Scavenger Girl: Season of Toridia

by Jennifer Arntson

The grip I had on myself loosened. “She and the others were going to leave two days after we did. They should be here by now.”

  “But they’re not,” he whispered. “Marsh wants to go searching for them, but the Woodsmen have a bounty on his head for killing you.”

  “But I’m not dead!” My arms fell to my sides, my anger toward my brother turning to worry for his betrothed.

  “They don’t know that. Even so, Lark won’t let him leave, and they’ve taken him off the security team outside the main gate.”

  “Well, just ask Nik! He’s seen everybody’s future in here. He’ll know she’s still alive. He may know where she is!”

  Calish nodded. “Marsh isn’t stupid.” He dropped his fork onto his plate. “He’s been badgering him for days to tell him what he knows, but our friend won’t budge. Marsh even decked him a few times. Still, nothing.”

  “I asked him to tell me my future once,” I recalled. “He didn’t tell him anything, did he?”

  He shook his head somberly. “We have to accept the fact she might not be coming back.”

  “What about the others? Sterle. Qarla?”

  He didn’t have to say anything. They planned to come together. Either they changed their mind, or something, someone, prevented them from arriving. Without Trisk, the others wouldn’t know how to find us.

  More evidence of what may have happened to her.

  I studied a piece of dried fruit in my hand, finally deciding to take a bite. It tasted too sweet, so I spit it out on the ground and tossed the uneaten portion back in the basket.

  “Here, I got this for you.” He handed me a cup of broth.

  I took it while fighting the sadness welling up in me. We didn’t know what happened to Trisk, and to let myself imagine the worst wasn’t helpful any more than it might be accurate.

  Calish spoke. “It’s thistle soup.”

  “What?” I paused my troubled thoughts.

  “In the cup. It’s thistle soup.”

  “Figures. Mother must have taught them.” I took a sip.

  “Actually, she did not.” He peeked up at me. “They brought in a woman who said she learned it from a friend.” He picked up the fruit I rejected, putting the whole piece in his mouth.

  I sipped the broth, watching people pass us by, my heart heavy and my mind busy. There were things I wanted to say, as I was sure he did, but some things are better left unsaid, at least for the time being. Most of what I felt compelled to say was intended for the Counsel anyway. Calish’s title had less influence here than in Ashlund, and he didn’t have much there.

  The fair person I considered myself to be, I’d say many of my decisions tended to be impulsive ones. Many things I did were done without the regard of other people’s opinions; however, in the world of Ashlund, I learned much. Arguing with Calish solved nothing. Working against Reinick solved nothing. But the small victory in killing Noran proved a lot can change with a handful of people and good timing.

  I’d grown to be more than a cowering Scavenger, although I held the title closer to my heart than I did three seasons ago. If labels defined a person, then my definitions multiplied. No longer just a daughter, sister, Scab, I’d become a wife and mother. While I was sure the men closest to me would like me to forget, I’d also accepted the role of Mother Una, and that had its own requirements.

  Requirements I intend to fulfill.

  I sipped my broth, letting the warmth fill my belly. Word of its properties had spread. Would Noran’s war against the thistle end? Reinick may not have a choice. He would have no way to feed his own people, let alone the widows he’d create. He had no regard for the gods and probably wouldn’t enforce the law the Priest created unless it suited him to do so.

  Renick’s knees would buckle to a Scavenger recipe, and the Woodsmen’s knees would break when I freed my children. One had started its course, and the other simply needed to begin.

  “If you’re quiet, it’s because you’re scheming.” Calish wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it in the basket.

  “Me?” I shook my head. “I was just thinking about Hope.”

  It wasn’t a total lie.

  “Then let’s go see her.”

  * * *

  The sky grew darker as we made our way to the cave. To our surprise, our friends had moved a bed into the nursery, complete with clean clothes, fresh water, and a basket of nuts and dried fruit.

  “They figured you two would rather stay here for the night,” my mother explained. “If the baby starts to cry and needs to be fed, just pull this cord, and a bell will ring in the nursemaid’s tent. She’s quite quick, so make sure you’re prepared to have her company.” My mother winked. “Will you walk me out, Una?”

  “Of course,” I said hesitantly.

  Calish put his fingers to his lips as a warning to keep quiet, a small gesture that proved what a good advocate he’d become for his daughter so small.

  Mother offered him a silent farewell and hooked her arm through mine. I always knew when she wanted to speak to me alone, yet I never noticed when she asked anyone else for a private chat.

  Night crept across the sky, veiling, at least from our vantage point, activity on the other side of the canyon. We walked arm in arm to the mouth of the cave until she took pause under the cascading ferns. There, Mother embraced me the way she’d been waiting to all season. While I didn’t want to read her, the love and relief she felt could not be denied in the power of her hold. “I’ve never been more terrified than the night they brought you back.”

  “You were there?”

  She nodded, letting me go. “Someone woke me. They said an injured woman had come to the camp and they needed a Healer.”

  “I thought you were assigned to the schoolhouse?”

  “I am. There are several Healers here, but we are rarely stationed at the medical tents.” She rubbed her arms, but it was not the air that chilled her. The heat of Toridia had not yet left. Memories caused her gooseflesh. I could have watched her perspective of that night, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it and never offered her the opportunity.

  “Four of our Healers, including Oyals, had already expelled every ounce of energy they had when the others came.”

  “The others? How many came?”

  “All eleven.”

  Eleven.

  “They had to cut Hope out.” She gazed into the river below. “They were taking her out when I arrived.”

  I felt my stomach. “Was she breathing?”

  Mother shook her head. “It didn’t take a Healer to tell how bad the situation was. Lark sent for us the moment the gates opened. Adi and Tomas had their hands on Hope before she even left your body. I wanted to help, but Nik held me back.”

  “For what?”

  “Chartle, Praha, Lyre, and Simal worked on your wounds, but there were so many. You had poison running through your blood, your lungs were full of fluid and clots, and your stomach…well, the midwife thought you were already dead, so she took liberties with the blade that she wouldn’t have if she had known better.” She caught a tear with the back of her hand and continued. “Nik wasn’t sure there would be enough energy to keep you both. I was reserved for whichever one of you had the best chance.”

  I sat on a boulder and apologized.

  She knelt and patted my knee. “That’s not why I’m telling you this, sweetheart. I want you to understand why things are the way they are. Why you’re not producing milk, why you don’t have a squishy middle or scars. You have been fully healed, and as a result, you are fully restored. It’s as if you never were pregnant. The weakness you feel is only because your muscles haven’t been working for a little while.” She touched my arm, not so subtly assessing my condition. “We did the best we could with the power we had. Once your blood was pure and your wounds healed, we had to wait for your body to compensate for what it lost.”

  “Lost?”

  “Your womb.”

  I laid my hand against my belly, imagining it hollow
. My head swirled. A sudden weight pulled in my chest as I expressed my understanding. “I’ll never have another, will I?”

  Mother sighed her confirmation, a quiver in her response. “I’m sorry, birdie.”

  I turned my eyes to the horizon until I squeezed them shut. “Does Calish know?”

  “If he does, I’m not aware of it.” She saw my eyes pop open, and before I could contest her actions, she took a mother’s tone. “He watched you teeter on the edge of death, Una. Do you really think he’d be disappointed with the outcome?”

  No, he wouldn’t.

  “But there is something else.”

  I braced myself for more tragedy.

  “You may feel a delay in bonding with Hope.”

  My heart dropped. “I’m not going to love my baby?”

  She replied quickly, “Oh, no, that’s not what I mean. Healing is a wonderful thing, but like all good things, it comes at an expense. There are certain things your body experiences after giving birth. They happen naturally during a mother’s recovery. The touch I offer can’t replicate it. Your healing didn’t bring you through the recovery, it reversed most of the damage done.”

  “Most?”

  “The more recent the wounds, the more fully a Healer can restore you.” She saw my confusion. “Hope is yours, Una. You will eventually bond with her, but even after perfect birth experiences, mothers can feel…disconnected. Just give it time and talk to people you trust about your feelings.”

  I nodded, still unclear about her instructions and more interested in the details of what happened the night we returned. “So you saved me?”

  Mother grimaced.

  “You didn’t save me?”

  “There was a time in my life when I was given a choice between saving a mother or a child. I knew the mother would choose herself over her baby, so I gave my energy to the child.”

  “I wouldn’t want to live if it cost my baby’s life.”

  Mother kissed my hand. “I know. That’s why I did it. But like any mother, I wanted to save my baby; I wanted to save you. Once Hope had what she needed, I poured all I had left into you. It still wasn’t enough. Or so we feared.” She ran a strand of my hair through her fingers as if to prove to herself my presence was real.

  I took her hand and pressed my face into it. “I can’t even imagine, Mother. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t act alone, Una. If we weren’t all here, you both would have died.”

  I knelt next to her in the dirt. We held each other in the deep blue night and accepted the tears we restrained for too long. When our expressions of love had eased, she stroked the back of my hair and spoke gently into my ear. “So, don’t overdo it. Let my son take care of his wife. He needs it just as much as you do.”

  Still in her embrace, I accepted her instruction. “I love you, Mother.”

  Mother didn’t give advice often, especially when it came to her son. She was a wise woman who knew when to say the right things and when the right things should not be said.

  “Now, go be the woman you’ve earned the right to be.”

  We said our good nights, and she vanished into the dark corridor for the evening. It felt strange knowing I had a family waiting for me—a husband and child.

  I had no idea what to do with either of them. Thankfully, Calish did. While I had been recovering, he learned to be a father. All I knew how to do was look at her.

  I slipped back into the tent and joined my husband’s side to gaze at the blessing our love made.

  With his lips lightly touching the crest of my ear, he whispered, “I have this fear that if she’s not crying, she’s not breathing.” We watched her chest rise and fall. “I know it’s stupid.” He blushed.

  “You’re anything but stupid, my love.”

  I gazed at Hope as the crickets grew more confident in their chorus. I didn’t know what to do with a sleeping infant, but leaving her side felt unnatural. Calish left to light an ivory candle on a little table stacked with cloth diapers, powders, and various baby necessities. He snuffed the end of the match and laid it on the brim of the candleholder. None of his movements were done for my benefit; still, I drank them in. He kicked off his boots and placed them neatly near the wall of the tent before turning to me. “What is it?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.” I blushed. Though it had been days since he’d shaved, and his clothes were not the fitted Authority-issued ones I’d become accustomed to, he remained the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on.

  The river moved in the canyon below, and the great owls of the night woke the stars. In our tent, secluded from the world and all its problems, Calish closed the distance between us.

  With the tip of his finger, he lifted my chin. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He cupped my face, his thumbs caressing the length of my jaw. His light brown eyes traced my eyebrows and my eyelashes as if he’d never seen them before. Drifting down the features of my face, he hesitated at my lips already parted in anticipation.

  Then he kissed me.

  The tender expression from our first night together returned. The tension of titles and responsibilities disappeared, letting the genuine love he had for me pass from his lips to mine.

  He pulled away, but I wouldn’t allow it. My hands slid up the back of his neck and into his hair, while the other brought his collar toward me. I needed him, and until that kiss, I didn’t know how desperately I did. He responded, with one of his hands moving down further to the long curve of my collarbone, then lower to the arc of my breast beneath my robe. Oh, how I longed for such a touch. His lips left mine, traveling the soft skin under my chin, around my neck, and up to my ear.

  Remembering to breathe, I did so in a pleading moan, my need for him rising in my core. He teased my ear with his tongue and confessed, “I’m so glad you’ve come back.”

  He pulsated against my belly—the true tell of a man’s desire to indulge, to conquer. His hips moved me backward toward the bed as his competent hands met my shoulders and pushed off my robe.

  Every inch of me flushed.

  Swelled.

  Begged.

  And he committed to my pleas. Lifting my gown over my head, he assigned me the task of removing it while he fell to his knees. His lips brushed across my belly as he held me firmly by my hips. My hands ran through his hair as his hand followed the curve of my leg to the center of my heat.

  His touch—that touch—made my head roll back and my lungs gasp for the air they’d require for the plans he had for my body. He straightened up, still preparing me with one hand, and his lips found their place on my chest. I laced my fingers between his as he caressed my breast, a feeling I couldn’t help but share.

  My eyes snapped open when his fingers left my folds.

  He’s undressing.

  Inching up my middle, he kissed me more until he stood at his natural height…

  …and glorious length.

  Just like that, the last piece of clothing between us fell to the floor. He pushed back the blankets as I took him in my hands. A paused expression overcame him, but when he came to his senses, he devoured my mouth with unprecedented determination. He scooped me up, cradling me in his arms while he climbed us up onto the bed.

  Fully healed…

  I ached for him.

  All of him.

  He laid me on the crisp sheets, the weight of his masculinity pressing against the feminine curves of mine. His hands moved up over my body as he bent over me and finally brushed my hair back from my face. My hand stretched out against his heaving chest, and I felt his thundering heartbeat slam against it. He shifted his hips, positioning himself between my thighs, and I could feel him there.

  The waiting nearly killed me. I dragged my nails over his flesh and around his waist. With my hands behind his back, I pulled him toward me, but he resisted.

  “Not yet,” he panted.

  Being this close to him made me want him more than I knew possible. I lifted my head and took hold of him a
gain. “Do not make me wait, husband.”

  He grabbed my wrist. “I won’t.” He jerked it to the side, holding it firmly against the sheets. The fire in his eyes warned me not to rush him again.

  My gods, he’s driving me crazy.

  His hands brought a new sensation to my breasts as our kiss deepened, and our desire gained its own voice. I hitched my leg around him, and with my heel, I guided his hips closer to mine. Calish shifted, lining up to take possession of me when—

  Hope stirred in her bassinet.

  We froze. Our heads both turned toward the corner of the tent for confirmation of what we thought we heard. Did she know?

  We’re just getting started.

  Tempering my breath, I turned his face in my direction. In the sudden fear of being caught, he lost his ability, but I could not be so quickly distracted. He was as determined as I was to make his readiness return. I nibbled the curve of his neck as his hands rediscovered the warmth between my legs. As my back arched, my kiss left his flesh and his found mine.

  But our moment was interrupted again.

  Please go back to sleep, baby girl.

  We waited, and as we feared, Hope made her presence known for a third time.

  The rise of passion waned more quickly for Calish than for me.

  “Wait,” I begged. The need I had for him hurt.

  He didn’t reply, because he had learned Hope’s routine in my absence. “She needs me.”

  I need you!

  Hope let out a tiny cry, and when no one came to her rescue, she began to shrill.

  He pulled his hand from under the covers and hung his head in defeat. He rolled over to his side of the bed, and with a grunt, he reached for his trousers. I put on my robe, and we met each other at the baby’s bed.

  What happened? We were being quiet.

  Calish washed his hands in the basin on the dresser. He dried them, tossing the towel over his shoulder, and rubbed his palms together to warm them.

  I wasn’t sure how, but that tiny thing got louder. Her bold demand compelled me to pull the ties of my robe tighter.

  He lifted her out of the bassinet and bounced her gently as he paced the floor, me following in his shadow, but his efforts didn’t work. He laid her on the bed to change her with me peering over his shoulder, only to find her diaper dry. He picked her back up and took her to the rocking chair as the baby grew more and more upset.