Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Njkall had been listening to two grown males argue over grazing rights for the better part of an hour when he realized he was thinking about his mate and the sweetness of her mouth when she had kissed him goodbye.
That is not helpful.
“The valley has belonged to our clan for four generations,” Harlak said for what Njkall suspected was the fifth time.
“Your clan hasn’t grazed there in twelve years,” Grath countered. “You abandoned it.”
“We did not abandon it. We chose not to use it.”
“For twelve years.”
Harlak waved a dismissive hand. “A temporary decision.”
He dragged his attention back to the dispute.
They were gathered in Harlak’s meeting cave, a broad chamber carved into the side of the northern ridge.
A fire burned in the central pit, throwing enough heat to make the journey worthwhile, and several members of both clans sat along the walls pretending not to listen.
Every one of them was listening.
“Harlak,” Njkall said.
The older male stopped arguing with Grath and looked at him.
“Did your clan graze the valley last winter?”
“No.”
“The winter before?”
“No, but—”
“The winter before that?”
Harlak’s jaw tightened. “No.”
He turned to Grath. “Did yours?”
“Yes.”
“Did Harlak’s clan object?”
“No.”
“Because we didn’t know they were doing it,” Harlak growled.
He regarded him steadily. “You didn’t know another clan had been grazing animals in a valley you claim to have been carefully guarding for four generations?”
Silence descended on the cave. Someone along the wall coughed, and he suspected it concealed a laugh.
Harlak glared at him.
He waited. Leadership, he’d learned long ago, rarely meant giving people what they wanted. More often it meant giving them something they could accept without losing face.
“Harlak’s clan retains the ancestral claim,” he said when Harlak looked down. “Grath’s clan has established use. This winter, you will share the valley.”
Both males immediately began protesting. He raised his hand, and they stopped.
“Next spring, Harlak’s clan will have first choice of the eastern grazing grounds.
Grath’s clan will have first choice of the western grounds.
If either clan chooses not to use the grounds, the other clan may do so.
The valley remains shared for three years.
At the end of that time, if either of you still feels strongly enough about it to waste another day of my life arguing, I will come back. ”
Neither male looked happy. Good. A successful compromise usually meant everyone left mildly dissatisfied.
Grath grunted his acceptance. Harlak took longer, but finally gave one sharp nod. The matter was settled.
He remained long enough to eat the meal Harlak’s mate insisted on serving him, inspect a damaged crystal shaft, and discuss the coming winter migration of the sarlag herds with several warriors.
He agreed to send additional hunters if the animals shifted farther south than expected, listened to three other minor complaints, and dealt with each of them in turn.
He did everything a clan leader was supposed to do. And throughout all of it, some part of his mind remained in the ancestral caves with Polly.
At first he assumed it was worry. For most of the past year, whenever Polly had been out of his sight, some part of him had remained alert for disaster.
The world had already demonstrated what it could do to her, and every protective instinct he possessed wanted to stand between her and the possibility of further harm.
By midday, however, he had to admit that worry had very little to do with it.
He knew exactly where she was. She was with Tess, surrounded by Cera and half the clan, in one of the safest places on Hothrest. More importantly, he trusted her to take care of herself.
That was still new enough that he examined the realization carefully.
She no longer wanted him standing between her and the world. She wanted him beside her when she needed him and to step back when she didn’t. He was learning to do that. But learning not to hover did nothing to make him miss her any less.
That realization irritated him with its simplicity.
He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to see the way her grey eyes brightened when she was pleased with herself. He wanted to hear whatever she and Tess had discovered in those endless shipping records, even though he suspected the explanation would involve far more detail than he required.
He simply wanted to be near her.
By the time he started down the mountain, the light had begun to fade and his desire to return home had become increasingly difficult to ignore.
He set a hard pace, covering the familiar trail faster than necessary while telling himself he was a grown male and a clan leader, not some lovesick youth racing home to his female.
The argument failed to slow him down.
Darkness had swallowed the mountains by the time the familiar entrance to the ancestral caves came into view.
The crystals along the passages glowed softly as he made his way deeper into the caves.
He answered greetings without stopping, increasingly aware of how tired, cold, and hungry he was. He was also absurdly eager to get home.
Their quarters were warm when he entered. And Polly was waiting.
She sat cross-legged near the cooking fire, a datapad beside her and several sheets of paper scattered across the low table. She had clearly been working. Her dark hair was coming loose from its braid, and there was a faint smudge along one cheek.
When he stepped through the entrance, her whole face changed.
“You’re back.”
The simple pleasure in her voice struck him harder than it should have.
“I said I would be.”
“I know,” she said, climbing to her feet. “How was the grazing dispute?”
“Long.”
“Did anyone threaten to kill anyone?”
“Only indirectly.”
“Then it went well.”
She laughed and crossed the room towards him. He expected her to stop in front of him. Instead she walked straight into his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist as far as they would reach.
He automatically put his arms around her. For a moment, he simply stood there holding her while something tight inside his chest loosened. He bent his head, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair.
“I missed you,” she murmured into his fur.
His arms tightened around her before he could stop them. Only slightly, but enough that she noticed.
She tilted her face up. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
He looked down into her eyes. She had spent an entire day without him. She hadn’t been frightened or helpless. She had worked with Tess and pursued something that mattered to her, surrounded by people she trusted, and had apparently managed perfectly well without his presence.
But she’d missed him.
The old fear he’d carried since the day he first realized that Polly’s healing might someday take her away from him shifted inside his chest. Not gone, but lighter.
“I missed you too, little one,” he said.
Her expression softened. “Good.”
Then she rose onto her toes and kissed him, and there was nothing tentative about it.
He made a sound low in his throat and pulled her closer, one hand spreading across the small of her back. Her mouth opened beneath his, warm and eager, and heat swept through him so quickly that he almost forgot every sensible intention he’d had on the walk home.
He’d thought about her mouth far too often today.
He kissed her slowly at first, but her hands climbed into the fur at his shoulders and tugged, demanding more. He obeyed.
When they finally separated, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again.
Instead, because he genuinely wanted to know, he asked, “Did you find anything else?”
She stared at him.
“In the records,” he clarified.
“The records?”
“Didn’t you spend the day working with Tess on the ship records?”
“Oh.” She blinked, then laughed. “Yes. We did.”
He listened while she told him about two additional ships they had identified, neither conclusive, and a response from Baralt concerning Nareth Station. Her words came quickly, tumbling over one another as they often did when she was excited, and he found himself smiling.
“What?” she demanded.
“You enjoyed yourself.”
“I spent most of the day staring at shipping records.”
“You enjoyed yourself.”
She considered that, then smiled. “Yes. I suppose I did.”
“Good.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Looking pleased with me.”
“I am pleased with you.”
“I didn’t do anything remarkable.”
He started to answer, then stopped. Once he might have told her exactly how remarkable it was that she could spend a day apart from him without fear, or that she’d found work she cared about, or that someone else now relied upon her.
But she knew how far she’d come. Perhaps he didn’t need to keep reminding her.
“Then I’m pleased for no remarkable reason,” he said, and her expression immediately softened.
“That’s better.”
They ate together. She had kept a pot of stew warm over the fire, and while they ate she told him about Tess’s increasingly creative theories concerning the suspicious ships.
“At one point she decided Nareth Station was secretly controlled by slavers.”
“Possible.”
“Then she decided the station master was a slaver.”
“Also possible.”
“Then she decided the entire station might be fake.”
He paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “How would an entire station be fake?”
“I asked the same thing.”
“And?”
“She told me I lacked imagination.”
“Perhaps you do.”
She kicked him beneath the table, and he laughed.
It was late by the time they finished eating. He cleared the dishes while she put away the records, and the ordinary familiarity of their life settled around him.