In the morning Chaska found Ysabet washing the same foot twice.
“That one’s going to be magnificent,” she said. “Perhaps attend to another.”
Pip pulled the foot away before Ysabet could apologize. It shook water over her skirt, walked through the shallow pan, and stood in the dust. Six dark impressions marked the stone.
Chaska put the kettle beside the coals. “I wasn’t being useful. I was being funny.”
“You were being accurate.”
“A rare combination. Don’t discourage me.”
Breakfast was thin porridge and the last of the lake bread. Suth ate with the elk’s shoulder between herself and the wind. Ashaun warmed her fingers around a cup without drinking. Nobody mentioned the dagger.
Ysabet cut a small portion from Pip’s travel clay and set it on a flat piece of broken pottery. The mouse emerged from its box, inspected the clay, and chose a grain from Chaska’s knee instead.
