Transcendence by Shay Savage Page B

what she will do next, but I’m still glad she’s here with me.
    I didn’t understand how lonely I had been until I had her.
    She is most strange when it comes to her body, and I don’t understand why. She doesn’t seem to realize that going out to relieve herself alone isn’t safe and gets angry with me when I follow her—especially if she has to relieve her bowels. I don’t watch but stand and look the other way. Even that worries me somewhat, and I fear I will turn around to find her gone.
    By the time Beh’s eyes open completely, the rain has tapered off a bit. I bank the fire for the day, and we both head toward the pine forest. I have caught two young rabbits in my traps, but when I hold them up for Beh to see, she covers her eyes and shakes her head.
    Strange.
    I tie them at my waist and decide to head to the lake after all. The rain has slowed to a misting, and the clouds are beginning to thin out and blow away. I go to the far edge of the water where there is a small pile of flint, thinking it would be useful for Beh to have her own knife. I’m not good at flint knapping, but I should be able to make her something useful.
    Beh sits down next to me as I pick up the flint as well as a nice, round stone to use to break off pieces. After a while, she stands and walks a few feet away near the small stream that feeds the lake. I can still see her out of the corner of my eye, so I don’t worry. I continue working the flint until I have a knife that should be suitable for Beh to use on the antelope hide to make some new clothing.
    I brush bits of flint off my legs as I stand and look over to my mate. She has her back to me and she is bent over. I can’t tell what she is doing with her hands until I move closer. I come up behind her and look over her shoulder.
    My mate is really, really weird.
    She is also absolutely covered in brown, mushy clay.
    She laughs and holds a large lump up to show it to me. Her mouth moves, and she makes enough noise to scare away a group of birds near the shore.
    She is so, so strange.
    I look at her out of the corner of my eye and wonder if there really is something wrong with her. She continues to make a lot of noise as she begins to smoosh her hands into the clay by the side of the bank. She comes up with two more handfuls and shows them to me. I just keep looking at her, wondering why she’s playing in the mud.
    She shakes her head and makes more sounds, gesturing wildly and pointlessly in the process. I reach down and try to pull her up by her elbow, but she bats my hand away. I growl under my breath and check the sky. It doesn’t look like it’s going to start raining again, and it’s still early in the day. I suppose if she really wants to poke around in the clay, I will let her.
    I sit on the rock next to her and watch as she squeezes and smooths the clay into a rough ball and then starts poking her thumbs into the center of it, making a hole. She continuously makes sounds as she pokes and prods at the stuff. For the most part, I ignore her—choosing to work on another flint knife instead. I sit close to her and occasionally glance at her out of the corner of my eye as I work. She seems to be very intent on whatever she is doing with the sticky clay.
    At one point, she starts digging more of the clay out of the side of the inlet with her fingers and a small, round rock. I watch for a moment and then look around the shore for a better, flatter digging rock. I find one that is perfect and come back to her side.
    I have no idea what she is doing or why, but I help her anyway. With the flat rock, I sweep over the bank of clay and bring a large slice of it closer to her. Beh claps her hands together and makes more noise. She’s smiling, so I think they must be good noises. She seems pleased, so I watch her go back to whatever she is doing with the clay while I finish my knife. By the end of the day, I have two good ones along with several chips that will be serviceable during