The Reindeer People by Megan Lindholm

Author:Megan Lindholm [Lindholm, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy - General, Fiction - Fantasy, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - General
ISBN: 9780441712335
Publisher: New York : Ace Books, 1988
Published: 2010-09-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The questing tongues of fire popped the sap pocket under the hark of the pine log and crackled suddenly into reaching flames. Heckram opened his eyes to the new light. It felt earlier than their usual rising time, but Ristin was already up, sitting beside the hearth, a cup of tea in her hands. His eyes met hers, and hers suddenly brightened with moisture before she could turn away from him. He rubbed at his face, self-conscious at having caught her watching him sleep.'Is something wrong?' he asked, his voice still thick with drowsiness.

'No. No, everything is right. I was just thinking it was the last morning that my son would wake up in my home. Tomorrow I will wake up alone. And every day after that.' Her voice tightened as she spoke, and she didn't look at him.

Heckram rubbed at his face wearily, feeling the new stubble scratchy against his palms. He didn't release the sigh coiled inside his chest. Mastering his own reluctance had been difficult enough. He didn't think he could contend with Ristin's new doubts as well, isn't that what you wanted? It seems to me that I've been told any number of times that I should be in my own home, fathering grandchildren for your entertainment. So I finally take your advice, and wake up to find you weeping at me.'

Ristin gave a short, high laugh and then sobbed. She turned to him, her smile showing between the tears that damped her cheeks, 'I am glad for you. So glad, and so pleased that it is Elsa with you. I don't weep for your joining. Only for the changes it will bring. We old people always weep for the change times: for births, and deaths, for joinings and sunderings. They are the proper times for these tears.'

'Old people!' Heckram scoffed at her. He threw back the coverings and rose from his pallet. 'Tell that to the foxes you brought down yesterday!'

'It's not the things you can do that mark your age. It's the things you find you can't do any longer.'

Heckram looked at her sharply, weighing the regrets in her voice. He tried to see her as a stranger, but could not. Ristin was Ristin. A little thinner perhaps, the lines around her eyes more numerous, the joints and knuckles of her hands more apparent, but still capable Ristin. He refused to indulge her melancholy.

'Are you saying you're too old to help build a talvsit hut for Elsa and me?' he asked innocently, 'I suppose I could ask Lasse's grandmother to fill in for you ...'

'What do you ... ? You puppy! Don't make mock of your mother's years. I'm not as old as that yet. Get out of bed now. I've cooked for you this morning; maybe the last time I ever shall - not that I regret that! You get up and eat, and pack in water to wash yourself. The least I can do for Elsa is see that she finds you clean, though why she'd want you at all is more than I can understand.

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