It was a damn good question. Come, Tala said, rising to her feet. There's someone you should know better before the sun comes up, before you give your answer. She led him through the sleeping camp, past quiet fires reduced to embers, until they reached a smaller lodge set apart from the others. A soft glow flickered inside, and a voice, gentle, low, singing a lullaby.
Tala pulled the flap aside. Go on. She's awake. Cole stepped inside. Ayanna sat beside two small children curled up on furs, fast asleep.
A small oil lamp cast a warm light over her face as she sang softly. She looked up when she saw him. The song faded, but a quiet smile took its place. Didn't expect visitors this early, she said softly, careful not to wake the children. But you're welcome.
Sorry, Cole said, settling near the entrance, keeping a respectful distance. Tala thought we should talk. Tala is wise, Ayanna said gently. Her eyes drifted to the children, filled with something deep and unshakable. These are my children, she said.
Mika is five, and Tiya is three. Her hand brushed lightly over their hair. They lost their father so young. They barely remember him. Sometimes Mika asks what he was like.
I tell him stories. Her voice faltered just a little. But stories aren't the same as having a father, Cole finished quietly. No, Ayanna said, shaking her head. Stories don't teach a boy how to hunt, or track, or stand strong.
Stories don't hold a little girl when she wakes from nightmares. Silence settled between them. Cole watched as she gently stroked her daughter's hair, careful not to wake her. Why you? Cole asked after a moment.
Yesterday, you spoke for all of them. Why? Ayanna gave a small, sad smile. Because I was the one who suggested it. She glanced down, thoughtful.
Some of the other river women, they're younger. Some are more beautiful. Some are stronger, more capable. She lifted her gaze back to him. But I saw something they didn't, not all the way.
What's that? That it isn't about us. Her eyes caught the lamplight, shining. It's about survival. It's about giving our children a chance to grow up with dignity.