"SEDEQET? IT'S ME, Na'el." I shifted aside the soft sheep hide that closed off the entranceway of the tent. Sedeqet lied in her nest of furs, her eyes tightly shut.
I bit my lip, wondering if I should disturb her. Even in sleep, her brow was tense. I wasn't sure how I could relieve her anguish, but for now, some honey-drizzled dates would have to do.
I crouched and placed the plate alongside her head, and then brushed back her curly, copper-coloured hair, trying to rake out the tangles formed by fretful sleep. That was how I used to comfort Naamah, anyway, and Sedeqet released a small sigh under my touch.
I studied her round, freckled face. Her cheeks were pale. She'd barely left her tent since those men had attacked her and Ada, almost three days before. Shem tended to her dutifully, but now he was with his mother, applying soothing balms on his pained wrist. So it was my turn to try and coax Sedeqet to eat, even if just a little, for breakfast.
"I'll come back for the plate later," I whispered gently. I gave her one last touch on her shoulder that I hoped reassured her in her dreams, and exited the tent.
"—— should find them," Ham was saying, his voice low and heated. Noah stood beside him on the other side of the firepit, his eyes fixed on his youngest son. "Teach them not to come back here. It could serve as a lesson for all of them! All of them!"
Every seven days everybody would halt their duties working on the Ark and tending to the crops, for once. The camp became a center for peaceful chatter and last week —— my first time seeing the men at rest —— Sedeqet had sung for us.
But there was no singing this time. And Ham and Noah looked anything but peaceful as they faced each other.
Noah rested his hand on his son's shoulder. "Elohim gave them lesson enough, Ham. Our God will have our vengeance; our duties don't lie in the town."
Ham shrugged his father's touch off, a scowl darkening his face even further. "Sedeqet's a nervous wreck! Mother sits and waits for another attack in fear! One man has to stay at the camp at all times, you said, to look after them. But doesn't that just slow down construction of the Ark even more?" A muscle ticked in his jaw. I felt uncomfortable watching them argue, but I stood frozen in place, afraid their attention would fall on me if I so much as moved.
"If we have Elohim protecting us, then why does it seem like you're still afraid?"
"Enough, Ham." Noah's voice took on a harsher tone. I felt my ears flush, as though I was the one being rebuked. "Everything will grow better with time. Haven't I taught you enough patience? Or do you need another ten years working on the Ark?"
"Coward," Ham spat. His hands tightened into fists, and I couldn't help but feel pity for him as he left the camp. Wanting vengeance, I thought, was a logical desire. I couldn't fault him for that, even though I reckoned it would be overkill. Those men had fled without a second thought at the sound of the thunder; if they shared the same religion as my mother, I knew they would take such things as a superstitious warning.
Noah exhaled, and deflated. His eyes traveled to me, widening with surprise, like he hadn't even noticed my presence. "Na'el? You didn't go with Japheth and Adataneses?"
They'd gone to collect honey from a beehive Japheth had found the night before, but I always felt awkward chaperoning them. I was almost certain collecting honey was not the only thing they were doing.
I shook my head, embarrassed under his gaze. "Sedeqet," I offered, by way of explanation. He nodded absently, and then retreated, entering he and Ezmara's tent to perhaps see how Shem was getting on.
I looked back at the way Ham had gone. He'd been heading to the river, I was certain, and perhaps I had ought to go thank him for returning Naamah's figurine.
I looked back around the camp, making sure no-one would see me slip away. Since Ham and I weren't married yet, I wasn't technically allowed to see him without a chaperone. But I'd been stuck under Ezmara's watchful gaze, and dared not try and talk to him then. She'd surely be unhappy with what he'd done for me.
I hurried up the well-trodden path, spying the dark shape of the Ark over the tips of the gopherwood trees, then hooked a left, brushing aside foliage as I walked towards the main spot the others tended to gravitate towards.
It was where Sedeqet had revealed to me that she and Ada weren't allowed to have children —— a straight stretch of water warmed by sunlight that could shine through a gap in the gopherwood. The water burbled lazily there, and sure enough, I could see Ham's dark brown form on the opposite bank.
I accidentally stepped onto his clothes, nearly slipping on —— my heart sank —— a loincloth.
My cheeks felt like they'd been lit with fire that crawled across my face and neck. Before I could flee (I'm so stupid, of course he's bathing, what else would you be doing on your rest day in a river?), I heard the splashing of water and a loud exclamation.
"Na'el!" Ham plunged deeper into the water, and I twisted away to hide my embarrassment, lifting a hand to my eyes to stop them from roving his broad shoulders. "What are you doing?" His voice was strangled and even lower than when he'd been arguing with Noah, surely tinged with panic at my intrusion.
"I'm so sorry!" I yelled miserably. I heard him wading across the river, and the rustling of fabric as he snatched something up, presumably to put it on. "I came to thank you for giving me ... That clay figure. My sister made it for me, before I left. It's important to me."
Ham grunted. "And you couldn't have found a better time to tell me this?"
My face grew hotter. "Next time, I'll try and schedule it between your arguments with your father." I hadn't intended for my words to come out so snappily. Maybe it was because I'd be on my menses soon.
Ham didn't respond to the jab. "Alright. You can turn around now."
I obliged, cringing at the sight of him standing waist-height in the river with his kēthanoth on. His hair was dripping wet, droplets making the brown fabric cling to his skin. He looked ridiculous, and he seemed to know it as well, by the way his hands fidgeted, picking at his scars.
"You're welcome," he said finally, his gaze moving uneasily from his clothes on the ground to my face. I couldn't tell if he was being earnest, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, if only for the reason that the dark look in his face had faded.
Without that shadow of severity marring his features, I decided that he was quite a good-looking man. He had a slim face but square jaw, only slightly tinged with stubble. His eyes were clear and, at the very least, not probing at me anymore.
"Alright," I said, a strange whirlwind feeling in my chest. I had to get away —— from him, and this newfound realisation that Ham could have been even more handsome than I had initially thought. I spun on my heel, ready to act on the adrenaline spiking my veins, before Ham called out.
"Wait," he said. I casted a glance over my shoulder, and he raised his hands, retreating to the opposite side of the bank. There, he pulled himself up onto the grass and sat, watching me. "Tell me about your sister. If you would."
The whirlwind wanted to sweep me up and carry me back to camp. But I hesitated, enticed by the prospect of Ham showing an interest in me beyond mere observance, like I was a type of riddle that he could solve by dazzling me with his blue eyes.
"If we get caught, Noah won't like it," I warned him, even while I stepped closer. I took off my sandals and hiked up my kēthanoth, then stepped into the water and sat down across from him.
He watched my every move, looking at my knees with a frown, like he'd expected me to disintegrate upon entering the water. "He's already furious enough with me. I'll take the fall for it." He chuckled humourlessly, raising his face to the sunlight. His Adam's apple bobbed under the shadow of his chin.
"It was Japheth's idea, you know," Ham said. "To go to town. And find those men." He locked eyes with me beneath his lashes, that familiar severity darkening his gaze. "But Father always denies me."
I was not sure why he was telling me this. By the way his hands flexed and relaxed in his lap, I was not sure he exactly knew, either. Maybe because I was still an outsider. I couldn't judge him.
I obliged to fill this role, remembering my pity for him. And he had returned Naamah's gift to me. He deserved as much courtesy.
"I miss her," I said, softly. I wasn't even sure Ham heard me over the trickling of the water.
"Your sister?"
I nodded. "She was ill when I left. And I was always the one looking out for her. I worry ... I worry my Mother and Father won't do the same."
Ham's mouth pursed. "Your parents didn't care much for you, did they?"
I wondered if it was that obvious —— that how Ham's family treated one another was unfamiliar to me. Mother's way of expressing affection had been through cutting criticism. Father had handled me at arm's length ever since they'd first started discussing my betrothal, as if he couldn't bear to invest his time into the daughter who would be leaving anyway.
Ham appeared thoughtful, brushing a dark curl from his eyes. "Sometimes we go into town to trade scrap wood," he said. He cast me a contemplative look. "The next time we go, I'll take you to see your sister."
The whirlwind made my chest feel fluttery at the prospect. "Really?"
He didn't repeat himself, only brushed his hand through the water. "You should go, Na'el. They'll get suspicious. And I want to bathe in peace."
I brushed strands of grass off of my hands as I climbed to my feet, not arguing with him. I'd disturbed him enough, I was sure.
I could feel his sky-blue gaze sinking into my spine as I retreated from him, my steps propelled by a wind that thrummed under my skin, guiding me back to camp.