CHAPTER 16
APRIL
When Valmir said we could go to the "nearest hunter cave," I'd assumed it was, you know, nearby. Nope. It's at least two more hours of walking and we're nowhere close.
When I point this out to him, he gives me a sly, challenging smile. "Too long a walk for you? Do I need to carry you?"
"Nice try, pussycat. Rage isn't going to fuel me for the rest of the walk."
"Isn't it?" He swats me with his tail.
Okay, maybe it is. Because I walk faster, and I don't complain, and we're there before I know it. I hate that I'm so obvious.
The scenery this far away from the beach is breathtaking.
I've journeyed farther into the mountains a handful of times and every day, there feels like more untamed beauty to appreciate.
Is it desolate-looking at first? Yes, absolutely.
The world is an endless rocky crag of gray and white at first glance.
But the snow on the ground is pristine. The cliffs are covered in vines and small plants that squeeze their way to the surface.
Icicles drip from overhangs. The air is pure and crisp and all of it feels a bit like the most hardcore version of winter.
It's very different from where I grew up, and my memories bloom with greenery and flowers and warm, sandy beaches.
It's the opposite of what I'm used to, but it's nature and it's magnificent all in its own way.
Valmir heads towards a jagged outcropping of rock and disappears into the shadows.
I'm surprised to realize it's the entrance to a cave.
I wouldn't have seen it if I'd been on my own.
I follow him into the shadows and immediately run into his back, his tail wiggling and trapped between us.
"Wait outside," he says. "It's dark. I'll make a fire. "
"Can you see enough to make a fire?" I ask, my hand on Makana's sling.
"That's why I said to wait outside." He guides me back out into the dim afternoon sunlight and slings the pack from his shoulder. "Did you bring fire-making supplies?"
"Of course."
"Nice." It's a small bit of praise, but it's pleasant to be complimented by someone as prickly as him.
He makes another pleased sound when he pulls out the fire-making kit I've packed away — a couple of strikers wrapped in leather, a bundle of dried dvisti wool to act as tinder, and a pouch of Makana's dried pellets, which act as fuel.
With a few strikes, he's able to get a spark, and he blows on it atop the wool with enough skill and ease that I'm impressed.
A chore as simple as fire making should not be as sexy as he just made it. But it's the ease in which he carries himself, the utter confidence that he can handle this without me stepping in. All of it tells me that if I need to rely on him, I can.
That, and he's got a really nice pair of corded forearms. His fingers are long and graceful, his claws retracted as he works, adding bits to make the tiny flame bigger. When it's large enough, he takes the entire bundle and heads back into the cave.
A few moments later, the firepit flickers and the light in the cave begins to grow.
Valmir's face is illuminated in orange firelight, his eyes shimmering with the blue of his khui.
I step inside, joining him. With a little bit of light to see by, the interior of the cave is crowded.
Some of the hunter caves are spacious despite all the supplies hoarded into them.
This one in particular is not. It's not much bigger than a bedroom, and it's crammed full of supplies.
A few baskets are stacked atop one another in a corner, a pile of unprocessed hides rolled up nearby.
There are several furs that look soft and inviting in another stack, and hanging from a rocky outcropping near the back of the cave is a bone hook holding what looks like bags of dried meat.
Each hunter cave is designed to be a small haven for those hunting out in the wild.
If a snowstorm catches you by surprise, you have a safe, well-supplied spot to retreat to, and the rule is that you leave it as well supplied as you found it.
It's an honor system that works, in my opinion, because no one wants to be responsible for the death of a cousin or friend.
The population here on the planet is so small that everyone knows everyone.
In a few generations, it might not be the same.
Or maybe I'm just cynical. Either way, I'm glad that there are more than enough warm blankets to last us through the night. Once the distant twin suns go down, the temperature drops dramatically. I turn to Valmir, who's busy building the fire up. "What do you need me to do?"
"Tend to your pet. I've got the fire." He doesn't look over, his focus entirely on adding fuel to the small flame.
I pull Makana out from his sling and set him on the floor of the cave.
He hops away a short distance to do his potty business and I hunt through baskets, looking for something to feed him.
I find a few dried roots that are his favorite, and I give Makana one.
He makes a happy grunting noise and lies on top of it, nibbling his way down the long, tough stalk.
With a scrap of leather, I clean up his mess and head out into the snow to "wash" my hands.
Our waterskins still have enough for the evening, so there's no need to gather snow to boil just yet.
I make a nest for Makana out of one fur, tucking it into an empty basket and setting it near the fire so he can be warm. He's so cute and happy that I give him another root, and when I look up, Valmir is watching me.
"No wonder he wanted to stay," he teases. "You spoil him rotten."
"Is that such a bad thing?" I scratch Makana's little head affectionately. "We should all be so spoiled."
"I can spoil you if you like," Valmir says, leaning back from the now briskly burning fire. "But I know you like to be independent."
"I'll allow you to spoil me a little," I tease. "If you want to. What does spoiling me entail, exactly?"
"Taking care of you," Valmir says as I sit down cross-legged next to him by the fire. He puts a hand on my lower leg. "I'll start with taking those wet boots off of you."
Wet boots? This sounds suspiciously like a cliché from a book where the guy tries to get the girl naked, except I know Valmir is completely unaware of such clichés. If he was aware, he probably wouldn't start with feet, anyhow. I put my foot in his lap. "You're the boss."
With nimble fingers, he unties the knot just below my calf, then unwinds the long laces that hold the leather wraps of my boots to my legs.
The boot slides off my foot, and then the second layer of fur tucked around my foot for warmth is removed and laid out by the fire to dry.
My feet look pale and wrinkled in the cold damp, and I curl my toes reflexively.
He puts a warm hand on the arch of my foot and I can't help it — I let out a sigh of pleasure.
"Your feet wouldn't get so cold if you had fur on them," he tells me, his tone reproachful. "Your toes are like icicles."
This makes me laugh, because only Valmir would criticize my feet for not being hairy enough. "I'm sorry. Next time they're handing out furry skin at the cloning factory, I'll speak up."
"Please do." He considers my foot, eyeing it as he moves his hand over it. "This is the first time I've really looked at your feet. Humans are built so strangely. How are you supposed to hold onto anything without claws on your toes?"
"I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be holding on with my toes," I admit with a laugh. Just the mental image is enough to make me bite back a stream of giggles. "Anything else I'm lacking?"
"A tail. You should really have a tail for balance."
I grin. "An excellent point. Maybe whatever kid we have will get the tail and the claws."
His expression sobers, and our eyes meet. For a long moment, there's no sound but the crackle of fire and the hum of our khuis singing. His fingers continue to move over my cold foot, rubbing warmth back into it. "I keep forgetting there will be a child at the end of this."
"I can't forget," I tell him wryly. "I'm very aware that we're going to be making a life together. It's one reason I haven't been in a rush. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a parent. The responsibility feels terrifying."
He acknowledges my fear with a small nod. "I have heard from the others that no one is ever ready. And you do a great job with Makana. Just treat our child like you do the two-fang."
"Feed it too many roots and clean up its poop?"
His whiskers twitch. "Make sure it's happy. Love on it. Spoil it with affection and make sure it lacks for nothing. Show it constantly how much you care." He strokes my foot as he speaks. "It will be the happiest creature alive."
His soft words of praise steal my breath away. Does he really view me so positively? He's never said. Valmir usually only speaks up when he's got a caustic remark to make. "You really think I'd be a good parent?"
"I do. They will be lucky just to be in your presence." His gaze lingers on my face. "As I am."
I squirm a bit at that, because it feels painfully vulnerable. "You know, I wasn't sure if you even liked me for the longest time."
His stroking hands pause. "How can I not like you?"
"Wanting to fuck someone isn't the same as liking them."