Straight On 'Til Morning by K.J. Sutton

Author:K.J. Sutton [Sutton, K.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Once upon a Time Books, LLC

Our party was solemn and silent upon arrival to the village.

Peter immediately went to the cottage that belonged to Lily, but I was too distracted to be bothered by this—the field was chaotic. All around, islanders gathered and cooked and arranged. I stood off to the side, watching the preparations. The rest of my companions had run off, too, playing a game that belied the gravity of this day. I thought to offer my help to someone, but I felt like I was in a hurricane, picked up and swept along with nothing to grab hold of.

Finally one of the women noticed me. “Go see Bashira. You must dress!” she said urgently.

Dress? I frowned in confusion, but she was already preoccupied, reprimanding a shame-faced boy who was covered in mud. Grateful for the excuse to visit my friend, I slipped away. Shouts filled the air with as much tangibility as wind, blowing this way and that. Someone was demanding more firewood. A child holding a tray of meat hurried by, and the tantalizing scent of it followed me all the way to the cottage.

I entered in a rustle of gladness and apprehension. Bashira was applying makeup to a girl’s face with a small brush. At the sound of my arrival, she turned. I nearly didn’t recognize her. Her eyes were outlined heavily in some kind of thick, black substance and her hair was pulled back in lovely, intricate braids.

“Wendy-bird,” she said, beaming. “I wondered if you’d come today.”

“Is that all right? I don’t want to intrude.”

She waved the question away. I knew I was staring, but Bashira didn’t seem to notice. She said something in her tongue and the other girl gave me a brief, shy smile before hopping to her feet. She brushed past and rushed out. I listened to her walk through the grass, a sound like the swishing of a skirt, and soon silence prevailed in the confined space. My friend was searching through a pile of clothing now. I watched her, mesmerized by the quick, hummingbird movements. Then I heard myself blurt, “Bashira, may I ask you a forward question?”

She looked over her shoulder at me. Her brow lowered. “Forward?” she echoed.

My cheeks heated. I cleared my throat once. Twice. “That is to say, I’d like to ask you something that isn’t… entirely proper.”

Bashira giggled. She’d selected something from the pile and brought it with her as she knelt in front of me. She set the garment down to clasp my hands. Startled, I didn’t pull away. And after a moment, I didn’t want to. Her palms were rough and warm, reminding me of something… or someone. The feeling was like tasting fresh bread after eating loaves that were crusty and stale. “I’ve never known anyone who acts the way you do!” she said, squeezing. “Like you’re in a cage. We’re free, Wendy-bird. There’s no need to ask for permission here.”

She waited, her dark eyes gleaming and expectant. My mind went back to the day before, beneath that hot, hot sun.

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