A Gift for Drenol
A GIFT FOR DRENOL
AN IPB SLICE OF LIFE
RUBY DIXON
MY GIFT TO YOU. <3 HAPPY NO-POISON DAY!
1
DRENOL
I t is hard to be old in a tribe full of young ones. I watch
the tribe move about the village, racing about as if
they do not have hand after hand of years ahead of them. There
are females everywhere, their kits darting back and forth across
the cobbled stone walkways that make paths through the new
village.
Bah. New village. I prefer the caves of my youth. They were much
warmer than these little huts, and the worn, smooth floors were
easier on the feet than the cobblestones. But times change, and
tribes change. Hektar is no longer chief, but his son Vektal. And
Vektal has a human mate, a pale, stringy-looking creature with no
nose to speak of and a bushy, curly mane. She has a nice smile, at
least, and has bred him two strong daughters and carries a third
kit. He seems happy enough.
They all do, actually. Now more than ever, the tribe is full of
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happiness. It does not matter that it is the brutal season and the
winds roar overhead, carrying blankets of thick snow to cover the
landscape. Here in this canyon, we are protected, and so everyone
wanders about, smiling like fools. Even Haeden, who has always
been reasonable and quiet in the past, has an idiot smile on his
face as his little mate chatters and chatters, rubbing her rounded
belly and they string up colorful seeds along the walls of
their hut.
Jo-see. Bah. That one is determined to repopulate the entire tribe
with her womb alone.
I snort, amused at my own joke.
Everywhere I look, I see families moving around the village. They
dart from hut to hut, decorating with banners and boughs, seed
chains and tiny basketed trees that Salukh’s mate brought out
from the long-house. The base of each tree is covered with a red-
dyed leather covering to protect the roots, and the tree branches
themselves are covered in strange ornaments. Each one has been
placed in front of the entrance of a hut, and the kits are so excited
at the sight of each one that they scream and laugh, racing
around like crazed metlaks.
My bones ache just looking at them.
Drayan moves out of our hut and to my side, stretching. “They
enjoy this No-Poison thing, the kits.”
I grunt.
“I like that they decorate the huts,” Drayan continues, oblivious
to my surly mood. He crosses his arms over his chest, his snow-
white braids stark against his skin. “You know who would have
liked this?”
I stiffen, my eyes narrowing.
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3
“Koloi.”
“My mate would not have approved of this nonsense,” I grumble
at him. “She was sensible.”
“She painted everything she could get her hands on, you old
fool.” Drayan just grins at me, as if bringing up my mate will
make me pleasant. He should know better.
I just scowl at him. Some of us age cheerfully, like Drayan, who
greets every day with a smile and does not mind that he some-
times has to walk with a cane to support his weight. Some age
into fools, like Vaza, who went to the other village with his
female. And Vadren, who loses his wits a little more every day.
Me, I aged into an old, bitter hunter. My mate, my sweet Koloi, is
long gone. There are no grown kits to look after, no family at my
fire. Our son died not many turns after he was born and there
was never another. Such is life. If it has made me unpleasant to
be around, I care not. Fools like Drayan will always try to talk to
me. Koloi’s sister Kemli tries to include me when she gathers her
family to her hearth, but she has all of her kits alive and grown,
with families of their own. Even now, she is cooking a mountain
of food for her son Zennek and his mate, and the mates of Pashov
and Salukh. Her hearth is full of human females and their kits,
and I do not want to spend my time there. I know if I stay here,
she will bring me food and that is all I need.
Stupid No-Poison haul-day.
As if he can read my thoughts, Drayan gives my shoulder a
thump. “Are you going to Kemli’s fire this night?”
“Why?” I frown up at him. “So the humans can talk my
horns off?”
“Jo-see will not be there,” he teases, knowing my particular
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dislike for that one and her chattering mouth. “Stay-see and Teef-
nee are not noisy like her. And Mar-len is amusing.”
I just roll my eyes.
“You should spend the evening with them,” he encourages. “I will
be going to Meh-gann’s fire. She is cooking for myself and Suh-
mer and Warrek. It will be nice. And Vadren has been invited to
Air-ee-yon-uh’s fire since her mate is gone and she wants to cook
for someone. If you do not want to go with Kemli’s family, go and
visit her?”
“No.”
He gets a sly look on his face. “I bet if I tell Jo-see that you are eating alone she will come and insist on you spending the
evening at their fire. Humans love this haul-day.”
I glare at him and get to my feet. Or try to, but it’s a struggle. My
old bones do not respond like they used to. I manage to get up,
and then I straighten to my full height and glare at him. “I am going to Kemli’s, if only to shut you up.”
Drayan laughs, pleased. “You will enjoy yourself, friend.”
I somehow doubt that very much.
I ARRIVE at Kemli’s hut as late as possible. Even before I walk in, I
can smell delicious scents…and I hear the murmur of voices. The
hide she keeps over the door is pushed aside, welcoming any to
walk in, and so I do and sit down by the fire immediately.
“Brother,” Kemli says warmly, smiling at me. She is still lovely
despite her age, and I imagine my Koloi might have looked like
her if she would have lived longer. It makes my heart ache, but I
manage to nod at her. “I am glad you are here. Are you hungry?”
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5
“No,” I say stubbornly. “I am only here because Drayan would not
be quiet. I would rather be at home, where it is quiet.” And I glare
at the kits playing on the floor nearby.
Kemli only rolls her eyes and tweaks one of my braids. “I will get
you a cup of tea anyhow. The food is not quite ready yet, is it, Stay-see?”
“Soon,” the human woman says. That one is Pashov’s mate, her
son holding a bowl for her as she ladles a sweet-smelling mixture
onto her flat metal baking tray. Nearby, Teef-nee’s boy plays with
Mar-len’s daughter, a set of carved bone figures in front of them.
Mar-len holds Stay-see’s newest kit in her ar
ms as she talks to her
mate, and Teef-nee fiddles with something in her hands as she
talks to Borran. It is crowded and hot in the hut, and I do not like it.
Kemli returns to my side and gives me a cup of tea. “Here, your
favorite.”
“I do not know how I am supposed to drink it when I am already
melting,” I tell her, scowling, but I take the tea anyhow.
She just pats my shoulder and moves back to the fire, stirring
something before moving past Stay-see.
I notice Teef-nee’s son watching me, and I frown in his direc-
tion. My backside aches from sitting on this rock, and I can
already tell this will be a long evening. I bite back a sigh of irri-
tation when the boy gets up, a carved figure clutched in his
hand, and comes to my side. His eyes are wide and curious. He
has the same mane that his mother does, the wild, tight curls
that spin out like a cloud around his head and horns, but his
skin is the same shade as his father’s. He tilts his head at me, ignoring my scowl. “Do you want to play hunters with me and
Zalene?”
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And he holds out a carved figure to me. I take it from him,
studying it. The carving is a dvisti. “Who did this?”
“Aehako.”
I grunt. “He needs practice. His animals are not very good.” I
hand it back. “No, I do not want to play.”
Lukti’s mouth purses, unhappy. “Why are you mad?”
Am I to get no relief this day? “I am mad because I have to be here.” I gesture at the too-crowded room, where there is barely
room to breathe. “It is crowded. It is noisy. People want to feed me
when I just want to be left alone. And my backside hurts because
these seats are uncomfortable.” I glare the last part at Kemli, who
ignores me, a smile on her face.
“But it’s a holiday,” Lukti says, confused. “Everyone gets together
with family on the holiday.”
“Bah. Haul-day.” I wave a hand in the air. “So you can put up ugly
decorations? My mate could make a hut like this pretty. Koloi
could paint better than any of these fools.”
Instead of being offended, he looks interested. “Koloi? I haven’t
met her. Is she visiting Icehome like Pacy’s Papa?”
His innocent words cut deep. “No.”
He gets even more excited. “Is there a story about her?”
I wave a hand irritably, trying to shoo him away. “Leave me alone.
My bones ache.”
“Will you tell me a story next time? I love hearing stories.” He is
persistent, this one.
“I do not like you,” I tell him, scowling. “Go away!”
Kemli is there a moment later, ushering the kit back to his
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7
mother. “Come, Lukti. Stay-see’s cakes are almost done and you
get the first one.”
I grunt, pleased that she is taking him away. Far too many kits in
this village, I decide. Far too many.
This haul-day cannot end quick enough.
2
LUKTI
A fter spending the evening at Nana Kemli’s hut, me and
Mommy walk back to our hut in the dark. I want to ask
Mommy a bunch of questions, but she’s real quiet, like she is
when she’s thinking about her spindle, so I’m quiet too. I know it
makes her cry sometimes and I don’t want to make her cry.
We go into our hut and our fire is nothing but coals, the inside chilly. “I’ll make a fire, Mommy,” I tell her.
“No, baby,” she says absently. “It’s bedtime. You know what
that means.”
It means that we do our No-Poison presents in the morning. I’m
excited about that, but I know it won’t be the same without Papa
here. Mommy says he’s being a good man and helping others that
can’t feed themselves and so we have to be strong, but sometimes
I cry baby tears and wish he was home because I miss him. I
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9
think Mommy misses him, too. She’s sad a lot of the time and so
that’s why she’s always playing with her spindle. She told me once
that if she got it to work, it’d almost be worth Papa being gone.
I take my boots off and set them in their drying spot, and then change into my sleep-tunic with its soft fur and the long “cape” in
the back that Mommy made so I can tuck my feet into it on colder
nights. I get under the blankets and wait for my kiss and my
lullaby, but Mommy doesn’t come over right away. She looks
distracted, toying with her spindle by the faint light of the coals. I
watch her tease the clump of Chompy’s hair on it over and over
again, but she gets frustrated and tosses it aside…and then picks
it up again, frowning at it.
Maybe she won’t mind if I ask… “Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can I play ball with Holvek in the morning? After we share No-
Poison gifts?” Normally I play ball with Papa in the morning on
No-Poison day, but Papa isn’t here.
“Sure, baby.”
“I have to play ball with Holvek because Raashel’s gone with her
mommy and papa to Icehome.”
“Mmm.” She fusses with the spindle.
“Raashel’s my bestest friend, but she’s gone, so I guess Holvek can
be my bestest friend now. He’s not as good with the ball.”
“Maybe if you play with him more, he’ll get better,” Mommy says,
glancing over at me.
Oh, that’s a good idea. Pleased, I settle back in the blankets and
think about Papa over at Icehome camp. I hope someone made
him a good No-Poison dinner tonight like Nana Kemli made for
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us. Then I think about old Drenol and how mean he was. He
didn’t like my toys and scowled at us kids all through dinner.
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?”
“How come Drenol’s so mean? Nana Kemli always invites him to
No-Poison dinner and he’s always mad at everyone.”
She moves over to my bed and sits down next to me, curling her
legs under her. I sit up, because I love it when Mommy comes
and hangs out in my bed. We sit together like we’re sharing
secrets and it makes me feel so special. “Was he mean to you,
baby?” She touches a tuft of my mane, toying with it. Her spindle
is in her lap, forgotten.
“Not to me. But he was mean to Nana Kemli and she was trying to
be nice.”
Mommy smiles, her teeth bright in the dark. “He’s sad, baby. He’s
an old man and he doesn’t have anyone left.”
I scrunch my face up in a frown. Not have anyone left? But there
are people everywhere, every day. “He has the tribe. He has all
of us.”
“But it’s not the same. Remember when Raashel left and you
were sad?” She squeezes my hand. “You’re going to play ball with
Holvek tomorrow instead of Papa or Raashel. You still have the
tribe, but it’s not the same, is it?”
It’s not. I miss Papa so much, and Holvek is a good friend, but Raashel was different. She was smart and funny and always
saying interesting things. Holvek just likes to wrestle and
get dir
ty.
Maybe Drenol is missing his bestest friends too.
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11
I sniff and wipe my hand across my nose. Thinking about sad
things makes me sad and my eyes water.
“Oh, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay.” Mommy’s fingers brush over my
face, and I immediately feel better.
“I don’t like that Drenol doesn’t have his friends. Should I ask him
to play ball in the morning instead of Holvek?”
Mommy laughs softly. “He might be too old for that, baby.”
“He did say his butt hurt when we were at Nana Kemli’s.” Butts
must hurt when you get old.
Mommy just touches my cheek. “No ball for him. But I bet he’d
like it if you’d go and talk to him for a while. Keep him company.”
I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want to spend more time with him. He
didn’t like my toys. “But he’s mean, Mommy.”
“Only because he’s unhappy.” She tweaks my ear. “Remember
when Elly first got here?”
“She was smelly,” I agree.
“Because she was scared and lonely. And she never talked to
anyone, did she?” When I shake my head, Mommy continues. “It
took time for her to be comfortable. Sometimes we do things
when we’re afraid because we’re worried we’re going to get hurt
again. It takes time for us to relax and realize that people are nice
just because they’re nice. Give it time. I bet he could use a friend.”
I think of Drenol. His face was covered in lines and his braids were snow white. Nana Kemli says that she has a gray hair for
every story. Drenol must have a lot of stories…and I love stories.
“I’ll try, Mommy.”
She pulls me into her lap and cuddles me, and it’s the best.
Mommy cuddles make everything better.
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MOMMY and I share presents in the morning for No-Poison, and
then I go out and play ball with Holvek for a little while. He has a
new tunic from his mommy and big, padded gloves that his
mommy called bahk-sing gloves. They’re so you can hit each other
as a game and it won’t hurt. It’s fun for a little bit, but Holvek wants
to keep playing after I’m tired. He runs off to find Talie because she’s strong, and I go inside. Mommy’s still playing with her spindle, twirling it like a top. Her expression is excited, like it’s doing
something cool, and I slip back out again so I don’t bother her.
I think about what Mommy said last night.