Winter's Tree

6 - Beneath the Tree

Patches of snow still clung to the dark spaces under trees and a bitter wind blew in from the east, causing Ayessa to bury her chin in her furs.

Spring was late this year, and even the sun seemed reluctant to appear, hiding instead, for weeks, behind a veil of grey clouds.

She set the palm-sized rock she was gripping in one fist down on the grass beside her and flexed her fingers.

Oyeka, squatting in the grass across from her, raised a brow. "Don't let Taboua see you."

Ayessa clicked her tongue in irritation. "That old bełe? She just likes to make sound." She picked up the rock again, though, with a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Taboua hadn't seen.

Oyeka chuckled. "All the little birds jump when the old crow squawks, eh?"

"Be quiet and pass me another root."

He carefully removed the last of the small, branching roots off the main stalk with his flint knife and tossed the root towards her. She caught it with her left hand, balancing the large flat rock she was using as a mortar on her knee. She lay the tuber on it and continued grinding.

The sound of laughter came from the center of the camp and Ayessa raised her eyes to find its source. There, by the main fire, stood Atua, Obu and Makaro. It was Makaro's laugh that had drawn her ear.

"Lazy," he brother muttered. "How come Taboua never puts him to work grinding aharai?"

"Because she likes him," Ayessa replied. "She finds him charming."

Oyeka snorted. "He could charm a snake out of its skin. It doesn't mean he should."

"You are just jealous."

"Am I?" he said, "I don't think so. I prefer honesty over pretty words."

He hesitated a moment, then said, "You should be careful with him, Ayessa."

Ayessa avoided his eyes, busying herself with the last bit of the tuber beneath her rock. She shook the flour
into the clay pot beside her. Oyeka handed her another root.

"You think you love him-" he said.

"What I think is for me to think," Ayessa snapped.

She herself didn't know how she felt about Makaro. They had barely spoken since that afternoon in the woods.

Oyeka shrugged one shoulder. "If you like. Anyone with eyes can see though. Including father."

Her cheeks heated, but luckily her skin was dark enough to hide the flush.

"What of you and Umeke then?" she said. "Does he know about that?"

Oyeka's flint knife only stopped for a moment, but it was enough to tell her she had been right.

"He likes me to come fishing with him sometimes," he said. "What of it?"

Ayessa snorted. "You fish often, and yet, we eat no fish."

This time, it was Oyeka who avoided her gaze.

"Do you love him then?" she asked,

"Of course not," Oyeka said. "He is a man. A man can not love a man. It is only-"

"Lust?"

Oyeka handed her the last root and stood. "A way to satisfy lust until we each have our own women. Nothing more than that, Ayessa."

He tucked his knife back into its sheath and left.

When she looked back toward the camp fire, she saw Makaro was alone now. He glanced up, and their eyes met. She made to smile and wave, but before she could bring her hand all the way up, he turned and walked back towards his tent.