Stone Age Mama

Chapter Four - Little Squirrel

-Summer-

The trees and brush were in her way and Belbet clawed through them with nails sharp as knives. She could hear her sister beside her, scrambling through underbrush just as she was, to get through to their children. Their rush contributed quite a bit to the idiocy that occurred a few seconds after Belbet saw her little girl’s scared face from behind the protective stretch of Eefim’s arms.

Belbet tripped head over heels into a wolf as large as she was, and the two went tumbling, snarling and scratching. Belbet clawed, even as she tried to keep the wolf’s jaws away from her throat and shoulders. Its back feet were clawing violently at her thighs, trying to get at her soft belly, and she slammed a knee into its stomach, twisting wildly beneath the canine.

There was screaming all around her while Belbet was fighting for her life and the lives of her children. She shrieked and pushed with all her strength, pushing the heavy canine body over and pinning it to the ground. Her instincts screamed to claw and she did, ripping great bloody swathes in the wolf’s side and belly, before, yelping, it twisted away from her.

Getting to her feet in a wobbly stance, she pushed the children behind her, putting her own body between the wolf and them. Deenat had found a heavy branch, and was now swinging it wildly at the beast like a club. Belbet shuffled the children to the side so that Deenat was between all of them and the wolf. It didn’t move, unfrightened or perhaps just convinced of its kill.

Or, Belbet thought when she saw the ribs of the beast, it was just too hungry to back down. Deenat brought the branch down on its head with a heavy crack, and the beast yelped, fleeing wobbly. The wolf’s pelt blended into the shadows of the forest as it left.

Pain and exhaustion brought her to her knees, and she turned to the children, checking them over quickly. Mohniit, small and terrified, tears and snot all over his face, only had a single bite on his leg, bleeding sluggishly. Dahnei, her little girl, so brave, her face soiled with tears too, had arms shredded from her fight with the wolf’s teeth. And brave, fearsome Eefim, scratched and bit all to hell, blood already scabbing, panting. His teeth were still bared, and Belbet respected him for it.

“You fought so well.” She praised, grabbing all three of them into her arms, hugging them. “So good. Such good children. You fought hard, and well. You did good.” She swallowed against tears because things had to be done soon. She turned to her sister, who came close, limping along. Belbet nodded to the furs around her sister’s waist. “Use those to bind the wounds. It’s going to hurt, but it’ll stop the bleeding.”

She took off her own and wrapped them tightly around Mohniit’s leg, tying it off even as he tried to push her hand away because it hurt. “I know, baby, I know.” She soothed, pulling him into her lap. Her own wounds stung and bled, and she ignored them for now. They didn’t have enough fur or cloth to bind her wounds for now, so she’d have to suffer silently. “Come, We have to get back to camp.”

Eefim picked up the net bags they must have dropped when the wolf appeared, full to near bursting. Limping, the five of them made it back to camp, and Belbet, despite the lightheadedness that came with the downward rush of a fight, began what little first aid she knew. She mixed up some mud, boiling it before applying it to everyone’s wounds, after she washed the canine saliva out of them. She hoped beyond hope that she would be able to find willow bark, as it was the only thing she knew that could stave off illness at this stage.

“Bel, you’re still bleeding.” Deenat hissed, even as Belbet spread mud on the wounds on her arms. “Clean yourself!”

Belbet groaned, shaking her head, before doing exactly that. She washed out her wounds with some of their boiled water, and then applied the mud. It hurt so much, and she had to stifle her cries, lest her children think less of her. When she was properly ‘bandaged’, she turned to her family. “We need to look for a specific tree. It’s a big tree with really dark bark. Its branches droop all the way to the ground and it’ll be near water. We need the bark of that tree, as much as we can get. Don’t pull the bark yourself. Mark the tree, and the way to the tree, and then come back to camp and I’ll go to collect the bark myself.”

Deenat frowned, “Should… is it really a good idea to split up when there’s a wolf out there?”

Belbet considered it, her mouth twisting. “You’re right.” She shook her head, standing, “We should definitely keep the children safe. One of us needs to go, and I’m the only one who knows what to look for.”

She wobbled as she tried to pick up one of the net bags. Little hands tried to steady her. “I can come, Mama.” Dahnei said, looking up at her, brow drawn and lips a thin line.

“No, baby. You stay here. Mama’s gonna get us all medicine, so we’ll be safe.” Belbet promised, kissing her little girl on the forehead. Her little mouse ears drooped, and it hurt the woman to say no, but in the end, she had to.

“While I’m gone, can you keep working on the field, sister?”

Deenat shook her head, “I’ll work on the house.”

“That’s… actually a better idea.” Belbet reached out, clasping her sister’s shoulder, and squeezing it gently. “I’ll be back before dark.” With these parting words, she left the little clearing they’d made their home in and headed to the riverside. Following the river down, she kept her eyes out for the tell-tale branches of a willow tree. While she was walking, she found other helpful things too. Reeds that she cut with the handaxe, sticking through the holes in her little bag, to hold them.

The muddy ground near the river sucked at her feet, so she moved a bit closer to the forest. The wind blew just enough for the early summer heat to be cooled on the back of her neck. Spotting a good place to build a bridge later, she shifted two big rocks to mark it. Then, she continued on. The trees here looked like your standard oaks and aspens to her. A few of those willowy-but-not-willow trees, tall and whippy, were scattered here and there too. They reminded her of a less-rigid bamboo, and she wasn’t sure what use they could be put to, but she’d have to experiment later.

Even better than any of that though, she noticed one some of the steep embankments around the river a deep red soil, which she was pretty sure was clay. Clay could be very, very useful and if she could build a kiln, she could make pots and plates and cups and so many other useful things. She marked this spot with a hastily made cross of reeds, and continued going. She let herself pick the little clustered berries around the path too, her stomach rumbling from hunger.

She rallied herself, focusing instead on looking for the sweeping branches she would need. She found a few other amazing things along the way. Bright yellow and orange peppers, if Victoria was any judge. She picked several, putting them in her little bag, making sure to get the seeds as well. She would have uprooted the whole plant and transplanted it, but again, she needed to move on quickly. Casting her eyes over the grassy knolls on either side of the river, she finally spotted the rounded shape she was looking for.

She pushed through several bushes, heading for the dome she’d seen and sure enough, there it was on an overlook just above the river. A willow, sure as rain, its branches dipping gracefully into the water. When she got closer, she could see seeds spread across the ground as well. She pulled a handful of the seeds into her bag, hoping she had a few viable ones in the mix. She touched the bark of the tree, and several of its smaller bush-like stalks as well, checking for signs of worms or beetles, and upon finding none, pulled out her handaxe. She struck off some of the branches, long, thin and whiplike, choosing only the ones about as big as her thumb

When she had a good pile of the switches in hand, she stuffed them through the holes on her bag and headed home. The path back was just as simple as it was forward, and she had the luck to spot a giant buck along with a couple of does, deer nibbling at grass and dappled in sunlight. Her feet ached, but it was worth it, the weight of the bark in her bag sure to help her family with any further pain and infection.

When she got back to the camp, she was surprised to find a tiny celebration was happening. The children danced around as best they could with their wounds, laughing and clapping. Even Eefim danced with little Mohniit’s hands in his own, and Belbet laughed, drawing everyone’s joyous attention. “What’s going on over here?”

“We finished the house!” Dahnei crowed, pointing almost violently at the completed walls of the hut. Even the front was finished, with a person-sized hole in the front. And just as Belbet had mentioned to her yesterday, Deenat had made sure that there were holes where they would need to put the door-strut.

“It’s perfect! You all did so well, oh wow!” Belbet crowed, clapping her hands. Then, she crouched down in front of the kids, and grinned. “Guess what. I found the tree I was looking for, and some other things besides. Do you guys want to help me grow a tree?” She asked, making her eyes big on purpose.

“Grow tree?” Mohniit managed, shaking his hands up and down, “Grow tree!”

“Yes!” Belbet cooed, “Yes we will, but first, we have to put the roof on the house. Can you kiddoes gather as many big leaves as you can?”

This sent the children racing off into the forest. Caution kept them close enough to see camp, however. Belbet turned to Deenat and smiled, “You did amazing, all of you. Really. I brought back seeds, things we can plant in the garden. This time next year, or even sooner, we’ll have plenty of food.”

Deenat sighed, “What did you even go out for?”

“This.” Belbet pulled out the sticks, showing her, back and front. She let her fingers drift over the craggly bark, and smiled gently. “It’s willow bark. When made into tea, it can cure fevers.”

“How do you know that?” Deenat asked, thinking that it must have been a lesson she herself hadn’t been given. “What’s tea?”

“Tea is when something is added to boiled water, and then the water is drank. Like soup, but you don’t eat the stuff in the water.” Belbet explained, realizing she was explaining poorly but her head was throbbing, so she didn’t care. “Do we have any of those little blue berries left?”

“Yes.” Deenat frowned.

“Get me some, and start boiling some water.”

While Deenat went to do just that, Belbet sat down in front of the fire, and began stripping the bark off the switches in small increments. The stone knapped knife wasn’t the easiest to do this with, but it was better than nothing. If she could just keep her eyes open, and her fingers from shaking.

Deenat appeared at her side, shaking her, “Bel! Bel, what- You’ve cut yourself!”

Belbet looked down and blinked, and sure enough, her finger was covered in blood. “Ah… I must’ve…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, her head swimming.

A fight, adrenaline, and the walk afterwards was making her woozy. She needed a good nap, and maybe a hospital, and the internet. None of which were available here. She’d have to soldier through. She’d have to make sure things got done. Her malaise was so deep that she didn’t notice when Deenat came to her side.

“Sister, just tell me how to help you.” Belbet was overwhelmed then with a fierce love for Deenat, stinging at her eyes. She nodded, and when Deenat gestured, Belbet let herself curl up on the furs next to the fire.

Once she was laying down, Deenat hovering over her with a worried crease on her brow, she pointed to the bits of willow bark. “Take those, and boil them in the water. Only… as many as make up the width of your smallest finger.”

Belbet was much more able to keep going now that she wasn’t standing. Ah, Deenat must have applied mud to Belbet’s finger at some point. It stung but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. She watched as Deenat boiled the bark, and after what felt internally like ten minutes, she told Deenat to take the stones out of the water, so that it could steep. There was about six cups worth of the almost-tea, and Belbet was pretty sure every single one of them needed a cup or two, so that should be enough for now.

The children came back a while later, many huge leaves carried between them, and Belbet reassured them when they came to ask her why she was laying down, she carefully told them she was resting. She gestured to the tea, which had been steeping for almost half an hour now. “Drink some of that. It’ll help you feel better.”

The children did, although they had to be coaxed to do so, after the initial taste was horrifically bitter. That was what the berries were for, she reasoned, popping one in Mohniit’s mouth after he’d drunk a big mouthful of the willow bark tea. He chewed it, and immediately broke out into a smile.

Belbet’s little jaunt had spent most of their day, and the rest was spent piling the leaves onto the roof and tying them down properly. Then, together, they all heaved the piles of leaves into proper spots. Belbet called out orders from the inside, smiling as the daylight (what little of it was left) was slowly blocked out by the leaves. Their ceiling wasn’t complete, oh no, but it would work well for a little while, unless a torrential rain happened.

Once the ceiling was on, Belbet had Deenat start a fire in the fireplace, and they all marvelled at how warm the inside of the building was afterwards. Belbet couldn’t help the happy laughter that bubbled up when the children jumped in and out of the little doorway to feel the difference in temperature. They spent a few moments dragging the furs from in front of the fire into the house, and spreading them out so everyone could sleep somewhat comfortably.

Dinner was mud-cooked sweet potatoes, cooked rabbit, and the bitter leaves of a spinach-like plant one of the kids found. The gourds were left for the next day, and Belbet told everyone to throw their bones into the fireplace. She’d scrape the ashes tomorrow and put them into the garden soil.

With Mohniit dozing next to her on one of the large sleeping furs, and Dahnei laying on the other side of him, Belbet sighed happily, content that they had at least the beginnings of a home here.

“Mama… Can you tell us a story?” Dahnei asked, her voice quiet in the dim light of the house. Across the small hut, Belbet saw her sister’s fire-shadowed form shift to look at her. Her little nephew turned too, curiosity written on the shadows of his face.

“Sure.” She paused for a moment, and ran through the catalogue of stories that Victoria knew, stories that could be told here without worry of copyright or laws. But honestly… she knew she needed to start teaching the children, so… “Once upon a time, there was a little squirrel. The Squirrel lived in a forest, a mighty forest, old and strong and deep. Every year, this forest went through the four seasons, and during winter, its snow was thick and deep and strong. But this story starts in spring, you see. As the buds bloomed and the world shook off the cold of winter, the squirrel was hard at work.”

A little yawn came from Eefim’s direction, stifled by a hand, and Belbet continued, “You see, the squirrel was gathering seeds. Lots and lots of seeds, and hiding them, all over the forest. Now, the old owl was confused. He asked Little Squirrel, ‘Why do you do this? Shouldn’t you eat the seeds as soon as you find them? Are you not hungry?’

“And the squirrel replied, ‘I am. I am very hungry. But in winter, I will be even hungrier still. These seeds are for winter.’ And the Owl hummed, but he did not understand. But he watched as the squirrel hid seeds in the ground, under stones, in hollows of trees, everywhere the squirrel went. The Owl watched, all through spring, and into summer. And then, one day… something terrible happened.”

“What happened, Mama?” Dahnei breathed, on the edge of her seat.

Belbet stroked her hair, gently squeezing the soft side of one of her mouse ears. “A fire, little mouse. A fire, so big and so wild, spread through the big forest. It burnt all the trees to death, and all the little bushes and hollows that everyone hid in and lived in and ate from. The Owl was safe, he’d flown away as soon as the fire had started. And when he met the little squirrel again, he sighed. ‘So much for saving your seeds for winter, Little Squirrel. Now you will starve in fall instead.’”

Belbet shifted, sighing as she laid down next to her children, the quiet popping of the fire lulling her. “But, although everyone else who returned to the burnt forest was hungry, the Little Squirrel never seemed to be hungry. In fact, sometimes, the Little Squirrel would even give others seeds, saying, ‘please, keep trying. I’m sure you will find food soon.’ The Owl watched, and was astonished.

“Summer passed into fall. With fall, some new growth came to the forest, but not enough. The winter was sure to be so lean as to kill some. Everyone worried, except the Little Squirrel. Again, the Owl asked him, ‘Are you not scared of the winter? Are you not worried you will starve to death?’ And the Little Squirrel shook its head, and continued its seed-searching, even knowing it wouldn’t find anything new.”

“Winter was hard, The Owl himself felt he was starving, as so many had died before. And sure enough, he did not see Little Squirrel at any time during winter. The Owl was sure his little friend had starved to death.”

Dahnei’s eyes were sparkling wells of darkness, wavering as she fought sleep to hear the story. Belbet stroked a soft lop-ear, her son curling closer to her.

“Spring came… and it was strange. For the forest before had been hard scarred by the fire, destroyed. Yet, with spring, came new shoots, new bushes, new trees growing everywhere. And oddly, the Owl could see new growth in all the places his Little Squirrel friend had been running busily to and fro during the last spring. He watched, as sure enough, the seeds the little Squirrel had hidden grew, and grew, and grew, fed by the ash of the trees, into big, strong bushes that yielded berries, trees that yielded fruit. And then it came to the Owl.

“The Little Squirrel had been hiding away food for the future. Not just for Little Squirrel to eat, but for everyone. And now, thanks to Little Squirrel, whoever was left, would have plenty to eat. ‘Thank you, Little Squirrel.’ the Owl cried, ‘Thank you, for planting seeds, for bringing back our forest’.

“‘You’re welcome,’ said a tiny voice, and the Owl turned, and there Little Squirrel was, smiling, ash-covered. ‘My seeds are all gone. I shall have to work hard this year again, or I shall suffer in winter, don’t you think?’ And the old Owl laughed, ‘my friend, I do not think you will suffer any winter.’”

“Such a smart little squirrel.” Deenat said in the quiet, and then yawned. Belbet laughed a little.

“Is that… why you’re saving the sweet potatoes, mama?” Dahnei asked, and Belbet grinned at her in the dark, brushing hair from her face, and holding her eyes closed.

“Yes, baby. Now, it’s time for sleep. Sweet dreams, my lovely daughter.”

That night, for the first time since the fever that’d brought her here, Belbet dreamed. She dreamed of the Little Squirrel running through branches that seemed to stretch forever. Then, in blinding light, the squirrel jumped and suddenly there were no branches. Just the world, laid out beneath them, different from the one Victoria had seen on globes in school. All through the world below, lines of light like threads of yarn spread around the core of the world.

The dream shifted, a glaze of light and sound and then Belbet was stalking through the water, the muffled sounds of a river moving around her. She kept her eyes open, and her whole body moved. She couldn’t feel the cold, it was like when she was swimming. She opened her jaws, finding the fish that she was chasing just in front of her. But when she closed them, she did not taste fish.

Instead, she wrapped her lips around an orb, golden and shining, and swallowed it down. Then, as if she wasn’t in her own body, she watched the golden orb slide down her throat and settle in her belly, no… no, just below her belly, near where she’d carried her babies. The golden light suffused her, and she sighed happily. It felt warm.

Her eyes opened to the shadow ceiling of their house, and the sounds of talking outside. There was a tiny body pressed to her side, octopus-like-limbs wrapped around her. Mohniit, asleep and heavy, was breathing against her chest. She could hear the voices of the others outside, talking. She sat up, gently untangling her little son, and then heading out to the campfire.

“Mama!” Dahnei greeted upon seeing Belbet exit the house. “Did you sleep well?”

Belbet nodded, taking in her energetic child, and the condition of everyone else, too. It looked like they weren’t hurting, or severely injured, which was good. She began the process of making another batch of willow bark tea. It looked like Deenat had already taken care of breakfast, which was nice.

Sitting down, while the water boiled, Belbet started talking, planning out the day. “Now that the house is finished, I want to start on another project that will help us.” She paused, figuring that going into the explanation of how a kiln works right now would probably pull away from getting their day together. “We also need to finish tilling the garden, and get those potato chunks planted. ...I’d also like to carve some bowls and cups today too. We can’t keep eating off of stones. ...And we need to make a little fence. ...Ah, I’ll explain that later. Eefim, do you think you can find me some bird’s eggs today?”

The boy looked up from his baked sweet potato, and blinked. Then he nodded, “I’ve seen some birds around lately… I can try and find their nests.”

“Perfect. I want the eggs completely intact, and as many as you can get. Wrap them up in leaves, so they don’t crack against each other, okay?” Belbet coached. “Sister, do you think you can handle tilling the garden? We should mix the ashes from last night’s dinner fire into the earth. It’ll help the plants grow. It’s called fertilizer.”

Deenat nodded, waving her hand as if to wave off Belbet’s concern. “That much I can do.”

“What about me, Mama?” Dahnei whined, and Belbet couldn’t help but laugh at how slighted she sounded.

“Well, can my Dahnei make something for me, if I show her how?” Belbet asked, deciding that Dahnei would probably be able to make some fish-traps. If the five-year old can make baskets, then she can definitely make fish traps. “We’ll need those willow branches I brought back. Can you bring them to me? And some rope?”

Dahnei nodded, her hair flying, before bolting up to go get the leftover sticks that hadn’t already been fed to a fire. When she came back, Belbet took one of the sticks and sat in the dirt, beginning to draw. She drew a big circle, with a mouth on it, and then, a sort of reverse triangle, to make the entrance narrow.

“This is called a fish trap. You plant sticks in the water, deep, so they can’t be moved, round in a circle like this, and you make the opening like this. See? Then the fish, they swim in here, but they’re too stupid to swim back out. Understand?” She explained it once more, after Dahnei frowned uncertainly at it. “If you can make this, we’ll have more crawdads and fish to eat!”

That got the girl motivated, and she took the leftover willow branches and took off for the river. Belbet called, “Ah, don’t forget to bait it once you’re done! Take some dead fish or worms and put them in the circle! Sheesh, she ran off so fast.” She turned to Deenat, and smiled.

“Mama!” Her son’s voice interrupted whatever she’d been about to say, drawing her attention to where he was toddling out of the house and towards her. She gathered him into her arms as soon as he stumbled sleepily against her side, and cuddled him close. “Mama, big.”

A snort left the woman and she replied, “Well yes, Mama is very big, compared to Mohniit.” She poked his nose, which set him giggling, and pushing her hand away.

“Nooooo. Big hungry.”

“Ohhhh, my boy is hungry, is that it?” She asked, before pointing him to the share his aunt had set out for him. “Well, there is Mohniit’s food, he should eat it quickly, hm? So that the crows don’t come and get it!”

Mohniit squealed, his rabbit ears rising in dismay, as he pushed out of her hold. She laughed the whole time, while he gathered up his food and started nibbling like the cute little bunny he was. Then, with him satisfied, she turned to her sister, “I’m going to build a cage, a pen in which to hold some animals. That way, they’ll stay alive, and we can eat them when we need to. If I get done building it before you get done tilling, I’ll come help till, so let me know if you finish up before I’m done, so that I can help you plant the sweet potatoes, okay?”

Deenat nodded, swallowing down the last of her crawfish. The two women stood up, Belbet stretching her arms above her head tentatively, to see if the formerly dislocated one still ached. She was surprised to find… It didn’t. It actually didn’t. It didn’t hurt at all. How strange.

With that, Belbet headed to the edge of the clearing to gather some more sticks. This time, she was looking for sticks about the size of her forearm. Not huge, just big enough that they’d stick in the ground and be hard to move. After finding nine good ones, she turned to looking for sticks the size of her fingers, and gathered as many of those as she could.

Carrying them close to the house, she started using a heavy rock to pound the big ones into the ground in a square shape. Three to each side, and then she could weave the thinner sticks between them. In this way, she created a pen big enough to house at least one chicken, maybe two. If they could find some, that was.

About halfway through making the pen, she paused to call everyone to drink their willow bark tea. The kids complained again about the taste, and she personally handed each their berries. She’d have to see about finding honey or sugar later on down the road. Right now they were a little too busy just trying to survive.

After the tea, it was easier to weave the cage, and she finished in record time. She felt oddly light today. Faster, too. When she was done with the cage, she did as she promised and helped Deenat finish tilling. Together, they got the space cleared pretty quickly. The ashes were mixed in, and then Belbet showed Deenat how to plant the sweet potato chunks, so that hopefully they would grow. Belbet had high expectations, considering how dark the soil near this river was. Then, it was a matter of setting the kids on screaming, laughing missions to draw water and bring it to water the seeds they’d planted.

Eefim had come back with eggs galore, seven of them of several different kinds, which worried Belbet a bit. He also came back with a flapping, living set of birds that looked remarkably like chickens. Although much smaller and less meaty than Victoria was used to, once fattened up, they’d be an excellent source of food.

“Great! Bird for dinner.” Deenat cried, excited as she tried to snatch the birds from her son. Belbet had to stretch out a hand to stop her, because that wasn’t what they were there for. She seemed betrayed as Belbet explained that she wanted to *keep* the birds.

Then, her eyes widened, and she blinked, “This is a Little Squirrel thing. You’re saving them for later.”

It startled Belbet that her sister had listened so closely to the story she’d told the night before. “Yes. The chickens lay eggs, and we can eat those eggs. As long as we feed the chickens, we will have food.”

Deenat didn’t fuss when Belbet took the chickens to the pen she’d made, and set them inside. She did, however, when Belbet moved away from the pen. “They’re going to get away!”

Belbet smiled, “Well, they certainly will, if we don’t feed them. And if we don’t provide them with shelter.” Here, she picked up the little half-lid she’d made for the chicken pen, and set it over the top. It was mostly-woven, without big holes, so that the roof was safe. Then, she dumped some of the crawfish bits in the pen as well. “We can have the kids dig up worms and insects to give them. In the meantime, I need to check if any of these eggs are going to grow into birds.”

“How… would you check?”

She gestured for Eefim, who had asked, to follow her. She took him, his curious mother, and Belbet’s even more curious toddler, into the house. She then proceeded to show them how to view the egg with the fire behind it, to see if there was a shadow of a baby bird inside. Three of the eggs were indeed fertilized. The rest went into the ‘we’re going to eat this today’ pile. The three that were fertilized were wrapped in one of Eefim’s rabbit furs and placed close enough to the fire that they were warm, but not boiling. Belbet could only hope the birds inside hatched safely.

“How long until birds come out?” Eefim asked, excitement leaching into his voice, and Belbet considered her nephew.

“Well, that depends on the birds. Some birds can take as much as two months to hatch, but most birds will hatch before the twenty day mark.” Of course, as the tribes had no basis for counting that high, she received confused looks. “If you were to count all of your fingers and toes, that many days is how long it usually takes chicken eggs to hatch. These eggs, we will give two large moon turns, and if they do not hatch by then, we will throw them out.”

The three eggs in question were each different. One was oblong and brownish, which Belbet was secretly hoping was a duck egg, and one was small and blue, which she was pretty sure was a songbird of some sort. The third and final egg was massive, easily the size of her own head. She was thinking it might be some form of prehistoric ostrich, and she was hoping that it would be tameable.

The afternoon crawled to a slog. The children were mostly done with their mad dashes to water the garden, and were now digging up creepy crawlies to feed to the chickens, who clucked happily at the treats dropped in their way. Belbet sat with her sister, the two of them hollowing out chunks of wood to create bowls and cups. Just as the first bowl was finishing up, rubbed smooth with sand, Belbet lamented that she didn’t know how to keep the bowls from putting splinters in their food.

The truth was, Victoria knew the concept of using oak resin and such to seal wood, but she didn’t know how to make it no longer poisonous to human consumption. That was why clay bowls were much more useful. But the worst part for Belbet was the carving. It made her arms hurt. It was while massaging the arm in question and staring into the glowing coals of their campfire that she realized.

“Ah!” She turned, picking up a big piece of wood, rounded and about the length of her hand thick and wider than her hips. “Perfect.” She set it out flat, and then used some sticks to gather up coals and pile them on the center of the woodround. She gathered them together, and blew on them gently.

“What are you doing?” Deenat asked, confused as to why her sister had abandoned a half-carved object to start a new fire.

“I’m burning out a bowl. This way, no splinters, because the flame takes care of it, and no carving! Our arms are saved!” Belbet repeated the process so that five bowls were burning at the same time, keeping heavy eyes on them. Once, Mohniit came over to grab one and look inside it, and she had to gently snatch him up and send him on a fire-wood errand with his big sister to keep him safe from burnt fingers. When they came back, it was with more firewood and a very cute Mohniit, dragging a big piece of wood behind him, his little face red with exertion.

Before dinner, Dahnei checked her fish trap and sure enough, there was a fish in there already! She came back holding the flopping thing high with triumph, and Belbet clapped for her. That night, Belbet cooked the fish in a thick leaf from the blue gourds, after mushing some berries and wild onions inside it. Then, she mashed up some sweet potatoes and mixed in some of the onions there too along with two of the eggs all scrambled up, before recooking them on a hot rock, so that they formed patties.

These and slices of the fish, she served to the family she had gained in this little world, and they all oohed and awwed. Mohniit wanted more of the mash, sweet as it was, and Belbet indulged him, giving some of her own.

“You must teach me to make food like this.” Deenat declared, pointing her hastily-made chopsticks at what was left of her own food. Belbet laughed and agreed.