- Emilia -

There's still a fire in his eyes, but now it's a fire so cold it sends a real shiver down my back. He looks down at me like I'm an insect he's about to squash.

And I guess I deserve that. Those flowers I planted weren't cloudflower at all. They were killvines. And now I may have killed all their unborn babies.

It's too big and horrific a thing to take in, so my mind just freezes and my knees give out. I collapse into a sobbing ball on the ground.

I feel strong arms take around me and lift me up. He's not smiling and not looking me in the eyes.

But at least he carries me to his cave and puts me down gently on the skins where just thirty minutes ago I was sleeping soundly with his arms around me. For some reason his gentleness feels worse than if he'd dumped me unceremoniously on the floor.

“Emilia stay here,” he says and closes the wooden door to the cave. And just as I want to call his name, I hear the sound of wood sliding against wood, and I know he's locked the door. From the outside.

I'm not too concerned about that right now. Those unborn baby boys may be dead, and I think I'm going to faint.

I crawl into the corner and just sit there, hugging my knees, rocking back and forth, sobbing and sniffling and whimpering. Those innocent babies ...

I tremble in horror at what I've done. Why did I have to be so secretive? Couldn't I have showed the plant to Gur'ex first and asked him if it was the right thing? But no. I had to prepare a surprise for everyone, thinking that I could do no wrong. That success with the salen fruits went totally to my head.

What do I do if the fetuses are dead and the Lifegivers ruined? Just become a breeding machine for all these guys to make up for it? I didn't mean to do it, not at all. But I don't think that matters. I'm sure they'll throw me out or just kill me.

And Ar'ox? What does he think about me now? He has to regret ever saving me from that raptor. I've been nothing but trouble for him. A totally useless bundle of menace-

I hear wood scraping against wood again and I shrink back into the corner, trying to make myself invisible. If they come to execute me ...

But it's only Gur'ex.

He closes the door and locks it carefully from the inside, then sits stiffly down with his back to the wall right next to me. “They're all alive.”

I stare at him, desperate to have understood him correctly. “Alive?” My throat is so sore I don't know if he even understood it.

“Alive,” he says and smiles at me. “The infestation was too short-lived to do any damage. The killvines hadn't yet inserted the tentacles into the Lifegivers.”

I throw my arms around him and sob in relief. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

He clumsily puts his arms around me and I cry on his old chest, letting all the fear and grief and guilt out. And he patiently holds me and even strokes my hair, like he's never done anything other than comforting weeping girls.

“The unborn are alive, the Lifegivers are unharmed. Really, it's the tribe's fault for not checking on them more regularly. My fault, you might say. I'm the chief and should have made the decision. We were all busy partying last night, and we deserve nothing more. And do you know, we also found many more killvine flowers right outside the wall, in the place you took them from. We should have looked for them and uprooted them long ago, before they came that close.”

“I think was cloudflower,” I say into his chest with a sore throat. “I wanted plant them, make many, give to you.”

He chuckles. “Yes, they do look like cloudflowers, don't they? The flowers are white instead of gray. The cloudflower fabric turns white after washing, so I understand the mistake. Actually, I have often thought about taking killvine flowers and seeing if they can't be made into a fabric in much the same way as the cloudflower. But I never did. The killvines scare me.”

I'm feeling much better now. His chest is old and wrinkly, but still muscular. He must have been almost as big as Ar'ox in his youth. No wonder – the Lifegiver process means that they are pretty much clones.

I straighten up and wipe my eyes on my arm. “Gur'ex.”

He peers at me with his wrinkled old eyes where the fire is still burning. “Yes?”

I hope I won't offend him, but I'll soon be leaving the village and I must know. “Why village is not doing well? Trouble everywhere. Wall, collapse. Food, little only. Water pipes, leak. Men, relax all day. Hunters, few. Killvines, grow close to wall. Lifegivers, not tended at all times. Not Gur'ex's fault! Tribe full of many strong, young men. None work, almost. Should not be necessary for chief to always decide and oversee simple work. Why?”

He sighs and looks away. “I have thought about that myself. I'm not an energetic chief. But many of our chiefs have been old, and none of them more energetic than me. I think the women have been gone for too long. We are losing life force with each generation. Each boy born from the Lifegivers is a little weaker than the man who gave of himself to give him life. A little smaller. Needs care for a little longer before he can go to hunt. And the men are less forceful now. Except Ar'ox. He is by far the strongest man we have, and the best we've had in the tribe for all my life. Lifegivers are good. But not good enough. Only women good enough.”

“I'm not the Woman Messenger,” I blurt out. Because someone here should know it, and Gur'ex is the most trustworthy guy I've met here. Or anywhere else, now I think about it.

I hold my breath for his response.

To my surprise, he just chuckles again. “Indeed you're not. I mean no disrespect. The Woman Messenger is a mythical creature, a divine bringer of omens and blessings. She is not someone who comes here wearing a filthy garment or someone who tries to hide her uneaten vrin in a pocket when she thinks nobody's looking. She would plainly not be someone as lovely as you. She would be more distant and she would make sure we always knew she's divine. She would speak our language in a much less charming way than you do. She would not ask about the fate of outcasts or bring gray ghosts inside the walls. Certainly she would not plant killvines anywhere, much less right beside the Lifegivers. And finally, our esteemed shaman Hen'ex is convinced that you are the Messenger, and that in itself is rock-solid proof that you're not.”

For a moment I'm stunned. “Does everyone know this?”

He shrugs. “I don't know what others think. I keep my thoughts to myself. Hen'ex may be ridiculous, but he's also dangerous.”

Knowing that he knows takes a load off my shoulders, so I hug him again. “What do I do now?”

“That depends on where you come from and what you want from the time ahead. But whatever you are, you might need these.”

He puts his furry backpack on his knees and takes out a bundle of fabric. “I had a strange feeling you'd need these soon, so I worked all night. It was a pleasure to be able to work like this again.”

He hands me two pieces of clothing and I unfold them. It's a pair of pants and a long tunic that closes on the side with two wooden toggles. “Gur'ex, these are wonderful! I not know you make such!”

There's satisfaction in his smile. “It's a sort of garment that we used here before, on colder days. You put your legs into them, one after the other, then pull them up and fasten.”

I get to my feet, eager to try these on. I pull the old dress over my head, not caring that Gur'ex sees me naked. He'll never do anything to hurt me, and I do want him to have some little reward for this. It's not like I can give him much else.

The pants are black and baggy and short like capri pants, but they're comfy and feel great. The tunic is dark red and fits snugly around my chest, and it has a deep pocket on one side. The fabric is similar to thin wool.

I'm maybe not a fashion icon, but I know I'll never put on my old dress again. This is an ideal outfit for wearing on an everyday basis. Not too hot like pants made from animal skins would be, and not as unsuitable as a dress would be. This will give much more protection against the elements.

“They're perfect!” I gush.

Gur'ex juts his jaw out. “Fit well. Now this.”

He holds out another bundle, and I strip off the pants and tunic. The next thing is a dress, but it's made from a thin fabric that reminds me of flannel. It's black like the pants, but it has a broad, blue stripe across the chest.

“In the past we used to wear different clothes to parties or special occasions,” Gur'ex says. “Often with a blue section somewhere. It was something we felt was special to our tribe. It made us proud to wear.”

I look down myself. There's no cleavage, and the dress goes down almost to where it touches the ground. It's pretty roomy over my hips and butt. Still, I love it. “Gur'ex, how long since women leave tribe?”

“Many lives,” he says. “Nobody knows exactly.”

I just nod as I swing around fast and feel the hem of the dress swish around my ankles. I don't think it can be as long ago as everyone thinks. Not if this guy can design and sew something like this in one night.

“Thank you,” I say, and suddenly my eyes are full of tears again. I kneel on the hard rock floor and take his old, gnarled hand. It's warm, and it feels great when he holds my hand tightly and peers down at me like a grandfather. “Thank you. You not know how much means to Emilia.”

He places his hand gently against my cheek. “Oh, I have some idea. I'm very glad that you like them. Looking at you, I'm starting to understand just how much we lost when our women were taken.”

The old caveman gets to his feet, slowly and stiffly. Then he frowns and rummages around the bottom of the backpack. He tosses me another little bundle.

I gasp, because I recognize it.

“I think it'll be more useful for you than for me,” he says. “No need to keep saving the evidence of useless old glories. We should create new glories instead. But I'm not sure if this tribe is able to anymore.”

Then he walks out of the cave and leaves the door open.

And I'm left on the floor with his last bundle of finest cloudflower fabric in my hands.