Extraits

« Now, out here on the water, I let my own fingers trace the beads in my hair. They are so similar to the beads that are strung on either side of my ivory pendant—the symbol of the Bosha clan I inherited from my mother.

Will my own daughter one day wear a pendant of bone, as I did when I was a girl?

I glance at the coastline. Short, stunted trees dot the cliffs, thinned out by the cold wind that even here, south of the mountains, begins to sting my cheeks. I think of Kol, somewhere on the other side of those mountains, and my head swims again. This time I cannot blame the movement of the boat or the light reflecting on the sea.

This time I can blame only my nerves.

Where are you at this moment? I wonder. Are you out in the meadow—the meadow that inspired the design on my tunic? Will you recognize your meadow when you see these clothes? »

« This morning, as soon as I was dressed, I visited Ela’s hut. I don’t ask many people for their opinions, but Ela is one of our clan’s healers, and I trust her. She had not yet seen the new tunic; this was the first I’d shown it to anyone besides my sisters. “It’s supposed to suggest a meadow,” I said. “The golden grass bending and turning in the wind . . .”

“Yes, it looks just like that, Mya.” She smiled, the sort of smile that belongs to a girl with a secret.

“What?”

“I just never thought I’d see you looking so much like a bride.”

“This is not the tunic of a bride,” I said. »

« I have no one to blame but myself, of course, since these clothes are the products of my own hands, made from my own designs. But though I may have bold ideas for intricate patterns of dark and light—the brown of caribou stitched to the tan of sealskin stitched to the gray of otter—I am not always the most patient of tailors. I do not always take the extra time to make sure the fit is perfect. The design on the front of my tunic may draw praise, but no one would want to spend a long day wrapped in this discomfort.

Though that’s exactly what I must do today. »

« The day is so new, it’s barely day at all. Yet we are already far out on the blue water, gliding under the blue sky. The first rays of the sun paint long stripes of light on the surface. I watch that light—watch it shimmer and ripple until the movement makes my head swim.

Either the movement or my nerves. Or maybe both.

That’s the kind of day this will be—a day of movement and nerves.

I wriggle in my seat, unable to relax. I go back to the moment I last saw Kol, standing on the edge of the sea. I can see his warm eyes, his half smile. I remember every detail of that last good-bye—that last time he said my name and kissed my lips. I can still feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. I hold that image in my mind as the oarsmen stab at the water, bringing me farther and farther north, closer and closer to that very same strip of shoreline.

Bringing me back to Kol. »