by Ruby Dixon
In the morning, Li-lah is composed. She sips her tea, and then looks me in the eye. She sets down her tea-cup and begins to sign.
I have made a decision, she tells me.
I am listening.
I know that you think what we have is real, but I am not convinced. I need time to think about whether or not this is me that’s attracted to you, or whether it’s the cwee.
I say nothing. She does not realize the two are intertwined. If she was not perfect for me in every way, my khui would never have resonated. That is why she did not respond to Hassen; he was not right for her. But I understand her frustration. She thinks time will help, but I know better. Time will only make the hunger greater, I tell her. Your body will crave mine. You will want to mate. She makes a face, and I continue. That is not arrogance, that is how resonance works. Do you not feel a great need for me already?
Even though it is shadowy in the cave, I can tell her cheeks are heating. She has an embarrassed look on her lovely face. I am not going to answer that.
Your khui will make you ache for me, I sign to her, deciding to be bold. I have tasted the sweet honey between your thighs and I know this is true. Just like the thought of your hand on my skin makes my cock ache. These are truths, no matter if you choose to believe them or not. But I will wait for you.
She raises her hands to sign, then drops them. She does not know what to say.
That is fine. I know what I wish to tell her. You are my heart, always. I can wait for you to realize that.
Li-lah licks her lips, the tiny gesture sending an ache through my body. Well, she signs. Until I decide, what do we do?
We continue as we have, I tell her. I will teach you how to hunt and to build traps. Whether or not you choose to remain at my side, you must be able to take care of yourself.
She nods, a smile curving her mouth for the first time in many long hours. I would like that.
LILA
Over the next few days, I slowly come to the realization that Rokan isn’t wrong about most of the things he’s told me.
Is it wonderful to be able to speak to him? To really speak to him? Absolutely.
Do I crave him like I crave chocolate when I’m PMS-ing? God, yes.
Has anything changed about how I feel? Nope.
Is he pushing me? Nope. In fact, he’s not acting any differently at all, other than when he’s happy, he doesn’t reach out to touch me like he used to. And I’m sad that I find myself missing it. I keep wanting to grab his flicking, crooked tail when we are sitting near the fire at night and pet it, but I force myself not to.
But do I want to touch him because I like him? Or because the cwee inside me thinks we should be soulmates? That’s the part I keep getting stuck on. Is it my choice or is it just the parasite messing with me? And if it is just the parasite, how am I going to feel after the ‘need’ it’s shoving down my throat is fulfilled? Will I wake up one day and be completely blah about Rokan? That worries me, too. Because right now I like him so much and he makes me feel so good that I’m terrified of losing that.
I’m paralyzed with indecision.
I’ve been reading up on the computer for the last few days about this whole ‘resonance’ thing, too. Rokan wasn’t lying about it, which doesn’t surprise me - I don’t know that he’s capable of lying. He’s right that it’s a sort of supercharged forced mating, and with my khui (the spelling according to the computer) resonating, I’m in a constant state of amped-up ovulation and will be until he puts a baby inside me. It’s a species propagation instinct, apparently, and it works for all intelligent life with a khui, humans included.
So that’s fun.
I’m not griping about my partner, of course. If I had to pick someone, I’d pick Rokan. He’s sexy, smart, understanding, and kind. I just…I liked the way things were. Now, everything’s changing and I don’t know what to do. I feel terrified of picking the wrong path. Which is funny, because half the time I don’t feel like there’s even a path to pick.
I need a sign. And not in one of those woo-woo ways that Rokan claims he can sense. I need a real, honest-to-goodness sign that Rokan really is my mate, and that we’re more than just compatible genetically. I need to know that what I feel is real, and what he feels for me won’t fade the moment I’m pregnant.
Rokan’s been a saint, of course. He’s given me space and acted as if nothing’s changed, which I appreciate and yet makes me even crazier. Sometimes I just want him to grab me and show me that it’s not just the khui compelling him. That he wants me for me.
And then I think of him telling me that I am perfect, and I want to stick my hand down my pants and relieve some of the overwhelming need I feel.
But I’d rather have him do it.
Instead, he takes me hunting. And fishing. And we build traps. We keep the Elders’ Cave (as he calls it) as our home base and take to the snowy hills every day to continue my education. For now, we’re staying here. Maybe I should be upset that he’s not taking me back to my sister, but my thoughts are so consumed with Rokan and this thing between us that I haven’t thought about Maddie much, and that makes me feel guilty. I know she has to be worried sick.
I’m a bad sister.
This morning, Rokan is quiet. Normally he greets me with a morning cup of tea and we go over the things he wants to teach me that day, like I’m his apprentice. It’s another thing that drives me crazy - it’s like he’s able to turn off the whole need thing and talk about setting snare traps and fish cages while I keep watching his hands and picturing him doing naughty things with his fingers. Half the time he has to repeat his signs because I’m distracted. But today? Today he’s not chatty.
Tea? I ask, sitting down next to him by the fire. Then we go out and check traps?
He thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. Not today.
What do you mean, not today?
Today we shall stay in the cave. I do not like how the weather feels.
I look past him and squint at the open doorway. Sunlight pours in, and the snow that normally piles around the entrance is melty-looking. The weather? It’s sunny!
He nods and fills my teacup, then holds it out to me. It is. But I do not like the way it feels.
I roll my eyes and take my drink from him, blowing on it. More of this psychic stuff? Seriously? That’s what got us into this in the first place, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for him having a ‘feeling’ he wouldn’t have come after me. Is he trying to convince me that there’s more to his ‘feeling’?
I take a few sips of my tea and then set the cup down so I can talk. What about the traps we set yesterday? You said we had to check them first thing.
Rokan shrugs. They will be empty, then. I do not care.
But we worked so hard.
Sometimes we work very hard for nothing. Such is the way of the hunter.
Okay, well that’s crap. This is the best weather we have seen in days. You said yourself the traps would be full this morning, and we’re just going to let all that meat go to waste? I hate that. It doesn’t make sense to me. One of the things you’ve taught me is that nothing goes to waste. Except now because you don’t like the sunlight, we’re going to let a bunch of meat go to waste? I don’t get that.
He rubs his chest, gazing at me thoughtfully. Then, he nods. Very well. We will go. I do not like it, but we will go.
Why? I ask. Why don’t you like it?
He shrugs. I do not know.
Great answer, I think to myself, but I’m just being bitter because he used to greet me with kisses and affection, and now he just hands me a cup of tea and talks about hating the weather. It’s just another thing I’ve ruined, I guess. Frustrated, I turn to my pack and pull out my hunting gear. Dressing for the weather - even with the sun out - takes time, and it’ll get my mind off of how distracted he is this morning.
By the time I finish layering my clothing on, my tea is cold. I slug it down quickly and then head to Rokan’s side so he can finish tying my outer lay
Or my khui does. I still haven’t figured out which it is yet.
He’s all business today, quickly prepping me and demonstrating the knots this time so I can do it myself in the future. That’s depressing. I remind myself that this is what I wanted. I asked him to give me space.
I just didn’t expect so much space, I guess. Or I didn’t expect to care so much.
He puts on his own gear, grabs his spear, his bow, and puts his knives in their sheaths. I have a spear and my one knife, and the sight of all his weapons surprises me a little. The sunlight really is bothering him. Wow. I consider following his advice and staying in, but then what are we going to do? Sit around in the crashed ship and stare at each other while not talking? That might be more torture than I can stand. Plus, I think of the small animals that might be trapped in our snares, and I don’t like the thought of letting them suffer longer than they have to. And that sunlight looks inviting. I do believe it’s one of the first sunny days I’ve seen here since I’ve arrived - most days are just overcast.
That decides it, then.
The day is warm — well, for an ice planet - and beautiful. The breezes are mild, and the snow on the ground is bright and pristine. It reflects the sunlight, and I worry about snow-blindness. Rokan smudges some mud under his eyes and then my own, and I guess that’ll take care of things. Then we’re heading down the trails, following paths that I’m getting to know pretty well. I recognize this rock, that cliff, this little cluster of flimsy trees. It’s such a nice day I almost don’t mind that Rokan is silent, his hands quiet.
Almost.
Our first set of snares is empty, but the second one has a fat, wriggling weasel-like creature with hind legs like a long, gangly rabbit. A hopper, he calls it, and then waits for me to put it out of its misery. Today, I only cry a little as I grab it by the scruff and cut its throat with my blade. It’s meat, and it will keep us fed and warm, and I can’t look at it as anything other than that. Every day of hunting makes it a little easier, though I worry I’m too soft-hearted to be able to do this. I’d rather cuddle the thing than kill it, but cuddling it doesn’t put food on the fire. This next part is my least favorite - field-dressing the kill so I can travel without the guts and the blood ruining the pelt. I cut it open, remove the offal and bury it, then drain it of the majority of blood before tying it to my belt. It’s already crusting up with ice and in an hour, it’ll be frozen solid, its khui going dark.
Then it’s time to move on to the next set of snare traps. We have at least a dozen set over what feels like miles of trails. I clean my hands off with snow and get to my feet with Rokan’s help. Lead on, I tell him.
He nods and then gazes up at the distant cliffs, a frown on his face.
I tap his arm to get his attention and sign, what is it?
Just my feeling.
Should we go back?
Rokan gazes down at me for a long moment, then up at the cliffs. No, he eventually decides. But let us hurry. Maybe there is bad weather coming in.
I give the sunny skies a skeptical look but pick up the pace when we start walking.
Our paths take us into one of the many valleys tucked between the jagged cliffs and hot streams. The landscape may be snowy, but it’s anything but bare around here. There’s rock everywhere you look, and clusters of trees and bushes. Reeds stick up from the banks of the sulfurous-smelling streams, and in the distance, there are the jagged purple mountains that stick up like teeth. It’s very pretty, even if it’s not particularly warm. I like seeing what the world has to offer, though; I prefer being out here than sitting by a fire and waiting for Rokan to return. Maybe I’m more of an outdoors-woman than I thought. I’m kind of proud of this, I realize, as I trek along behind Rokan into the valley, mindful of the cliffs with their overhanging icicles.
I’m lost in my own musings when Rokan grabs me by the shoulders and shoves me up against the cliff wall. The rock bites into my back through my furs, and I yelp. “What the fuck?”
The look on his face is intense, his eyes a startlingly vivid blue. Know that you have my heart, he signs to me, and then presses his body against mine, shoving me even further against the rocks. What the heck—
Then, I feel a purring. It’s not my khui; it’s doing the same low rumble it always does, and this one feels bigger. I can’t peer over Rokan’s shoulders, because he’s got me shoved hard against the cliff wall, his arms a protective cage over my head. He’s gazing down at me, unblinking, and there’s such an intense look on his face that it nearly takes my breath away.
The purring continues and I realize it’s coming from the ground - and the cliff wall behind me. Oh God. Earthquake? I peer over Rokan’s arms just in time to see a sheet of snow and ice cascading over the lip of the cliff.
An avalanche.
I scream as the world goes dark and the world shakes around us. Rokan’s body jolts over mine, but he never moves. The moment seems to last forever, and it feels like the world is collapsing. I cling to the front of his tunic, terrified.
All I can think is that he didn’t like the weather. He didn’t like how today felt. I should have listened. He knew. Somehow, he knew, and he pushed me out of the way before anything bad would happen. Just like with the birds—
I gasp, because I realize that he’s done this more than once. Maybe this ‘feeling’ isn’t all wishful thinking after all. “I’m sorry, Rokan,” I whisper to him, patting his chest.
He’s silent.
In fact, he’s really, really quiet, no touch, no comforting hand gestures, nothing.
My skin prickles. I give a little tug to his tunic to get his attention. His eyes are closed, so I can’t see their comforting glow. In fact, it’s pretty dark all around us, and tight. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic. “Rokan?”
He groans and his head lolls to one side. Snow rains forward, splattering my face. Then, he collapses forward against me, crushing me against the cave wall.
The panicky feeling rushes over me, and I try to wriggle out from under him, but there’s snow everywhere, taller than I am. I push at his arm, trying to see around him, but all I can see is Rokan’s big body and even more snow.
His lips move, and then he staggers to the side, and I can breathe. Fresh air rushes in. He gestures above him, indicating with slow, halting movements, that I should climb. I’m too panicked to argue; I use his tunic as a ladder and climb over his shoulders and out onto the snow.
The entire valley’s changed, I realize as I crawl forward. There’s a fresh layer of at least ten feet of snow, and it’s a miracle we survived. We would have been buried if it weren’t for Rokan and his ‘feeling’. I stare out at the new landscape, utterly chilled.
I turn around when I realize Rokan hasn’t followed me, and crawl back over to the hole against the cliff wall. He’s still there, his big body pressed against the rock and mostly buried in snow. His head has lolled forward again, and I see nothing but horns and dark, messy black hair.
“Rokan?” I call out.
If he answers, I can’t tell. After a moment, he doesn’t move, so I tap one of his horns. When he doesn’t respond to that, I pull on one of them and tug his head back.
His eyes have rolled back in his head. As I watch, a rivulet of blood trickles from one side of his temple and trails down his cheek.
A new feeling of panic rushes over me. “Rokan!” I release his horns and then start digging frantically. He’s been hurt, and I need to get him out of there. He can’t stay here - what if another avalanche is coming? As I dig, I frantically try to think what causes avalanches. Is it melting snow? Is it because today is too warm? Or is it that there’s too much snow? I burrow through armfuls of snow, calling his name over and over again.
Eventually, he jerks awake, and his head lolls back again. I nearly get stabbed with one of his big horns and I scramble to the side, caressing his face. “Are you okay?”
He tries to raise a hand to sign to me, but his movements are slow.
“I’m going to get you out,” I promise him, trying not to freak out. I dig further, pulling the snow away from his back and shoulders. My hands feel like ice but I ignore it, because I have to be strong right now. This is no time to be a wimpy human. Something’s wrong with Rokan and all I can think, over and over again, is that I should have listened.
Know that you have my heart.
I bite back the sob that threatens and sniff hard. I’ll cry later, when he’s safe back at the ship and drinking a hot cup of tea. Until then, I have to keep my shit together.
I continue to scoop at the snow with my hands. If it takes all damn day, I’m going to dig him out. As I dig further down, though, I see a lot of broken icicles mixed in with the snow behind his back. There’s one chunk the size of my fist near his shoulder, and it’s got blood on it. Did it hit him on the way down? I move closer to him and tug on his horn, tapping his cheek. He woozily leans back, blinking up at me. It’s clear he can’t focus. I peer into his eyes - his pupils aren’t like mine, so it’s hard to tell if one is dilated or not, but I bet he’s concussed. Can you get up? I sign. I can’t carry you. You’re too big.
He reaches out and touches my cheek, then signs, you okay?
I shake my head and tug at his arm. “I’m fine, but you’ve got to get up, Rokan. You can’t stay here. We need to get you back to the ship - the Elders’ Cave.”
Rokan lifts one arm and then the other, and tries to pull himself free from the hole. He’s buried up to his waist in snow, and the spot that I vacated against him just filled in with more. I keep digging as he tries to slowly move his body free. It’s not a fast process, and he has to keep stopping, his eyes drifting shut. I tap him on the cheek, over and over again, trying to keep him awake. If he’s got a concussion, he can’t sleep.
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