by Ruby Dixon
She chews, nodding her head. “We can start telling people about it, hit up the hunters when they come back, and then start the celebrations at the beginning of the next moon. We’ll start with Decorating Day, and then we can stagger the other days as the weather permits.”
“It sounds good.” I hold up my bowl. “This is good, too. Thank you for sharing.”
Her smile is shy but proud. “It makes the food go further, and I don’t put in too many roots because I know Ereven isn’t a fan of them. And I like the company. It gets lonely when my mate is out on the trails all night.”
I am absurdly pleased that she enjoys my company. I have enjoyed the day spent with Claire. She is quiet and thoughtful, unlike some of the other humans, and genuinely wants my opinions. She makes me feel…needed. Perhaps Hemalo is not the only one that has felt lost all this time. “It is good to have a friend,” I tell her, and when she agrees, I think I am not the only one that feels this way. We chat quietly over the food, and then spend a bit of time sewing by the fire, until Claire’s yawns become more frequent. I send her off to her furs and promise I will be back early in the morning so we can start on our plans.
When I leave her house, I am happy. It feels strange and yet welcome to have a purpose—and a friend—again. The other humans have been friendly, of course, and my own tribesmates would perhaps not understand the difference between merely lingering by the fire next to others, and feeling truly and genuinely welcomed.
Or perhaps it has all been in my mind all this time. It is hard to say.
I return to my own little howse and find the fire is nothing but embers. Farli has not returned, and probably will not until the hunters do. Even though I complain about her company and that of her smelly pet, it feels too quiet to be here by myself. The temperature is bitingly cold, but since I am the only one in the howse, it seems a waste to make a fire for only one sa-khui. I pull a few extra furs out of my store, pile them onto my bed, and crawl under them, waiting for my body heat to warm the blankets.
As I do, I stare up at the ceiling. In the darkness, I can just make out the thick stitching on the seams, where the hides have been pulled together tightly and made to form one large covering. I think of how good I feel, how I am humming with plans and thoughts, not sadness. And I think of Hemalo and how he needs to feel needed. How I have not given that to him. How strained things are between us.
I get up out of bed, move to the wall, where the teepee top is tightly lashed down, and begin to pick the seams apart.
5
HEMALO
There is a mental calmness to working my skins. The vigorous twisting of a hard hide to make it soft, the endless rubbing of brains onto the surface, the scraping of hair. The silent weave of an awl as it guides cord through punched holes. I enjoy my task. It lets my mind settle, even when it is full of chaos. I barely notice the hour, only that the sunlight is beginning to fade. A shadow falls over my hands, making it impossible to see the tiny holes for stitches, when someone approaches and stands behind me in my leatherworking hut.
I glance up and am surprised to see Asha and the human Claire.
They stand together, Claire’s strange human face wreathed in smiles. Asha wears a smile as well, but hers is warier, more cautious. It makes my heart ache to see. She is my mate. She should never be afraid to show her feelings near me. “How can I help you?” I ask, keeping my voice level and calm, as if it is nothing to have my once-mate and a friend show up as I work.
Claire looks at Asha and then steps forward. “We wanted to talk to you about the upcoming holidays.”
“Haw-lee-dehz?” I echo. “We are doing that again so soon? I thought it was for a special occasion?” I remember how Asha hated the last round of celebrations. How noisy and happy all the human females were. It seems like it was only a few turns of the moons ago.
The human looks crestfallen that I am not excited at the prospect. “Oh. Well, yes, it was not too long ago, but we thought everyone might need a little something to look forward to in order to break up the monotony of the brutal season.”
She is bored? Does she think there is not enough to do? I give a wry look to the piles and piles of hides I have waiting to be worked. There has been such demand for blankets and clothing and hides for the roofs of the new howses that even my seemingly endless supply has dwindled. There are even one or two tribesmates just waiting to have a roof for their howse. There is so much to do that I cannot imagine taking the time out to play games. “If someone is bored, it is because they need to work harder.”
“Oh.” Claire’s voice is very small. “Of course. I’m sorry we bothered you.”
“Wait, Claire.” Asha’s arm goes around the smaller human’s shoulders. She glares at me, all defiance. “This is not about you, Hemalo. You might be happy trapped in here with your piles of smelly hides, but not everyone is. This is about everyone in the tribe.”
I am surprised. In the last few moons, Asha has had difficulty rousing herself to care about anything. Now she is lecturing me on tribe unity? Even though I am irritated at this sudden change, I am also fascinated at the demeanor of my mate. She is no longer listless and miserable, her eyes and her very spirit seemingly faded. Her eyes snap at me with irritation, and the hug she gives Claire is protective. There is a strength and confidence in her that I have missed seeing for a very long time.
She is beautiful, my Asha. Fiery and beautiful.
“Very well, then,” I murmur. “Tell me about your haw-lee-dehz.”
Asha’s chin goes up, a challenging look on her face. “Are you going to listen or have you already made up your mind?”
She knows me well, my once-mate. I cannot help but smile and gesture at an open spot on the floor between spread-out skins. “You can sit and tell me about it as I work. I promise I will listen to everything you say.”
“Good,” Asha says, a little imperiously, and I have to bite back an even wider smile. Some of the hunters find Asha’s attitude irritating, but I have always loved how strong and sure she is. I do not mind if she is thorny. Her challenging nature is one of the things I love about her, and one of the things I have missed the most.
She shepherds Claire over to the empty spot on the floor and then sits next to her. When Claire hesitates, Asha gives her an encouraging gesture, indicating that she should speak. I find this fascinating. Is it Claire that is in charge of this, or is it Asha? My fierce mate seems to have adopted Claire as a friend—startling to me, considering I have rarely seen this particular human mingle with the sa-khui. She went from Bek to Ereven and seems content to let others speak. Perhaps this is why she gets along with Asha. My mate will never let others speak for her, not if she can help it.
I feel another pang of sadness in my gut. At least, that is how the old Asha would have acted. I am not sure I even know the new Asha.
Today, however, it seems like the old Asha has returned. I continue my stitching as the two females speak. Claire’s timid voice barely registers in my thoughts, though I murmur agreement to indicate I am listening. She speaks of human traditions and gift-giving and presents, but I am less interested in that than in watching my once-mate. Asha nods as Claire speaks, as if agreeing with what the human says. She occasionally adds a thought or two, and it is clear they have been hard at work thinking out this ‘No Poison’ celebration. It is also clear from the tension in Asha’s shoulders and the stiff set of her back when our eyes meet that this is important to her.
If it is important to Asha, it is important to me. No more needs to be said. I wait for the females to pause, and then I nod slowly. “You have convinced me. What shall I do?”
Claire looks pleased, but her response is nothing compared to the triumphant look of pleasure on Asha’s lovely face. I am entranced by my mate’s response, and my cock—and my khui—both respond to her nearness. I feel my chest thrumming low, a rumble of pleasure at her presence. Her startled gaze meets mine, and then a scowl moves over Asha’s face as I hear her khui quietly
respond to mine. She does not like that I can still make her sing. Her pride is still wounded that I walked away from our mating.
Someday she will understand that I did it for her. That I finally understood that my presence was making her miserable, and I left because I could not bear to be yet another thing that caused her pain. Ask me to return, I beg silently. Tell me that you miss me in your furs. That you miss the warmth of our bodies together. Tell me that you miss my smile like I miss yours. All will be forgotten in an instant and we can be back together tonight. Now. In the next moment.
But Asha only lifts her chin, her eyes narrowing at me. She hears my song and she does not like it.
She needs more time. Very well.
“Wonderful,” Claire says, oblivious to the tension simmering between myself and Asha. “We’re going to start the calendar of events on the first bad weather day of the next moon-turn.” She pulls out a skin and unrolls it, then gets out a piece of charcoal. “I’m going to record who you get for your secret gift partner, and you’ll need to make that person a series of small gifts and trinkets to be given out every celebration day. We have eight of them, so you’ll need to make eight gifts.”
I nod in understanding, my gaze locked with Asha’s combative one. “And what if I wish to give someone else a gift?”
“It is not allowed,” Asha replies sharply. “You are to give gifts to your secret partner.”
“Oh, actually, that’s quite fine,” Claire says in a timid voice, and earns a quick frown from Asha. “I mean, the holidays are all about giving and lifting each other up. It’s perfectly fine to give as many gifts as you choose. You just need to make sure that you do the eight small gifts for the secret exchange to be fair to the person you are assigned. Think of it like a game. The eight gifts are part of the rules. Anything you do outside is your own business, of course.”
My mate does not look as if she enjoys being contradicted by mild Claire, but she eventually shrugs. “Give gifts to whoever you want. I care not.”
“Is that so?” I say, deliberately baiting her. No one has ever accused Asha of caring too little. She is a hot flame of emotion, my mate, and burns hottest in an argument. Her scowls please me, though. An irritated Asha is a welcome sight after her sadness for so long. I will take her venom happily.
“Just be careful you do not overburden yourself with your gift-giving, Hemalo,” Claire advises me, making lines on the rolled-up hide with the charcoal. At any other time, I might be interested in what she is doing. Today, with Asha seated in front of me, so fierce and so achingly like her old self that it makes my heart beat fast—and ache with need at the same time—I cannot concentrate on anything but my mate. Claire continues, oblivious. “Can you have him draw and let me know what he picks?”
Asha gives me another defiant look. She pulls out a small pouch she has at her belt and opens it up, then holds it out to me. “Pick one strip and give it to me.”
Interesting. I decide not to prick at her any longer and obediently reach into the pouch. I pull out a small strip of worn leather that has more of the strange charcoal lines on it and hold it out to Asha.
“Here, Claire,” Asha says, giving her the slip. “What does it say?”
Claire looks up and peers at the scrap, then nods. “Maylak is your secret partner.”
I grunt. I have known Maylak ever since she was a small kit, and it is easy to think of things to give her: a new pouch for her favorite tea, hoods and boots for her kits, a new blanket for her to share with her mate, soft leather so she can create a new tunic for herself… “I am pleased.”
“Hmph.” Asha does not look happy. “That is too easy. He should draw a different name. Claire, make him draw again.”
“Oh, but I don’t think…” Claire purses her lips. “Is there a problem with it being Maylak?”
“Yes,” Asha says at the same time that I say “No.”
I am surprised at Asha’s displeasure. “I like Maylak very much,” I say. “I can make her some very lovely gifts.”
Asha just makes a harrumphing noise and crosses her arms. Claire looks uneasy, as if she has stepped into something unpleasant.
“Do not worry,” I cannot help but tease. “I will make you something far more spectacular, Asha.”
“Do not bother,” she says in a tart voice, though I can tell my suggestion has pleased her. “Make your silly gifts for the healer. I need nothing from you.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” I reply. “Are you sure you need nothing?” Her nostrils flare, and she licks her lips, her tongue darting between sharp teeth. My cock aches again. When she doesn’t respond, I continue. “Perhaps I will think of something to give you that you might want.”
“From you? There is nothing.” Her voice is lofty and arrogant, and she unfolds her long legs, getting to her feet in a graceful, fluid motion to rival any hunter’s. “You gave up on me, and I do not care what you do. Come, Claire. Let us go see if Shorshie is busy.”
“Oh, okay.” Claire looks at me and then back at Asha as she sashays out of the hut, her tail flicking with irritation. Mystified, the little human gathers her things, gives me a distracted smile, and then hurries after her friend.
I smile to myself, my leatherwork forgotten as I watch the two females leave. Asha’s barbs were meant to scratch, but I do not mind. She was vibrant today, vibrant and alive and full of the bright spirit I remember. It makes my heart glad. I gaze down at the leather in my lap and then cast it aside. If I will be making gifts for Maylak, I will make even better ones for my Asha. She has long been a rival of the healer, and I need to make her realize there is no reason to be jealous.
There has only ever been one female in my eyes.
6
CLAIRE
One Week Later
“Welcome home,” I tell my mate as he pushes aside the privacy flap over the doorway and saunters in, shedding layers of clothing as he comes in. I love my Ereven, but he’s a bit of a slob. It’s like there’s too much going on in his head for him to hold it all in, and it pours out in small ways, like the fact that his hair always seems to be slightly tangled, or the piles of clothing he leaves wherever he drops them. I don’t mind it, though—I’m just glad he’s home. It’s been three long days and nights without him. “Storm starting up?”
He pulls me close before I can pluck the clothes off the floor and gives me an enthusiastic kiss. He smells like sweat, and his clothes are damp with ice, but oh, his kiss is distracting. “I missed you, my mate,” he murmurs as he presses a few more kisses to my mouth. “Each night away seems to be longer than the last.”
“Then you will be pleased to hear that Rokan came back to Croatoan a few hours ahead of you and said the weather would be bad for the next two days.”
His eyes light up. “That is good. That means I get to spend time in the furs with my mate.”
I can feel a blush creeping over my cheeks. “You can.”
He presses another kiss to my forehead and then sheds another layer of furs. The ends of his hair have iced over, and there’s a slick layer of ice on his horns. “I look forward to a day of terrible stew and equally terrible eggs. Tell me you have something for your poor starving mate to eat?”
I giggle, because my ‘poor starving mate’ is a picky eater. He loves raw meat and raw meat and that’s about it. He’ll eat other things, but he likes to joke about how terrible they are. “Stew?”
Ereven clutches his belly, grinning. “I can hardly wait to choke it down.”
I laugh, moving toward the fire as he continues to strip off clothing. “How was your hunting? You were gone a long time, so I hope it went well?”
“Very well,” he says, stripping off his tunic. “I filled one cache again and brought a pair of fat dvisti down into the gorge. They’re in one of the storage huts until I can butcher them.”
“Yum,” I tease. Dvisti is my least favorite of the meats we eat, mostly because they remind me of shaggy, ugly ponies. But I’ll eat it. I’m ju
st happy that the hunting has been so great lately. The pinched, worried look has eased from the faces of the hunters, and even Vektal looks like he’s finally slept a full night recently. I’ll eat pony if I have to. The baby growing in my belly needs food, and I’m not going to be picky. “I’m glad the hunting went well,” I tell Ereven. “One less thing for everyone to worry about.” Even my easy-going mate has expressed concerns about the food situation, but it sounds like that’ll be in the past soon enough.
“Very well. Now feed me, female, before I am overcome by my mate’s beauty and tackle her to the furs.”
I choke back a laugh at that, moving toward the fire where I have the last of the stew warming in the pouch. His mate hasn’t felt particularly beautiful lately, what with my belly growing by leaps and bounds and my ankles seeming to swell to keep pace with it. I’ve felt fat and bloated for days, and I have almost another year of being pregnant ahead of me—joy. I ladle the stew into one of the bowls and hand it over to Ereven.
He immediately grabs me by the hips and pulls me into his lap, ignoring the bowl. He nuzzles at my neck instead. “Too late. I am overcome.”
“You should eat,” I chide him, squirming. I love the way he fusses over me, always making me feel beautiful.
“Why should I? There is something much more pleasant to put my mouth on.”
“You’ll…need your strength.”
“Ah.” He presses one last smacking kiss on my mouth and then takes the bowl. “Always wise, my Claire.” He takes an enthusiastic bite of stew, grimaces, and then shoves another mouthful in. “Tell me what you have been up to,” he says between bites. “How go the No Poison Day plans?”
“Fantastic.” I put an arm around his neck, making myself comfortable in his lap as he eats. “We’ve got everyone signed up for the secret gift exchange, and there’s a lot of excitement. Nora told Dagesh about the Jewish tradition of dreidels, and now he’s making one for each kit in the tribe.” I think it’s the sweetest, and it goes to show just how thoughtful Nora’s mate is. “And then there’s decorating, which is first on the celebration days. We lost our decorations from the last holiday, but Farli said she saw a few of the rekrek bushes that are good for stringing seeds, so she promised to get some of those for next time. And Liz said she and Raahosh will get us a tree.”