Veronica is gone by the time we get to the fire, which is disappointing. Another woman is there, though. Her name is Steph, and she’s breastfeeding an infant while she chats with Penny and S’bren. Others are coming and going by the fire, but they look as if they’re sitting for a few. Good.
I take Skarr by the hand and all but drag him across the encampment, toward the fire.
“You must be quite hungry,” he comments, letting me lead him.
“Famished,” I agree. We make it to the fire circle just as Steph puts her baby on her shoulder, burping her. I point at the open seat next to Steph. “You sit there. I’ll get food.”
He does as I ask, and I grab a few bowls of “breakfast”—which just looks like a warm fish stew—from Lauren, who’s on food-and-fire duty today. I watch Skarr out of the corner of my eye as I do, and I’m a little worried to see that he barely glances over at Steph and her baby. If anything, he seems as if he’s avoiding looking in their direction at all.
“Can Skarr hold your baby, Steph? He was curious about infants,” I call out, deciding to take the bull by the horns.
Skarr sits upright, his eyes widening. He seems to notice Steph and her baby for the first time and stares.
Steph just grins at us, fixing the neck of her tunic and wiping the baby’s face. “I would love that. My mate’s off with our son practicing their traps, and I would love a break.” She holds the baby out to Skarr, watching him. “Have you ever held a baby before?”
The look on his face is one of sheer terror. After a panicked look in my direction, he turns back to Steph and shakes his head.
“Her name is Jethani. She’s a wriggler so make sure you hold her tight, but not too tight. Just let her sit on your leg and keep her occupied. Make sure she doesn’t put anything into her mouth.” She looks over at me and winks, then continues speaking to Skarr. “Think you’ve got it?”
He takes Jethani—a fat, sweet-looking girl who seems barely old enough to crawl—and holds her at arm’s length with an expression of consternation on his face. “Should she be drooling like this?”
“She should,” Steph says, trying not to laugh. “And it’ll be easier if you put her on your lap, like I suggested.”
He gives me another alarmed look. “What if she wants a teat?”
“Then you hand her back to her mother,” I tell him.
“How will I know?” He pulls Jethani a bit closer to him, that mystified expression remaining on his face. “She is very small and squishy. Is this normal?”
Steph is the soul of patience. She doesn’t panic when Skarr awkwardly settles the baby on his knee. She just reaches over and plops the baby against his chest and maneuvers his arms until he’s holding her securely. “Like that. And yes, it’s normal for her to be small and fat. Babies don’t look like adult humans for a while.”
“She is wearing a loincloth,” he points out in a voice of sheer awe, touching one of her small knees when she wriggles her feet. “And tiny boots.”
“That’s a diaper,” Steph says. “It’ll be a while before she’s old enough to know how to use the bathroom like an adult. For now she relieves herself in the diaper and I change it.”
He jerks in surprise, eyes wide, and lifts the baby off his leg, holding her into the air again. “Right now?”
“Not right now. In general.”
Jethani squirms, reaching for his hair. She grabs a handful and jerks on it, playing with the strands. To his credit, Skarr does not blink, just continues to hold the child and fires questions at Steph. “Is that why her legs are short and flailing like that?”
“Exactly.”
“And her head looks like a lump?”
“It’s not a lump!” I protest, trying not to laugh.
“All of her is a bit like a lump,” he whispers as I sit down next to him with our food bowls. “I am not saying it to be cruel. She should know her strengths and weaknesses so she can compensate for them.”
“Babies are very little humans,” Steph continues. “They won’t look like adults for a long time.”
“How long until they grow up?” he asks, fascinated.
“About twenty years?” Steph says.
Skarr’s jaw drops. He shoots me another panicked look and then glances back at Steph. “You have to change her diapers for twenty years?”
I can’t help it. I burst into giggles.
“Not twenty years,” Steph reassures him. “Only until she’s old enough to figure out how to tell me when she needs to relieve herself. It’s different for a lot of children, but some learn in less than two years. It’s hard to say because Jethani is a hybrid of myself, a human, and my mate, who is an Islander. If you don’t mind holding her for a bit longer, I’m happy to answer as many questions as you like. Babies must be new to you.”
“Very new. And I do not mind holding her,” Skarr says. Jethani jerks on his hair and giggles, and his face breaks into a grin. “She likes me best out of all the warriors here. I can tell already. She knows she is in the arms of a champion.”
Steph, to her credit, does not blink an eye at the self-aggrandizing. She just calmly puts a burp cloth on his shoulder and pats it in place. “You’re going to want that.”
The baby wriggles, her legs dancing and bouncing on his strong one. He holds her carefully, watching her moves with fascination. “Is she trying to spar?”
“No, I’m pretty sure she’s going to puke.”
I lean away, and sure enough, the baby lets loose. Skarr looks horrified. “Did I do that to her?”
Steph continues her lesson in her soothing voice. “Nope. She just got excited. Let’s clean her up and I’ll show you how to play peek-a-boo with her. She loves that.”
We stay by the fire all day, holding children of various ages and teaching Skarr about babies. Steph stays all morning, until Jethani is tired and cranky and she puts her down for a nap. She sends Pak out to sit with us when he returns from fishing with his father, and Skarr gets into a mock-fight with the little boy, complete with fake punches. He sprawls on the ground when Pak lands one, groaning dramatically. “I have been felled!”
I hide my smile against Aayla’s hair as she plays with a leather doll in my lap.
“Excellent work, warrior,” Skarr tells the boy. “You will be one to fear soon enough.”
Pak’s rabbit-like tail flutters happily.
“Now fight me,” Z’hren says, bounding forward and putting up his fists in a boxing pose.
“I do not know if I dare,” Skarr tells him, all seriousness. “You have so many fists I am certain to lose.”
Gail shoots me an amused look. She’s sewing a fur ruff onto a hood, seated next to me by the fire. There have been people coming and going all day, but Gail seems to do a lot of her work by the fire. She says she likes to help out if anyone needs it. I suspect she just likes being in the thick of things, unlike me. She’s really nice, though. She makes a stitch in the fur and then leans towards me. “For someone that’s never been around children, he’s good with them.”
“He is.” There’s a sincerity to children that meshes well with Skarr’s loud personality. He tells them he’s an incredible fighter and they believe him, because children believe adults. And so when he solemnly tells them that they have real promise as warriors, they preen with delight.
“Show me how to throw a punch,” Liz’s oldest daughter Raashel demands, racing up to join the sparring group.