Chapter 89

When she reached her mother’s house, she did not pause to knock. She had never knocked before. Out of habit, more than anything, she tugged the doorway drape aside and ducked beneath it without thinking.

The comforting smell of leather and woodsmoke and oil assailed her senses, and her moccasins scuffed against the old, near worn-through hide that covered the floor. To the left and right, wooden walls and more drapes separated off the storage and sleeping areas.

Directly ahead of her, a woman with strands of grey in her thick black hair sat beside the glowing hearth. She had dozed off again while darning a pair of leather leggings for one of the hunters.

A smile came unbidden to Netya’s lips, and she stood there in the darkness for several moments, watching her mother sleep. She remembered fantasizing for months about what it would be like to finally get away from this woman and her house. Now that she saw her again, Netya wanted nothing more than to stay.

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