Transcendence(35)

I watch through my hair warily as she picks up one of the small round cups she made and pours water into it. She holds the cup out to me and then pours a second cup when I take the first from her hand. I look at the water for a moment and then quickly drink it down. I run my tongue over the edge of the cup, and it tastes like mud in my mouth. It is not like the cups my mother created out of broad leaves laced tightly together, but it certainly still holds the liquid securely. Though the sides of the cup have a muddy taste on my tongue, it doesn’t make the water taste like dirt.

Beh is looking at me as she drinks from her own cup, and I try to smile at her with my head bowed down—still hiding. She looks down to the ground, but there is now the hint of a smile on her lips. She reaches over toward the fire, and I can hear a slight scraping sound. I glance up through my hair and see her gathering up tiny broken shards still on the ground. I know I should probably do it myself—it is my fault the plate is broken—but I’m afraid to move. I only want to do things that made her happy today, and I am failing miserably.

Beh stands with the broken bits in her hands and heads toward the entrance to the cave. I crawl behind her, still unwilling to let her go out alone but also not wanting to show myself in my shame. Once we are both outside, she takes the remaining broken pieces and tosses them off the cliff and into a shallow ravine before she turns back to me. I’m standing right by the cave entrance, pushing myself against the rock wall, hoping she won’t yell that no sound at me again.

Beh walks up to me and stands very close. I let my eyes meet hers, and she takes a long, deep breath. She lifts her hands away from her sides and takes my fingers in her grasp. With a small tug, she brings herself against my chest and tips her forehead on my shoulder. My arms go around her, and I feel her relax into me.

“Beh?”

She turns her head to look up at me and smiles, but her eyes remain dull. My thumb strokes her cheek softly as she makes muted sounds with her mouth. I want to put my lips on hers to make her quiet again, but I’m not sure how well that would be received at the moment. I still feel lost and confused. Without knowing what else to do, I pick her up and carry her back into the cave as the rain begins again. She makes a little squeaking sound as I lift her into my arms but doesn’t protest as I lay her back on the furs and bring her the remaining rabbit meat from earlier.

I feed her a little piece at a time from my fingers, followed by sips of water from the cups she made. My mate is quiet as she eats, and I alternate between feeding her and slowly stroking her arm with my fingers.

After the meat is gone, Beh’s eyes meet mine. She watches me carefully as she reaches up and runs her hand over my cheek. With her fingertips, she slowly pushes the hair from my forehead. I lean against the warmth of her palm, and when she smiles this time, the firelight hits her eyes and makes them sparkle. She leans forward, and her lips brush softly over mine.

Finally, I am forgiven.





CHAPTER SEVEN





The spring rains have finally ended. Though the sun is high in the sky, Beh still hasn’t moved from our bed. Eventually, I climb back into the furs with her and nuzzle against her neck with my nose until she is roused. She still seems tired, and when I take her outside to relieve herself, she gasps loud enough for me to turn around to make sure she isn’t harmed. There is nothing around her to pose any threat, but she is squatting near the ravine and looking down at her hand. There is blood on it, but I don’t think from her expression she is injured—just worried.

Her eyes widen, and she glances up at me as I approach to find out what is wrong. Her strange leggings are around her ankles, and she starts to stand to pull them up her legs—she still doesn’t want me to see her body—but then stops and looks to her hand again.

She is bleeding. Her eyes well up with tears, and at first I think she might actually be hurt. As soon as I am close enough, I know from the smell of the blood that it is different from a wound, and I know why. It is her bleeding time. What I do not understand is why that makes her cry. She is too old for this to be the first time her blood has come.

I bend down and pick her up with her leggings still down around her lower legs. Even though she pushes at me, gets all wriggly, and makes loud sounds, I don’t stop or put her down. I remember the other women of my tribe—especially my mother and sisters—and what they did during their bleeding time. I carry Beh back to our cave and hold her still until I can dig one of the older furs out from the bottom on the depression where we sleep. I spread it out on the floor and sit Beh on top of it.

I know she doesn’t like things to be messy.