Page 33 of The Weaver

Smiling sheepishly, Ahmya said, “You’re just jealous you don’t have someone braiding your hair.”

“Maybe I am.” Lacey twisted her hair up, lifting it off her neck, and fanned herself with a hand. “It’s so humid that I’m thinking about chopping it all off.”

“I’ve considered cutting mine too.”

Rekosh raised a free hand, displaying his claws. “I will cutLacey’s hair now. Very fast. But you must keep yours, Ahmya. It is too pretty to cut.”

Lacey looked at Rekosh drolly. “Wow. Thanks. Rude.” She dropped her hair and bent down, picking up her full basket. “Guess I’ll take my ugly hair and go.”

Ahmya gaped. “Your hair isn’t ugly at all!”

“Not ugly,” Rekosh agreed. “Telok likes your fire hair.”

Rolling her eyes, Lacey said, “Seems to be the only thing he likes.”

“So I did hearhyu-nanz,” Okkor said in vrix, drawing Ahmya’s attention toward him. The thornskull approached with an easy stride, his green hide blending well with the surrounding vegetation. He carried two baskets, each laden with fruits, vegetables, and mushrooms, including many round, white moonblossom fruits.

“Two full baskets?” Lacey remarked. “Someone’s showing off.”

Rekosh chittered and said in vrix, “The Tangle is bountiful today.”

“It is true under cloud and leaf,” Okkor replied. “But rain scent dances on the air, weaver. I return to our wild den to make ready for what may come.”

A soft hum escaped Rekosh. “A wise choice.”

Okkor continued past them, walking toward the camp. “Come soon, weaver. You may share words while we wait out the coming rain. Then we will know if your words fall faster than raindrops.”

“It would take quite the storm to outmatch me, Okkor.”

“Is he heading back to camp?” Lacey asked.

“Yes,” Ahmya replied.

“Oh hey, wait up!” Lacey snatched up her basket and hurried after Okkor. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m all full, so I’m going to go back with him.”

Ahmya chuckled. “Okay. We’ll probably do the same soon,since my basket is almost full as well. See you there!”

“Good journey,” Rekosh said, perhaps a little too pleasantly.

Balancing the basket on her hip precariously, Lacey raised her hand and waved.

Okkor slowed, waiting for Lacey to reach him, and chittered softly. “Stay close,hyu-nan.”

She gave him a thumbs up, then spat a curse as her off-balance basket nearly tipped. Ahmya covered her mouth and watched as Lacey stumbled forward a few steps, somehow managing to keep anything from falling out of her basket.

“All good,” Lacey shouted once she’d recovered. She and Okkor were soon out of sight.

Rekosh’s fingers moved as he finished the braid. He tied something around it, hesitated, and then stepped back. “Done,vi’keishi. Beautiful, as always.”

Warmth flooded Ahmya’s cheeks. As she turned toward him, she ran her hand over her hair and paused. “Oh my gosh. Rekosh…” She lifted her other hand and traced the design with her fingertips. “This is…”

The pattern he’d woven her hair into was so intricate, so elegant, that Ahmya couldn’t believe he’d created it that quickly. When she reached the tail of the braid, she pulled it over her shoulder. The end was tied off with red silk, bright against her black hair.

Ahmya couldn’t help but wonder if this was a small claim on his part—his color, his mark.

Rekosh trilled. “You are pleased?”

She looked up and smiled widely at him. “I wish I could see it.”

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