by Ruby Dixon
“And how you wanted to name him Shovy?” Her brows go up. “Which makes me think of anchovy?”
I frown, because I do not see what is wrong with that name. A memory stirs of her making the same sour face, standing near a fire, her belly big and rounded with kit. In my memory, she turns and I am fascinated by the round curves of her tailless bottom. It is bigger now that she is with child, and I like it very much.
But then the thought is gone as quickly as it came, and I am hit with a stab of disappointment. “I will return soon,” I tell her, and throw on my cape, heading out of the cave.
Once outside, I breathe deeply of the crisp air. It is cool today, but there is no snow. The landscape is white and undisturbed, nothing but rolling hills of fresh snow covering the scrubby trees that struggle toward the sunlight. I should be pleased that I have had a memory of Stay-see. I am pleased, but I am also worried at how quickly it disappeared from my mind again. Even now, I try to recall what it was, but my mind is blank. What if I do not remember it ever again?
Worse…what if I continue to forget things? What if the memories that Stay-see is telling me about do not stick? What if I do not remember this day, either? What if my mind is permanently like a woven container with a hole at the bottom? The thought makes me sick at heart. Stay-see deserves a mate with a whole mind, not one with a leaky basket.
Troubled, I jog out to the distant trees. I will get Stay-see a new not-potato, and she will make me more tasty treats and smile and tell me stories. I will not think about my mind or baskets. Not today. I am going to enjoy today.
As I head to the trees, I see tracks in the snow, and my steps slow. I pull out my hunting knife and carry it at the ready, but there is no movement; whatever was here before is long gone. I examine the tracks left behind; the snow is so deep that they are little more than drag marks, so it is impossible to tell what creature made them. Dvisti, perhaps. Or a large snow cat. When I get to the trees, though, I see even more tracks. They circle around the copse of trees and then head off over a ridge.
I rub my jaw, frowning at the sight.
This is where the cache of frozen meat is kept. The cache is at the base of one of the thin, pink trees, and several notches are in the slick, spongy bark. The notches tell the hunters how many kills are left inside the cache, and a notch is marked through again if something is taken from the cache. It is so a starving hunter does not waste his time digging for meat that is not there. I run my hand over the tree, ignoring the sticky feel of it. Notches run down the length of the bark, but most of them are double-notched, indicating that the cache is nearly empty. I count the notches at the top that indicate meat—four of them. A good cache has twenty or more.
But the snow here is thickly churned.
I do not like this.
I sniff the air, but there is no scent of bad meat or any other animal. No one would know this cache is here except for another hunter. I look around, turning, but there is no one to be seen. I run my fingers over the bark again, and the last notch is one that I made yesterday, sticky and fresh. If a hunter was here, he did not take food from the cache.
Just a wandering animal, then. All the same, I dig up a frozen dvisti and mark it off of the tree. It is the largest kill in the cache, and far more than Stay-see and I can eat by ourselves, but the thought of leaving the meat makes me uneasy. We will smoke the extra and store it, I decide.
When I return to the cave, Stay-see looks surprised at the amount of meat I have brought, but does not complain. We move the fire to the front of the cave, remove the screen, and proceed to smoke haunch after haunch. We work as a team, and Stay-see tells me stories of when Pacy was in her belly. The time passes pleasurably, and Stay-see even manages to make me a few of the meat pies before Pacy wakes up and demands her attention.
By the time the suns go down, the meat has been smoked but is not dry enough to serve as trail rations. I will smoke it again in the morning to dry it out so it can be stored easily. We move the fire back to the pit, return the privacy screen to its spot, and settle in for the night.
Stay-see sniffs her braid and wrinkles her nose. “I smell like smoke and sweat.”
She does. I do as well. I do not mind her scent, though. I could happily bury my nose in her cunt and inhale her muskiness for days on end. “Do you want to bathe? I can get snow and we can melt some.”
Her eyes light up. “I would love a bath. Pacy needs one, too.”
“Then we will all bathe,” I tell her. “There is enough snow for all of us.” I dig through one of the packs and produce a small pouch of soap-berries. “My mother’s store. We will have to bring her more when we return.”
“Soap, too? I’m in heaven,” Stay-see exclaims, taking the pouch from me. “This is wonderful.”
I am pleased such a small thing makes her so happy. I set up the tripod over the fire and hang the pouch and go out and scoop snow. I repeat this until the pouch is full of fresh water. While the water warms, she strips Pacy out of his clothing, and my son crawls around the cave, naked, his little tail flicking as he tries to grab everything possible—my spear, the plates, the meat hanging on the smoking racks, everything. His small face scrunches up with anger when Stay-see pulls things out of his grip, and he looks over at me each time as if asking me to give it back. I feel my heart melt when he looks to me, like ice left out in the sun for too long. I hold my hands out to him, and when he laughs and crawls toward me, my heart feels whole. I hold my son close, his small, naked body against my chest, and feel true happiness.
Until he pisses on my chest, that is. I hold him away from me, giving Stay-see a troubled look. “He is wetting himself.”
“I noticed,” she says, amused at my shocked expression. “Though it is more like he is wetting you.” She plucks the kit from my hands and holds him close, kissing his cheek as if he has done something to be proud of.
Amused, I wipe my chest off with a scrap of leather, watching as my son’s little legs jiggle and dance in the air. “He likes being naked.”
“Takes after his father,” she says, and her cheeks grow red.
Her reaction is interesting. “Do I wander around naked, then? In front of you?”
“You have in the past.” Her lips twitch. “You are very proud of your, ahem, assets.”
“My cock?” I ask, unsure what she means by ass-etts. “It is a healthy one. And I have a large sac.”
“I am not having this discussion.” Her voice is prim, but her expression is one of embarrassed amusement, and I know she is not offended. I wonder if I can make her cheeks red again. She splashes a hand in the water and squeezes a few of the soap-berries into the pouch. “All right. Bath time for my little man.”
“And then bath time for your big one?” I ask hopefully.
Her cheeks turn bright red, and I feel pleased. “You can bathe yourself.”
“I can, but I imagine it is more fun if you do it.” I rub my chest idly, thinking about her small hands on my skin. I like this idea a lot.
“You’re very flirty tonight,” she comments as she dips the bit of leather into the pouch and begins to wash Pacy’s wriggling body.
I watch them both, fascinated by my mate’s graceful movements and my son’s joyous ones. “Am I?” Perhaps I am. Being here with her, spending time together alone, it fills me with a great sense of pleasure. Together like this, with little Pacy between us, it does feel as if we are a family.
It makes me…happy.
She finishes washing Pacy, rubbing the tufts of his mane with the cloth to clean it, then swaddles him in a fresh, warm fur to dry off and hands him over to me. My son gives a screech of delight when I pick him up, and it makes me grin. “If only my mate made the same noise when she saw me,” I tell him.
Stay-see just chuckles. “I’m making that noise on the inside. Promise.”
I play with my son for a time, and when he gets sleepy, I hold him and rock him against my chest while Stay-see tidies up the cave. Pacy’s plump little face i
s so small and trusting, and it makes me feel both powerful and vulnerable to look down at him as he drowses into sleep.
This is my son. A kit made from my body and Stay-see’s. It is incredible to behold. He is the same color as me, and his face looks similar to my brother Zennek’s, and to Farli’s, which means Pacy must look like me as well. I could stare at him for hours, memorizing his small features, and never grow tired.
Stay-see moves back to my side, and there’s a soft look in her eyes as she kneels next to me. “Do you want to hold him for a while longer, or should I put him to bed?”
I do want to continue holding him while he is sleepy and quiet and not tearing the cave apart with his curiosity. But Stay-see will need more water if she is to bathe, and I will need to wash as well. Reluctantly, I get to my feet. “I can put him to bed.”
“I’ll do it,” she tells me, though she looks pleased that I offered. “Can you get more snow for washing?”
I hand over my son and watch as she takes him to the back chamber of the cave, settling him into his basket next to her fur bedding. Her hips sway with the movements, and I watch her bottom flex as she bends over. I am fascinated by that round behind. Did I caress it when we mated? I cannot remember, and I feel I should have done this. It looks as if it needs caressing, and a lot of it.
My cock is reacting to my scrutiny of her backside, however, and I do not want to make her uncomfortable. So I get up to retrieve more snow. By the time the water level is replenished, my body is back under control. I sit back down by the fire and pick up my sharpening stone. There are more bones I can carve into cooking plates for her. Her pleasure at the sight of the three plates was so great that I wish I could carve her twenty. But I will make what I can, and hope that a larger creature stumbles nearer to the cave so I can make her more. I pick up a long leg bone with a knobby end and run my fingers over it. Perhaps I can make this into a round ball for my son. He would like that. Aehako is the best carver in the cave and normally makes playthings for the kits, but I can manage something simple. My son should have gifts that make him smile…because then his mother will smile at me as well.
Stay-see moves to the side of the fire and dips a finger into the water. “It’s warm enough again.”
I nod. “You bathe. I will take my turn last.” I will get her more water if she needs it, too. Washing out of a pouch is not nearly as nice as the hot pool we had in the caves, and I feel a pang of loss for our old cave. I think of my parents, my sister, and my brother and his mate, and the rest of the tribe. Are they at the new home now? Are they happy? Am I doing the right thing by keeping Stay-see behind for a few days?
I am lost in thought, studying how best to carve the bone to keep the round shape, when I notice she is not moving. I look up, and her cheeks are bright red with charming embarrassment, but I can see no reason why. “Is something wrong?”
She clasps her hands in front of her and paces on the far side of the fire. “I just realized how small this stupid cave is.”
I glance around. This is a large, spacious cave. Small? “Is it?”
“It is when you’re supposed to bathe in front of someone.”
I…do not understand. “Do humans not bathe?” Stay-see has always smelled nice. She must bathe.
“Oh, they bathe,” she says, fidgeting nervously. “It’s just that…you don’t remember me.”
Oh. It is me she does not like bathing in front of. Strange. “But you bare your teats to feed Pacy in front of me.”
“That’s different.”
“Did you not bathe in front of me in the past?”
“That’s also different.”
“Because I had my memories? But we have mated. I have had my face between your legs—”
She raises her hands in the air. “I know. I’m being silly. I know we’ve mated recently, but that was in the dark. And I know you’ve seen naked people before, but this is just you and me, and it feels a little more…intimate.” She licks her lips and shoves her mane behind her ears. “It’s just…okay. Here’s my thing. I had a baby, right? And everything’s not as tight and small as it used to be. I hate that your only memory of my body is going to be post-pregnancy.” Her jaw sets in a stubborn line.
“You think I would have a problem with your body?” I am shocked. Does she not realize how much I need her? How even her slightest movements set my khui to singing?
“Maybe?” She puts her head in her hands. “Okay, you know what? I’m being silly. I’m just going to do it. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a body, and you’ve touched it, so it’s not like you’re going to be shocked if my ass is big.”
Mystified, I watch as Stay-see gets to her feet. She begins to strip off her leathers with great determination, her jaw clenched. She will not meet my eyes, her focus entirely on getting naked. And I am…fascinated. I want to see what it is she is so worried about.
She steps out of her leggings and tosses aside her tunic, leaving her body bare. Her skin prickles in response to the cold, her pink little nipples hardening. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her body. She is all pale softness and curves, her breasts large and full with milk. Her hips flare out, her cunt covered by a tuft of dark hair. Her belly is soft and rounded, with darker pink marks reaching up the sides like fingers. Her legs are long and graceful, and as she turns her back to me, I see her smooth, soft shoulders and the fragile line of her spine. She is lovely.
She is…trembling. Her fingers shake as she undoes her braid, and this makes my heart hurt. My khui hums a gentle song, and I get to my feet.
I clasp her hands in mine. “Why do you shake?”
“I just…don’t want your only memories of my body to be like this, you know?” She gestures at her belly and breasts. Her eyes are shining with tears. “Believe it or not, I used to have a tight belly and a nice ass. Now I just have too much ass and too much belly.”
“But this is the belly that carried my son,” I tell her, releasing her hands and putting my fingers on her stomach. “And it is round and smooth and soft and sweet, like my mate.”
Her laugh is choked and she gives a little sniffle. “And my ass?”
“It did not carry my son,” I tease, “But I do not think there is too much of it. I like how much there is.”
“You’re being too nice,” Stay-see says with a watery smile and pulls my hands off her, squeezing them to let me know she’s all right. “I really wanted my body to bounce back after Pacy was born, but it’s not really ‘bouncing’ as much as it is kind of limping back.”
Her words are nonsense, but I do not point this out. “I like your body. I would mate with you right now if you would let me. I would put my mouth between your legs and lick your cunt until the fire dies—”
Stay-see’s fingers press to my mouth to shush me, and her cheeks are the delightful pink I so enjoy. “I…I’m not sure I’m ready to jump back into bed with you yet.”
I nod. “I understand.” I caress her lovely pale shoulder and run my fingers along her jaw. “But I do not like it when you cry over your body. You are my mate. If these are the only memories I have of your body, I have no complaints.”
“Even though nothing is tight?”
“I like soft,” I tell her. Even now I cannot stop touching her skin. “Soft and smooth and warm and all Stay-see. I like you soft. I would like you hard and sinewy like an old dvisti, if that is what you want.” At her giggle, I feel relief. “I would like you as round and plump as a quill-beast in the brutal season.” Actually, I like that idea a lot. Her bottom large and fleshy, teats bouncing, and her belly full of my kit? It is an idea that appeals to me very much. “I would even like you if you never bathed again.”
Her brows go up. “Never, huh?”
“I would spend less time licking your cunt, perhaps—”
She laughs and gives my shoulder a little punch. “You are terrible.” But her eyes are shining and she is no longer nervous.
I smile and touch her cheek again. “Take your
bath.”
8
STACY
I don’t know why I worry about these things.
I’m still feeling the warm fuzzies from his sweet, thoughtful words about my body. Having Pacy did a number on my flat stomach, and it’s still poochy and lined with stretchmarks. My thighs are bigger than they used to be, and my butt…well, it’s not my favorite body part. I just didn’t want Pashov’s only memories of me to be of a post-pregnancy body. But the things he said to me just now? I feel beautiful and like I’m glowing from inside out. I’m smiling as I crush more soap-berries into the water and begin to bathe.
I just wish he’d grabbed my butt like he used to. Maybe make a joke about my lack of a tail.
Guess a girl can’t have everything.
I wash quickly, getting the worst of the smoky scent off of my skin and cleaning away a few days of grime. I scrub at my skin and there seems to be more dirt than I thought, so I swipe over my body a second time, acutely aware that this isn’t the sexiest bath I’ve ever had. Pashov’s not watching me though—I think he realizes it’d just make me nervous to see him eyeing me as I scrub at my skin.
Maybe when we get to the new home there will be time for me to have a sexy bath for him. I’m not sure I’m ready for it just yet, though. Maybe when I stop being such a blubbery baby about everything. I hate that I’m constantly crying and emotional. I just…
I don’t want him to be disappointed in who he’s mated to. I don’t want him to be disappointed in my body. In our son. In me.
It’s hard not to be nervous about that sort of thing. I’m not tall and statuesque like Liz. I’m not beautiful like Ariana or dainty like Josie. I’m just average, and before, it didn’t matter because we had resonance bonding us. With resonance, it didn’t matter if I looked like a hag, because I knew he’d want me. And by the time it had worn off, we were so in love with each other, it didn’t matter.
I worry that it matters now. Then again, I worry about a lot of stupid stuff.