THE HOT MONTHS passed quickly, the days spent sweating all blurring together. The pain of Naamah's death was like a blister that kept rubbing raw within my heart - one moment I was fine and laughing, and the next, I was crippled by it.

It was Ada who offered to teach me how to pray, and every evening I'd go to her tent, following her cues (clasp hands together, close eyes, say what you're grateful for, tell Him what you need) until I could do it on my own. I wasn't sure if it was helping --unless Elohim could raise the dead -- but the pattern was comforting. And praying about something was better than doing nothing at all.

I hardly saw Ham, or any of the men, during that time. Noah made sure they all utilised the much longer days, and they returned to camp past twilight after bathing. Even their weekly rest days just became prolonged discussions about dimensions and numbers I couldn't decipher.

But every time I'd walked past them, engrossed in their calculations, Ham's eyes had slightly brightened and followed after me. I wasn't sure what to make of this. Maybe I had ought to feel happy he was taking more notice of me, but, on the other hand, maybe he was merely remembering my hysterics when I'd cried about Naamah's death. Maybe it was just pity.

"This should be enough for tonight." Sedeqet wiped her brow and adjusted the basket on her hip. We'd both been collecting barley and wheat, though I was also chewing on a succulent fig I'd picked from a nearby tree.

"What's happening tonight?" I asked, as juice dribbled down my chin. I quickly scraped it away as Sedeqet tittered. She wasn't going to tell me.

"It's a surprise. But you'll enjoy it. Let's get back now; Emzara's waiting for us."

I shot a glance behind my shoulder as we left the fields. The hole in the ground where the lightning had struck was now barely visible betwixt grains and dirt. The pain of it on Sedeqet's mind had similarly faded over time. I allowed myself to dare hope that eventually, I too would be free from the agony of grief.

It was strange, I realised, as we re-entered camp. Just like Sedeqet had said, Emzara was waiting, two skin bowls and makeshift mortars she'd crafted from wood resting on the log by the firepit that was gently smoking.

I wanted to be happy. I knew I could be, remembering the days leading up to Naamah's death. I'd been content. But now my pain was like a stone in my sandal, constantly chafing, and difficult to escape.

"Come now, girls," Emzara said, her tone commanding. "This evening's bread isn't going to make itself." I was all too happy to break apart the barley and wheat grains, crushing them together with my wooden mortar.

"Where's Ada?" I asked, rhythmically moving my hands. It felt good to help Emzara. Not only had she been teaching me things my own mother had neglected, but ever since the death of my sister -- when she'd made me the kēthanoth I now wore religiously -- she'd been softer on me. We hadn't fought since. And she'd even carefully set aside my figurine, once, when she had cleaned the tent.

"She's adding date syrup to the beer," the older woman answered. Her one eyebrow raised. "Sweetens the taste."

"Otherwise it's nigh unbearable," Sedeqet hissed in my ear, her face cringing with disgust, and I held back a laugh.

Once we'd added water and kneaded our dough, Emzara carefully poked around in the smouldering coals and ashes that remained in the firepit, ensuring it wasn't hot enough to burn the bread. Then we placed the misshapen, gloopy loaves on pieces of bark and slotted them over the remains of the fire.

I raised my hands and waggled my fingers in Ada's face as she joined us, threatening to touch her with sticky skin. She slapped my forearms away, laughing her beautiful laugh. It was no wonder Japheth was such a jokester; Ada's mirth was infectious and pleasing to the ear.

Emzara was looking in the direction of the Ark. "The men will be back earlier tonight," she told us, looking meaningfully at the married women. "It's a joyous occasion. Tend to your husbands. Soon their toil will be over."

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Japheth beat out an unfamiliar rhythm on the cowhide drum, his long, light hair coated with sweat. His grin was fixed on Ada, who was dancing alongside me.

I laughed as Emzara 'stole' Noah's drink and took a sip of his beer -- the old man had very clearly let her, his smile fond even as her nose wrinkled, and I clasped Ada and Sedeqet's hands.

Together we moved as one, spinning and rolling our shoulders. My hair, for once not tied in its twin plaits, rippled down my front and back, nearly reaching my hips. As we returned to our former position, we kicked out our legs like we'd practised, as Japheth tapped out the final notes to the jig.

The men and Emzara clapped, and we all bowed. My cheeks felt hot and my grin sharp on my face as I latched eyes on Ham. In the roaring light of the firepit, he was cast golden. His eyes looked like they were glowing. He raised a single eyebrow at me, perhaps curious at my scrutiny.

Then Japheth tossed the drum to him, and he caught it smoothly and rested it in his lap. Ada bumped her hip against mine.

"Now it's your turn to dance, Na'el," Ada whispered wickedly in my ear. I recoiled as I saw Sedeqet move to sit alongside Shem. So even she was in on it, the little --

"Come on, it'll be fun," Ada squeezed my hand. And after all, we were celebrating. The men had completed the final deck of the Ark -- all that remained now, Noah had said whilst we'd been eating, was to waterproof it with more pitch.

I sucked in a quick breath. I was alone under everyone else's scrutiny, but I clasped my hands and raised them to my right shoulder, focusing on ensuring I didn't look like a fool. Under my eyelashes, I looked at Ham. His eyes had darkened, though for a moment, I thought it was an effect of the smoke. But no; his brows had furrowed, his nostrils had flared, and he watched my every preparatory move like he was utterly engrossed.

Shem had to nudge him to get him to begin the song.

My racing heart calmed and pounded in time with the slow, methodical beating of the drum. Sedeqet began to sing from Shem's side as I moved my feet in time. Her voice was haunting and mournful, and suited the slow place of Ham's drumbeats. My arms flowed like ripples in water and I shut my eyes, focusing on the heat of the fire on my skin and the feel of the dirt beneath my bare feet.

"Deliver u-us from the pri-ice we pa-ay
Your to-oll ... waits for us on the wave."

I spun on the tips of my toes, the drum and Sedeqet's song reaching its climax, and then rolled my hips to the side when the final peal of her voice silenced.

The family clapped. Ada was grinning hugely at me, and offered me a skin filled with beer for my efforts. I didn't hesitate to take a large gulp -- eager to carry on with the festivities of the evening -- but sputtered and raised a hand to my chin, wiping away the disgusting drink that tasted overly sweet.

Ham passed the drum back to Japheth, and stood up to face me. "I didn't know you could dance," he murmured lowly, his blue eyes tracing my face. He lifted his hand as though his fingers were to follow, then thought better of it in front of his family, and more subtly tugged on my kēthanoth's long sleeve. His fingertips brushed the back of my hand, and I flushed. I hoped the darkness and the sweat from my exertion would hide it.

"You liked it?" I asked. Behind his shoulder, Ada squealed as Japheth hoisted her over his shoulder, bidding the others a good night. Sedeqet caught my eye and smiled gently, then tugged on Shem's hand. They too, retreated to their own tent.

I didn't know why I asked. Maybe I wanted him to compliment me, deep down, to acknowledge me for doing something other than weeping. I didn't want anyone's pity, but I most of all didn't want his.

His head drew closer and closer to mine. He was leaning into me, and I to him. His breath smelled slightly of beer, but not overpoweringly so. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded under his thick eyebrows, drawn low in focus but not severity. "You were beautiful," he breathed.

So then, the question remained. What did I want from him? I looked up at Ham, and smiled. His eyes dropped to my lips.

"Ham," Noah said, from beside the firepit. Emzara's head was resting on his lap, and he was gently stroking her hair. It was the most affection I'd ever seen between them, but his eyes were hard and meaningful on his son.

Ham's lips parted in a wordless groan. He tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment of his father, and the spell that had enraptured us to one another broke. He stalked into his tent without a backwards glance at me, and the flesh on my hand where I'd felt his touch was aflame.

Something deep and dark was stirring in the recesses of my heart; another type of carnal emotion that for a moment had overpowered my grief. I didn't want to acknowledge it, but I raised a hand to my cold lips, and wondered.