by Ruby Dixon
I sit back, rocked by this reveal. Holy cow. “Oh, girl.” I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “You must be a mess right now.”
She sniffs and then swipes at her face, brushing away tears with her free hand. “I like that you are not telling me to be excited. Any sa-khui would tell me that I should be pleased.”
“Humans are not so black and white,” I reply with a pat on her knee. “We don’t automatically think that just because the cootie decides you should mate with someone that you should be thrilled about it.”
Her quick smile tells me I’m on the right track. She’s anxious about things with Hemalo.
“You hate him?” I guess aloud. “And you don’t want to be pulled back into a mating with him?”
“I do not hate him,” Asha says softly. “I am sad he has abandoned me. I am sad he no longer wants to be mated to me. I know I was not a good mate to him. I pushed him away when he tried to be kind, and eventually he decided to stop trying.”
“But now you have resonated again.”
Her lip trembles. “And I worry it will all go wrong again. That my body will not be able to carry my kit, and we will hate each other once more.” Her hand covers mine and clenches it tightly. “I do not think I can bear to go through that again.”
My poor friend. I put my arms around her and hug her. She is stiff in my grasp, but then relaxes and puts her head on my shoulder. “It’s all right to worry about this sort of thing, you know. It happened, and it was terrible.” I rub her back. “It’s something no one should have to go through.”
“My world ended when Hashala died.” Asha’s voice is stark with grief. “She died, and when Hemalo tried to comfort me, I pushed him away. I did not know how to handle it. I still do not. At first I tried to ignore it. If I did not think about it, maybe it would not hurt.” Her throat works as if she is trying to swallow a knot. “Hemalo did not understand why I was not grieving like him. So I was cold to him. I said ugly things.” She sighs heavily. “And I tried to mate other males. I thought maybe I should hurt him like I was hurting.”
Eek. Things just got awkward. I suspected as much given Kira’s coolness to Asha, but hearing it said aloud is tricky. I pat her back. “You were trying to find a way to make it hurt less. I understand.”
“No one took me up on my offer. I was still mated, of course. If I was not mated, I could have a dozen males in as many nights. But you never touch the mate of another.” She snorts. “Not that my mate wanted me at that point. He has not touched me since Hashala was born, and that was many seasons ago.”
“You said yourself you were cruel to him. I imagine he was hurt, too.” I keep my tone as non-judgmental as possible. I doubt Asha’s ever confessed all this hurt and pain to anyone, and I don’t want her to think she can’t talk to me. I’m aching for her, because I know what it’s like to feel alone and friendless and terrified, and to hurt. To have everything you love pulled away from you in an instant. We humans have settled in well enough, but I still grieve Earth and its beaches, a warm day of scorching hot sunshine. A pizza fresh from the oven. Chocolate. A movie or a day at the mall. My parents and my dog, even though they were dead by the time I got snatched by aliens. I still miss them. I still miss all of it.
“I still hurt. Every day, I hurt for her.” She reaches into the furs and pulls out a tunic for a baby. It’s so tiny. She pulls it to her face and presses it to her mouth, then inhales deeply. “It no longer smells like her. I wish it did. She was so…” Her voice catches. “Perfect.”
My eyes sting with tears. She’s carrying around so much grief. “I know.”
“I should have carried her for another season,” Asha whispers. “But she came anyhow, and she was so small. So very small. Even this fit her like a blanket.” She strokes the tiny tunic. “She was too fragile to accept a khui. You have to be healthy and strong, otherwise it takes too much and…” She chokes on the words. “Hashala…she…she couldn’t.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her softly. “I know how much she meant to you. Losing her doesn’t mean that you’re wrong for grieving her. You’re going to miss her every single day, and that’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She sits up. “I am scared, Claire. What if my body will not hold another kit? What if I fulfill resonance with Hemalo and my kit comes early again? What if I ruin another life?” Her hands go to her stomach. “What if my khui does not realize that I cannot have a kit and just keeps making me resonate over and over again and—”
“Stop it,” I tell her gently. “You’re panicking. You are strong. You’re healthy, and so is Hemalo.”
“But I was healthy last time.”
“And something happened. I can’t change that.” I take her hand and give it a sympathetic squeeze. “But it doesn’t mean it will happen this time. And it doesn’t mean that there is something wrong with you. If there was, don’t you think Maylak would have seen it and fixed it?”
“I want to believe you. I do. But I am frightened.”
“Of course you’re frightened. That’s normal. Anyone would be, in your place. But look at how many kits have been born—”
“Human kits,” she interjects.
“And Maylak has two healthy children,” I reply. “They are fully sa-khui and fine. And there are kits born every day on this planet. Look at how many metlaks there are out there.”
She snorts. “Those are animals. Beasts.”
“I don’t know about the metlak,” I say thoughtfully. “They might just be furry people. Furry, very smelly people.”
“Beasts,” she says imperiously.
I shrug. “So what if they are? They are born healthy. Birth is a natural thing, my friend. Your kit will be fine.”
“But what if mine is not fine?” Her face is full of fear.
“But what if it is?” I counter. “You will never know unless you try.”
“Oh, I must try.” Asha rolls her eyes in a very human expression. “Resonance will not allow me to say no.”
“Do you want to say no?” I ask. Even on this primitive planet, with a healer, if she doesn’t want her baby, maybe there’s a way to fix that for her, even though my heart hurts at the thought.
She is silent for a very long time, her gaze focused on the hole in the ceiling as if it will provide her with answers. Then she looks over at me. “I want a kit more than anything else in the world. I am so tired of my arms being empty.”
“Then you have to take a chance,” I encourage her. “Talk to Hemalo. I’m sure he’s scared, too, because I’m betting that he’s worried about the same things you are. But you guys can lean on each other instead of drifting apart. This is a sign that you’re meant to have a family, Asha. You can’t let Hashala’s death destroy you and any happiness you might ever have. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have a kit and a mate. You deserve all these things. But going after what you want will mean taking a chance.”
Asha nods slowly. “I am scared.”
“Girl, if you weren’t scared, you wouldn’t be human.” I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her in for another hug, ignoring the fact that the bony plates on her arms scratch at my skin.
A laugh bubbles up from her throat. “I am not human. Not in the slightest.”
“All right,” I amend with a grin. “You would not be sa-khui.”
9
ASHA
Claire is wise. I think about her words as she feeds fuel to the fire and makes me tea. She should be out spending the day singing songs and enjoying the haw-lee-day with the tribe, but she is here with me in my hut. She is a good friend, and I am so grateful for her presence that I nearly start to weep again. I am a mess of emotions this day, it seems.
The resonance thrums in my breast, reminding me that it has not been fulfilled. Last time I resonated, I took Hemalo to my furs immediately. It feels strange to delay things, like I am not doing this right. Is my kit even now inside me, waiting for us to mate so it can begin to grow? It is a strange t
hought, and I touch my stomach. Hemalo has not come by, and I wonder if he is agonizing like I am. Probably. He is a thinker, Hemalo. He will not say much, but I know his mind is always working, going over everything. He will be thinking about Hashala, and the new kit.
Will he want a male or a female? Will he think of Hashala as my stomach grows? Or will the new kit replace all the aching love I have for her? I worry that I will forget her. That if a new kit fills my arms and my heart, I will have nothing left for the kit I have lost. But maybe…maybe Hemalo can help me remember.
As I muse quietly to myself, Claire moves around my howse. She dips her small finger into the pouch and pulls back with an exclamation at how hot it is. She moves to the cupboard where Farli keeps our dishes and pulls out a pair of shiny new bone cups. I realize as she pours tea that those must be Farli’s cups, not mine. I have made no effort to replace anything that I lost in the earth-shake. That will not do. Not if I am to have a kit. Not if I am to cave with Hemalo again. Not if we are to be a family once more. Farli will have to return to her mother’s hearth or keep the howse to herself. I wonder if Hemalo has a howse in the vee-lage or if he will move into mine. I muse on the thought as I sip the tea and Claire chatters about the haw-lee-day. I know she is trying to distract me, and so I smile and pretend to listen.
Perhaps…perhaps this is a good thing.
I am still terrified, of course. The thought of spending endless seasons pregnant again, only to lose the thing I want most in the world? It breaks my heart. But…resonance chooses when the kits are born, and to whom. We do not choose. I cannot fight it, because in the end, I will give in. The khui controls all. It does not make me angry, strangely enough. I know some of the humans have fought hard against resonance—Jo-see and Haeden spring to mind. In the end, the khui always wins.
If I knew Hemalo wanted this—wanted me—then I think I could bear it a bit more. I could stand the terror and the fear if it felt like we were in this together. But his words yesterday hurt me down to my core. Telling me that we did not have to act right away? Acting as if this is unimportant? He should know how I feel.
I truly do not think he wishes to be with me. I fret over this as I drink my tea. Once, I thought he was devoted to me despite my unfairness to him. Perhaps he has truly given up, and not even resonance can salvage what is between us. The thought makes me sad. I picture us together, as a family, laughing and smiling around a fire, cozy during the worst storms that the brutal season can bring down upon us. I think of him as the father to my kit, holding the child and tossing it into the air as Vektal does to his little Talie. My heart feels warm. He would be a good father.
Now that my initial terror is ebbing, I am starting to grow excited.
Resonance means a new kit to love. A new life to carry and nurture. I have never wanted anything more than I have wanted this. And while it will not bring Hashala back to me, it will let me try again. Perhaps this time, I will be the mother I have wanted to be. I will get to hold my own kit close to my breast and love it, instead of holding someone else’s and wishing. The new kit will not take the place of the one I lost, but to have my own…oh. Just the thought is a dream. I touch my flat stomach and think about it with wonder.
Unless something goes wrong…
“I see that look on your face,” Claire says between sips. “Stop it, Asha. You’re just torturing yourself.”
“It is just…what if something goes wrong?”
“My mother always said that worrying about what might happen does nothing but make you crazy.” She finishes her tea and puts down her cup. “So, is there a reason why you’re still sitting here with me and not talking to Hemalo?”
I set my tea aside and draw my legs up, hugging them close. “You push hard.”
“I’m your friend. I want what’s best for you. And sitting on this isn’t going to help things.”
“He could come and talk to me, too,” I point out.
“He could, but he hasn’t, and there must be a reason for that,” Claire says. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move. Maybe he thinks you’re upset and doesn’t want to upset you more. Or maybe he’s being a big chicken. Whatever it is, you’ll never know unless you go and speak to him.”
“Shick-un?” I ask.
Claire waves a hand in the air. “You know what I mean. Quit stalling. Go talk to him!”
“And say what?”
“Tell him how you feel!”
I think for a moment and then sigh, hugging my legs close. “I am not sure how I feel, Claire.”
“Which is also not the worst thing to tell him. I imagine he’s feeling a little conflicted himself.” She gets up from her seat and picks up our teacups. “I’ll clean up here. You go talk to him.”
My gut clenches, the nervous feeling bubbling over. What if he says cruel things? What if he does not want to give mating with me another try? What if he will mate with me but pushes me away again? Then I will have to go through all of this alone. The thought is terrifying, but not undeserved. I have been hard to love. I might have destroyed any hope for the future with my actions.
But it is as Claire says—I will never know unless I go and speak to Hemalo.
I suck in a deep breath. Get to my feet. I straighten my tunic and run a hand over my mane, feeling nervous. If he says cruel things, I will not be able to bear it. I feel as fragile as one of the humans right now.
“You look beautiful. Go!”
“Going,” I mutter. I grab a warm wrap and fling it over my shoulders, then push the flap aside and step out into the air. The chill is bone-deep, despite it being midday. I glance up at the sky out of habit, and it looks as if the storm is abating, which means the hunters will be able to go out tomorrow. The next day of celebrations—coloring eggs and hiding them around the vee-lage for some reason—will have to wait. I wrap my fur tighter around my body and head toward the howse that the unmated hunters live in. It is on the far end of the vee-lage, and I pass many empty, lidless howses as I walk. Perhaps when all the new kits in the tribe are grown up, they will live in these.
And perhaps my kit will be amongst them.
The thought is an encouraging one, and I quicken my steps. I need to talk to Hemalo. To get to an understanding with him. To see how I can make him stop hating me so much so we can mate and bring resonance full circle.
And bring our kit one step closer to death, possibly. I hate that the thought echoes in my mind, but I cannot stop it. The fear will be with me, always, lurking like a shadow.
I must not think about that. Not now.
This end of the vee-lage is quiet, and the only sound is the distant echo of laughter and singing at the long-howse and the endless howling of the wind above. There is no sound of Hemalo working his hides. Those are sounds I know well—the wet slap of the brain-mash on the leather, or the scrape of his bone tool along a hide. Is he not working, then? Sleeping?
I move to his leather-working hut, but it is empty, his tools neatly put away, skins rolled up. No work today, then. Is he sick? Has resonance made him ill enough that he cannot leave his bed? The thought fills me with concern—and floods me with arousal at the same time. It has been a long time since Hemalo has touched me, and I miss it. Of all of my fur-partners, he was my last…and the best one. He would always make sure I was pleasured hard and pleasured well, but my favorite part was how he held me close afterward, as if he could not bear to let me go. I want that again. Even now, I grow slick between my thighs thinking about it, and the tip of my tail tingles with excitement. I have not felt like mating in a very, very long time, and yet it seems to consume my thoughts right now. It is the resonance, I know, but it gives me hope. It makes me feel…normal again. Like I am not completely dead inside.
I like that.
The howse the hunters occupy has the privacy flap pulled back. I peek inside, but it is empty, too. Hmm. Did Hemalo join the celebration, after all? I turn and head back toward the long-howse, fighting back my nervousness. Is he avoi
ding me? The thought sparks a flash of irritation, and I stomp toward the gathering.
But when I get there and peer inside…he is not there, either.
Where is he?
My skin prickles with awareness. This is not right. This is not like Hemalo. He would not be petty. I leave the gathering before anyone can invite me to stay, and race back toward the hunters’ dwelling. When I make it back, I move through the howse, gauging belongings. That pile of messy furs belongs to Harrec, and that one is Taushen’s, judging by the spear nearby. This one is Warrek’s, and this one, Bek. None of the furs belong to Hemalo, who always has the softest, best-made furs in the entire tribe. I do not see the basket that holds his things, either. I do not see his rarely used spear, or the skinning knife that his father gave him.
He is not here.
He is gone. He’s left.
I stare about the howse numbly. He cannot leave, can he? Not when we have resonated? It is a call that must be answered. There is no avoiding it.
And yet…Jo-see and Haeden delayed their resonance by a full turn of the moons because Jo-see ran away. She told one of the other females that it was still bad, but bearable.
Is that what Hemalo has done? He has left me behind? Shock gives way to outrage as I think about what he said to me yesterday. We do not have to decide anything just yet. Of course nothing had to be decided…because he was never planning on staying.
Once again, he has abandoned me.
It hurts. It hurts and it makes me furious all at once. How dare he? How dare he not want me or this kit? How dare he run away instead of facing the problem? Is he trying to teach me a lesson? I snarl at the empty spot where his furs should be and turn on my heel, storming back to my own howse.
Claire is still there, banking the fire. She straightens, surprised to see me. “Back already? What happened?”
“Hemalo is gone,” I bite out. I move to my own furs and begin to roll them up.