by Ruby Dixon
She shrugs her shoulders. “I am just saying…I remember how often you and Zennek and Salukh used to speak of mates. How jealous you were when Hemalo and Asha mated, and then Maylak and Kashrem. You wanted nothing more than to have a mate of your own.” She raises a hand, gesturing ahead to where Stay-see plods behind Shorshie and Vektal. “There she is. Your mate. And ever since you woke up, you have stayed away.”
“She has stayed away from me!”
“And your feet do not work?”
I growl low in my throat, growing angry. “I have been unwell—”
“Not so unwell you were not the first to volunteer to go with Vektal,” she points out. “And you seem to be fine now, except for your memory.”
“Stay-see does not wish me near.”
“Of course she does. She is emotional. All of the humans are. Plus, she nearly lost you. And she has a small kit to think about. There has been much for her to worry over, and yet I see her alone constantly.”
My sister’s words shame me. Does she not understand that both Stay-see and I do not know how to go forward? “I do not know how to speak to her. I do not remember how we were, as mates. I look at her, and I remember nothing.” It makes my chest ache just to think about it. “She is disappointed.”
“She would be far more disappointed if you were dead,” Farli says sharply. She bats at my arm. “Go talk to her.”
I tried earlier and she grew upset. “She does not want to speak.”
“You are not trying.”
Have I not? “It is a…strange situation.”
“And you make it worse! You do not talk to her!”
“I am trying.”
“Try harder.”
Why is my young sister lecturing me on my relationship? What does she know of these things? “Leave it be, Farli.”
She throws up her hands in a gesture that makes her seem very human, and storms away, the dvisti dancing at her heels.
My sister. I snort to myself. What does she know of mates anyhow? She is yet too young to even think of such things.
Everyone travels with speed and determination early in the day. By midday, when we stop for a break and a meal, several groups are straggling behind. Some of the heavier sleds are re-packed and their goods redistributed amongst others, and the sled I am carrying nearly doubles in size because Kemli and Borran are growing tired and I do not wish them to struggle. By the time everyone begins to walk again, the enthusiasm is gone. Now, everyone is just tired. Now, the true hardship begins.
I hear a human female crying, complaining about exhaustion. Her mate soothes her, and her tears are quickly silenced. No fire is made, so meat is eaten raw. Some cry over that, too. I watch Stay-see. but she does not seem to have much of an appetite. She feeds her son, lingers near Jo-see and Shorshie, and then gets to her feet, stretching.
I watch her as she stands. She does not move like a sa-khui female does. Her movements do not have a hunter’s grace. Her hips are, well, they are more rounded, her teats fuller. I watch them jiggle as she flexes one arm over her head, talking to Salukh’s mate. I should not be staring at her teats. I should not.
Nor should my body be responding.
I force myself to look away. If I am to admire her body, I should remember it, should I not?
“Time to go again,” Vektal calls out, moving toward his sled. “Make ready!”
Stay-see shrugs on her carrier, adjusting the straps over her shoulders. She tugs her cloak on tighter and begins to walk, but her steps are slower than before. I hesitate, then abandon my sled, jogging to her side. “Ho,” I call. “Stay-see, wait.”
She stops and turns to me. The look on her face is wary. “What is it?”
“You look…tired. I wish to help.”
Her brows draw together. “Help?”
“I will carry your kit. Or let you sit on the sled as I pull it. Come.”
The expression on her face is not friendly. Her eyes narrow. “My kit? He is yours, too.”
I have made a mistake. “Of course.”
She presses her fingers to her mouth and gives a deep, tired sigh. “I…actually I don’t think I want to talk to you right now, Pashov. I’m sorry. Please leave me alone.”
“But you are tired—”
She puts a hand up, pushing me away. “Not that tired. I’m fine. And I’m going to carry my son.”
“Very well.” I watch her storm away, pulling her fur wraps tight around her body. The low feeling in the pit of my belly is guilt, and I ignore it. It will do me no good right now. I march back to my sled and pick up the leather straps, tugging it forward. I will keep pace with Stay-see even if she does not want me around. It is the least I can do.
Time passes. The afternoon suns grow high in the sky and then disappear behind clouds. Stay-see walks on, but she is slowing down. First, she walked near Shorshie and Vektal. Then she was in the middle of the pack. Now, she hangs at the outskirts, and her steps grow slower all the time. I am careful to keep my sled a safe distance behind her so she does not feel like she is slowing me—or the tribe—down. But my steps have been growing smaller and smaller, and I have been pausing, waiting for her to catch up to the others. I am not tired. I can run all day. My arms ache from pulling the sled, but it is a good ache.
But Stay-see is exhausted. I watch her struggle, frustrated.
I am concentrating on her and do not notice when a figure rushes up to my side and bangs one large hand against my broken horn. It startles me so much that I fling myself to the side, only to topple over one of the handles of the sled and collapse on my back into the snow.
It grows deadly quiet. Someone gasps.
“Pashov!” Stay-see screams. She rushes forward, even as Harrec appears at my side, a sheepish look on his face.
“I am sorry,” Harrec says, looking at the frantic human moving to my side. “I was not thinking clearly—”
I ignore him, because as I lie on my back in the snow, Stay-see leans over me. Her mane tumbles around her pale face, and she is suddenly…not so strange. Her flat features become appealing, and I remain still as she runs her hands over me, worried.
Well, most of me remains still. My cock responds to her touch, eager for a caress.
I suddenly realize that she is carrying my kit on her back. I have seen her carry him plenty of times, but it has never sunk in until now: we are mated. I am Pacy’s father.
That means I have mated with a female and forgotten it.
This is terrible.
“I am fine,” I murmur, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth. All of the blood in my body seems to have surged to my lower half. “I was merely startled.”
She swipes at her face, and I can see her cheeks are damp. “Right. Fine.” She jerks to her feet and huffs away, her kit wailing in his backpack.
My kit. My son.
My mate.
I am truly cursed if I cannot remember such things.
I watch her leave, and Harrec shakes his big hand in my face again. I grab it, haul myself to my feet, and then punch him in the shoulder. “You startled me, fool.”
He just grins like the big idiot he is and taps my broken horn. “Losing this has thrown you off balance, has it?”
I shove him away, and he chuckles. I watch as Stay-see marches onward, fascinated by the sway of her hips. Harrec regards me, and then turns to look in the direction she has gone. “You still do not remember, do you, friend?”
“I do not.”
“What do you remember of the last few seasons?”
I shrug. “I do not feel as if I am missing anything. Clearly I am, but I cannot say what it is.” My memories feel like a jumble. Certain ones are clear, and certain ones are hazy and distant. As a people, we dwell on the here and now, so it should not bother me.
But the fact that I cannot remember Stay-see or her touch? It bothers me. It bothers me very much.
“Do you remember that Asha and Hemalo have broken? That they no longer claim to be mates?”
&nb
sp; “Eh?” I try to think about this, but my mind is blank. “They are not?”
“They have taken separate caves.” He nods as if pleased. “I feel for Hemalo, but…perhaps Asha will return to her flirty ways. Remember how we used to stare longingly after her?” His mouth crooks into a smile. “She is not half so pleasant to be around, but she is female.”
All of the hunters in the tribe once panted after Asha. I remember Harrec was wildly attracted to her, and yet she resonated to another. Perhaps Harrec, my friend, sees this as an opportunity. It feels distasteful to me. Hemalo is a friend to both of us, and even if he and Asha have split, in my mind they are still together. “Will you pursue her?”
Harrec shrugs. “In time, if no one else appears? I suppose I must.” He bats a hand at my shoulder. “I have a secret hope that a new cave of humans will drop on our heads.”
“Mm.” I pick up the poles of my sled again and heft them. I check Stay-see, but she is still a fair distance ahead, her anger and worry over me having sped her steps.
“You watch her a lot,” Harrec comments, smirking at me.
I look over at him, trying to figure out where he is going with this.
He nods at Stay-see. “Do you not remember?”
“None of it.”
“You do not remember resonating?”
“No.”
“Or the birth of your kit?”
“No.” I am growing irritated at his questions. I have said I do not remember, have I not? What is he getting at?
Harrec makes a noise of agreement and is silent for a moment. Then he continues. “What about the foot and ball game we played last hawl-ee-deh?”
“I do not remember. I have said this.”
“Or…the time you shared your mate with me? In the furs?”
I growl low and stop in my tracks, sudden fury sweeping over me.
Harrec stops, too. He raises his hands into the air, grinning. “It is a joke, friend. Merely a joke. I was testing you.”
“It is not funny.” Another hunter walks up and gives Harrec a push on the shoulders, indicating he should walk. It is Bek. “Your jokes are as poor as your hunting skills.”
“At least I know how to joke,” Harrec counters, and he looks wounded at Bek’s criticism. “I am just trying to make my friend laugh again.”
We start to walk, and it takes several steps before my blistering rage at Harrec’s words begins to filter out of my thoughts.
Share.
My mate.
With him.
With another male.
My mate.
How long have I wanted a mate? A family? And to think of letting another male touch her? I know that three-pairings have happened in our tribe in the past, with two males agreeing to be the pleasure-mate of the same female. I watch Stay-see as she walks, her back stiff, her hips swaying. I cannot imagine how it must have been to touch her.
But I know I would never share.
I tamp down the urge to fling myself at Harrec, horns first. I must not. He meant no harm. The last thing I need is another head wound. And still, the thought of him touching Stay-see fills me with possessive rage.
“Why do you walk so slowly, Pashov?” Harrec asks after a few moments have passed. “We are falling behind the others.”
Clearly he does not sense my foul mood. I watch Stay-see as she walks, a good distance ahead of me. If I catch up, she will march even faster, angry, and she is already exhausted. I do not wish to tire her more than she already is. “I have my reasons.”
Bek sighs, the sound exasperated. “He is a fool, Harrec, just like you.”
Eh? I glare over at Bek, who has not changed in the slightest. “Me, a fool? What do you know of this?”
“I know that you have a mate,” Bek bites out. “And a kit. And you should be with her right now. Protecting her. Walking at her side.”
“Let me handle this,” I snarl at him. Is everyone going to harass me about my mate?
“You are pissing this away,” Bek retorts, the look on his hard face cold. “You have a mate. A resonance mate. A kit. It is everything any hunter has ever wanted. She is your heart. You should not throw her away.”
“Advice from you? What do you know of mates?” I scoff.
Bek’s nostrils flare. He storms away.
Harrec coughs, though it seems as if he is trying to hold back a laugh.
“What?” I ask. Is there something no one is telling me? “Did Bek resonate and no one has told me?”
“No, he has not resonated,” Harrec says. That is all he says, though. He grins at me. “I think I shall go talk to the chief, see how long we will be walking today. The humans are already growing slower by the moment.” He jogs away, ever full of energy. I watch him, and my eyes narrow as he approaches Stay-see. He slows his steps and talks to her for a moment. I cannot see her expression, her face hidden by her large fur hood. Harrec glances back at me, grinning, and then continues forward, heading toward the front of the group.
Which is good, because now I do not need to throttle him.
I resume my steps, keeping my pace slow so I remain carefully behind Stay-see.
Still…was she pleased to have him talk to her? She has fallen behind all the other humans and walks alone. Would she enjoy company? Should I move to her side?
I decide that perhaps I should. I pick up my pace, watching her as I surge forward. Her steps are always careful and measured, even though it is clear she is tired. She holds on to the straps on her pack, and as I approach I can see Pacy’s round face swathed with furs, his small mouth slack with sleep. A fierce surge of pride rushes through me. Strange that I should feel this way at the sight of a kit, sleeping.
Not just any kit, I remind myself. He is mine.
My sled bounces over an ice-covered rock, making a loud cracking noise. Stay-see turns, surprise on her face. “Everything all right?”
I move to her side, straightening my sled. It pulls a little harder on the left now, but nothing I cannot handle easily. “A little mistake, nothing more.”
She nods slowly, then turns away, concentrating on the trail in front of her. A short distance ahead, there are a few of the heaviest sleds, Aehako dragging one behind him as he talks and laughs with his father. Farther up the snowy hills, more sleds and more fur-covered forms stagger along in a thin line. If this was a hunting party, our chief would be ashamed. But these are families, females, young children, and much more gear than any hunter could ever think to bring with him on a hunting run. The travel will not be the same.
My footsteps crunch in the snow, and it is the only sound other than the quick rasp of Stay-see’s panting breaths. She is breathing heavy, I realize. This must be difficult for her. “Do you need to stop for a time? I will keep you company.”
She turns to me, surprised. “What? No, I’m fine. I’m just…not used to all this physical labor.” She pants between words. “I forgot I’ve been sitting in a cave for almost two years now. I’m out of shape.”
“Your shape is appealing.” I have been staring at it all afternoon. It is a good shape, for all that she is small and human and solid in places the sa-khui females are not. I am still deciding if I like the differences, but I think I do. I am especially intrigued by her round, full teats.
Her face scrunches in a curious expression, and then she laughs, the sound breathless but pleasant. “Thanks, I think?”
I smile at her. This is good. We are talking. She is not upset. In fact, she laughed, and I feel the warmth of it down to the tip of my tail. I want to do more. I want her to say more, but she is struggling to keep her breath. “Shall I take Pacy and carry him? You seem tired.”
“No, I’m all right. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.” Her smile is faint and apologetic as she looks over at me and the sled I’m dragging. “You’re already carrying a lot of stuff.”
And she thinks a tiny kit will somehow cause me to collapse in the snow? The idea is laughable. “I can carry him easily.”
&
nbsp; “So can I. And you need to heal.”
My frustration begins to bubble over. Why will she not let me help her? “I do not need to heal. I am whole.”
She stiffens, silent.
I realize I have spoken wrongly to her, again. In Stay-see’s eyes, I am not whole.
I am not whole at all.
3
STACY
In some part of my mind, I knew that the trek wasn’t going to be, well, a cakewalk. Of course, it’s a lot of walking, and the weather is crappy. But I didn’t really stop to think about just how much walking it was going to be.
And this is only day one. God help me now.
I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted, and my feet feel like wet blocks of ice. The wind—brisk and pleasant when it floats in from the cave entrance—is relentless out in the open. It feels like my face is scoured raw, and my lips feel tight and painful. My shoulders ache from where the straps on Pacy’s carrier are cutting in through the warm layers of fur.
And this is only day one.
Day one.
How am I possibly going to last until we get to the new camp? How am I going to do this? I don’t have a choice, though. So I put one foot in front of the other and try to think of happier things. Like chocolate bars and freshly baked cake with a buttercream frosting. Scrambled eggs. Pashov’s hearty belly-laugh when he’s delighted.
But then that makes me hurt, and so I go back to thinking about food.
I’m daydreaming about a spinach and feta cheese frittata when I realize I’m about to run into Aehako’s enormous sled. Kira’s perched atop it, Kae in her lap. Kira smiles at me, and she looks so happy and refreshed, and here I am, sweaty and gross and exhausted…
And for a brief, uncharitable moment, I really want to punch her. Or someone. Anyone. Everyone who got to hitch a ride today and I had to hike with a fat infant strapped to my back.
Well, I amend, I didn’t have to hike. Not exactly. Pashov would have pulled me on a sled. And probably tried to talk to me the whole time. And I’d probably have cried all day. And it would have been miserable.
But more miserable than walking? That’s debatable right now.