by Ruby Dixon
Zalene looks at me funny. “Elly’s weird,” she declares a moment later.
“Is not,” Erevair says, beaming at me. “She’s Bek’s mate, and that makes her great.”
I choke on the mouthful of food.
“Bek’s my friend,” Erevair tells the others happily as he returns to his seat. “When he comes back to the tribe, he’s going to show me how to hunt.”
“Is he now,” Gail murmurs, shooting me an apologetic look. “And Miss Zalene, we don’t tell people that they’re weird. It’s not nice.”
Zalene shrugs her little shoulders. “Mama says that Bek isn’t nice. She says he’s a tête de noeud. Mama says that means dickhead in her language.”
A horrified laugh chokes out of Gail, though she tries to smother it. I press a hand to my mouth, silently laughing even as I chew. Bek is a dickhead? It fits. I decide I like Zalene’s mama, even if her child is a little talky.
“Is Vaza your mate, Gail? Did you resonate to him?” Lukti asks, all innocence.
“Resonance is gross,” Zalene declares. “My mama says that resonance makes you want to put your tongue in the other person’s mouth. Yuck!”
“You don’t need resonance to do that,” Erevair tells them. “I saw Vaza do that to Gail yesterday.”
Oh really, now? I know he’s been coming around our hut, always with gifts in hand, but I hadn’t seen that. I give Gail a surprised look.
Gail clears her throat. “You don’t need resonance to kiss someone, no. And Miss Gail is far too old to resonate, because resonance wants babies, and I can’t have anymore. But if Mr. Vaza wants to have a friend, I might be that friend.” She gives me a coy little look and grins. “But he’s gonna have to work for it.” She primly adjusts the hem of her tunic, looking pleased with herself.
So Gail’s encouraging Vaza’s flirtations? I shouldn’t be surprised. Vaza is like a puppy around Gail, eager to please and willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy. If she mentions that her pillow is flat, he makes her a new one. If she mentions a specific fur is soft, he brings her three more for her bed. He’s constantly stopping by to talk to her, and I know she keeps him at arm’s length, but I also know she isn’t chasing him away.
I wonder what that means for me if they get together. Of course, it’s stupid to think about that. Everyone assumes that I’m going to end up with Bek because we’re resonating. The thought makes me uncomfortable and restless, and I finish watering the plants, then head out of the long-house. I need to be alone to clear my thoughts, catch my breath. The others are happy to be around company all day long, but it gets to be too much for me quickly, and I need fresh air. I could spend all day and all night just gazing up at the sky, out in the open, and so I take every opportunity I can to soak it in.
You never know when it’ll be taken away from you again.
So I walk through the village, giving the friendly people that say hello to me a polite nod or two, but I don’t go over to meet Georgie, or to greet Megan or Kira, who stand talking nearby with Kemli and Sevvah. I keep my head down, my hair in front of my face, and head for the outskirts of the village. I grab a woven basket as I pause near my hut at the edge of town and take it with me so I look like I’m going to be busy. I can go collect a few dirt-beak nests for fire fuel, get away for a bit, and then return when I’m settled mentally.
A short distance away, the canyon forks in a few directions, and there is a marked path that leads toward the little cove where the dirt-beaks make their nests. It’s one of my favorite places to go and get away, but before I can turn onto the path, I see another person—a sa-khui male—heading into the village even as I leave it. I duck my head, avoiding eye contact.
My cootie starts to hum, and I know who it is, even without looking. I feel that full-body flush move over me, feel my nipples get tight and my female parts get slippery and hot. God. Why does he have to show up now, when I’m alone? I hurry down the path toward the dirt-beaks, hoping that he won’t notice me. That he’s busy or bringing in food and he’ll go straight into the village and I won’t have to worry that he’s going to follow.
I know that won’t happen, though. And I feel a weird little flutter in my belly because I’m so unsure of what to think.
In the last week since Bek has been ‘shunned’ by the tribe, he’s still hanging around. He lurks on the edges of the village and always seems to be close by. It’s like he doesn’t know—or doesn’t care—that he’s being shunned. No one talks to him, but he continues on about his business like it’s no big deal. In the mornings, he makes a fire on the outskirts of the village and sharpens his weapons there. He hunts and brings back fresh meat for the tribe, and if no one thanks him for it, he doesn’t seem to mind. I’m not sure where he sleeps, but he’s always close by, it seems.
I shouldn’t notice, and I shouldn’t care, but I do. It’s the cootie, I think. It’s got me all turned around. I’m restless at night, and when I do dream, they’re disturbing and erotic and I wake up feeling more achy and needy than ever.
Behind me, I hear footsteps on the snow-scattered cobblestones. My breathing quickens, and I feel the flutter in my belly go wild again. I want to not care that he’s following me, but I’m acutely aware of every single step he makes. I clutch my basket tighter and speed up. Should I go back to the village? Hide inside my hut for a few hours? The indecision torments me. I know it should be a simple decision to make, but with the cootie humming in my breast, I can’t seem to do it.
“Ell-ee,” Bek says, voice low and husky as he moves to my side. “You should not be out here alone.”
Oh, I see. He’s trying to make it easy for me to dislike him today? I can do that. I shoot him an irritated look and step carefully away from him, making sure that my strides put distance between us.
He keeps pace with me, though, and if I go any faster, I’ll be running, and that’s just ridiculous. I slow my steps, holding my basket tight and keeping my gaze directly on the ground in front of me. I can see his legs if I peek over out of the corner of my eye, and the butt of his spear as it thumps the ground. He holds a dead, spiky-looking animal in his other hand, no doubt another kill for the tribal stewpot. I wish he’d go away and hand it off so he can leave me alone.
I think.
Because even as the words circle through my mind, I realize I might be lying to myself. I’m scared of Bek, but at the same time, I find myself grudgingly fascinated by him and by our connection. I think of when he’d held me against him at the sa-kohtsk hunt. I should be mad about him clenching my jaw and the bruise he’d left on my arm, but all I can think about is how he’d tucked his chin into my filthy hair and whispered to me to calm me. The look of pride and joy on his face as we resonated, as if he was glad—glad! —to be the husband of the dirty mute girl.
Sometimes I think he sees me underneath all this grime. That I can’t hide from him. The idea is both terrifying and exciting.
“I wish you would speak to me.” He continues to walk at my side, keeping his pace with mine. If I slow my steps to a crawl, his slow, too. “Not because I feel you owe me an explanation,” he goes on. “I simply wish to know that you are well. That you are doing all right. That the others are treating you kindly.” He pauses. “And…I admit that I wish to hear your voice.”
My skin prickles with awareness at his words, an odd form of pleasure. I don’t speak, though. I don’t know if I can, yet.
“I know you are not comfortable enough to talk to me. That you worry what our resonance means. But I am a patient hunter, my Ell-ee. I can wait for you to come to me. Resonance might make my cock ache, but I can ignore it. I want you to want me as much as I want you.”
Well, that’ll never happen. I give a little snort, my only concession that I’m hearing his words.
“You can think what you like,” Bek says, and there’s amusement in his voice that adds a rich tone. I like it. “But I know you still feel fear. I know you do not sleep well at night. I know you do not eat much. But you
are my mate, even if we have not yet touched, and I will do whatever I can to make you happy. If you do not like the food, I will bring new foods for you. If you are cold at night, I will bring you furs. If you are lonely or sad, I want to comfort you.”
Nice words. But I never believe words. They’re far too easy to speak and they don’t mean anything.
“I dream about you at night,” he murmurs, and my skin prickles again. I’ve been dreaming about him, too, and the flashes of my dreams that float through my thoughts make my cootie purr even louder. I can hear his purring, too. “When I first saw you,” he continues, “I thought you were strange but so very brave. It was clear you were scared, but you never cried, and you did your best to escape. And I thought to myself, this one is strong. She does not cry and weep like the others. She knows there is risk in escape, but she takes it anyhow. She is brave. And I thought that if I should have a mate, she should be strong like you. Instead, my khui has given you to me.” There is a ragged little catch in his throat, as if he’s emotional, and a sympathetic knot forms in my own throat. “So even though this will take time, I want you to know that you have as much as you need. I am here for you, and I vow to you that I will never touch you in anger, or in menace. I will never force you. When we come together, it will be because you want me, too.”
More words. Sweet words, but still as empty and cold as the air around me.
There’s a long pause between us as we walk, and then Bek grunts. “I wish you would acknowledge that you have heard me, at least.”
I shoot him the bird.
A moment after I do, I regret it. I’m impulsive despite my fear, and I worry it’s going to cause me to get hurt again. Will you ever learn, Elly? Jesus. I keep my shoulders stiff, mentally cringing, waiting for him to strike me.
But I only hear a startled laugh. “I will take that response, Ell-ee. Thank you.”
And I smile to myself under my cloud of dirty hair.
Bek seems to run out of words after this. We make it to the dirt-beak nesting grounds, a honeycomb of cliffs that are wall to wall with dung-nests, like swallows back on Earth. I expect him to leave now that he’s said his piece, but he unstraps his weapons from his waist and sets his spear and his kill down and then proceeds to help me fill my basket with the precious empty nests. They’re easy enough to collect, but it’s kind of nice to have quiet company, even if my khui does thrum and sing in my chest the entire time.
When my basket is full, I try to pick it up, but Bek makes a surly noise in his throat that makes me skitter backward in fear. He sighs and hefts the basket under one arm, as easy as if it were full of feathers. “I would never hurt you,” he growls.
More words. Just more words.
We walk back to the village in silence, and he drops the basket in front of my hut and then pauses for a long, long time. I stare at the toes of my boots, wondering if he’s watching me, and if he is, what he’s thinking. But eventually, he turns and leaves. I glance up to watch him go, but he doesn’t turn back. I grab the basket and decide to take it to the long-house.
As I do, I notice little Erevair standing in the doorway of the long-house, watching. He smiles at me like he has a secret.
Maybe he does. I don’t suppose I did a great job of shunning Bek after all.
BEK
I watch my mate go back to the village without me at her side, and I feel…frustration. Anger. Sorrow. Longing.
This ‘shunning’ is nothing but stupidity. I can lurk around the village as much as I want, and all they do is pretend not to see me there. They will take my food I bring, my fuel for their fires, but they will not speak to me? It is childish nonsense, a game to them.
Meanwhile, my mate lives with another and I must see her only when she slips away from the others.
Patience, I remind myself. This is good for Ell-ee even if it makes my spirit hurt. In the days that I have left the village and the humans have been settling in, I have seen the hunted look fade from Ell-ee’s eyes. Her shoulders are a little straighter when she walks. She is less fearful overall, though she is still filthy and too thin.
Perhaps soon I will see her smile. Hear her laughter and her sweet voice for myself.
Until then, I must wait.
I take my kill to my sister’s hut, where her mate scrapes hides near their door, his daughter Esha helping him. He looks surprised to see me, and I raise a hand. “Do not get up. I am not staying. I only bring food for my sister’s family.”
Kashrem frowns, then glances around to see if anyone is near. “I thank you, brother.”
I grunt at his polite words and duck into the hut.
As the tribe’s healer, Maylak has a slightly larger hut than most, with a small, comfortable area near the front intended for guests who drop in, complaining of aches and pains. Harrec is there now, lounging on furs, his hand extended and his face carefully averted. My sister’s fingers press against Harrec’s palm, and her eyes are slightly brighter in that way that tells me that she is using her healing. “What did you do this time, Harrec?” I ask as I greet my sister with a tweak to her braids and then head to the slab in the back of her hut where she prepares her food.
“Fish hook,” Harrec says, voice faint. He doesn’t look at his hand at all; Harrec gets ill at the sight of his own blood. “I was trying to teach Kate how to fish.”
I snort at that. The big hunter has made it quite clear that he is interested in Kate, even if she is frustrated by him. I have seen him seated close to her near fires at night. I shake my head. “You will impress her more if you do not faint at your own injury.”
“Go away before I shun you,” he calls out grumpily, and my sister chuckles. Of all of the tribe, the unmated hunters and my sister do not pay attention to the shunning. They respect the chief’s wishes, and I keep my visits brief so as to not put her into an awkward situation, but I make sure to stop by daily.
It is someone to talk to, and sometimes my own thoughts are not enough.
Right now, though, my thoughts are focused on one person and one person alone. “When you are finished, I would speak with you, my sister.”
Maylak glances up at me and then nods. “We are done here.” She reaches into a small pot and slathers a poultice of crushed herbs over his hand, then wraps a long strip of leather around it. With a pat, she releases him. “Keep that covered for the next day and it should be fine afterward.”
“My thanks, healer,” he says, shaky as he gets to his feet.
“Go sit near the fire in the long-house until you recover,” she tells him in a firm voice. “No matter where Kate is.”
Harrec just grins and wobbles out the door.
When the flap drops, she turns to me and gives a little shake of her head. “You would think that someone who hates the sight of his own blood so much would be less clumsy.”
“It is Harrec,” I say with a shrug, as if that explains it all.
“Mm. What troubles you today, brother?” She washes her hands in a water-bowl and then gets to her feet. Maylak regards me with calm eyes, her manner soothing. She is easy to be around, my sister.
I scrub a hand over my face. “It is my mate—Ell-ee. I worry she is unwell.”
“Because she is…small?”
“She is thin. I worry she does not eat. I feel I should be here to take care of her, and yet I cannot stay long because I am forbidden.” Just thinking about the unfairness of it makes my fists clench with anger. “It is not right to keep a hunter separated from his mate.”
“Perhaps not, but many are still upset over what you did.”
I stare at my sister, aghast. “You take their side?”
“I take the tribe’s side, brother.” Maylak’s smile is gentle. “The humans are very sensitive about certain things, and your actions have upset them greatly. When you apologize, all will be forgiven.”
I snort. “There is nothing to apologize for. I asked for mates to be brought to our people, and they were brought. If anything, they should be th
anking me.”
“That is not how the humans see it. And they are just as much a part of our tribe as you.”
This is a futile discussion. “I just want to know about Ell-ee. Is she well? Have you treated her?”
Maylak shrugs lightly. “She will not let me touch her. She will not let anyone touch her. Perhaps in time she will trust us, but for now, I must assume that her khui is taking care of her. The other humans are quite healthy, though.”
I care nothing for the other humans. Only one consumes my thoughts. “Can you not…do something about that?” I throw my hands up. “Force her to come see you.”
“Shall I tackle her to the ground as you did?”
I am in no mood for my sister’s teasing. I growl at her and stalk out of her hut, ignoring her faint laughter. I do not like that she is right, but I also do not like that no one seems to be worrying about my mate. Does no one see how fragile Ell-ee is? She is fire and strength in her spirit, but her body does not seem to realize this.
I will just have to stay closer to the village, I realize. Hunt the valley closest to the gorge and remain nearby at all times. Perhaps she is not eating because she does not like the food that is prepared for her. I know the new humans cannot hunt for themselves, so Stay-see and the others feed them the cooked meat they enjoy. Maybe my Ell-ee likes hers raw and full of blood.
I ponder this as I head toward the outskirts of the village, my thoughts full of how to feed and please my mate. I am so wrapped in thoughts of Ell-ee and her big eyes that I nearly step on Erevair as he rushes up to me, little spear in hand. “Bek! There you are!” He looks delighted to see me.
I cannot help myself; I pick him up and swing him into my arms, grinning. I have always thought of this one as my own kit. Perhaps someday soon he will be able to play with my son…or daughter. The thought makes a knot form in my throat. “Where is your mama, Erevair?”
“She is in the long-house. I am playing a game of hide and seek with her.”
I can only imagine the terror in Claire’s face when she realizes her son has wandered so far away. “You should hide closer to your mama. She will not like you out here by yourself.” I poke his round belly. “Or that you are talking to me. I am shunned, you know.”