Page 138 of Planet Zero
Addie picked up the few things she’d come there for and quit the teepee. She’d had enough of Chele for the day.
???
The day had come when the warriors headed out.
The farewell was a somber occasion, for every woman knew her man had a fifty-fifty chance of coming back. None displayed their emotions; the faces surrounding Addie could have been etched from stone.
There was Qalae, standing next to her mate Net’ok, wearing a bored expression, but whose dry burning eyes tracked the red-headed Oh’nil’s every move. The timid Oma, looking frightened. Vircea, chewing on her lip until it bled. This goodbye did not come easy for any of them. Only Illied stood next to her mate Klarm looking like the cat that got the cream. Addie didn’t know why Klarm had been chosen to stay behind, but wouldn’t put it past Illied to have plotted some intrigue.
The High Counselor was customarily verbose and meaningless. He droned on and on with his arms raised to the sky, the ever-present stick clutched tightly in one fist, as the warriors stomped their feet impatiently, ready to get going. They would be marching north, the Olzol Mountains to their backs, based on the information the scouts had delivered.
Zoark rolled his massive shoulders, shared a brief look with Oh’nil, and, without speaking, turned and started walking. The men snapped into motion after them, leaving Chemmusaayl preaching to the women.
Addie’s heart pinched painfully as she watched the throng of their warriors snake around the boulders and disappear from view, but she chased the worry away.He would return to her. She had to have faith. Of so many people she lost, Zoark was not going to be one.
It had become her religion.
The next two days passed slowly. How different their settlement felt without men occupying it! And how strange that, although they often left for prolonged hunts, now their absence felt a hundred times more keenly.
The women occupied themselves with tasks. They made pottery, weaved baskets, and wove flaxen ropes. They worked in groups but there was little talking.
At night, when dinnertime came, they sat around in front of the chief’s teepee, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Once, Vircea played the flute, and it was sad and beautiful, but the High Counselor came and chased her away, afraid the music would attract predators. Qalae glared at him but made no move to interfere.
The queen started carrying a long sharp knife strapped to her waist, and she looked like she was perfectly capable of using this weapon as well as, if not better than, most men.
By the end of the third day, Addie run out of clay for the pottery she tackled with vengeance and went to a place where a low hill allowed easy access to the dry material she needed. The trip also gave her a good excuse to pick plants with antimicrobial and antibacterial properties. When the men returned, there was no telling what kind of treatment they might need.
She picked some clay and herbs, but nothing was good quality or in the quantities she needed. Addie sat down to rest, contemplating going farther out. It would be against the chief’s orders, and she didn’t feel like going anyway. She was tired, her pregnancy slowing her down. She hadn't slept well since Zoark left, and when she did manage to fall asleep, dreams of Earth returned. They were disturbing dreams, full of foreboding, the two realities overlapping, and she would find herself back home, chased by the Wrennlins in her paved, orderly neighborhood.
Sensing someone approaching, she got a hold of her knife, knowing from experience how pathetically late she always was at recognizing a threat.
Qalae stepped into view. “You need to improve your awareness,” she chided Addie. “How do you expect to protect your child if you can’t hear anything?”
“I can hear,” Addie argued, piqued.
Qalae gave her a knowing look and sat down next to Addie. “It’s been three days,” she said conversationally.
Addie nodded.
At this very moment, their men might be fighting. Blood would be flowing. People would be dying. There would be roars of anger and screams of agony, loud clacks of wooden clubs and the whistling of stone axes as they lowered down, propelled by straining muscles.
Addie looked around. The steppe around her looked peaceful and quiet. A light wind rustled the vegetation, and the Queen’s Yuux chirped at Ihr and Ehr.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think.
She cleared her throat. “I have your poison,” she fished in her sack and pulled out a little pouch.
Qalae looked surprised. “How do you always know I would come?”
Addie smiled, but the smile didn’t stay. “You always catch me at the most unexpected times. I’ve been carrying your pouches with me, just in case.”
Qalae slowly took the pouch from Addie and fingered it, twirling it in her fingers. “I’ve come to a decision, Addie,” she said. “You’ve been right all along. I haven’t been doing the right thing. My circumstances and my desires have been pulling me apart on the inside. I can’t live like that.”
She lightly threw the pouch up in the air and caught it again. Addie waited for her to continue.
“I’ve decided to stop taking the herbs.”
Addie’s spirits fell. “Does it mean… Net’ok?”
