A Gift for Drenol

by jessicamadden

Mommy was right. It was a good holiday, but it isn’t the same

  because Papa and Raashel aren’t here. Drenol must be missing

  his family and that’s why he’s sad. I decide I’ll go and make

  friends.

  I cross the village, sliding down the slippery path to one of the center huts, where all the elders live together. Drenol is sitting in

  front of his hut, scowling as Jo-see and Haeden and Joden wander

  around with baskets. They’re bringing little treats to everyone,

  and they already came by Mommy’s hut. Drenol looks mad.

  I approach him cautiously. He’s sitting on a big rock in front of the hut and shifts his butt every few seconds. It must still hurt.

  “Hi Drenol,” I say.

  “Go away.” He doesn’t even look at me, just scowls at Jo-see and

  Haeden, who are a few huts down.

  I ignore that, remembering what Mommy said about Elly. These

  things take time. “Don’t be sad,” I tell him. “They’ll come to your hut soon.”

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  “Bah,” he says. “They are fools.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we should be careful with food.” He glares at me.

  “When I was your age, we only ate one meal a day in the brutal

  season, because we had to make sure it would last.”

  Oh. “Which meal?”

  “What?” He squints.

  “Which meal is it?” I sit down near him, curious. “My favorite

  meal is breakfast cuz Mommy makes me eggs. They’re from dirt-

  beaks, but they’re not dirty like the dirtbeaks are because of the

  shell, so they’re safe. That’s what Mommy says, but she still

  washes the shell over and over again just in case.”

  Drenol shakes his head. “When I was your age, we did not eat

  eggs. You steal the young from their mothers. That is a terrible thing.”

  “Really? Mommy says they’ll just lay new eggs. They don’t even

  notice.”

  He leans in and glares at me. “Your mother is wrong.”

  I blink, fighting back the urge to cry. He’s such a meanie.

  Drenol shifts on his butt again, groaning, and then shakes his

  head. “Everyone in this tribe is foolish.” He looks over at Jo-see and Haeden, and then sees them coming towards us. Then, he

  waves at me quickly. “Give me your shoulder.”

  I hop to my feet and move close, and he leans heavily on me,

  getting to his feet with a creak of bones. He sucks in his breath like I do when it hurts, and then shuffles into his hut.

  I look over at the others heading this way. I think he’s hiding from

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  them. Should I tell him Jo-see is too fat with kit to play hide-and-

  seek? I follow him into his hut.

  His fire is really low and it’s cold and dark inside. As I watch, he

  shuffles over to his furs and throws one around his shoulders. He

  wouldn’t need to cover up so much if he took care of his fire, so I

  move toward it and spear a cake of fuel from the fuel basket, and

  then toss it onto the coals, stirring them to bring more heat just

  like Papa showed me.

  As I do, I look around. I’ve never been inside the elders’ hut, and

  Drenol moves to a corner and lies down on his nest of furs, and in

  his area are baskets. Not just any baskets, but baskets with colors

  and patterns. He’s got an old dvisti skull that’s been colored all kinds of neat shades, too, with swirls and pretty designs on it.

  And in another basket…there’s all kinds of carvings of animals.

  They look like toys and I’m excited. The one on top looks just like

  a snow-cat. “Did Aehako make those for you?”

  He gives me an irritable look. “I made those.”

  “Did you paint, too?”

  “No, my mate was the painter. Are you going to keep asking me

  questions?”

  “Do you want me to make you some tea?” I ask, ignoring his bad

  mood like Mommy said. She must be right, his butt must hurt

  him a lot.

  “No.”

  I move toward the basket of carvings, because they look so neat.

  “These are really good.”

  “I know.”

  “The paintings are pretty, too. Did you paint them?”

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  “My mate did,” he says proudly. “She would paint and I would

  carve by the fire at night.”

  “I like your carvings,” I tell him, feeling shy. “Mommy is good at

  all kinds of things, but I’m too little to do carving myself.”

  “Bah. I was your age when I learned.”

  “Wow, then you’ve been doing this for a really, really long time.”

  He glares at me. “Are you saying I am old?”

  “You’re not?”

  Drenol just sighs and shakes his head. “Kits.”

  I can’t help but stare at the basket full of carvings. There’s so many of them, and they’re all tiny and lifelike. I see one that looks

  just like a metlak holding a baby on its back and my fingers itch

  to touch it. “You made these to play with?” I touch one hesitantly.

  “No. I made them for my son, but he died.”

  “That’s sad.” I pull back, not wanting to touch them if it bothers

  him, but they’re so good. “Can you show me how to carve

  like this?”

  He’s quiet, and I look over at him again. He’s sitting up in bed. His

  expression is weird, like he can’t decide if he’s sad or angry.

  Then he shakes his head. “Go away. My backside aches.”

  Drenol lies down and puts his back to me.

  I leave, but my head is full of thinkings. I don’t think he wanted to

  lie down so early or stay in his hut when it’s so nice outside, but

  his butt hurts him. I think of the pretty painted things in his hut,

  and the carvings. Drenol likes special things. And I think of how

  much he talked even though he acted like he didn’t want to.

  Mommy’s right. He’s just sad and lonely. I didn’t see any No-

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  Poison gifts either. I bet he didn’t get any because his mate and son are gone.

  Someone should make him a gift. Everyone deserves something

  for No-Poison.

  I race back home. “Mommy! Mommy!”

  She’s rolling her spindle against her leg, excitement on her face.

  “Look, Lukti! It’s making yarn! I figured it out! I can make yarn and then we can make real fabric!”

  “Okay,” I say, trying to be excited for her. I move to her side and

  touch her other knee. “Mommy, I need you to help me make a

  present for Drenol cuz he doesn’t have anyone.”

  She holds her spindle for a second, then puts it aside and pulls

  me into her lap, squeezing me into a great big hug. “You’re a

  sweetheart, you know that, baby?”

  I just giggle, because I’m ticklish. “Does that mean you’ll

  help me?”

  “Of course. What do you want to do?”

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  DRENOL

  I nap for most of the day, because there is nothing else

  to do when you are old and your bones hurt. Vadren

  and Drayan are staying with the others as the festivities continue,

  so I am here alone.

  That suits me fine. I need no company. It is quieter without the

  nattering of others. I can hear my own thoughts. I can sleep. />
  Again, I guess.

  The fire is close to dying once more, but I do not have the energy

  to get up and stir the coals, not when it is just me here in the hut.

  It grows dark outside and I can hear distant laughter as others

  continue to feast and celebrate, but hearing that just makes me

  tired. My Koloi would have liked all the gift-giving, I think.

  Someone scratches politely at the entrance to my hut, even

  though the screen is ajar.

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  “What?” I call, irritated. “I am not walking over there just because

  you are too shy to come in.”

  “It’s me,” calls a young voice. The boy from earlier. Lukti.

  My heart aches. There is something about his eager gaze that

  reminds me of my young son, gone all these turns ago. Seeing

  him is painful. “What do you want?”

  “I brought you a gift.”

  Eh? I sit up, curious. “A gift?”

  The small head peeks around the corner and then Lukti comes into

  my hut. He carries one of the things humans call a “pillow,” and it is

  nearly as big as he is, the stuffing thick. It is trimmed with white fur

  on the edges and is so large it makes him waddle, and outside I see

  his dark-skinned mother smiling with approval as he comes inside.

  “Why do you think I need that?” I ask, struggling to get to my feet.

  “It’s for your butt,” he calls out cheerfully. “So you don’t hurt when you sit on your rock outside.”

  “We even made a strap,” his mother adds. “So you can put it over

  your arm and take it with you around the village.”

  Lukti stands there, holding the pillow and smiling at me uncer-

  tainly. Angry words rush to my tongue, but then I pause, because

  in each corner of the pillow, I can see where he has sewn a deco-

  rative stitch in bright red—and the swirling design is one that

  Koloi painted all over the skull that sits next to my bed.

  Clever, thoughtful boy.

  “Well,” I say, managing to straighten to my full height. “Let us try

  it out, then.”

  Excited, Lukti skips out to the front of the hut and I follow

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  behind, much slower. His mother waits a short distance away, her

  arms crossed under her teats as she watches, a little smile on

  her face.

  I move to my sitting rock and ease my weight down on the puffy

  thing. To my surprise, my tailbone is cradled perfectly and does

  not shoot fire up my back. “Well,” I say again. “Your mother is very thoughtful.”

  “Oh no,” she says. “This was all Lukti. I just helped.”

  I look down at the small, eager boy and nod slowly. “Then I

  thank you.”

  He beams at me, happiness wreathing his face and my chest

  aches. I reach out and pat his shoulder, and he comes and sits

  next to me on the big rock. “Mama says I can hang out with you if

  you want, and we’re gonna have snow-cat stew at our hut if you

  want to come over for dinner later. She says no one else is gonna

  be there, just us, and your pillow will fit on a sitting rock there,

  too.” The words rush out of him, as if he is afraid I will scowl him

  into silence before he finishes.

  “Only if you want to,” Teef-nee calls out. “No pressure.”

  “That is…very kind of you.” I shift my weight on the pillow. Very

  comfortable. The thoughtfulness of this small kit is astonishing.

  “I thought I would stay here, but…”

  “Stay here and carve animals?” Lukti asks, his voice full of

  excitement.

  I was going to sleep since there is nothing else to do, but I do not

  tell him that. “You like the carvings that much?”

  “Oh yes.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm.

  I gesture inside the hut. “Bring the basket and the leather wrap

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  next to it that holds my tools.” I nod at his waiting mother. “I will

  bring him home before dinner.”

  She winks at me and then strolls away as Lukti dashes into

  the hut.

  The boy returns a moment later, his arms full of the basket of

  carvings and my tools. I point at the wrap. “Unroll that on the ground and I will show you what each tool is for. A good carver

  needs many different ones. See that big carving on top? Of the

  skyclaw?”

  Lukti immediately grabs it and holds it up.

  “You can have that one.” I am rather proud of it, because the

  folded wings turned out well.

  His eyes widen and he clutches it to his chest. “Really?”

  “Really,” I say, and then gesture that he should sit down in front

  of me. “But if you really want to learn, I can teach you…” And I

  am oddly pleased when he thumps to the ground in front of me,

  all eagerness and attention. “All right, then. See that first stick there? With the hard edge? That is your pick…”

  THE END