Page 10 of The Barbarian's Claim
“Tell me why you don’t speak,” Einar demanded.
I’d spoken too soon. Jerking my gaze up from where I’d been staring off into the fire, I frowned at him. He hadn’t asked me to talk to him since we met. I wasn’t sure why he was asking now.
He glanced up from his work only for a second to give me a look that said he wasn’t going to let it go. I bit my lip, frowning at my feet while I tried to work out the shortest way to explain myself.
“I-I c-c-can’t.”
“Why?” he demanded again.
I shook my head. I didn’t know how to answer that. I knew what I wanted to say. In the common tongue, I could understand most of what people were saying to me, though I struggled sometimes to follow along with more complicated subjects. I just couldn’t get the words out. They got caught in my throat and jumbled together, coming out all shaky. Some words I couldn’t say at all. They just wouldn’t come out.
“Do you understand my words?”
I nodded uneasily. If he was talking about when he spoke in the common language, then yes. I understood him fine. He was always short and to the point when speaking to me. He didn’t say things that made no sense. But if he was talking about his language, then the answer was no. Despite Finn’s success with the other tributes, I still didn’t understand. I was never great with book learning. I wasn’t that smart, and I hadn’t gotten to go to school for very long. Maybe I would’ve done better if I’d been raised by my parents, but who knew?
He watched me for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Do you fear me?”
I shook my head rapidly. I wasn’t afraid of him. He made me feel safe.
He grunted in response to that and went back to his work. I considered going to the tent to escape the line of questioning,but I didn’t like being all alone in there. I’d rather stay with Einar.
“Have you always spoken this way?”
This time, I shook my head slowly. It’d been a long time, but I hadn’t always struggled to speak.
“How long has it been?”
I couldn’t get away with nonverbal replies this time, so I forced myself to speak again. “Y-years. S-since the f-f-fire.”
The fire that had killed my entire family. Every single person. Except me.
Seven
EINAR
His words trembled, not from fear, but from something he could not explain. I could see it on his face when I asked. He didn’t know the answer, only that it wasn’t always this way. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment over his condition, which was probably why he refused to even try. Better to stay silent so no one else knew.
“You need not hide it from me. I will not shame you for it,” I murmured, turning my focus back to our food. I would need to get vegetables from Yamileth, but I had the things needed to make bread. It wasn’t much, but I preferred it.
For a long while, he was quiet, but it didn’t feel as though he was upset. He relaxed after I stopped asking him questions and seemed content to watch me and stick close, resting his chin on his knees. When I started preparing the fire for cooking, he sat up, looking at me curiously. I knew he wanted an explanation, but if he struggled with words, he probably needed more practice. Everything in life required practice. I decided that solong as we were alone, if he wanted to ask a question, he would use his words.
He shot me a questioning look, and I raised my eyebrow at him, waiting. He bit his lip, his brows drawn together, and it took him a moment to find the words.
“W-w-wh—” He sighed, and a small whimper escaped him. When he looked at me, it was with a pleading expression, begging me not to force him.
“Try again. Take your time. We are in no hurry.”
I was not normally this patient, but I knew what it was like to be seen as different by others. People could be cruel. I refused to do that to him or anyone else just because they weren’t like me.
He tried again, taking a deep breath first. “W-w-what are you d-doing?”
Tipping my head toward the Y-shaped branches I’d stabbed into the ground on either side of the fire, I explained. “I will turn the korzak over the fire to cook it evenly. The sticks hold it over the flames, and a small pot goes underneath to catch the drippings for later.”
I wasted as little as I could while hunting. Everything had a purpose. A use. Even the parts of the animal I could not eat could be used to lure prey for the next hunt. While I prepared the bird for cooking, I looked over my shoulder at him.
“What of my mother tongue?”
He bit his lip, dropping his gaze. I’d heard of some tributes refusing to learn. They purposely made life more difficult just to spite their protectors. That image didn’t suit him, though. He was eager to comply when asked to do something. I couldn’t see him fighting learning the language, even if it was difficult for him to say the words out loud.
