him to me, and give him a pretty clumsy kiss right on his lips. I don’t even need a reason. It’s just because he is the way he is, and he should know that I appreciate it. Very, very much.
Brank’ox is clearly surprised, but he soon leans into the kiss and it ends up pretty good before I disengage because I’m getting dizzy.
“You’re wonderful.”
He gives me a cute little smirk. “Perhaps sometimes. And you’re not so bad, yourself.”
I smile. “Then we agree.”
He plays on, and I lie back down. I think this has a lot of potential. Back in the village, we never had time to make instruments, although we have talked about it. Maybe this could be one of those morale-boosting things that Delyah likes. We could make all kinds of instruments. Create an orchestra.
But why think about the future? This moment right now is pretty extraordinary.
I get comfortable, glancing up at Brank’ox through half-open eyes while he plays another slow melody, one note after the other, with immense concentration. This bossy and brooding caveman has a lot of depth. So much depth, in fact, that I’m starting to worry about how I will live without it.
I close my eyes. “Keep playing, please.”
He does. Slow, primitive, and unspeakably alien melodies fill the night with a quiet intensity. I see what he means now. The music creates a bubble of its own. Above, the stars flicker. Around us, there’s a deadly jungle. But right here, there’s only us. And I am safe.
“Tomorrow I will show you my treasure,” Brank’ox says casually.
“Mhm,” I drowsily reply, letting the notes whisk me away. “Great.”
11
- Brank’ox -
Dolly’s breath goes even and deep, but remains very quick. Her head is heavy in my lap, and I’m immeasurably honored by the trust she shows me.
I pluck on the sound maker, remembering the other times I’ve played it. Always alone, not sure how my tribesmen would feel about the sacred sounds being created by someone other than the shaman. When I play, it I feel closer to the Ancestors, as if it were some kind of prayer. It gives me strength and courage too, sometimes.
I finish the final notes and quietly take the sound maker apart again, putting it back in the pouch. It’s been a long time since I’ve played it, and my fingertip has the familiar kind of soreness.
Dolly sleeps peacefully, one arm out to the side and one across her abdomen.
I hope she liked the sound. Or at least that she didn’t dislike it too much.
No, she said it was wonderful. I think she meant that.
I don’t regret showing her. Somehow, it feels easy to tell her secrets, things I’ve never told anyone else. I feel like she will accept everything without judging. And someone should see and hear this before I’m gone. I’m glad it was her.
Do I really want her to see the treasure I’ve collected? When I said that, I was overwhelmed and moved by her reaction to the sound maker. I wanted her to know my secrets. But this secret I should probably keep to myself. Well, it has been said and now I must show her. I don’t have to tell her my entire plan.
I sigh heavily.
The plan. It must be carried out. I owe the extraordinary tribe that took me in, honored me, trusted me. And was then let down by my incompetence. I owe it to Dolly to rid her of all the dragons. She’s even afraid of Kyandros, who’s supposed to be a member of our own tribe.
Yes. The plan must be carried out, even at the heavy cost. I will bear the entire cost, and that’s fair.
Dolly turns her head to the side in her sleep.
I want to punch the ground. Why can’t life be just like this forever? Why must there be all these problems that must be solved?
No, I should be deeply grateful I am allowed even this much. One happy evening like this is worth it all. It’s the Ancestors telling me I’m doing the right thing. That my plan must go forth. That I must redeem myself to be allowed to take my place among them. To be rewarded when the plan is done and I join them.
But Dolly won’t be there. How good a reward can it be, then?
Her chest rises and sinks rhythmically. Her mouth has fallen partly open. Her scent fills the air.
It all makes my own chest swell, and I smile into the darkness. Yes, I’m grateful.