“You—”

“Clean the traps,” Kexis ordered him. “Alexeika is ready to go. You’re only delaying us by arguing.”

Vlad’s face knotted with fury, and Alexeika judged it time to step in.  “We shall all clean the traps,” she announced. “Divide them among us equally, and the task will go quickly.”

Vlad and Willem accepted this and happily started stacking the traps in four piles.

Kexis scowled and kicked dirt with his toe before turning to her. “This is no task for your hands, Alexeika. You’re tired, I can tell. Why don’t you rest in the shade, and I’ll see that everything gets finished.”

She appreciated his offer of help. But of late there had been too much mooning in his brown eyes when he looked at her. He was all tongue-tied and suddenly awkward. He turned red whenever he had to speak to her. She was becoming his first love, and although she supposed it was a compliment, it was also going to be tiresome. Already he was trying to drive a wedge between her and the other boys, like an overprotective dog. She did not want to hurt him, this boy-man who had yet to grow his first beard, but she did not want matters to go too far.  “Thank you, Kexis,” she said briskly. She raised her braid to let air cool the back of her neck, then headed for the traps. “I’ve no time for resting in the shade. We’ll get these traps cleaned and the pelts loaded before we rest. I want to bring down the cached furs as well today, so there is much to do.” Kexis scowled, but he had little choice but to follow her and start the disagreeable chore of scraping off bits of fur and gore. They’d been trapping isleans—large, slim rodents with stringy, tasteless meat unfit for eating. The summer pelts of isleans came in a variety of colors and patterns, with the fawn and gray stripes being the most prized by the furriers of Karstok. Summer pelts were thin and difficult to work with, for they tore easily. But Alexeika and her helpers had become quite adept at skinning them. These short-napped furs would make gloves and trimming, and would earn them enough money pieces to buy such necessities as cloth, sugar, cooking pots, and medicines.  Come winter, Alexeika and the boys would set their traps along the banks of the fjords for vixlets, hares, and ermines. Those pelts would command high prices, unless court fashion turned in a different direction.

“Should I reset these?” Willem asked her when he finished scraping his traps. “I think up that way. There’s a little canyon where I saw plenty of islean holes.” For a moment, as she paused to wipe perspiration from her brow, she was tempted.  But they were high up in Grethori country, and that was always a risk. Besides, the snow on Bald Giant was a warning she could not ignore.  “Nay, don’t,” she said. “We’re through with our summer trapping.” Their faces brightened, and even Kexis forgot to sulk. She could tell what they were thinking.

“Are we going to market them at the fair?” Vlad asked.

“They have to be sold,” Alexeika said casually.

“Do you dare go yourself?” Kexis asked. “Or will Draysinko take them, like he did last year?”

She frowned. Draysinko was the only man of fighting age left in their camp. His crooked leg made him unfit as a warrior, and as a result he had not been in the battle that killed the other men. He was a weakling, a perpetual complainer who never did his full share of work. Yet he always had an opinion and sought to be in charge. Last year, he’d been given the responsibility of selling the furs, for he kept boasting of his bargaining skills. Alexeika’s father had entrusted him with the task, but Draysinko had come home with far less money than he should have. Whether he’d simply sold the furs to the first merchant who offered a bid, or whether he’d kept part of the money for himself, no one knew. But Alexeika had her suspicions.

“No, not Draysinko,” she said, keeping her voice calm and even. She might dislike and suspect the man, but he was a part of their camp and she knew the value of everyone’s sticking together. “I may send Lady Selentya and her sister.”