by Ruby Dixon
“Hmph,” Harrec says, an amused smile on his face.
I’m surprised—and a little touched—that Pashov would save one of his cakes for me. He loves them fiercely and can eat them by the dozen. “You go ahead,” I tell him. “I’m fine with a bit of dried meat.”
Pashov shakes his head, stubborn. “It is for you.” He nudges the plate closer to me. “What will you do today?”
“Me?” I shrug. “Some more sewing, I think. Pacy’s growing so big that his tunics barely fit, and I need to line them with fur since it’s getting colder.”
“Do you have enough leather?”
“I can bring you some skins if you like,” Harrec volunteers.
Pashov shoots him another irritated look, and I’m mystified. These two used to be good friends. Why does Harrec seem obsessed with needling him?
“I’m good,” I tell Harrec. “Thank you.” I turn to Pashov. “But I could use some more dung chips for the fire. I’m burning the last one right now.”
“I will gather you some,” Pashov says, leaning in and putting his hand on my knee. There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he glances down at Pacy, nursing at my breast.
“No need,” Harrec interrupts, surging to his feet. “There is an entire wall of dirtbeaks on the far side of the canyon. We’ve been harvesting their nests. There are so many of them that the birds do not notice, and one good-sized nest can burn all day long.”
“Dirtbeaks?” I ask. “What the heck are those?”
“Bad eating,” Pashov says, making a face. “You do not want to taste one.”
“No one is going to eat the dirtbeaks,” Harrec says, amused. “We just want their nests. Shall I show you both? It is not so far from here.”
“Is it dangerous?” I ask. I am not a fan of the thought of being so close to an entire ‘wall’ of bird nests, but it surely can’t be dangerous or someone would have said something earlier, right? If it’s not dangerous, well, I’m curious to see these harvestable nests that will make good fuel.
Also, I have to admit I’m curious what a ‘dirtbeak’ looks like.
“Dirtbeaks?” Harrec snorts. “Dangerous? Not likely.”
I look at Pashov. He shrugs, indicating that it’s my choice. “I wouldn’t mind seeing them,” I say. “Let me finish feeding Pacy, then I can see if Asha can watch him for a bit.”
“I can take him to her while you get your boots and cloak.” Pashov leans in and traces a finger down Pacy’s chubby cheek. His hand is so close, I half-expect him to touch my breast, but he doesn’t. And then, of course, I’m disappointed.
What I wouldn’t give to be groped.
Asha is all too happy to watch my son, and I set off with the two hunters. We are joined by Farli, who is walking her pet, Chompy. She jogs to Pashov’s side and gives her brother an adoring look. He hugs her and rumples her hair, and my mood lightens at the sight of their affection.
It’s not a bad walk. We wander through the twisting, narrow valley of the canyon, and I marvel at just how deep it is and how the wind howls above but we’re barely touched by it down here. It’s definitely colder and the weather looks dreary above, but it’s not uncomfortable. Maybe this brutal season won’t be too bad, not if we’re shielded from the snow and there’s an easy fuel source to grab nearby. The canyon winds away from Croatoan, snaking in a few different directions. “Stay to the left,” Harrec instructs as we walk. “If you get separated, just turn around, put your right hand on the wall, and follow it back to the vee-lage.”
“Got it,” I say, and pick up the pace. I don’t intend on getting separated. No one is leaving my sight. Not even Chompy.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, I start to hear…birds. Not just one or two, but dozens. Hundreds. It sounds like the birdhouse at the zoo I last went to, caw after caw layering in on each other, so loud that even the wind howling above us can’t drown it out.
I slide a little closer to Pashov and put my hand on his tunic. He encircles my waist with his arm and gives me a smile, and some of my tension eases.
Even though there’s a ton of noise, I’m still not prepared for the sight of the dirtbeaks. When we enter the side canyon, it’s like being hit by a wall of them. The stink of bird poop smacks you in the face, and the cawing and hooting gets even louder. From floor to ceiling, they cover one of the icy walls of the canyon, fluffy white birds nesting in crevices and on shallow lips of rock. There has to be thousands of nests, all piled on top of one another, covering the wall. About a third of the nests are empty, and the ones that are occupied are inhabited by fat, adorable-looking balls of snowy white fluff with brown triangular beaks. Each bird squats over its nest, occasionally shaking its feathered wings and calling out to its neighbors.
“They’re so damn cute,” I tell the others. “How come we don’t eat them?” I mean, I don’t think I mind because they’re adorable, but it seems strange to me to have this many birds roosting and not want to toss a few of them into the stewpot.
Farli makes a face.
“Not good eating,” Pashov says again. “Look closer at their nests.”
I do, though I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at. The nests look like they’re made of mud and form perfect little cups on the side of the canyon wall. I’m about to ask what I should be searching for when a bird flutters in and arrives at her nest. She’s got something big and round in her little beak, something far larger and flatter than she should be able to carry.
I realize a moment later that it’s a dvisti dung patty. My jaw drops. I watch as the bird flies to its nest and begins to pick the patty apart with its little beak, reinforcing its nest with what can only be a mix of bird poop and dvisti poop.
Lovely. It’s not a dirt nest at all. It’s a shit nest.
“Well, that explains the smell,” I say faintly.
“They are not good eating,” Pashov tells me again. “They can be eaten if starving, but the meat tastes unpleasant. But the nests do burn for a long time.”
“I see. I’d hate to take a nest that’s occupied, though.” I study the wall of calling, flapping birds. God, there really are so very many of them. “How come only some are in use?”
“Dirtbeaks mate for life,” Harrec says. “The female will lay an egg and the male will cover it. The female feeds him.”
“Poor female birds, always having to feed the men,” I tease. “There’s a good analogy for you.” When all three of them stare blankly at me, I clear my throat. “Um. So what happens if there’s no mate?”
Harrec shrugs. “The egg does not hatch.”
Oooh. “So there could be a bunch of eggs up there in empty nests because the female doesn’t have a mate?”
Pashov gives me a speculative look. “Do you want me to check for you?”
Oh god, do I ever. Eggs are my favorite food in the world. “Can we? I mean, if there’s one in a nest that’s been abandoned, it’s probably frozen, but I could thaw it.” And then scramble it. Or fry it. Or use it to cook up a potato and meat quiche…and now I’m drooling.
My mate nods firmly. “I shall get you an egg and a nest.”
“The old nests are at the bottom,” Farli chimes in. “You might have to look to the top.”
Harrec snorts. “He cannot climb nearly as high as me. I will get an egg for you, Stay-see.”
Pashov shoots him a black look. “You will not. She is my mate, and I will get her an egg.” He points at Harrec. “From the top.”
I glance up at the wall. “Guys? That’s kind of high. I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”
But the two men are ignoring me, locked in their own weird pissing war. They stare at each other, Harrec’s expression challenging, and Pashov’s angry.
“From the top?” Harrec repeats.
“All the way to the top,” Pashov agrees, and storms forward.
I shoot an uneasy look at Farli, but she just rolls her eyes. If she’s not worried, I guess I shouldn’t be.
I watch as Pash
ov storms up to the wall of birds. I expect them to fly away, but they only squawk and flutter their wings at him. They’re either going to give him a fight, or they’re too lazy to retreat. Pashov grins over at me, and it’s clear he thinks it’s the latter. Maybe he’s right and the birds are harmless. He would know.
I relax a little. Pashov loves to have fun, but he wouldn’t let things go too far.
He begins to climb, each hand anchoring to rock, then he hauls his body up. He’s surprisingly graceful for his size, and I watch his tail flick back and forth as he moves. Pashov is nimble and scales up the cliff quickly, heading to the first nest, which is a few feet above what I could reach. It’s empty, with no squatty, angry bird in it, and he pries it down off the wall, then tosses it to the ground. “No egg.”
Farli trots forward to retrieve the nest, shying away at the angry calls of the birds as she approaches.
Harrec just cups his hands to his mouth. “Climb to the top, fool! That is where the newest nests are!”
Pashov’s tail flicks harder with irritation, but he continues climbing. As I watch, one of his hands gets close to an occupied nest and the bird squawks angrily and pecks at his hand.
“Be careful,” I call when he switches handholds. “Maybe this is a bad idea.” I don’t know if he can hear me from his vantage point on the wall. I don’t want to be a nag or a spoilsport, but at the same time, I’m watching my mate climb and my concern is growing. Perhaps it’s just my fear of heights, but he’s climbing…really high. And those birds are really pissy. Another snaps at him as he climbs near, and another looks like it wants to take a bite out of his tail. Those are just the ones in the nests, too. If some of the ones perching high on the lip of the canyon get an idea to come and attack, it could get ugly.
My mate is high off the ground now, at least twenty feet above us. The birds are riled, their angry cawing turning deafening. Some are starting to take to the air, and one swoops at Pashov’s back, which elicits a laugh from Harrec and Farli, and a horrified gasp from me.
I suddenly don’t want eggs anymore. This doesn’t feel safe. I just want Pashov back on the ground so he can put his arm around my waist and I can touch him and smile at him. Nothing else matters.
“Higher!” Harrec calls. I want to smack him.
Pashov reaches the next empty nest, and his shoulders move a little. He holds something aloft in the air, and it’s large, rounded, and a delicate speckled brown. An egg.
“Great, now just come down,” I whisper. He has to be thirty feet up by now. I’m tired of this. I don’t like it.
As I watch fearfully, Pashov tucks the egg into the front of his tunic. He pries the nest off the ridge and tosses it to Farli below. Instead of coming down, though, he moves his feet along a ridge of rock, climbing sideways instead of down. He’s moving to a nearby empty nest. He reaches into it, and then brandishes another egg high into the air with a flourish. My lips twitch with amusement at that. Show-off.
A bird swoops in from above. It attacks his upraised hand, knocking the egg away. I watch with slow-motion clarity as Pashov leans outward, trying to catch the egg—
—Only to lose his grip on the wall entirely.
Then he falls backward onto the canyon floor, and I’m screaming. This is my worst nightmare come to life, all over again.
I can’t lose him again, can I? Please, no.
Farli, Harrec, and I all rush forward, but we won’t be in time. Pashov lands on his back with a sickening crash, and then lies still.
A sob escapes my throat, and I fling myself to his side. “Pashov! Pashov!” I run a hand over his face. His eyes are closed, his body still, and my world feels like it’s ending all over again. I grab the front of his tunic and shake him, terrified. “Pashov!”
His eyes open.
Pashov gives me a slow smile and cups my face, pulling my mouth to his for a kiss.
What. The. Fuck.
I rear back, both relieved and shocked, even as Farli and Harrec break into laughter. Pashov grins, too. “It is not so big a fall,” he tells me.
My fear gives way to blinding fury. He thinks this is fucking funny? I curl my fingers into a fist and punch him in the shoulder.
He shrugs it off, grinning. “Do not be mad, Stay-see—”
Not be mad? He just risked his fucking life for a fucking egg and I nearly lost my mate again and everyone’s laughing and this is funny to them? I punch him again, and then I can’t seem to stop hitting him. They’re not hard hits—my hands are small and my strength is crap—but I need to get it out of my system before I start screaming and grab a knife and castrate him for being such a dick in this moment.
“Stay-see,” Pashov soothes again. “It is all right.”
“It is not fucking all right,” I say, punctuating my words with slaps. “You’re an asshole.” I jerk to my feet and turn my accusing stare on Farli and Harrec, who are still laughing. “All of you are assholes!”
Chompy belches at me.
That does it. I am out of here. I feel frustrated and terrified and full of anxiety and I don’t see the humor in this at all. I’m about to start crying, actually, and the last thing I want to do is get all blubbery in their faces. So I turn on my heel and leave.
“Remember to keep your fingers on the right-hand wall to find your way home,” Harrec calls after me, amused.
I shoot him the bird and continue marching away.
“Stay-see?” Pashov jogs after me and grabs at my arm.
I shrug his touch away. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“You are mad?”
Oh, understatement of the year. “I am fucking furious.”
PASHOV
My mate has used the human curse word more times in the last few minutes than she ever has since I met her. I know this ‘fuck’ word. It is a very angry one. She has only used it a few times in the past—once when she sliced open her finger while dicing roots, and once when Pacy was being born.
I…I remember that. Delighted, I jog after my mate. I want to share this with her.
But Stay-see is marching away, her little back stiff with anger. Her shoulders are shivering—no, wait. That is not shivering. She is crying. She is hurting.
I turn back to Harrec and Farli, who are equally mystified. “What did I do?”
Farli shrugs, the nests in her arms. “She is worried you hurt yourself.”
“Pfft. Over that small drop?” It left me winded and made my ribs creak, but I have fallen from much worse. It is nothing to panic over…
And yet Stay-see is upset. Very upset. I have never seen her so furious. Mystified, I stare after her as she marches out of the canyon.
“Well?” my sister prompts.
I turn to look at her. “Well what?”
“Are you going to go apologize?” She juggles the two nests in her arms, twisting away before Chompy can grab at one with his teeth.
Am I? I pull the frozen egg out of my tunic. It is still whole, rock hard and frozen solid in the frigid weather. Stay-see will be pleased…I think. I got this for her. All I wanted to do was make my mate smile. Make her say Yes, Pashov, I want to be your mate again. Please come back to my furs. But those were not the words she said.
I am fucking furious.
I do not want her upset. I want her smiling and hungry for my kisses.
Harrec scoops something off the ground and offers it to me. It is the other frozen egg. “Go after your mate,” he tells me. “Quit being a fool.”
“I am being a fool?” I echo, surprised.
“Are you not? You are here, talking to us, when you should be kissing your mate.” He takes one of the nests from Farli’s hands, drops the egg into it, then offers both to me with a grin. “Go and tell her that you miss her and wish to take her to your furs. Everyone in the hunter cave is tired of your snoring. You should return to your mate.”
“If she will have me,” I say, dubious.
Farli rolls her eyes. “Do not be
stupid, brother. Stay-see is upset because she worries over you. If she did not care, she would not worry so much. Go chase after her.” My sister thinks for a moment and quickly adds, “And tell her that she is pretty.”
“Pretty?”
“A female likes to be told she is attractive,” my sister lectures me as if she is the expert. “When was the last time you told Stay-see you thought she was pretty?”
I think…and I do not remember if I have told her that at all lately. I grunt acknowledgment; maybe Farli is right. I put the two frozen eggs in the nest and tuck it under my arm. “But what—”
Farli points at me. “You are thinking too much. Just go!”
I do. I turn and jog down the canyon after Stay-see. She is now out of sight, which means she is likely walking fast—storming—back to the vee-lage.
It takes a few moments, but eventually I can see her stiff little back as she marches through the valley alone. She looks very small and lost, my mate. I feel a sense of unhappiness that she is so alone. I should be there at her side, comforting her. Stay-see is obviously scared and unhappy about something, and it is my fault.
I want to make her smile again.
She is also going in the wrong direction to get back to the vee-lage. The thought makes me smile, because my mate is so sheltered and protected that she cannot even find her way around in a canyon. In that moment, I vow that she will always be cared for enough that she will never have to worry about hunting, or hiking, or getting lost. I will protect her from the world.
But first, I must get her to stop crying.
I think for a minute, then begin to creep up behind her, my steps slow and silent. There is not much snow here in the gorge—strange, since most of the valleys in our land fill up quickly with snow. But this one is protected by the high lip that keeps the worst of the wind and snow out, and today I am thankful for it. The lack of snow on the rocky ground means that I can move silently without my footsteps crunching. I sneak up on her and watch her swaying backside as she moves.
And then I grab it.
Stay-see emits a shriek so loud that it echoes in the canyon. She jumps around and gives me an incredulous look. “What the fuck, Pashov!?”