by Ruby Dixon
“Are we stopping?” I wheeze. I want to put my hands on my knees—or just collapse, because collapsing sounds nice—but I’ve got a baby strapped to my back. So I just put my hands on my hips and try not to pass out. Two years sitting around a fire hasn’t done me any favors at all.
“We are. Vektal put out the call a short time ago. They’re going to build a fire, and we’ll have some stew tonight.” Kira gives me a look of concern. “You all right, Stace?”
I’m still busy catching my breath, so I give her a thumbs up.
Suddenly, the weight on my back shifts, and I panic. Pacy gives a wail of surprise, interrupted out of his sleep, and in the next moment, I hear a low, firm, “Shhh.”
Pashov.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I force myself to remain completely still as he pulls our son free of his carrier. “Do you have him?” I ask, breathless in so many ways.
“I do,” Pashov says. “He is quite heavy.”
“He’s a big boy,” I say, and it feels like a boulder has been lifted off my back. I feel so much lighter. Almost better, but I’m still exhausted. I want to collapse right here in the snow and sleep for a week.
Pashov moves to where I can see him, and the sight of him with Pacy tucked high against his shoulder makes my girl parts go pitter pat with longing. Does he remember? Has the hike jarred his mind?
But the smile he gives me is tentative, and I suppose I’m still hoping for too much.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He nods at Aehako, who is slightly sweaty from his day of hauling but still looks like he could go for miles longer. “Where will you set your tent?”
Aehako shields his brow and gazes up the hill. There’s a cluster of people gathered together, I see, and between there and here, a few hunters are digging out a pit for a bonfire. “Here is fine. Kira?”
“This works for me,” she agrees, and gives me a curious look. “Do you want to bunk with us, Stace? I’m sure we can make room—”
“No need,” Pashov says in a firm voice. “I will make a tent for Stay-see.”
I’m just as surprised as everyone else. “You will?” A tent of my own? It seems like such a luxury after days and nights of bunking with other people. A moment later, I feel strangely vulnerable. Is he planning on bunking with me? Is that why he’s been determined to talk to me today?
I don’t know if I’m hurt or amused. It’s like the man I love more than anything is a stranger…and yet not. It’s the most confusing thing I’ve ever experienced, and it’s hurting my heart so very much.
Pashov nods at Pacy, swinging him around to make him laugh. “I will make a tent for you next to Aehako and his mate. I will sleep with Harrec and the other hunters.” His expression darkens, and then he adds, “Not Harrec.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. I don’t know if I’m disappointed that he’s bailing out. It’s probably for the best that he does.
I must be having a weak moment, though, because the thought of sleeping curled up next to my mate makes me want to weep. I want that again. Someday.
But it’s clear that right now I am just a duty to him. Until we can be more—or his memory comes back—I need to keep him at arm’s length.
The evening is a blur.
The bonfire is lovely and warm. People are piled up around it, laughing and talking and passing around bowls of warm soup. I nurse Pacy and just hold him quietly, stroking his rounded, sweet baby cheek. When I’m feeling jittery or antsy, just looking down at him sleeping calms my mind. I’ve been staring at my baby a lot lately, but I don’t mind it. In his face, I see both Pashov and myself, and someone entirely new. I see a sweet little soul entirely dependent on me, and it both worries me and makes me that much more determined to keep him safe.
Someone pushes a bowl in my direction, and I sip the soup as I hold Pacy. There are several fussy babies by the fire tonight, but my Pacy is sleepy and content. Thank goodness. Poor Ariana looks ready to tear her hair out in frustration as Analay screams in her ear. I’m so exhausted it doesn’t even fray my nerves. I just stroke Pacy’s little face and make sure he’s not panicking. As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.
A warm blanket is tossed around my shoulders.
I look up, surprised out of my stupor to see Pashov. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am.
“You were shivering,” he says in a low voice, dropping in the snow to sit next to me. His gaze moves to Pacy, who is sleeping cradled against my breast. “Can I get you anything? Or Pacy? Tell me what you need and I shall get it for you.”
I want my mate, I want to say, but even I know that’s childish. He’s trying right now, too. So it’d be bitchy of me to slap him down. “I’m fine, really.” He has to be tired, too. I study his familiar face, suddenly worried. He was in his sickbed for so long that I thought I’d lose him. Even now he’s not quite the same as before—his cheekbones are a bit more prominent, his eyes a little hollower. And I can’t forget the missing horn… “Are you all right?”
He nods, gazing into the fire. “Today was a good journey. We did not make it as far as I expected, but I am not used to traveling with so much.” He glances back over at me. “It is going to take many days for us to make it to the new place. You must save your strength.”
What, does he think I’m deliberately trying to wear myself out? I’m just trying to freaking keep up. I bite back my sarcastic retort. We don’t have the comfortableness between us that we used to, and I ache with missing it. With the old Pashov, I would have snarked back at him. But this man’s a stranger, wearing my beloved mate’s face. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I pull the fur tighter around my shoulders and deliberately stare into the fire.
He sits next to me for a moment longer, and then leaps to his feet. “I will ready your tent.”
I should say something back to him, but Pacy wakes up and smacks his sweet little mouth, looking up at me with glowing eyes, and I focus on him. I lift my tunic, snuggle him against my breast, and let him feed. It seems easier than talking to Pashov, when everything he says feels like it’s carving my heart out.
I know he’s trying. I know he is. But I also know that everything he says reminds me of the fact that I’ve lost my mate, and it hurts so much.
Sometimes I feel like my life ended when the cave-in happened.
I sigh at myself for being so dramatic. I’ve had it easy, really. I didn’t suffer through the ‘week of hell’ that the six original girls did when they landed here. I was in a tube. All I remember is waking up and seeing blue faces. And Pashov. My sweet, sweet Pashov. I’ve leaned on him ever since I got here. I’ve never had to do anything on my own, never had to be independent.
Maybe this is the universe telling me not to depend on one person too much, because everything can change in the blink of an eye. Maybe this is karma telling me to be a stronger person. Maybe it’s fate shaking me out of my complacency.
But I don’t want to be shaken out of it. I liked the way things were, damn it. Loved it, actually. I don’t care that we don’t have toilets or real frying pans or legit vegetables. Or eggs. That I’d lost my job that I loved in a little bakery. I had my mate and then my baby. That was all I needed.
Or so I’d thought. Because as it turns out, I need more.
I focus on hugging Pacy close. This will hurt less in time, I tell myself. It’s just new right now, and raw. That’s why it’s so painful.
Time heals everything.
I must have fallen asleep by the fire, because I only have vague memories of the rest of the night. Of someone taking Pacy from my lap and helping me get to bed. Of wrapping me in blankets and tucking my baby’s basket next to me.
When I wake up the next morning, it’s to a strange clacking noise. I sit up, my head brushing against the roof of the small leather tent, and I realize that the clacking noise is my teeth.
It’s absolutely freaking freezing.
My breath puffs in front of me, and there’s ice crystalized on the corners
of my mouth. I wipe it away, confused. It’s still dark outside. Why is it still dark if it’s morning? I push at one of the flaps at the front of the tent—
And snow cascades into the entrance. Faint light spills in, but not much. Ugh. I shudder, scooting to the back of the tent. I’m shivering despite the fact that I’m rolled in blankets. It’s wickedly cold, and I remember that the brutal season is almost here. Last year, it barely bothered me because I didn’t leave the cave much. I guess I get to experience it in all its glory this year.
Lucky, lucky me.
I pull my furs tighter around my body and check on Pacy. He’s sleeping peacefully, even though his diaper stinks to high heaven. The cold doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it does me, because he’s half sa-khui. More than half, really. He’s the same dusky blue as Pashov, has knobby little horns and a flippy tail. Most all that he’s gotten from me is extra fingers and the little dimple in his chin. He’s sucking on his fingers right now as he sleeps, oblivious to the fact that it’s positively arctic. Or Antarctic. Whichever is colder.
I eye my little tent. It must be new, because I don’t remember having one. I touch the interior wall and find it’s the soft leather hide of a dvisti, probably waterproofed in the last two weeks of frantic leathermaking. Did Pashov make it for me? If so, when? Or is this just borrowed from another family and I’m reading too much into things?
Probably. Still warms me a little, though.
I dress in as many layers of furs as I can squeeze on, and I’m still cold. Shivering, I nurse Pacy quickly, wrap him in double-blankets, and then emerge from my tiny tent.
Snow is falling thick and heavy, the pale twin suns completely obscured by cloud cover. It’s not a blizzard, not quite. But it is going to make traveling a bitch. Snow is piled high around the front of my tent, and I realize as I stagger out that it must have snowed several feet overnight. Just walking is a challenge.
“Ho,” calls someone, and then Pashov is right there, taking Pacy in his arms and offering me a hand. “Can you walk?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, staggering through the hip-high snow. My heart’s fluttering at the sight of him, and I’m feeling schoolgirlishly giddy that he seemed to be waiting for me. “I see we got a bit of weather overnight.”
“This is but the beginning,” he says, and sounds cheerful over it. Crazy man.
The landscape is completely changed, thick white powder blanketing everything. There’s a small fire built and a group of humans huddled close to it to warm up. I join them, and we sip hot tea and chew on dried meat to try and breakfast before the day’s travel begins. I eat slowly, taking time with each bite. Not because it tastes good—it doesn’t—but because I’m dreading the thought of walking today.
Eventually, my tea gets cold, no matter how slowly I sip it, and people start to get up. Vektal comes to the group to retrieve Georgie, and he’s full of energy. The snow and cold aren’t bothering him or the other sa-khui. For a moment, I’m bitterly jealous of his immunity to the chill. It seems unfair that even with a cootie in my breast, I should be so darn cold.
“Let us put the fire out,” Vektal says to our small group. “Finish your meals, and then we must go. This nice weather will not hold up for long.”
“Nice weather?” Josie chokes out.
“A storm will be rolling in soon,” Hemalo offers, pointing at the sky. “Look at how dark the clouds are.”
A chorus of female groans meets his comment.
I get to my feet slowly. Everything aches and feels knotted up, and the prospect of more weather makes me want to scream. I settle Pacy on my hip and turn toward my tent, only to find that it’s gone.
In its place is a much larger sled, with Pashov securing a large leather cover over its contents.
I struggle to wade through the snow over to his side. “Is my tent gone?”
He turns and looks at me, then rushes over to grab Pacy from my arms. “I packed it for you.”
“You did?”
Pashov casually tucks Pacy against him and grins at me. “Of course. I made it for you. I will pack it up for you.” He grabs Pacy’s waving little hand and gives it a small shake. “How is this little one today?”
“He’s great.” I’m a little wary at Pashov’s mood…but pleased. In this moment, he feels so much like his old self that it’s making me ache. “His mommy is struggling, though.”
Pashov immediately turns, surprised. He moves to my side, wading through the deep snow as if it is nothing. “What is it?”
I shake my head, sorry I complained. “Cold. It’s all right. I just need to adjust.”
He gestures over at the sled he’s packing. “I have more furs—”
“I’ll be fine once I start walking.”
He turns back to me, surprised. “You wish to walk today?”
Huh? “Um, I can’t stay here.”
“I thought I would pull you on the sled. Like others are pulling their mates.” His voice is almost shy. Is that a hint of a dark blush spreading on his blue cheeks?
Is my mate…shy?
I can’t help but be startled. It’s never occurred to me that because he’s missing huge gaps in his memory, he won’t know how to act around me. It’s always been about me and how wounded I am.
Oh my god. I’m realizing that I’m a huge jerk. He’s trying, isn’t he? He’s trying to figure out how he fits in to this, and I’m making it difficult. I didn’t realize. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I whisper.
“You? You are light and airy, like Pacy. You weigh no more than a spindly scythe-beak,” he scoffs.
I raise an eyebrow at that. I’m pretty sure that among most humans I’d be labeled as ‘solid,’ and that hasn’t changed after giving birth. But if he wants to think that, he can. “Your sled grew overnight.”
“I realized I could carry more.” He extends a hand to me. “And I made room for my mate, as I should have yesterday.”
I slowly put my hand in his. “If you’re sure you don’t mind…”
“It would give me great pleasure.” His eyes gleam as if the thought of hauling my weight on top of a super-sized sled is indeed the most exciting thing he’s thought about all dang day.
“Well, you don’t have to twist my arm.”
Pashov gives a little shake, and then his expression is aghast. “Twist your arm? Is that what humans do?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You don’t remember anything about humans, do you?”
Some of the brightness dulls in his eyes. “I am relearning what I can.”
“I know. And thank you.”
PASHOV
This is what I need, I realize, as Stay-see gives me a tentative smile. My mate’s happiness. It feels as if something shifts into place inside my mind. This is what I am meant to do. This is my mate. It is my job not only to care for her, but to make her happy. And I have been doing a poor job of it lately.
That is changing as of now.
I eagerly help her atop the sled. I have packed it carefully so that the softest furs are stacked on top, and there is a small nest at the front of the sled where she can curl up and relax while I pull her. She sits down, and I can see the surprise on her face when she pulls her legs under her. “This is really comfortable.”
“I am glad.” I pull out one of the thickest furs and tuck it on her lap, juggling my son in my other arm. “Will this do? Should I change anything? Repack anything?”
“No, this is fine. Really.” She smooths the blanket over her legs and then reaches for the kit. “Are you sure it won’t be too much for you to pull?”
“Not at all. I am strong. Very strong.”
“You are also still recovering.” Her voice is mild with rebuke, but there is a smile on her face.
I am fascinated by that small curve of her mouth. Her lips look so soft. So pink. My cock rises in my breeches, responding to her pleasure, and I force myself to remain busy until it calms once more. There’s a low rumble in my chest that I
don’t recognize at first.
It’s resonance.
I rub my chest, surprised. I should not be. Of course I am resonating to her. She is my mate, and even now, my kit is in her lap. I hear a soft sound and realize that she is singing back to me, her khui responding to mine. I remain still, waiting for the unbearable need to sweep through me. For the song to become so consuming that I have no choice but to respond.
Instead, it is just…pleasant. It is a remnant of past resonance, a resonance that has been erased from my mind.
I am disappointed.
I should not be, but resonance is one of the rare gifts of life, and to have experienced it and forgotten it feels like a loss. Is this how Stay-see feels every time she looks at me? Like she has lost something enormous? I want to hug her and comfort her at the realization. But I do not. I just tuck the blankets tighter around her body and chuck my son’s cheek. “Ready to go?”
“I think so.” Her voice is soft. Shy. There’s a vibrating in her throat coming from the resonance between us, and it makes her sound different. I like it.
I like a great many things about Stay-see, even her odd little face. I pull her hood down to protect her head and then turn around to grab the poles of my sled. I test the heft of the sled and then begin to pull it along. Her weight on the sled is slight, unnoticeable. I am pleased that I am able to make the journey easier for her. “Speak if you need me to stop,” I call over my shoulder.
“Are you sure this is okay?” She sounds worried. “I can walk.”
I turn my head and mock growl at her. “You will not walk.”
A giggle escapes her, and it is the sweetest sound I have ever heard. I need to make her laugh more often.
I keep the sled to the edge of the group, near the back with Aehako and his enormous sled, and the hunters who guard the rear and watch for stragglers. It is not that my load is too heavy, but rather that I prefer to be back here, on the fringes.
It feels almost as if I have Stay-see to myself this way.
We talk back and forth through the morning, about small things. We talk of the weather and the snow. We talk of the tooth Pacy has cutting through his little blue gums. We talk of my mother and father, and my sister, Farli. We talk of my brothers Zennek and Salukh, and Stay-see tells me all about their mates and Mar-layn’s kit. How Salukh courted Tee-fah-nee and she is now rounded with child. How Zennek and Mar-layn resonated mere days after us, but Mar-layn gave birth to her little Zalene nearly two hands of days prior to Pacy’s birth. Of the fact that two of the humans—Mah-dee and Li-lah—were not with them at all, but had come in another one of the spays-ship caves. Of how Hassen stole one sister away, only to end up taking the other as a pleasure-mate and then resonating to her days later. There is much to talk about, but we keep the conversation on others and not on our situation.