Page 43 of Circle of Days

As the woodlanders approached the shore, Han knelt down and helped them out of the water. There was ironic cheering from the other side as they stood up on dry land. Han pulled the log out of the water for their return journey.

Pia hurried them into the interior of the island so that they would be out of sight. She did not like so many people seeing where she and Han were. Once they were hidden, they greeted one another warmly, and the dogs sniffed each other warily.

They sat on the ground outside the shelter, and Pia said: “How did you find us?”

“We saw the smoke from a fire,” said Bez. “We guessed it might be you.”

Pia disliked the sound of that. “Someone else might reason the same way.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” said Bez. “We had a visit from Stam before we left. He’s still looking for you. He knows you’re with Han, but he doesn’t know where you are. He thought you might be with us in West Wood.”

“We’re in danger, though,” Pia said.

“I’m here to protect you,” said Han. “But you’re right, we need to be vigilant.”

Fell smiled at Pia and said: “Your baby is coming soon.”

“I hope so.” She checked the pigeon stew and found that the meat was cooked. “Would you like something to eat?”

They accepted eagerly.

Pia had only two bowls, so she and Han shared one while Bez and Fell had the other. The woodlanders did not use spoons but slurped from the bowl, then picked up the meat with their fingers.

It all disappeared quickly.

Bez said: “You are woodlanders now!” He grinned.

They were, Pia thought: no herd, no farm. She said: “But we have no tribe.”

Bez said: “Our tribe is your tribe.”

Pia considered that. Could they live with Bez’s people in West Wood? They would be no worse off than they were here, and they would have the protection of the tribe. But Pia thought she would not like their way of life, especially the way the women had sex with lots of men.

Han said: “What’s happening on the Great Plain?”

Bez shook his head gloomily. “There was that storm in the autumn, and it snowed at midwinter, but now there has been no rain for many days. We’re hoping there will be some good grass in the hills.”

“So the drought continues. This will be the third year.”

“Many people will not see the fourth.”

“Have you talked to my sister Joia?”

“Yes. Once again she told us when to expect the deer to migrate. I hope she’s right again.”

“How is she?”

“The same, though she speaks a lot about moving giant stones. I don’t understand why.”

Han nodded. “I do. She wants to build a stone Monument.”

“Will that end the drought?”

“Who knows?”

Bez stood up. “We have to go. It’s another half a day’s walk to our usual camping ground. Thank you for sharing your food. If we have good hunting, we will bring you venison.”

Pia said: “That would be much appreciated.”

They returned to the shore and the woodlanders crossed the river, again using the log.

Pia said: “Help me gather some fresh ferns, please.”

“Of course,” he said. “But why?”

“Childbirth can be messy.”

He was startled. “Is it happening?”

“Yes. I felt a pain earlier, and now it’s getting worse. Don’t worry, pain is normal. I’ve watched women giving birth. Pain is what we give in exchange for love.”

“Right,” he said, making an effort to remain calm; and Pia recalled that he was the youngest child in his family, and probably had not witnessed a birth. He began to gather armfuls of the ferns that grew in the damp soil beside the river.

When they returned to the shelter, she took off her tunic, to avoid getting it soiled. “Lay the ferns on the ground inside the house,” she told him. “I’ll need the fire to keep me and the baby warm, especially if this goes on into the night.”

“That long?”

“Let’s hope not.”

As soon as he had spread the ferns, Pia lay down on her side. Han knelt beside her and said: “What can I do?”

“Just stay with me, and don’t worry if I yell.”

At first she just groaned at intervals. Han patted her arm in a consoling way, but felt foolish and stopped. She said: “Keep doing that, it helps.”

Thunder was agitated. He would come into the shelter, sniff Pia, and go out again, as if seeking an explanation.

Pia began to cry out instead of groaning. She was vaguely aware of time passing, the warmth of midday and the decline of the afternoon. When the pains became severe, she knew the baby was ready to be born. She rolled over and got onto her hands and knees. “Kneel down behind me,” she said to Han.

He did so. She heard his exclamation of shock. “Oh!” he said. “I can see the baby’s head—but it’s too big, much too big!”

“Don’t worry, just get ready to hold the baby when it comes,” she said, then she yelled in pain again.

She felt the head emerge, and she knew the worst pain was past, although the birth was not yet over.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Han said triumphantly.

She felt the shoulders pass through painfully, then the rest of the baby less so.

She collapsed face down, breathing hard, as if she had been running.

A moment later the baby wailed. She turned over, carefully lifting her leg over the cord that still connected her to her child.

She smiled at Han, who was holding the tiny body in both arms and staring in wonderment.

“Well,” she said, “is it a boy or a girl?”

“I can’t tell,” he said. “Oh, of course I can. It’s a boy. How about that? A boy!”

Everything seemed like a miracle at this moment, she knew. She sat upright, and Han gave the boy into her arms.

He stopped wailing immediately, and his lips worked, as if sucking. Pia put his mouth to her nipple, and he began to suckle with surprising energy.

Pia said: “Get two long, thin shoots, and tie two knots around the cord. Then cut between the knots with a flint.”

Han looked glad to be able to do something useful. He stepped outside and quickly returned with suitable shoots. Pia said: “Tie them close to the belly.” He tied tight knots, then cut the cord.

The baby stopped sucking and fell asleep. Pia handed him to Han. “I’m so tired,” she said, and she lay down.

Han picked up one of the hare skins and wrapped it around the baby’s shoulders. “What shall we name him?” he said.

“I don’t know.”

“My father’s name was Olin.”

“I like that,” said Pia. “Olin.”

Han hugged the baby to his chest. Olin probably needed to be washed, but that could wait. He wiped the little face as gently as he could with his big hand. “Olin,” he said. “How do you like your name, Olin?” The child slept on. “Well, he doesn’t seem to object to it.”

Pia was thinking of a reply but fell asleep.

Olin changed a lot in the first few weeks of his life.

He opened his eyes, and appeared to pay attention when he saw Pia’s face or Han’s.

Sometimes he seemed to smile. He slept less in the day and longer at night.

He cried angrily when hungry, he grizzled monotonously if he was uncomfortable, and he murmured contentedly as he closed his eyes to sleep.

Each day he felt a little heavier in Pia’s arms.

Han sang to him. He told Pia that he had suddenly remembered dozens of ditties from his childhood, and he deduced that Ani must have sung them to him.

They were simple tunes, often using nonsense words, and Olin would look at him as if marveling at the sound.

Pia knew some of the songs and often joined in.

She wished she could show Olin to her mother. Yana would be so thrilled, and so proud of her daughter and her first grandchild. Yana would see Olin one day, but when? And in the meantime she was missing the thrill of watching him grow and learn.

The weather warmed toward summer, and there was no rain. One day while Pia was nursing Olin outside the house, and Han was sewing the skins of hares to make a baby blanket, she screwed up her nerve and said to Han: “I’d like to go to Riverbend before winter.”

He was startled. “I think it’s too soon,” he said. “Troon surely hasn’t forgotten you yet. When he hears that you’re back, he’ll try to kidnap you.”

“I know,” she said. “But if we stay here I’m afraid all three of us will starve.”

“We’ve managed so far.”

“But last winter we had a cow.”

“Perhaps we could get another.”

She shook her head. “You’ve left the herder community. Zad won’t give you another cow. And if you steal one you might get shot by a herder’s arrow.”

“A deer, then. A red deer would last us all winter—it has as much meat as a cow.”

“You’ve never hunted deer. They’re hard to catch and hard to kill. When the woodlanders hunt them, it takes the whole tribe.”

He looked wounded at her lack of faith in him.

She tried to soften her argument. “Look, if it was just the two of us, as it was last winter, I’d say let’s take the chance, and if we die, we die together. But we can’t think only of ourselves now. If we starve, Olin starves, and I’m not willing to risk that—are you?”

There was only one answer to that. “No, of course not,” said Han, but he looked cross.

Olin grizzled, and Pia moved him to the other breast.

Han said: “We could move into West Wood, and live as part of Bez’s tribe. He more or less said that.”

“I’ve thought about that.” She decided not to mention the woodlanders’ distinctive sexual arrangements, but she had another objection. “West Wood is dangerously close to Farmplace and Troon.”

Han nodded. “Well, we don’t have to make the decision yet. We’ve got the summer ahead of us. We don’t know what might happen.” He brightened. “Troon might die!”

“All right,” she said. “Let’s stay until the Autumn Halfway, when the night is as long as the day. If at that point we haven’t got enough food to last us through to spring, we’ll leave.”

“Agreed.”

Thunder stood up and growled softly. Someone was coming, but he did not consider the visitor dangerous. He was looking north, so it was probably someone crossing the river. Han picked up his bow and arrows and went to look. Pia stayed with Olin.