Only with Grinsa's departure, however, had she begun realize just how much their family had come to depend on the kindnesses shown by the sept to a new Weaver. Upon their arrival, they had been given a z'kal, one of the light but sturdy Fal'Borna shelters; each night food had been provided for them-Cresenne wasn't even certain where it came from; every morning fresh wood had been placed outside their z'kal so that they might build a fire and keep warm.
The shelter was still theirs. But once Grinsa left, the food vanished, as did the wood. Gathering wood wasn't much of a problem, though she had to borrow a hatchet from her new friend F'Solya, and, because the other families of the sept had already gathered wood for the coming Snows, she had to range farther from the settlement in order to find enough to see them through. Still, she could hardly complain.
Food, however, proved to be a much more difficult problem. Unlike the rest of the Fal'Borna, Grinsa and Cresenne hadn't been there to plant crops earlier in the year, nor to hunt rilda earlier in the Harvest. Beyond the meager supplies they'd had when they arrived, they had no food stores on which to rely during the colder turns.
They still carried ample amounts of gold, most of which Grinsa had left with Cresenne. Gold only helped so much, though, when there was so little to buy in the sept's small marketplace. Cresenne went every morning, hoping to find peddlers from whom she could buy food, but on many days the marketplace was virtually empty, and even on those days when it wasn't, she found little food for sale.
Bryntelle was still nursing, and Cresenne was able to make do with what little she had each morning and at midday, but by the evening Cresenne was famished, and she knew that if she didn't eat well, her child would suffer as well.
By the fifth day after Grinsa left, Cresenne was already growing weak from not eating enough. She slept poorly and woke later than she had intended. She went to tan rilda skins as she usually did, but arrived well after most of the other women, including F'Solya.
Her friend looked over at her as Cresenne sat in her usual spot and reached for her first hide and the foul tannins the Fal'Borna used to soften the skins.
"Trouble waking up this morning?" F'Solya asked, a smile on her round face, her bright golden eyes shining in the morning light.
Cresenne nodded. "A bit, yes."
F'Solya's smile faded. "You don't look well." She leaned toward Cresenne and laid the back of her hand against Cresenne's cheek. "You don't have a fever. Are you feeling all right?"
Cresenne made herself smile. "I'm fine. Just… just tired."
The Fal'Borna woman frowned. "I don't believe you. Is your little one sick?"
"No, Bryntelle's perfectly well." She smiled again, and this time it was genuine. She longed for Grinsa's return, but there could be no denying that she had at least one friend who cared about her. "I promise you, F'Solya: I'm fine."
"You miss your man, don't you?"
"Very much."
F'Solya nodded knowingly. "That can be an illness of a sort."
For a long time they simply worked, saying nothing. After a while, F'Solya began to tell her stories about her family and other people she'd known in the sept. It was something she did often and Cresenne had come to enjoy the tales quite a lot. She knew only a few of the people F'Solya mentioned, but hearing the stories taught her a good deal about the history of E'Menua's sept, and even about the ways of the Fal'Borna clan. That, she thought, may have been why F'Solya told them in the first place.
Near midday, they paused in their work for a meal. As usual, two of the younger girls who cared for the children while the mothers worked brought Bryntelle and F'Solya's twin boys so that the infants could be fed. After the young ones had been nursed, the girls took them away again, leaving the mothers to eat. Cresenne had only a few pieces of dried fruit and a small block of cheese, which she ate in just moments. When she had finished, she reached for her skins again. F'Solya was still eating.
"That's all you brought for today?" the woman asked between mouthfuls. F'Solya had a huge amount of food in front of her. Fruit, cheese, bread, dried rilda meat; a veritable feast. At least it seemed so to Cresenne.
"I'm not very hungry," Cresenne said, intent on the hide she was holding.
F'Solya shook her head. "I couldn't live on the crumbs you eat. Not with those boys crying for milk a hundred times a day. It's amazing to me that…" She trailed off, her eyes fixed on the food before her. She even stopped chewing. At last, she swallowed and looked at Cresenne. "Where have you been getting your food?"
Cresenne shrugged, not meeting her gaze. "We had some with us while we were journeying, and I've bought some in the marketplace."
"They were feeding you before, weren't they?"
A faint smile crossed Cresenne's lips and was gone. "They were feeding Grinsa. I just happened to eat some of what they gave him."
"And now that he's gone, they've stopped."
"It's all right, F'Solya."
"No, it's not. I realize now, you don't look ill, you look half starved."
"It's not that bad."
"You and your daughter will have your evening meal with us tonight."
"That's really not-"
"Don't argue with me," F'Solya said, sounding more like a stern parent than a friend.
She smiled to soften the words, but Cresenne could tell that she was serious, and also that she was concerned. And thinking about it, Cresenne decided that she had cause to be. How long could Cresenne expect to go on eating as she had been before she did become ill? There were times when pride mattered more than other considerations, but this, she realized, wasn't one of them.
"All right," she said, smiling. "Thank you."
It wouldn't solve their problem beyond this one night, but at least for this day she would be able to enjoy some adult conversation with her supper. At least on this night, she wouldn't feel that she was so utterly alone in the sept. The thought of it should have been enough to raise her spirits. It wasn't.
The more she considered the matter, the more she realized how dire her situation had grown. It must have been her imagination, but she could actually feel the air growing colder, as if the Snows were determined to begin today. Where was she going to get food? She was as capable as anyone-before Grinsa entered her life she had never needed a man to keep her fed and clothed and sheltered.
Any other time of year, she would have gladly planted her own crops, or even learned how to hunt, if only the Fal'Borna allowed their women to do so. Now, though, there was nothing she could do. Would F'Solya feed her every night? She dismissed the idea immediately. It was too much to ask of anyone, and Cresenne didn't want to become a burden on her friend and her family. Already, just because of this one invitation, she felt as though she had become a beggar and made one of her daughter. She knew that F'Solya would scoff at her for feeling this way, and that she was being foolish. Still, she couldn't help herself.
"Perhaps I can bring something," she said after a lengthy silence. "The cheese we've been eating is quite good, and so is-"
"Stop it," F'Solya said, a kind smile on her face. "The idea isn't for us to eat what little food you have left. It's to give you a decent meal so that you can take care of your little girl."
Cresenne relented with a nod, and she said nothing more about the supper until they had finished working. After they put their skins and tannins away for the evening, they retrieved their children from the care of the younger girls and made their way to F'Solya's z'kal.
Their shelter was somewhat larger than Grinsa and Cresenne's and within, a bit more cluttered, but in most ways the z'kal felt familiar. Cresenne marveled that it should be so. She and Grinsa had only been with the Fal'Borna for a short while, and she still remembered how alien everything about the sept had felt for the first few days.