Then, we will clean ourselves off and do it all over again.
Haeden grunts, staring ahead. “Six, maybe seven. Not enough.”
“There is more time,” I tell him. “And more herds.” I am pleased, though. This is a good deal of meat, and the tribe needs more.
“And more pits to be dug,” he says, and then reaches over and smears his dung-covered arm against mine. “You get to be upwind next time.”
I jog away from him, chuckling. “That is fine. My Meh-gan is not here to smell my stink. I can be as filthy as I want for the next handful of days.”
Haeden is silent. That is not unusual, though, and we both set to work. After a short time, the dvisti are slain and dragged out of the pit, and we begin to dress the seven carcasses. One is puny and will not provide much food, but the others are fat and healthy. I think of my Meh-gan. Has she found the little presents I have been busy hiding for her? Humans place great emphasis on gifts, and so I have tried to think about what would please her—
“What is it like?”
Eh? I look up from the dvisti belly that I am currently arm-deep in, removing the offal. “What is what like?”
Haeden doesn’t look at me. He is equally busy, but I wonder if it is something more. “Your mate,” he says after a long moment. “The kit. Have things changed now that her belly grows?”
Ah. He is curious. Newly mated, I have no doubt that he worries things with Jo-see will adjust and he will not like the results. “We do not mate as often,” I tell him.
“No?” He looks up, brows drawn together.
“Only three times a day,” I say solemnly. “Maybe twice if my cock is tired.”
Something splats on my arm. It’s intestine. Filled. Disgusting. I look up and Haeden’s snarling at me.
I burst into laughter. “You are too serious, my friend.”
“And you joke too much.” He gives me another disgusted look and returns to butchering his kill. “I just…things are good right now. I do not wish for that to change.”
“It changes,” I tell him carefully, this time being truthful. “Everything always changes. It is unavoidable. Some of the intensity of resonance gets lost, but it is replaced by new things. Better things.” I sit back, wiping my hands clean of blood as I take a brief pause. Thoughts of Meh-gan fill my mind and I smile to myself. “I love to hear my mate’s laugh. I love to take care of her. I do not mind when she is tired, because then I will pull her against me and hold her all night. I live to please her, and when you feel your son kick in her belly…” I spread my hands, helpless to describe the joy of it. “Everything in the world is perfect.”
His jaw clenches and he gives a jerky nod after a moment. “Jo-see wants many kits. I…I just want her. Is it wrong that I do not care about the kits?”
“You will,” I assure him. “When you feel it move in her belly, you will know joy.”
He grunts. “I already know joy.”
“More joy,” I amend. “You will not feel jealous of the kit, if that is your worry. There will be room in your mate’s heart for both. Know this.” I pick up my blade again and glance up at the sky. It grows darker by the moment, and I can feel the air growing chilled. “It is her belly we should worry about at the moment.”
Haeden looks up and nods. “We must work faster.”
We have the last dressed, skinned carcass buried in the cache moments before the weather changes for the worse. One moment, it is snowing heavily. The next, the wind makes my hair icy, wet whips that flay at my skin and I can no longer see my hand in front of my face.
“To the cave,” Haeden bellows. I can barely hear him over the roar of the wind. I claw my hand into his backpack to keep hold of him - for his safety as well as my own - and head in the direction of the hunter cave. There is one not far, but it might be impossible to find in the storm.
The wind grows bitterly cold and I wrap my fur cape around my shoulders and neck. I picture Meh-gan back in the cave, her fragile human body pinkish-blue with chills. I am not there to bundle her in thicker furs, or to get her hot tea when she is cold and too distracted to take care of herself. I feel a pang of worry; someone will think of my mate and take care of her if the cold gets to be too much, surely. The fires must be kept warm and the humans protected, especially the sweet human that carries my son.
I am lost in thought and concern for my mate, blindly following Haeden forward through the knee-deep snow when the wind abruptly dies. I look up, pushing my thick furs away from my frozen mane to realize we are in the hunter cave. I have been so distracted that I did not realize.
Haeden shrugs my hand off and moves toward the back of the dark cave. “Start the fire. I will see what supplies we have.”
My fingers find the frozen thong at my neck. Meh-gan’s fire starter is there. I can make a fire without it, but I want to use it and be close to her. I pull Meh-gan’s necklace from my throat and find my firestarter kit in my pack. Within moments, I have a fire going and begin to feed it dried dung and fluff to coax it higher.
Haeden emerges from the recesses of the cave with a bone plate. He mutters something about the dark and scoops up a coal on the plate, blowing gently on it to make it flare hotter. Then he disappears back into the recess of the cave. I stoke the fire and then set up my tripod to melt some snow to drink. The wind is ripping through the cave, and I find the hide screen that can be used to block the worst of the snow. It’s coming off one side, the leather worn, and I spend a few moments re-stringing it around the heavy bone framework before pushing it in place against the cave entrance. It settles in and then beats like a drum against the wind, flapping in place. I ignore the noise and return to the fire.
This storm will likely last until morning. After that, we will be able to go out and continue hunting, provided the clouds clear. I remember Rokan’s warnings about the storms, and worry anew about my mate.
Haeden returns to the front of the cave a moment later, his coal gone. In its place, he has a bundle of supplies - cured hides, a bundle of dried wood, and a pouch of what is likely kah, the granular meat mix most hunters live off of when away from the cave. He dumps it all near the fire and gives me a sour look. “It seems we will be spending the night together.”
I do not mind the company. It helps keep my mind off my mate. “Keep your cold feet on your side of the bed tonight.”
He gives me a scathing look. “The only person I want crawling into my furs is Jo-see. Stay on your side of the cave.”
I chuckle. He is far too easy to tease. “Let us hope your Jo-see and my Meh-gan are safe and warm back at the caves.”
“If they are not, I will wring the neck of every hunter who was there and did not take care of them.” He scowls at the fire. “And a few female necks, too.”
I nod slowly. I know that the tribe will look after our mates. Of course they will. Females are cherished and protected, and mine is heavy with kit; Haeden’s mate is newly resonated. They will be pampered. My head knows this but my heart still worries.
Haeden pulls his bone knife out and uses it to stir the coals. “I am responsible for this.”
“For the fire?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “For you being here instead of at Meh-gan’s side. I said something to Vektal. I should have remained silent.” He sits back on his haunches, staring down at the flame. “I just worry there will not be enough to feed everyone when the brutal season is upon us. If it is already this cold…”
He lets his words trail off, and my imagination takes away the rest. I picture snow piled high, the tribal cave mouth nearly buried under the snow itself. The weather will be bitterly cold, and the humans do not handle the chill as well as the sa-khui. They will need warm wraps and fire. My Meh-gan will need extra food so she can produce milk for our son.
My son. He will be arriving very soon. “You were wise to say something,” I tell Haeden. “I bear no grudge. Hunting is part of our life. My Meh-gan must come to understand that I cannot hover at her side for the rest of my days…” My mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “And I must realize I cannot hover at hers.”
Haeden makes a sound of agreement. He pokes at the fire again, then sits back, his tail flicking a little easier. “Your kit will be born soon.”
“Within the next moon,” I agree.
“Rokan says this storm can last for handfuls of days.”
I nod. Rokan warned me of the same before we left. “Meat must be hunted, though. There is no choice.”
“There is not,” Haeden says flatly. His gaze focuses on me. “What will you do if you miss your son’s birth?”
“I will not,” I tell him, and my voice is firm with resolve.
“How are you sure?” He gestures at the flapping, pounding leather screen blocking the entrance. “That is not letting up anytime soon.”
He is not wrong. I suspect it will storm for many days, and then we must emerge to fight through the weather and hunt even more. But it does not worry me; rather, I am filled with determination.
Let the mountains fling all their snow down upon us. Let the dvisti run to the far ends of the valleys. It does not matter.