Chapter 17

Loris and Morg: The Patrol 1

"Will the rest of you just shut up!" he shouted. "How can I find out what happened if you confuse her?"

It took a few heavy blows and more than one toss in the river (Never make a fuss at a party.) before they let the two of them be.

"They ... they ... they ... came from ... from ... Oh ... you'll think I'm cr ... cra ... crazy or ly ... lying." She shook herself ... shivering. "Tossing me in the water wasn't very kind."

"It got you out of your panic," he said. "Come with me."

Led to the lodge, he motioned her inside.

"I can't ... we're not mated. And don't give me that look. You're too young."

"Stay!" he commanded ... like she was a puppy. He went inside and brought out dry furs and a drying fur. "Get out of those dripping furs."

"Oh, you'd like that ... I've seen you ... looking at my ... But..." She looked up ... he was gone.

From inside the lodge she heard him say, "Get dry and dressed. I have things I need." Two lazy backs, a pair of bottom furs and two sleeping robes were tossed out the door. Wood from the dry storage and a leather bag of meat followed. "I'll be out in a moment ... are you dressed?"

"Oh shit ... NO! wait." She slid around the side of the lodge and shucked. She stepped out to gather the drying fur and wrap. "My belt..."

One flew out the door.

"Moccasins too ... and your girding skin!" A dry pair and a clean girding ... it was a woman's girding. The mocs fit. They were even lightly embroidered. The stitching was better than she could do ... such tiny holes.

"I'm coming out."

She shrugged the dry fir over her head and settled it past her hips.

She was standing there with the girding in her hand...

"It's never been worn ... you're not wearing others cast offs..." He grinned, "And it's no trophy."

"Oh."

He arranged the rocks from the cooking pit ... added wood and ducked back in to retrieve a burning brand. Very soon there was a nice fire. He set up the tripods and hooked the lazy backs. He slid the nose of one of the furs over the tripod pole and said, "Sit." Just he would say to a pup in training. "Sit!" It was a command.

She sat.

"Lean over here." He held a second drying fur in his hands ... she hesitated. He reached out with the drying fur and started rubbing her hair, "Stubborn ... hard headed ... difficult ... women!"

"Don't! Don't maul me!"

"Cooperate and I won't have to. Lean into my hands. Yes, like that."

He reached into a pocket...

'Pocket?' How did she know that word?

... and pulled out a brush.

She was in heaven. He even knew to start brushing at the ends ... no jerking ... untangled the snarls and brushed ... and brushed. He pushed her hands aside and braided both sides ... tight. Like a husband.

He set up his lazy back so they were side by side but facing each other ... left hip to right hip.

"Tell me." He held her soiled girding in his lap. The blood spots showed. She reached for it. "Tell me."

"I was gathering wood ... several of us went ... we stay together ... for safety. The man who usually goes said he'd catch up. We've been here a long time ... the dangerous animals come seldom. I think so many have died they are afraid. The guards are a little ... lax. We were farther out because the close wood is gone. I saw a likely ... there was a lot. I wanted a real load ... pride ... women have their skills ... like men have hunting ... pride.

"They weren't ... and they were. His mouth opened and sounds I'd never heard came out. He pointed ... something and I couldn't move ... he took me ... in the manner of a husband taking a wife ... it hurt ... a lot. They watched and laughed."

"When was your last moon?"

Before she even thought she automatically said, "14 suns." 'What is 14?' 'How does this boy child know women's secrets?'

In answer to the unspoken, he said, "14 is this many," he held up the fingers and thumbs of both hands and then the fingers of one hand. Then he held up one finger and said, "One," ... two fingers, "Two," then, "Three, Four, Five." A second hand, "Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten." He pointed at her finger, "Eleven. My Ten and your one is Eleven."

She held out four fingers, "Your Ten and my four is fourteen. Why is Ten and One, Eleven? Oh ... I see ... it's just a name. What comes next?"

"Unless we're very very lucky ... You have a baby."

Loris and Morg

Old Man with a Pen