"But Analay says we're going to resonate," Anna says simply.
"We'll see about that," I huff, straightening. I don't like the thought of anyone deciding anything for my girls in advance. Analay's a sweet boy, but I want them to have choices. If Anna grows up and decides she wants to hook up with Esha or Sessah or wants to travel the mountains alone, I will support whatever she wants to do. She doesn't have to be tied down to anything. She certainly doesn't have to be tied down to resonance at the age of seven. I pat my stomach, making a mental note to talk to the girls' father when he gets back from hunting. "Analay's only a little boy and he might be making stories," I say. "After all, this baby might be another girl. Or two girls."
"It's a boy," Anna says simply. Her face brightens. "Can we go see Analay and his mama this morning? And the new baby?"
I really like Ariana. There's not a mean bone in her body and she adores the children. She's so patient with them as she teaches, too. But I'm in a cranky mood and there's no way I can sit in her hut and socialize and not snap at her for Analay's insistence that Anna's his future mate. "Let's go visit Asha and Hemalo, shall we?"
Both girls groan. "But Shema's such a baby," Elsa complains as she heads out of the hut, leading the way. "She doesn't play right."
"That's because she is a baby," I remind them. "She's full sa-khui, like her mother and father, and she's going to age differently than you guys. Be nice to her." Shema is about three turns of the seasons old, but she's very much a toddler and the girls get impatient with her, though Shema adores them and tries to copy them both. "I bet if you ask Hemalo nicely, he'll have some good scraps."
That excites them, and we leave the hut and head into the heart of our small village. I move slow, because my feet are swollen and my sandals make it difficult to walk. I keep my hands under my heavy belly, doing my best not to waddle (and probably failing). The village is a little quiet this morning. It's cold out, but clear, and that means everyone that can hunt is out checking traps or pulling meat from the nearest caches. I'm more than ready for the brutal season to be gone already. When the weather gets warmer, I can send the girls hunting with their father again, but for now, it's just too cold.
I wave to people as I walk, the girls bounding ahead of me with so much energy that it feels unfair. I'm definitely nearing the end of my pregnancy, I muse, because right now I hate everyone and everything around me. I don't, really. I'm normally a pretty even-keel sort, but being late-stage pregnant makes me grumpy. Everything hurts, nothing fits right, everything's swollen, and everyone's too loud. Yup, that sounds about right.
Kate and Summer pass by, large leather satchels strapped to their backs. They beam at my girls and look over at me. "Oh, you look good today, Nora," Summer says. "Your cheeks are so rosy and fresh! I love it. What are you using on your face? Is it fish oil? Or fat? Because Sevvah says she uses fish oil on hers when it gets dry but I don't want to smell like ice planet trout. What do you think?"
Kate's mouth just twitches as Summer rambles. She looms over the smaller woman, tall and fit and strong. She must be six feet easily, with broad shoulders and a sturdy build. She wouldn't feel as if the baby in her belly was a boulder, and her boobs wouldn't feel like watermelons. For a moment, I'm hugely envious of her.
I slide my hands under my uncomfortable belly, rubbing it. "It's a pot of some face stuff Maylak gave me. It doesn't smell like fish, though. It smells like…" I blink, because my brain has given out on me. I turn to my daughters, who are busy skidding their booted feet across a patch of ice and giggling. "Girls, what does Mommy smell like at night?"
"Daddy," calls Elsa. "You smell like Daddy."
Kate snickers.
I rub my forehead. "Sorry, pregnancy brain is getting to me. Tell Maylak it's the same thing I use, or come by later and you can have some of mine," I promise her. I really just want to sit down. My lower back feels tight and terrible. "Or all of it."
"Are you sure?" Summer asks. "I can—"
Kate touches her arm, silencing her, and I want to kiss her. Summer is a nervous talker. And a happy talker. And okay, just a talker. And normally I love hearing how her mind works because there's not a bit of pretentiousness in her and she's as open as she is chatty—but not today. "Did you and the girls want to join us?" Kate asks. "We're off to collect dirtbeak nests for fuel."