That’s how Mama smelled. Rohiya was not her mother.
Miserable with itching bites, her mind latched onto the memory and whispered the familiarity of home. And Ermana. And Mama. She turned into the shadows, so Nick would not see her eyes pool.
“No, thanks,” she told him, but spent the night trying in vain to cover the exposed skin at her ankles and neck. Until it was gone, she’d never noticed how her long hair had protected her from the sun, as well as from the bugs. Now she was burnt and bitten and exhausted from lack of sleep.
If Ermana was right, she had to finish this apprenticeship to Nick and sneak into the shop with at least one skin to fashion her own handbag. With a sufficiency bag, she could return to the swamp and never be short of supplies. Now that she’d been out here for a w
