by Ruby Dixon
And even though it’s cold, I feel a bit of hope.
Pashov’s idea of ‘soon’ is apparently very different than mine. It grows colder by the moment, until my breath is frosting even under the blankets, and my entire body shivers with the need for warmth. The wind grows louder, the snow thicker, until I feel almost as if we’re in a snow tornado. Do such things exist? If so, we’ve found one. The snow is pouring from the sky so heavily that I have to shake my blankets off over and over again so we’re not buried. All the while, Pashov plods ahead, as strong and grimly determined as ever. I can barely make out his form several feet away. If there are others near us, they’re impossible to see.
I’m also starting to worry. Surely no tent is going to keep us warm enough in this weather. No fire is going to be able to withstand this wind. What are we going to do? The thought of going through the night as cold as I am now fills me with helpless despair. I’ve never been so cold. My only consolation is that Pacy seems unbothered. In this, he’s more sa-khui than human, and I’m grateful.
The sled stops. I frown to myself under the blankets, concerned. Is Pashov all right? I wait for the inevitable jerk of the sled as it starts again, but nothing moves. What if…what if he’s hurt again? Panic clutches at my throat, and I fling myself upright, fighting through the layers of blankets. “Pashov?” I cry out into the blizzard. “Pashov!”
“I am here,” he says, and he touches my face.
Oh gosh, his fingers are so warm, and I’m so damn cold. I want to burrow against him and just bask in his warmth. Thank goodness he’s all right. “Why-why did we stop?”
He hesitates for a moment, then reaches over me to pull Pacy into his arms. “Come. We must get you inside, both of you.”
Inside? I squint into the driving snow, but I can’t see anything. “Are we stopping? But it’s not night—”
“We are done for the day,” he says in a firm, calm voice. He offers me his free hand and helps me down from the sled, then flings his cloak over me, shielding me from the snowstorm. “Come. Hold on to me, and I will lead the way.”
“Pacy—”
“I have him. Come.”
I cling to his side and let him lead me forward. It’s impossible to tell where we’re going, and this feels a bit like those trust exercises they do at summer camp. Only I’m not falling backward into someone’s arms. I’m stepping forward blindly into the snow in the hopes of safety and warmth.
A few steps later, and suddenly the wind seems to die away. I peek out from under Pashov’s fur cloak, and it’s dark, but I can barely make out the glowing blue eyes of my mate and my baby, and the faint outline of rock walls. My breathing sounds different, and the wind seems to be howling behind us. I turn in surprise, gazing back out as I realize where we are. “Is this a cave?”
“A hunter cave,” Pashov confirms, handing Pacy to me. “Hold him, and I will start a fire.”
I take my son, carefully rewrapping him in his blankets so he stays warm and dry. I feel soaked to the bone from all the snow, but the wind isn’t nipping into me, so it’s not so terrible. “Where are the others?” I ask as he moves around the cave. I hear the sound of rummaging and then a spark lights in the fire pit, illuminating Pashov’s face. “Are they staying in caves?”
There is silence for a long moment, and then another spark. “We have been separated from them.”
I suck in a breath. “What happened?”
This time, the spark catches, and Pashov leans over, blowing gently to make the fire grow. I wait impatiently as he feeds it tinder, all the while carefully blowing on the tiny flame. When it is safe to speak and the fire is in no danger of going out, he glances up at me. “The snow grew to be too much. We fell behind.”
And our sled wasn’t even the biggest. “Oh my god. Do you think the others—”
“They will be safe. I promise. Do not worry.”
“How can I not worry? Georgie and Josie and the others are out there in the storm! What about your parents—Kemli? Borran? Or Farli and your brothers—”
“We will catch up to them,” he says, his voice calm and even. “I brought you here because you are cold.”
“But won’t they worry about us—”
“Do not worry,” he assures me. He gets up from the small fire and moves to my side, tugging me gently toward the flame. He pulls one of my sodden layers off of my shoulders and for a moment, I want to protest that I need the furs, but then he sits me in front of the fire. It’s beginning to catch now, and it’s so, so warm. I sigh at the feeling of heat, scooting closer.
“I’m worried, Pashov,” I say as I hold Pacy close. My mind is racing with fear. “We can’t lose the others—”
“We will not,” he says quickly. “I know where they are going. We will meet them there. For now, it is most important that you rest, Stay-see. You and my son both.” He reaches out and chucks Pacy under the chin, and the baby giggles. “Wait here,” Pashov tells me. “I will bring in our gear.”
I want to help, but Pacy must be watched and the fire kept going. So I nod, trembling as I wait by the fire. Pashov dashes out of the front of the cave again and disappears into the blinding white flurries, and the knot in my throat grows huge. The weather is so bad. How can we be separated from the others? What are we going to do?
I swallow my questions as Pashov appears again with several bundles of furs. He sets them at the cave entrance and disappears into the snow again. I make myself busy with Pacy, feeding him before he gets fussy and letting him play in my lap near the fire. The heat feels wonderful, but with it comes guilt. The others are out there in this cold. They’re suffering, traveling on, because it’s important that we all stay together.
As much as I would love to sit by this fire for the next few hours and roast myself into oblivion, we don’t have the luxury. If we’re going to catch up with the others, we need to get back on the trail soon.
The next time Pashov comes in, I stop him. “Don’t unpack more,” I say, getting to my feet. “We need to get back out there.”
“No,” he says, stubborn. “You are cold. Sit down and warm yourself.”
“The others are still out there. We can catch up with them. I can’t sit here by the fire while they’re out looking for us.”
“They will not be looking for us,” Pashov says firmly, moving to my side. He presses a gentle hand to my shoulder. “Sit. You are tired. You are cold. Rest and warm yourself.”
I watch him, skeptical. “You don’t seem very nervous for someone who’s just been lost in a blizzard.”
“There is no need to be nervous.” Pashov pulls the privacy screen over the cave entrance, leaving just enough room to let the smoke trickle out. “I will care for you and Pacy. I can hunt. There is a cache nearby if the weather is too foul. We have fuel and blankets. All will be well. Rest and recover, Stay-see.”
He’s very calm for someone that has been left behind with his mate and child in a snowstorm. Too calm. I study his face. Pashov has always been a terrible liar, and when he won’t look me in the eye, my suspicions are confirmed. “This was intentional, wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” He feeds a bit more fuel to the fire. “Relax, Stay-see. Would you like some tea? I can dig out your tea pouch.”
“Uh huh,” I say warily. “You’re offering me tea when we should be getting out there, catching up with the others.”
“Too much distance between us,” he says stubbornly.
A worrying thought occurs to me. He’s had no trouble keeping up for the last few days. “Are you feeling all right? You’re not too tired, are you?”
“I am fine.”
“But you would tell me if you were struggling, right?” I can’t help but be anxious over him. He’s just recently recovered from a devastating injury. If we hadn’t had the healer…
“Stay-see.” Pashov moves to sit next to me. His hand falls on my shoulder, and he gives me a patient look. “All is well. Please do not worry.”
“Ho
w can I help but worry? We’re left behind—”
He sighs and rubs his forehead. “Stay-see, please.”
“Pashov,” I say, a warning tone in my voice. “Either tell me what is going on, or get back out there so we can catch up.”
His mouth flattens, and his tail does that hoppy little flick at the end that tells me he’s lying. I raise my brows at him, waiting. After a moment, he grimaces. “Very well. I admit…no one will come looking for us.”
“Because…?”
“Because I spoke with my chief and convinced him he should let us stay here in the cave for several days. We will catch up with them at the new home-place.”
I stare at him, horrified. “What? Why would you want us left behind?”
“Because you struggle in the cold, and it causes me great pain to see it.” He pulls the wrap off his shoulders and dumps it over me, tucking it close like I’m a toddler. “Because I cannot watch my mate suffer in the ice and snow for one more day.”
I’m warming, and it’s not just because of the fire. It feels like something is thawing in my insides as well. Is this the first time he’s referred to me as his mate since the accident? “Everyone is struggling,” I murmur. “It is just something we must endure—”
“No, it is not,” he says in a flat voice. “I do not care if the other humans struggle. I care if you struggle.”
I blink, because I don’t know what to say to that. I want to protest that, of course, he cares if the others struggle, because we’re a tribe and a family, but…he has no memory of them, either. Why would he care? “You really, really want to be left alone in a cave with me for the next few days?”
“Of course.”
“Why?” I spread my hands, perplexed. “Pashov, you and I haven’t been on easy ground since the accident. I haven’t been nice to you, and I know I haven’t. So why trap yourself in a cave with no one but me for company?”
“You have not been nice because you have been hurting,” Pashov says. He reaches out and gently traces a finger along my jaw, as if discovering it for the first time. Goosebumps prickle my skin in response to that small, tender touch. He watches me, fascinated. “I have foolishly pushed ahead thinking that my lack of memories did not matter. That you would accept me as your mate again and everything would be fine. But I am realizing that perhaps I can do more…and that traveling is not the time or place to do it.” He leans back on his haunches and smiles at me. “So I asked Vektal if I could steal you away.”
“But why?” The timing seems utterly terrible.
“I want us to get to know each other once more,” Pashov says. “You have memories of me. Mine of you are gone. If I cannot have them back, I would like to make new ones. With you.”
I melt a little more at that. “You would?”
He nods, pressing a hand to his chest. “I feel my khui resonate to you. Every morning when I awaken, it sings a song to yours. Every time you come close, it calls for you. It knows what I have forgotten. And it is time to stop ignoring what has happened. I am not whole. I am missing a vital part of who I am…because I am missing you, Stay-see. I want to get that back.” His expression is solemn. “Will you help me?”
The knot in my throat feels huge. He’s engineered all of this? To be left behind in the middle of a difficult journey all because we’re fighting and unable to get along? It seems like a terrible idea, and yet, does it matter if we get to the new home a week after the others? What do a few days matter in the scheme of things? I hesitate. I don’t want to get my hopes up. “Will it be safe to travel if we stay here and rest for a few days?”
He nods at me. “Rokan says the weather will hold. After this storm, there will be no more until the next moon.”
Well, I can’t say I’m displeased about that. “So what do we do?”
Pashov’s gaze is intense as he watches me. “We make new memories, Stay-see.”
I feel weirdly shy as Pashov putters around the cave, setting it up for us to inhabit. As caves go, it’s nice and spacious, with two chambers. The larger one is the main part of the cave, and the smaller chamber is used for storage, though there’s not much currently to store. Most of the equipment that is normally kept for travelers is down to a bare minimum, the rest having been scavenged since the big earthquake. There are a few blankets, at least, and a basket full of dried bones of varying sizes, since the sa-khui waste nothing. I let Pacy dig through these as I watch over the fire and surreptitiously watch my mate.
Despite the grueling trip and the bad weather, Pashov seems to be in a light mood. His steps are full of enthusiasm, and he hums to himself as he unpacks roll after roll of leathers and furs from our sled. Some of the gear is his mother’s and carefully stored in the back cave. Once all the gear is in, the sled is dismantled and also stored so the wet and cold don’t warp it. Then Pashov sweeps the snow and debris out of the cave with a whisk before setting the door screen at the front of the cave. He’s not happy with the way it flutters in the heavy wind and then gets to work reinforcing it with another layer of leather.
Every now and then, he glances over at me and smiles. I can’t decide if he’s pleased with his little plan or is feeling bashful himself. We’re here alone now, without the rest of the tribe to act as buffers. And while I know him well, he doesn’t know me. This is probably going to be a little awkward for both of us.
Then again, can it be? We’ve had sex. Even if he doesn’t remember the two years we’ve spent together, the other night has to be burned into his mind. You can’t get much more intimate than mating with someone. The sa-khui are pretty loose with their sexuality, but I know Pashov was a virgin when we resonated.
I’d forgotten about that.
Looking back, I wince at how I reacted to our having sex. It must have been mind-blowing for him…and then I cried. It had to have hurt his feelings, and I feel guilty. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own wounded feelings that I haven’t given much thought to him. What kind of mate am I?
One who needs to change, that’s for sure.
Pacy makes a high-pitched baby shriek, his little tail flicking back and forth on the furs he’s seated on. Pashov looks back, a grin lighting his face. “He is full of energy.”
“He is,” I agree, a smile coming to my face. Even if he doesn’t remember Pacy, it’s clear that he has affection for him. “That’s all sa-khui. His human half would have run out of energy hours ago.” Even now I’m feeling drained and sleepy.
“Are you tired? Do you wish to rest?” Pashov puts aside the awl and leather thong he’s double-stitching the privacy screen with. “I can watch the kit if you need to sleep.”
“I’m all right,” I tell him. I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyhow. I’d just lie in the furs and stew about how things got so wrong between us.
He watches me for a moment longer, then turns back to the screen and begins to stitch again. I watch his muscles move as he works, and my heart aches with fierce longing. Even if he doesn’t remember our relationship, he is a good man.
Maybe…maybe I can fix this.
Pacy digs in the basket, making a frustrated noise. I reach over and absently pull out the bone he’s tugging on, which is too big for him to pull out. It’s a pelvic bone, flat and wide, and reminds me a bit of a plate. I lost all of my cooking gear in the big cave-in, and I miss it. If I had it here, maybe I’d cook something for Pashov, to jog his memory…
I pause, then dig another bone out of the basket. This one’s a femur of some kind, but it looks a bit like a ladle. It’s like the universe is giving me a sign.
Maybe I should cook for my mate. What’s stopping me? I have time, now that we’re stopping in the cave for the next few days. And I love to cook. Some people sew to soothe their nerves, or whittle, or even work on hides. I cook. I started cooking for the tribe when we first landed, because I couldn’t stomach all the raw meat that was being passed around. Some of the other girls were too terrified to protest that they didn’t enjoy the sa-khui food, so I t
ook it upon myself to figure out how to fix things that were more palatable to humans. The sa-khui are happy to have a diet mostly of meat, but we humans get sick of that easily. We’ve found some plants that are edible, and one plant in particular that is almost like a potato. I’ve used that dang not-potato for a ton of dishes, and while they’re not quite what we had on earth, everyone loves to try them out. I’ve gotten really good at potato cakes, stews, and I’ve even made a chalky sort of cake out of the not-potato and a variety of seeds. It’s been kind of a fun adventure to test out my skills and see what I could make with what the wintry planet provides, and it makes me happy to cook for others and see their faces light up when they get a little taste of home.
I haven’t cooked for anyone since the cave-in. I move my fingers over the smooth surface of the pelvic bone, thinking. I could make myself a few dishes with these bones. They wouldn’t be perfect, but nothing ever is. And I can dig through the supplies of dried food we have and see what I can make without being wasteful. I could make some food for Pashov. My mate has always been a hungry one, and he’s the only sa-khui that eats most of my dishes with enthusiasm. Everyone else takes a polite bite or two, but Pashov eats anything and everything.
Well, everything except the hraku cake. It’s made from the toffee-like seeds of the hraku plant and mixed with not-potato and more or less fried in the skillet and frosted. It’s more like a donut than a cake, and very sweet. The sa-khui don’t like sweet, and the one time I got Pashov to eat it, he made such a face…
I smile to myself at the thought. I could make it again if there’s hraku stored somewhere. See if he makes the same face now as he did when he was himself.
Maybe the memory of it will jog his brain. Maybe if I cook for him, that will help him remember.
For the first time in days, I’m excited and filled with hope.
PASHOV
Stay-see seems…happy.