landlost | ONC 2024

ten.

I WOKE UP to the sound of Ham and Noah arguing. Both with speaking with a heated vehemence I couldn't care to listen to, and I buried myself under my furs, inhaling deeply.

The scent of Ham, of sweat and woodchips, and the salt of tears, brought me back to reality. I was in Ham's tent, but I had slept alone. The last I remembered of seeing him was him trying to comfort me, because Naamah was —— Naamah was ——

No tears were forthcoming as the word rolled around in my head, as heavy as a boulder on my mind. Dead. My sister was dead. And I hadn't been there for her. Had Mother and Father even cared? Had they tried to tend to her in her final hours? Or had they left her alone to writhe in her illness, only discovering her corpse hours later? Each new image conjured by these thoughts flayed me like a whip.

I had cried so much I now felt empty inside, a vessel of grief, now exhausted.

"We can't wait much longer to tell her, Ham." Noah's voice, pleading yet firm, disrupted my mental torture. "Every day we mislead her is another day closer to the ——"

"Spare me the lecture, Father," Ham spat. Against his father's gentle tone, his words were as kind to Noah as an asp would have been to a lamb. I could practically imagine seeing the venom dripping from his blue eyes. Even his voice sounded choked. "You didn't see how she was last night. And now you're adding even more grief onto her heart?"

"What do you expect me to do, my son?" Noah sounded exhausted. A hesitation followed.

They were talking about me, I realised. My mind was addled by a headache caused by too much weeping. My jaw set, and I tossed off the furs. I was still in the kēthanoth I'd been wearing the day before, but my propriety was the last thing on my mind.

I tossed aside the pelt covering the entrance of Ham's tent, and fixed both men with a glare. Noah was facing me, and his tensed brow eased somewhat. "Na'el," he said, kindly, liking he hadn't just been arguing with his son about me.

Ham looked over his shoulder at me, and I felt a pang of shock in the deep recesses of my heart at how bedraggled he looked. Dark rings circled his eyes, and his black hair looked wild, like he'd spent the night raking his hands through it instead of sleeping. Maybe he had —— In concern for me? a traitorous thought slithered across the forefront of my mind —— but that only added fuel to the fire that was my vexation.

I didn't need him coming to my aid every second, or arguing on my behalf. I hoped my eyes, however puffy and tired they were, communicated this to him. My mother's moods had taught me well enough to face harsh words head-on, and if that was to be my fate, then so be it. For Ham to stand in the way was something I was unfamiliar with. I had defended Naamah from the verbal onslaughts, but no one had ever defended me.

"Na'el," Sedeqet said softly, her touch making me look away. Her round face was marred by worry, but her pert lips gave me an encouraging smile. "I'm glad you're awake. We were all getting worried."

She gently led me to Noah and Emzara's tent, where I usually slept. I stood in the doorway as she rustled around and handed me something soft and green, my eyes on the furs I was used to sleeping on. Had Ham slept here, with me in his tent? Had they all let me weep in privacy?

I inspected the material Sedeqet had given to me. It was a kēthanoth, pale green in colour. And soft to the touch. I rubbed my thumb against it, feeling my brows pull together. "Is this...?"

Sedeqet clasped her hands together. "It's yours. Last night, Emzara, Ada and I stitched it together. We wanted to give it to you today, though I know it's not the best of times——"

"It's perfect," I cut her off. I didn't want to think about it. I remembered the dye I had watched Emzara make a few days ago, and the not-so-subtle secret whispering she and Ada had had the night before. I gave Sedeqet a hug and tried to anchor myself in her gentle touch. "Thank you."