by Sandra Lang
“What do you want, Tarok?” I snap.
“It is Tala, you brat. What has he done to upset you now?”
“Nothing important.” I continue to strike the stone in my hand. She sits down next to me and pats my back.
“Taking it out on a stone will not help you any.”
“I know, but it sure is making me feel better.” I give one final swing of my arm and listen to the pleasing sound of the stone chipping away. “Why are you here?”
“I was told to fetch you. Sarali’s getting closer and we get the pleasure of bringing her child into this world.” Tala makes a fake retching noise and I feel the same way. Bringing children into the world is a messy business that neither of us find appealing in any way.
We walk over to the huts belonging to Deep Forest to check on my sister. My mother has spent the past few days with her. Inside, Granny, my mother, and Sirak’s mother Renara sit around the central fire of the hut with Sarali lying on the sleeping platform and Liral rolling around on the floor saying he is a bug.
I crack a smile and pick him up. He giggles as I run my fingers across his belly. “I think your child likes me more, Sarali,” I say when he settles into my arms.
“You can keep him then,” Sarali groans.
My mother pats a wet rag on Sarali’s brow and tells her to stay calm.
“She is not going to have the baby in here is she?” I ask abruptly.
“Of course she is not,” Granny scolds. “We will take her to the forest when she is ready.”
In my mother’s native tribe, the women give birth in a hut within the borders of the village. Our tribe is a bit more primitive in that respect. Our women still walk into the forest to give birth. The women of the expectant mother’s family go with her to provide support and to confuse angry and jealous spirits who would harm the mother or her new baby. The men of the village long ago were kind enough to build their expecting bond-mates a nice, comfortable hut to give birth to their children in.
“Akari, you should take Liral to Sirak. He can watch the child while we are away,” Renara suggests.
“She cannot be that close al-” Sarali interrupts me with a gut-wrenching cry. Tala and I both cringe at the noise. The three women help Sarali to her feet and begin escorting her from the hut while Tala grabs whatever necessary items they might need. I take Liral outside after them and go in search of his father.
Sirak sits in the center of the village with a length of wood and a carving knife. Hunters and warriors sit around, each with their own stick and knife. I shake my head, knowing that I will never understand men. One of them nudges Sirak when I arrive. He stands and looks from me to Liral in my arms. “It is time then?” He looks nervously at me and fidgets slightly.
I nod and hand his child over to him. “Pray that your new child is healthy, Sirak.”
