Then four. Steph accompanies me to put the food down for Juth and Pak every morning, but we never see either one of them. There's always fresh footprints in the sand and the food is gone, so I know they're grabbing it. Steph's a little disappointed that we never see them.
"They camouflage," I remind her. "He's not going to show himself to you unless he wants to say hello." And knowing Juth, he doesn't want to say anything at all.
But Steph has a determined look on her face. I recognize that look. It's the one U'dron wore before he disappeared off into the hills—one of sheer determination. Juth's not gonna know what hit him when Steph finally gets her way, I suspect.
I get asked by the rest of the camp where U'dron's disappeared off to. Each time, my answer is the same. It's a hunt. That's all I offer, and it seems to satisfy. Of course it's a hunt. Everyone hunts…well, except for me, because “old” Raven said it violated her hippie principles. I'm still not eager at the thought of killing things for food, especially when everyone else is much better at it. I sit near the fire instead, scraping a skin stretched over a frame. I actually enjoy working with the leather. It's messy work, sure, but there's something so satisfying about scraping all of the gristly stuff off of the smooth side and rubbing it with fat and brain-paste to make it soft and supple. I've gotten really good at keeping all of the fur intact and making the inside nice and soft, so when someone brings a particularly nice pelt back to camp, they bring it to me. Today, Nadine's brought a hopper pelt that's white and fades to darker gray rings on the feet and tail, and so I'm working on it to make sure I keep all that pretty pattern intact.
As I work, I end up splashing a bit of brain-and-fat goo on the front of my own tunic and grimace. The weather's cold enough that it starts to freeze up on the front of my clothing, so I wipe my hands and set my work aside. "Gonna go change," I tell Angie and Hannah, who are on food duty this morning. "Watch my project for me?"
"Of course," Angie says sweetly, adjusting her baby, wrapped tight against her chest. "You want some fresh shrimp tea, too?"
"Always." I flash her a grin and then jog toward the cliffside huts. Things are still a little weird around the others. Everyone's nice, but there's definite lulls in conversation when I know they're thinking about my past and my lies, and don't know what to say. It's like going to a party and realizing that everyone knows each other but you. No matter how friendly they are, you still feel a little adrift. But the smiles seem to be genuine, and no one's said anything nasty, so I hope it's just a matter of time before things get back to normal. I wipe my hands on an old bit of scrap as I head into U'dron's hut. In the days since he's gone, I've moved all my things in here with him and merged our blankets. My tunics now hang on a hook alongside his, and I've rearranged a few things slightly to accommodate both of us. My tambourine rests atop his drum, a reminder that I miss him an aching, aching amount.
But it's only been four days. I know this sort of thing takes time. I can be patient, even if it's a little hard to sleep at night. Funny how I never needed to sleep next to anyone before, and now I lie awake in the furs, unable to relax because U'dron's out there somewhere in the cold.
I slip my tunic off and reach for one of my spares…then grab his and sniff it. Smells like him, just a little. With a smile, I put it on and belt it tight. It fits me like a dress over my leggings, but I don't care. It's not about fashion. It's about feeling close to my guy. I turn to leave the hut, my mind on U'dron, and nearly stumble off of the platform when A'tam appears nearby out of nowhere.
"Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me," I hiss, clutching at my chest like an old, frail woman. "What is your problem?"
He gives me a playful grin, his color rippling back to its normal shade