Hendrik made a face.
She raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, I heard you got shit-faced.”
“I was bored, too! If you’d been here instead of playing around with books, we could’ve—”
“Both had a hangover? Thanks, but no thanks. I’m saving that for tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
“Tonight’s the full moon. I hear things get wild in the settlement.” She raised both eyebrows.
“When’s the last time you got laid?” Hendrik asked with another chuckle.
She smiled. “Well. Sometimes Jak gives me a ride. For the resistance, you know.”
“I can’t picture him with a woman.” And yet, the idea was oddly compelling.
One eyebrow went down but the other stayed aloft. “Oh, he knows his way around.”
This, he had to hear about.
Chapter 4: Wildcrafter Settlement, Heart Wood, Full Grain Moon
Unlike in the City, paper wasn’t a luxury commodity in the Heart Wood. Everyone hung lanterns made of oiled, tinted paper outside their doors and market stalls in preparation for the full moon. Dusk fell late in summer, but the lanterns lit the moment the sun dipped below the canopy. Blazing bonfires, one in each of the four corners of the market, followed soon after. Shadows lengthened and danced across the clean swept wooden planks, and people began to gather and set up their stalls for the evening.
“I missed the Buck Moon celebration.” Dagan sucked the juices from an apricot, then went back to nibbling at it delicately. “That’s always a good one. I love a wrestling tournament.”
“They’re all different?” Hendrik watched the preparations with growing curiosity, though he still had that itchy feeling under his skin that something terrible was about to happen. The chatter and liveliness seemed to rub some of the anxiety away, leaving curiosity in its wake. For that much, Hen was grateful.
Dagan nodded. “Buck Moon is all about animals and celebrating them. Grain Moon is about agriculture, since all the fields and groves are heavy now. Different stories, different music, different dances, different food.”
“I don’t know how to dance.” Hendrik shifted nervously.
“I’ll show you.”
“Do you have to?”
Dagan laughed and offered him the apricot.
Hendrik accepted and bit in, letting the juices fill his mouth and run down his fingers. Apricots would always him think of Kass, who’d loved them dried and honeyed more than almost any other luxury he was offered. Would he have liked them like this, juicy and soft inside a snapping skin?
Probably. Kass knew how to enjoy everything. Hendrik sent a little thought out to him, wherever he was, and finished the apricot gratefully.
“It’s another word for ass,” Dagan said after a moment, holding up another apricot. He turned it so the seam faced Hendrik and grinned. He poked at one side of it and—yes, actually, it was vaguely ass-like.
“Apricot?”
Dagan nodded. “If I ask someone, ‘Do you want to eat an apricot?’, it sounds like I’m asking if they want to eat my ass.”
Hendrik laughed out loud. “And everyone just knows this?”
“Well, not everyone. But people who like to eat ass generally do.”
“Then thanks for letting me in on the secret.” Hen put his arm over Dagan’s shoulder, scooting closer to him on the bench. He kissed Dagan’s ear. “I adore apricots.”
“Yes, I had noticed that.” Dagan smiled wickedly and turned to kiss him.
Hendrik set aside the pit from his own fruit and turned his attention to Dagan. It was strange, being so affectionate in public, but he’d spent enough time in settlements to know that it was perfectly acceptable. People kissed lovers and friends, hugged their children and grandparents, and walked through the market with their arms around each other. No one stared or whispered; everyone minded their business.
And, thankfully, no one took it to extremes. Public sex did seem to be taboo, but displays of romance or love, not so much. It was a balance he wasn’t used to but thought he could get used to. Wanted to get used to it, even.
Was that one of the choices Piret had been talking about? Choosing a place to make a home, where the customs and people and environs suited him most?
He couldn’t do that until the settlements were safe. And he hated how right she’d been earlier today. About everything.
They closed the kiss off, and Hendrik rested his forehead against Dagan’s.
“You’re broodier than usual today, my little someone.” Dagan’s breath was warm against his wet lips. “Would you tell me why?”
He’d thought he was nothing for moons. Now, he believed Dagan that he was, in fact, someone. He just wondered who. “Talked to Piret.”
“She’s very enthusiastic,” Dagan said with a smile. “So is Kajja. But you’re still not.”
It wasn’t even a question, but Hen answered anyhow. “According to Piret, it doesn’t fucking matter if I am or not.”
“Mmm.” Dagan somehow made even this little hum sympathetic. He kissed Hendrik’s nose and then sat up and slid an arm around his waist. They sat, watching the market transform, arms around each other for another silent moment. Then, Dagan said, “I think it does matter, though.”
“Even if those fogies in the Council never come to a damned decision, my path seems clear.” He sighed.
