone, I can’t help but notice the voice of your brother, Chev. His words are muffled, but if I didn’t know better I would think he was scolding Seeri, but that can’t be right. I assume he must be chastising you for staying away from the meal. After a murmured response, I hear a question quite clearly. It’s your sister’s voice, and she asks what you and I were talking about just now.
I know better than to listen in on other people’s conversations, and the answer you give your sister is the punishment I deserve for doing something I know is wrong.
“He came to offer me a gift—a pouch of honey he’d collected.”
“That’s so generous—” Seeri starts, her voice lilting and light. I can tell she’s happy for you. But you cut her off.
“I refused it. At home I can gather my own honey. I won’t let some stranger think he can buy me with his.”
I stalk back to our hut, each breath laboring against a heavy knot of anger that presses down on my chest, your mocking words thrumming in my head. To push the sound of your voice from my mind, I hum the tune to the love song I just heard my brother Pek sing.
I know my parents are hoping this visit leads to a new friendship between our two clans. Silently, I thank the Divine for Pek and Seeri.
SIX
I wake in the dark to Pek shaking my shoulders. I had been dreaming, and though the dream fades quickly, a haze of dread colors my thoughts—it must have been a nightmare.
“Come on,” Pek says, clearly irritated. With Pek, a bad mood is unusual, but after yesterday, it’s all but impossible. What could have happened? Behind Pek I notice Kesh is already dressed and pulling on his boots. A gust of wind rattles in the vent overhead, and the shrill sound, like the