Calm: Ice Planet Barbarians: A Slice of Life Short Story

by Ruby Dixon

  The tribe’s last healer was my mother’s sister, Nashak. She died in the khui-sickness from exhaustion, having extended herself and her khui too far. It was a good death; she died saving her people. I expect the same from myself. I will heal every cut, every wound, every stomach-ache until I can heal no more.

  But there is worry in Ar-ee-aw-nuh’s small face. I caress her cheek and send a little surge of healing through the tired mother as well. “I would rather heal little Analay than hear him cry. Would you not, as well?”

  She nods slowly, and then gives me a tired smile. “Thank you, Maylak.”

  I pat her smooth cheek. “I must go visit others. If he feels badly later, come and seek me out in my cave.”

  “I will.”

  I caress Ti-fah-ni’s arm as I go, but there is nothing worrying inside her. The kit she carries in her flat stomach is growing every day and she is healthy.

  Everyone is healthy. It is both relieving and frustrating at once, because the unease in the back of my mind will not go away.

  I visit Mar-layn and Zennek and their small kit. They are healthy. I visit Aehako and his family. Also healthy. I run into a few hunters returning with a midday meal for their mates and come up with foolish reasons to pause them. Each one is healthy. I find Hemalo working his skins in front of the hunters’ cave. He is healthy, if sad.

  Everyone is healthy. So what is it?

  I head for the back of the cave, where Asha is now settled with the only unmated human female, Mah-dee. Perhaps there is something troubling Asha. She has been bleak since the death of her little one. My heart aches for her. We were pregnant at the same time, but she gave birth too early, and even my healing could not stop it. Her kit died, born too soon, and Asha withdrew into herself. I gave birth to my Esha months later, and the rift between us was complete. Asha cannot forgive me, I think, for having what she wants so badly.

  Today is no different than any other day. Asha is alone in her cave, the fire out. She huddles under the blankets, her eyes open and staring at nothing.

  “Asha,” I murmur as I enter. “It is Maylak. May I visit?”

  “I do not care,” she says in a toneless voice.

  I look around for a seat, but there is nothing I can lower my ungainly body onto easily. “Give me your hand?” I ask, deciding to remain standing.

  She rolls onto her back. Her long, dark hair is a messy snarl around her face, and I wonder how long she has lain in bed. Days? A hand of days? She frowns up at me. “Why?”

  “Because I am here to check on you,” I tell her bluntly. I extend my hand toward her and wiggle my fingers, indicating my impatience.

  “Why does it matter?” Her expression is bitter. “If I am dying, then Hemalo is free. And there is one less mouth to feed for the brutal season.”

  I say nothing, because I am not going to argue. She places her hand in mine, and it is strong, though I can feel the sorrow that radiates from her. I want to tell her that there is still pleasure to be found in life, in a mate’s arms, in the simple joys—but it would come from me, pregnant and with another kit back in my cave. She would not listen. And Asha’s mate has abandoned her. So I sigh and release her hand. “Where is your human friend?”

  Asha snorts and rolls over. “I am not her keeper.”

  I try another tactic. “I saw No-rah with her kits by the fire. She looked to have her hands full. You might offer to help her if you have time today.”

  Her eyes narrow at me, but she pushes upright in bed and drags a hand through her hair. “Did she ask for me to help?”

  The hope in her voice breaks my heart. “She did not,” I admit. “But I also think she is trying very hard to handle it on her own and is afraid to ask for help. But I think she would appreciate another set of hands.” I rub my belly because my back is starting to ache. “And she likes your company.” I did, too, before everything changed.

  Asha stares past me for a moment, thinking. Then she slowly pushes the blankets aside and gets to her feet. “The human is visiting her sister.”

  “My thanks.” I do not wait to see if Asha is going to leave her cave. My feet are aching and now my back is, too. I will visit Mah-dee and Li-lah, and then I will return to my own cave, where my mate can fuss over me and I can hug my kit and be glad for my family.

  My steps are a little heavier, a little more shuffling as I leave Asha’s cave and head for the small nook that is now the home of Rokan and his Li-lah. They are the newest pair to resonate in our small tribe and have not emerged from their cave much in the last hand of days, busy fulfilling the demands of resonance. I feel a little niggle of dread as I head toward their cave. It is early for something to go wrong with their mating. Li-lah might not even be with kit yet.

  I stand outside, listening carefully. Their cave is silent, but the screen is removed from the entrance. Inside, I can hear the cozy crackle of a fire, and see the legs of a pale human seated near it. “May I come in?” I call out.

  A moment later, Rokan emerges, unfolding his long body through the tight entrance. “Healer! Come in. You are always welcome at this fire.” He takes my arm and lets me lean on him as I walk in, like I am an elder instead of younger than him. Still, I am grateful for the help. I am increasingly tired and heartsick.

  Mah-dee gets up from her stool and offers it to me, and I settle down near the fire. Li-lah immediately dips a cup into the tripod over the fire and offers the drink to me, making a gesture with her hand.

  “I am sorry,” I say as I take the cup. “I have not had a chance to go to the Elders’ Cave to learn the hand-speak.” I let my fingertips touch hers as she hands me the cup. Li-lah is healthy…and not yet pregnant. Resonance will take a little longer yet.

  “You are with kit,” Rokan says, making gestures with his hands even as he says the words so his mate can “listen.” “No one expects it of you.”

  Always so thoughtful, Rokan. I smile at him and sip the tea.

  “Besides,” Mah-dee says, doing the same handspeak-and-voice “It’s not like these two are leaving their cave much.” She makes a face at them. “I’d say get a room, but you already have one.”

  Li-lah chuckles softly and makes a series of gestures, and Mah-dee snorts, quickly signing back. They gesture for a moment longer and then look at me.

  “Lila wants to know if you think it’s a boy or a girl,” Mah-dee says, pointing to my belly. “Or is it impolite to ask?”

  “It is not,” I murmur, a smile on my lips. “And I know which it is.”

  “You do?” Mah-dee looks impressed. “Is that an alien thing?”

  “It is a healer ‘thing’,” I agree.

  “Maylak knows things,” Rokan says. “Like I do, but about bodies and wounds and healing.”

  Something about that statement makes me pause. It feels significant, but before I can consider, Mah-dee speaks again.

  “Lucky you.” Mah-dee makes a little gesture. “So do we get to find out? Boy or girl? There seem to be a lot of baby girls right now.”

  I grin. “I will not say. Even my mate does not know.”

  “Why not?” Mah-dee tilts her head.

  “Because I want to surprise him.” I want to see the joy on his face when our kit is born and it is a male.

  “Leverage,” Mah-dee says, and there’s a sly tone in her voice. She looks over at her sister and gestures again.

  I do not follow, but that is not unusual when speaking with humans. So I smile politely and drink my tea quickly, draining the cup. Then I lean forward and hold it out to Mah-dee. “May I have more tea? It is very good.”

  “Sure.” Mah-dee takes the cup, and her fingers touch mine. No sickness in either of the sisters. A good thing.

  As I straighten, I glance over at Rokan. He has gone very still, his gaze on me. His expression is blank, but I sense he is thinking. After a moment, he offers me his hand, palm up.

  He knows what I am doing.

  She knows things, like me.

  My eyes widen. Does he fee
l it? Did he wake up with the creeping dread as I did? I must know. But I do not want to frighten the others. So I put a bright smile on my face and look at the humans. “Did you know that Stay-see made cake?”

  “Cake?” Mah-dee asks, gesturing to her sister. Li-lah puts a hand over her mouth in pleased surprise.

  “I do not know if there is any left, but I am sure if you ask, she will make more.” I smooth my clothing over my hard, rounded belly.

  Rokan just watches me.

  “I’m game if Lila is,” Mah-dee says, hand-speaking to her sister.

  Li-lah’s hands move, communicating, and then Mah-dee looks over at me. “Lila thinks you’re trying to get rid of us so you can talk to Rokan.”

  I incline my head slightly. Li-lah is wise.

  “Fair enough. I can be bribed with cake.” Mah-dee gets to her feet, and Li-lah does, too. Li-lah hesitates, and then goes to Rokan and kisses him on the mouth quickly before darting back to her sister’s side. I watch Rokan give his mate a scorching look as she exits.

  Resonance is definitely ongoing for those two.

  They leave, and the cave grows quiet again. I toy with my clothing, trying to seem calm and relaxed, though I do not feel it. There is too much going on in my head for me to be calm.

  Rokan looks over at me after a moment, and his gaze is weary. “You feel it, too?”

  4

  You feel it, too?

  My heart clenches. “I do.”

  “What is it?”

  He does not know? “I hoped you would have an answer.”

  Rokan rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And I the same.”

  I shift in my seat, uneasy and yet somehow relieved. Rokan feels the same way I do. I am not just a pregnant female seeing trouble where there is none. Something is wrong…or will be wrong. “I woke up this morning and I felt it,” I tell him. “Subtle, but nagging. Like grit in the eye. I do not know what it is, just that I sense…something on the horizon.” Even now, I feel the slight unease in the air, clinging like smoke.

  “Is it your kit?” he asks. “Are you healthy?”

  I shake my head. “I can…feel sickness, if that makes sense. My khui feels different around those that are unwell. This feels similar, yet different. So I have been visiting everyone, but no one is sick. I do not know what to make of it. I thought perhaps it was just me…”

  “Until I spoke up,” Rokan finishes. He continues to rub his chin. “It has bothered me for two days now.”

  I am surprised. “You said nothing?”

  He shrugs. “It feels vague, like an idea more than anything else. And like you, I cannot find it centered on anyone.”

  “But you do feel it,” I stress. Now I am even more worried. I am just a healer, but Rokan can sense things. He knows when a bad snowstorm will arrive, when game is scarce…he knows so many small things. “Is it the weather?”

  “I do not think so. It is…difficult.” He taps a finger on his chin and sits up, frustrated. “I cannot describe it, just that I know it lingers. Like a bad taste.”

  “Well, now we know all the things it is like,” I say impatiently. “It is like a bad taste. It is like grit in the eye. It is all these things and yet we do not know what it actually is.”

  He raises his brow at me, surprised at my outburst. “Once I know what it is, I will say more.”

  I rub a hand over my face. “I know. I am just tired. And worried. I would much rather a broken arm than some nameless, formless problem I cannot see.”

  “I understand.” Rokan takes a stick and pokes at the coals of the fire. “At first I thought it was my Li-lah, and my heart was filled with dread. I did not let her get out of our furs for a full day, worried there would be something that would happen if she stepped out of my sight. But when the feeling continued…” He trails off. “It worried me, and yet I am relieved. It is not Li-lah, and I feel bad because I am glad that whatever it is, it does not touch her.”

  I reach out and put my hand on his knee. “I know this feeling well. I have a mate and a kit, and another on the way. I wake up at night, worrying over them. It is because you love deeply. It will terrify you at times, but it is also a good thing.”

  The hollow-eyed look he gives me tells me there is much worrying going on in his head yet.

  Concern prickles through me, and a new dread arises. “I cannot remember, Rokan. Did you have your ‘sense’ when the khui-sickness hit all those seasons ago? I was not yet a healer, so I do not know if this is the same.” My entire body clenches against the thought. Please, do not let it be that. Anything but that.

  I want to cry with relief when he slowly shakes his head. “It is not the same. When the khui-sickness was here, it felt…” He makes a fist and clenches it over his chest. “Like a crushing sense of wrong. This just feels…slight. Unnerving.”

  I exhale, pondering his words. He is right—this does not feel crushing. It feels like…a suggestion? An idea of a bad thing about to happen. “So what do we do?”

  “We wait. What else can we do?”

  “We can tell our chief. Vektal should know so we are prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  He has a point, but still, our chief deserves to know. “Anything and everything.”

  Rokan nods.

  I put my hands in the air. “Help me up and we will go to his cave.”

  Rokan helps me stand and then pauses. “I will go see Vektal. You should return to your cave.”

  “No, I can go with you—”

  “Maylak,” he says gently, and gives my hands a squeeze. “Can you not feel it? Your kit is on the way.”

  In that moment, my body gives a powerful clench, a contraction ripping through me. I release his hands and double over, holding my belly.

  “Your water is about to break, too,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Let me carry you back to your mate.”

  I grab onto his tunic, fistfuls in my hands. Everything in my body that I have been ignoring, been pushing aside because I have been too busy, too worried—it is all coming to the surface. All day, my body—and my kit—has been sending me signals that my time is near, and I have been too distracted to notice. Now I feel it all: the change in my kit’s position inside my belly, the slow expansion of my flesh between my legs, the contractions that ripple through my hard stomach. I have been soothing it with small touches all day, focused on the well-being of my tribe.

  Now my kit is desperate to be born.

  Oh. I hesitate, because I must find out what is ailing the tribe. I must fix it because they depend on me to keep them safe and healthy. “But—”

  “Everything else can wait, healer. I promise you.” He helps me to stand upright and then begins to walk me toward the entrance of his cave. “Have your kit. I will speak with Vektal. We will come and see you later.”

  I hesitate.

  “Your water,” Rokan warns. “Very soon.”

  I nod and shuffle out of the cave, clutching my stomach. The moment we are in the main tunnel, he swings me carefully into his arms. “Let us get you back to Kashrem, yes?”

  Another contraction bears down on me. “My cave,” I agree, panting. “And hurry.” More pain tugs through my belly, and this time I do not use my healing to soothe it away.

  My kit is coming, and each knot of pain that rises in my belly is a reminder that soon, I will have a new little face to greet.

  Very, very soon.

  A short time later, I sit up in the furs and put my hands on my belly, letting my healing flow through my body. The birth was an easy one, thanks to my khui, but I still ache. I am exhausted. With a little bit of healing, I will recover that much faster.

  Near the fire, my mate wipes the kit down with a wet, warm towel. There is a wide grin on his face that will not fade, and he touches the soft blue skin of our kit with reverence. Each tiny toe is counted, each small finger uncurled. “A boy,” he murmurs, and looks over at me with love in his eyes. “You knew?”

  I smile. “
How could I not? He lived inside my body for season after season.” I have been with kit for so long that now I feel a little empty and forlorn without the comforting feel of him in my belly. I smooth a hand over the soft mound of my stomach. It will tighten and grow flat again soon enough, and I am almost sad because I miss carrying my kit already.

  But then Kashrem is moving to my side, our newest kit carefully cradled in his arms. He holds the tiny male out to me. He is a perfect, beautiful child. I remember Esha’s face, squeezed and wrinkled with wailing, her little horns already budding. This kit is fat, and his horns are but suggestions on his little brow. His expression is sweet, his gaze calm as he stares at me with unblinking, dark eyes. My khui stirs in my chest as I take my kit into my arms, but there is no answering khui to reach out to. Not yet.

  That vague sense of unease returns, but this time, it is different. This is a mother worrying over her vulnerable kit. I stroke my hand over the small head, nearly bald. “Not much hair.”

  “Not like Esha,” my mate agrees, settling down next to me in the furs. His arm moves around my shoulders and he holds me close, pressing his mouth against my mane. “She had a full head of black and it stuck up like a puff-weed.”

  I chuckle, remembering. The kit in my arms blinks, and his little mouth moves, pursing. I cradle him against my breast and offer my nipple, and a moment later, he latches on. Fierce love rushes through me and I have to blink back tears. Did I miss my rounded belly? It is nothing compared to holding this small life in my arms.

  Kashrem nuzzles me again. “You are beautiful, my mate. I am the luckiest of males this day. I have a beautiful female at my side, a strong, healthy daughter, and now a son. My heart holds so much joy.”

  I touch his cheek as the kit nurses. He is strong, my new son. Healthy. I can see this even without a khui in his breast to speak to. “You wanted a boy.”

  “I did,” Kashrem agrees. “It feels selfish, knowing that our tribe needs females so badly, but I cannot imagine loving another little girl as much as I do Esha. So I wanted a small son.” He rubs my arm absently. “Of course, now that he is here, I cannot imagine loving him less or more than Esha. He is just different, and has already claimed another part of my heart.”