She sighed. Why had she given in to the curiosity that had drawn her to follow them? Why hadn't she gone back to the headland and the emptiness where she had lived unbothered by anyone? It had been an unpleasant surprise to discover that the skull-wearer's territory had been so close, but she hadn't seen his people before. Now he and all his followers and that wide river besides lay between her and that barren coast. And his quarrel with these strangers would only be ended when someone was dead.
Could she possibly get back to her headland without being caught if she abandoned these strangers before they woke? She sighed again. No, she really didn't think so. How would she cross the river?
The old woman rose slowly to her feet and hobbled up the awkward slope, her back aching. Her bladder was uncomfortably full and she was hungry and thirsty. Outside in the dawn cool she relished the fresh scent of the dewy air. Birds twittered in the trees, no cries of alarm ripping through the skeins of mist to warn her of some lurking predator. All the same, she went a prudent distance from the painted cave before she made a scrape in a drift of leaf litter with one foot and relieved herself. She kicked leaves back over the dampness, still looking warily around.
Noticing a clump of familiar leaves, she cursed herself for a fool as she realised she'd left her digging stick and her stone blade back in the cave. She knelt, and tried and failed to dig with her hands, then looked around for some scrap of wood to help her break the hard, dry earth. Movement caught her eye and she froze. But it wasn't some terrible lizard tasting the scent of her urine on the air. The tall man and his woman had woken and were standing by the cave entrance. They went a short distance to relieve themselves as she had done, each keeping watch for the other. Then they walked a little way from the cave, looking around. Looking for her.
The old woman sat back on her heels, motionless. There was another puzzle. These people must eat. They had carried food with them, strange as it was. Now the man was looking around hungrily while the girl was peering into her empty bag with a foolish expression. Didn't they realise they were standing under green-nut trees?
Or were they expecting her to forage for them? Perhaps that was it. Perhaps that was why they had let her live. Without whatever followers they must surely have back in their distant homeland, who else was there to bring them food and water?
But she couldn't dig with her empty hands. The old
woman made a sudden decision and beckoned to them, her smile beseeching. As they approached, the tall man smiled back, though the girl still looked less friendly, quietly saying something in her fluting voice.
The old woman pointed down at the dark spotted leaves and made a digging motion with both hands. She gazed at the tall man, willing him to understand her. He nodded slowly and drew one of his great knives out of its covering. It was as long as his forearm and as wide as his hand and the old woman marvelled at the way it shone like water. More importantly, it bit into the dry earth as readily as any black-stone blade.
He soon uncovered a cluster of the plant's swollen purple roots and, producing a smaller knife of the same shiny stuff, deftly cut one free. Holding it to his open mouth without biting into it, he looked up at the old woman, his face questioning. She shook her head firmly and reached out to tap the curious shiny gourd the girl carried slung from one shoulder.
The girl stiffened for a moment, then slowly un-slung the gourd and unsealed it, setting it down on the ground. The old woman was momentarily distracted by the marvellous strangeness of the way she took off a piece that had seemed to be part of the whole. Then she realised the tall man was still kneeling there, looking quite addled as he held up the purple root. Carefully she took the root from him and, emboldened, reached for his pale knife. Concern creasing his brow, he pretended to touch the edge before snatching away his finger with an exaggerated show of pain. Then, his expression still warning her, he let her take it.
Amused, the old woman carefully took the strange pale knife and sliced into the purple root. The water the plant had so carefully hoarded trickled into the mouth of the gourd. The tall man said something, smiling like a child
delighted by some elder's fireside trick. The old woman couldn't help herself and laughed. He grinned at her, then his face turned serious as he took the gourd and sniffed carefully at it. He sipped cautiously, holding the water in his mouth to make sure it was good before swallowing.
So he did possess foraging skills, even if he had the status not to have to use them. The old woman dug up more of the swollen roots with the pale knife and emptied their water into the gourd. The tall man and the girl stood watching her. When she was done, the tall man took his pale knife back and knelt to carefully cut a few more of the roots free. He deftly sliced the end off one and handed it to her so she could drink before doing the same for his woman and quenching his own thirst with another.
The girl was still looking askance at her, which momentarily irritated the old woman. She handed her the half-full gourd and went to look for any nuts that the birds or lizards or whoever else lived in this valley might have left among the dusty green leaves of the trees. The tall man and the girl followed her, though this late in the dry season she had to search three different trees before she spied reddish husks hiding behind a thick clump of leaves. She twisted the cluster of nuts free with a grunt of effort.
The tall man and the girl were still watching her with the uncomplicated curiosity of children. The old woman took one of the girl's hands and filled it with the nuts. Taking one of the ripest, she carefully widened the split in the shell with her fingernails to reveal the green kernel within. Snapping the nut open, she plucked out the meat and ate it, looking the girl steadily in the eye all the while.
The girl gingerly cracked open one of the nuts and nibbled cautiously at the green kernel. Looking oddly thoughtful, she said something to the tall man. He came and ate a nut, frowning. The old woman waited,
apprehensive, until the tall man's face cleared. She smiled hopefully and tugged at the hide sack the girl carried. The girl didn't surrender it and the old woman braced herself for some blow or rebuke. But instead the girl simply opened the sack herself and turned her attention to the trees, rapidly twisting free whatever nut clusters she could find and dropping them inside. The tall man startled the old woman by reaching up to branches too high for her and the girl and pulling down some nut clusters himself. He didn't even eat them, handing them to the girl instead so she could put them in her leather sack.
The old woman began filling a fold of her hide wrap with red shells. Vigilant for any hint of danger as she did so, she saw the tall man was keeping a similar watch as he set about cutting a stout twig from a nut tree with his pale knife. He took a length of cord from some fold in his strange garb and as he twisted a deft noose, the old woman realised he was making a snare.
She watched him trace the faint score of some trail along the hard ground and kneel to tie his snare to a frail nut-tree sapling barely clinging to life in hopes of rain coming soon. He split the stick to hold the noose loosely above the run and, looking up, caught the old woman watching him. He grinned, his shrug eloquent. He didn't know if he was going to catch anything but he thought it was worth a try.
He stood up, still watchful for anything stirring in the early-morning cool. The old woman wasn't worried; the birds were still chattering peaceably among themselves. The girl said something and headed back to the painted cave, sack of nuts in one hand, shiny gourd in the other. The tall man followed her, ushering the old woman ahead of him, still diligently keeping watch.