Pustakawan was very pleased with himself when he returned with not one, but two chamois carcasses. He'd been lucky, catching the goatelopes napping while he hunted them from higher ground. Dorit and other friends from the Stone Tribe happened to be hunting at the same time and cheered for him when they saw him stagger past under the weight of both carcasses. They knew it was the first time he had successfully hunted the agile creatures of the mountains and were pleased for him.
"Some of the Stone Tribesmen will be coming by in a bit to help us prepare all of this," he puffed, throwing the two carcasses on the ground and accepting a cup of tea from Vevie. "Up to you if you want to hide or to stay and show your face. You're free now anyway and they'll help you fight for your freedom if Chimcham comes around to try and make trouble. We'd be here for several more days otherwise, preparing all this meat - which would be too much for us."
"Since you trust them and have already made the introductions," Vevie showed her palms to the sky, "there's not much else I can say, is there?"
"You don't mind?"
"I trust you. You trust them."
"They've gone back to bring their wives over to help. You'll have some company. It'll be good for you."
"You know, I spent most of my childhood growing up in the army," Vevie said. "I don't miss girly company that easily. I'm as good as any man."
"I know," Pustakawan smiled, hands up to show he hadn't meant anything else. "I know. Not trying to insult your toughness any, but we do need help and you need more clothes than what you're wearing. The Stone Tribe are happy to come out for a bit of what they call a 'fun holiday' and since I've been teaching a few of them about medicine, they can collect a few herbs while they're down here."
"It sounds like it's going to get crowded," Vevie said with a sigh. She was still weak, the swellings from the beatings hadn't completely gone and her bruises had turned her all sorts of mottled shades. In short, she didn't anyone besides Juta to see her still weak and looking so ugly. She was a warrior princess after all. There was a reputation to protect.
"Yes. I think it will get pretty crowded," Pustakawan scratched his neck and his smile became a bit awkward when a line of children ran streaming into the camp and threw themselves at him. He still hasn't figured out why children all loved to throw themselves on him and knock him down. "I think it might get even worse than I imagined," he waved his arm to Vevie from under the pile of little laughing bodies on top of him.
Before they knew it, the Stone Tribe had surrounded them, set up tents and started massive fires. Firewood piled up everywhere seemingly by magic. Someone had brought more chamois carcasses that had recently been killed. All the carcasses were hung up with the ones that Pustakawan had hunted onto lower tree branches. By the time Pustakawan had extricated himself from under the pile of over enthusiastic children, the skinning was almost done. And a smoking tent had been erected over a big fire where racks had been set up.
Women were boiling pots of water, cooking, and gathered around Vevie, measuring her up for new clothes. Another woman was following behind Pustakawan and her husband, holding up different chamois hides to their backs and muttering to herself, drawing on the hides with a chalkstone. From somewhere, a pot of wax was being melted by a fire and someone was making waxcloth, while another had begun spinning some sort of plant fibre thread to begin making the candles that Pustakawan had taught them about only a few weeks ago. Arrows were being fletched, but the horrid smell of the glue was swept away by the wind. Fat was being thrown into another empty pot from where a skinned carcass was being butchered while another huge pot collected bones. A man badgered Pustakawan until he brought out a small bag of salt and the whole tribe danced in joy at the sight. The salt bag was whisked away and Pustakawan doubted he would ever see it again.
In between being jostled from one place and one conversation to another, Pustakawan saw Vevie getting involved in combing and plaiting the hair of little girls in one moment and treating the grazes on the knees of little boys in the next. Then she was helping with the cooking and then she was helping another women scrape the skins of stretched leather. He smiled to himself, seeing her seem to come to life. The women didn't let her exert herself too much, having already looked over her injuries and redressed the deep knife wound.
"Don't worry," Dorit elbowed Pustakawan in the ribs. "We're not about to tell Chimcham or any of the Chamois Tribe that she decided to follow you. We know she'll be safe with you. You're a gentleman. Tell me more about those tribesmen you killed and that foreigner."
Pustakawan recounted the events the night the rain started, including what Vevie had told him and some of the eavesdropping tribesmen nearby listened with interest.
"Sounds a bit like the Gutstring Tribe," Dorit said, while the other tribesmen around them discussed Pustakawan's descriptions. "They recently had a victory over the Bearings Tribe and completely took over their camp. The Bearings Tribe were allies of the their rivals, the Foxwoods, see."
"That's right," one of Dorit's many brother agreed in a rumbling voice. "Rumour has it that they had help from a lowlander and were going to attack the Foxwoods once the rain stopped. Haven't heard any other news since then."
"We'll send some of the girls over for a visit some time," Dorit looked over a group of girls giggling around a mother with her baby. "Minna and Pinna are from the Foxwoods. They can go for a visit while we're down here and find out what's happened."
"I'll send them," a young man popped up underneath Dorit's arm. "Pa, leave their safety to me."
"Go with some of your cousins," Dorit nodded. "Run over and run back before the sun sets."
"That won't give us much time to do anything," the young man complained. "How are we going to get ourselves invited to a meal from the Foxwoods and steal some woodsalt if you don't give us any time?"
"By tomorrow midday then, Bis," another of Dorit's brothers chimed in. "Come straight back if they're fighting and don't worry about the woodsalt. We'll make our own while we're down here among the trees."
The young man, Bis, whooped and pulled himself out from under Dorit's arm, rounding up his friends and the girls. In there end, there was a party of at least ten young people running out of the camp shouting with delight.
"Hope Rocko and Peder doesn't mind that we sent off their women without asking them," Dorit said.
"I'll go tell them," said one of Dorit's brothers and he ambled off, looking like a bear in his ragged, furry leather.
Pustakawan turned his attention back to the carcasses he was helping to butcher, sometimes finding it a little hard to keep up with these friends he had made. Not long later, he was nudged away by Dorit, for being too slow and was recruited into sausage making, while being fed by another woman bits of roast meat that had already been broiled over the fire with herbs and salt. He lamented a little over the loss of salt. He'd have to find a way to do some trade or hope he came across a merchant caravan sometime soon. Good thing he'd kept a little aside in a secret side pocket.
A woman rummaged in his pack and took out some spare long trousers to use as a pattern, while another had pinned one of his shirts to a chamois skin. He saw dripping candles hanging up to dry and another woman was turning over the bedroll in the sun so that the other side could dry. Yet another woman was refining chamois fat and filtering it through a weaving of a mix of herbs, and then using ground ashes from the fire to mix with it. Another woman was washing soapwort carefully and tying them into little bundles.
Children were running in and out of the forest all the time with different tubers and herbs and fruits and birds, waving sticks and knives and slings.
He saw someone mending his socks with the same thread that she had used to patch a hole in her child's trousers and there was a man giving shoulder rides to boost some children up the rock, who were climbing the rather perilous looking cliff above them. Some youth were practising sword fighting, while others were wrestling and getting scolded when they nearly fell in the fire. Meat was being carried into the smoke house and roasted bones were being cracked for the marrow. Grains were being pounded into flour and the smell of food wafted through the camp.
Pustakawan smiled at the relaxed energy around him, enjoying the atmosphere and knowing that before long, it'd be just be Vevie and himself again. It was nice to have company and appreciated the tribe's send off.