The cold has stirred me from my deeper sleep, and my eyes stay open as I watch Beh slumber. Remembering other winters in this same place on my own is enough to cause my heart to hurt. Then, when I opened my eyes, there was nothing to see aside from the burning embers of the fire.
Being careful not to dislodge the fur from her again, I get out of the sleeping area and lay logs across the coals. The flames spring immediately to life again. In their light, I can see a round bowl with traces of grain inside as well as a fur lying next to the rocks, wrapped around something.
I unwrap the fur, and inside is the large, deep pot Beh made with a lid over it. When I remove the lid, there is a layer of something at the bottom. I’m not exactly sure what it is, other than it looks like it has some of the acorns and pine nuts on tops of it.
I stick my finger in and poke at the concoction. My finger goes easily through to the bottom of the pot. I curl it around to bring some out, but it doesn’t really stick to my finger at all as I expected. I stick in a couple more fingers and dig some of it out. The consistency is soft and just a little moist, but not wet. It’s just a little bit crumbly, but mostly it feels…fluffy.
I sniff at it, and it smells of cooked grains and nuts. Putting some in my mouth confirms it, but the texture is completely different from anything I have eaten before. I like it though, and it quickly fills my stomach.
I hear Beh’s noises and look over toward the furs. She’s lying on her side, propped up on one elbow. She smiles at me, and I quickly bring the whole pot over near the bed so I can crawl back into the furs with her. We eat; I put my penis inside of her for a while, and then I fall back to sleep.
The warmth and comfort of Beh’s presence have become commonplace but not taken for granted. When I wake, Beh’s heat is the very first thing I notice. I nuzzle against her skin and revel in the feelings that course through my body when I touch her.
I’m wrapped around her with my head on her shoulder, and when I tilt my head, I look up at my mate. She lies on her back with her head tilted toward me and her eyes closed. I snuggle closer to her, and my hand runs slowly up and down her side.
I accidentally brush against her breast.
It’s warm, too.
And soft.
I trace one fingertip around the nipple, but I can’t really see in the dim light of the fire. Her breast is mostly covered with one of our sleeping furs anyway. I can still feel it though, so I do. Beh shifts a little in sleep, and I pause for a moment.
Though I would like to try to put a baby in her again, I don’t want to wake her. I’m not completely sure how long we have been asleep, and I already tried earlier in the night, hoping it would make her feel better.
Beh’s eyes kept tearing earlier in the day, and I don’t know why she is sad. There had been several days after the snowstorm finally passed that she was upset—she had even gotten angry at one point and thrown the little stick into the fire. I recognized it as the one she had been marking with her flint knife. I am sure she has been marking it every day, but after she burned it, she didn’t mark a new stick. It has been many days since she had done that, and she hasn’t cried since.
Not until this evening.
My arms wrap around her, and I move my body up so I can pull her against my chest. She rolls easily, and even in her sleep, her arms find my shoulders. I reach down and pull the furs back over us—all the way up to the back of her neck. We had discarded our clothing into a pile and just used the furs in the sleeping area. It is more comfortable this way, especially since more time is spent in the furs than out of them.
I hug Beh to me once more, but then I remember how soft her breast is and reach between us to touch it again. It’s still warm, and her skin is smooth. Her breast is full and round, and she groans a little when I palm it, so I stop.
I really don’t want to disturb her even though I’m getting hard just lying beside her.
I look toward the cave’s entrance and wonder if the day will bring sunlight or just more clouds. If it is warm enough, I might try to find some fresh meat—it has been some time since we have had any. We haven’t gone hungry at all though, which makes me smile and hold Beh closer. Even on my own, I would not have been able to eat as much during the winter days and still expect to have anything left come spring.
Beh keeps taking our food and doing strange things with it. She smashes up the grain using a rock and one of her clay bowls, then mixes it with fat and nuts and leaves it in the coals for most of the day. She then cuts it with a flint knife into little squares and gives me some with a bowl full of stew.
It tastes good, but I’ve never seen anyone make so many different things to eat. No one in my tribe ever made such things. There are other foods I think she tries to make, but they don’t turn out as well. She made hard, flat things from the grain, but they burned in the fire. She wouldn’t let me try to eat them afterwards.