EPILOGUE
VALMIR
A FEW MONTHS LATER
The hut I've made for April is a thing of beauty, if you ask me.
No one did...but I'll tell them anyhow.
"It looks keffing amazing," I tell the gathered people nearby. "If I do say so myself."
"You have. Repeatedly." Corvak hands me a leather tie that will anchor the last bit of the waterproofed arching leather framework atop the hut.
"Because it bears repeating," I say. I'm not bothered by the teasing, because I know that's just what it is.
They might say sour things, but actions speak louder than words, and the truth is that we might ruffle each other's fur from time to time, but that doesn't mean we aren't friends.
If I woke up tomorrow with a broken leg, Corvak would be the first one to carry me to the healer.
He would gripe all the way, but he'd do it.
Actually, scratch that. He'd have to fight my April for the right to carry me. She'd do it herself, laughing all the way and calling me pussycat.
I fasten the last tie and give it a tug.
It holds solid, and I grunt with satisfaction.
Jason had ideas for how to improve the brickwork of the hut and how to notch the bones so they form unbreakable poles.
This is a sturdier hut than April's last one, and this particular hut is big enough for the family we'll be growing.
As April says, we want many keiki, many kits, running around our home.
"Don't tell Jason, but these poles are excellent. "
"Don't tell Jason what?" calls Jason from the far side of the hut.
"Don't tell him that his ideas are good," counters Corvak, smirking. "Or he'll get a swelled head."
Jason just laughs. For all the teasing he gets, the human has a good sense of humor. It makes me almost like him. Almost.
I take a step back from the hut and eye it, hands on my hips.
There's nothing more to be done. The platform for the hut has been built, with several massive rocks buried in the sand below and acting as stilts.
This way, if the snail's eggs hatch in the sands underneath, they will not carry our home off with them.
And the next time the snail-vasion occurs, rather than digging trenches, Ashtar can pick up the platform and carry our hut away to safety.
It's a good home. The treated hides that make up the roof of the hut have been stitched tightly and layered twice so no rain will get through, and there is a smoke hole at the top for our fire. I'm proud of it.
Corvak slaps my shoulder. "Good job."
I nod. "It was a good job. Tomorrow, we start the next one.
" I'm looking forward to working on the huts for the others.
The tribe is growing, and I've found that I'm good at building things.
I enjoy working with my hands as much as I enjoy hunting.
More so, even. I like seeing what can be accomplished and leaving something permanent on the shore.
I rub my hands together. "Let me go find my mate and show her. "
I find April by the fire. She's seated with Gail and Angie, talking excitedly.
The other two women are mending clothing, but April has vines in her hands.
She wants to make what she calls "leis" for us to wear as we bless our home.
They're necklaces made from plant life, and part of a ceremony of her people, she's told me.
Her gaze lands on me as I approach, and I wave her forward. "I think we're ready."
"Perfect." She nods at U'dron, who picks up his drum. April gathers the armfuls of vines and then pauses. "Come take Makana for me, Valmir?"
"Always." I jog over to her and help ease the wrap off her shoulders and on to mine.
Next, the fat two-fang is deposited into the sling it creates.
Makana is apparently a "she" and is quite pregnant.
April wonders if that is why the creature likes being babied and carried about so much.
Me, I think she's just spoiled. Why live a hard life when you can have my sweet mate handing you everything you need?
I tuck the pet against my chest and Makana grunts with annoyance before settling in.
Once she's established, I offer a hand to April to help her up.
She stands, a little ungainly on her feet.
We've been assured that most of the pregnancies take longer than a normal human gestation, but April is starting to show her belly early.
I'm fascinated by the roundness of it and can't wait for her to grow even bigger.
We've already discussed names — our child is going to have a Hawaiian name, April has decided.
Her family had an ancestral name they have used for generations, and she wants to pass it down to our child.
April loops the leis on one arm, and with her other hand, she seeks my grip. "I'm nervous."
"Why?" I walk slower, so she doesn't feel rushed. Part of me wants to bound over to the hut like a child to show it off, but I can be patient. Mostly. "What's making you nervous?"
She frets, her palm clammy against mine.
"I don't know if I'm the right person to bless our house.
It should be an elder in touch with the land.
I asked Gail to do it for us, but she said that I should be the one because it's my people's belief and I would do it best. But what if I do it wrong and end up making it an insulting blessing? I need to do it right."
I squeeze her hand. "Just share what's in your heart, April. I don't think anyone would have a problem with that."
"You're right. I just want it to be perfect." She gives me an anxious smile. "It's our home, after all."
"Which is why you're the right one to give it the blessing."
She takes a deep breath and nods, her hand holding tight to mine for reassurance.
The others are standing around the newly finished hut, waiting for April's approval.
U'dron joins the others, holding his drum.
I pay no attention to him — my entire being is focused on my mate.
Her face lights up at the sight of it, now with the roof on it and completed.
Her eyes get misty and her smile grows wider.
"Look at how beautiful it is. Pu'uhonua. It means 'sanctuary' or 'refuge.'"
"'Refuge' might be a bit of a strong word if you're living with Valmir," Jason says.
I could murder him, I think, and no one would mind much.
"It's my refuge. It's made from the land with warmth in your hearts." April's hands go over her heart. "I adore it and it's perfect to me."
Take that, Jason. I put an arm around my mate's shoulders, full of pride. "I'm glad you like it."
"You guys did an amazing job. Thank you, everyone." Her gaze goes to me, warm and full of love. "Thank you, pussycat."
"I'm your mate," I tell her, gruff but pleased. "It's what I do." But her happiness warms my spirit.
That spirit warmth continues as April blows on a large shell she calls a pū to call everyone's attention.
It's to alert the spirits as well as the living that a ceremony is about to happen.
Next, she hands out the leis she has made, looping one over the neck of each person who helped work on our hut.
She puts one over my neck, then hands me the second-to-last one so I can drape it over hers.
Hers is more of a vine than a loop, open at the bottom like the ones she's handed the males, because she's pregnant and a closed lei is bad luck.
After that, she takes a small bowl of salt and breathes on it, adding a bit of water from the ocean.
She sprinkles the concoction over the doorstep and goes inside the hut, covering every nook and cranny.
As she does, she thanks the land and the sea for providing for us.
With the very last lei that I've been holding for her, she takes it and drapes it over the doorway, as a promise to care for the home.
She asks the ancestors of this land to look over us and to watch out for all the families that live here, and promises to honor and respect the world around us.
"I'd like to perform a dance of my people called a hula," she says, pulling off her boots.
She told me that it is a dance that must be performed barefoot, so she can be connected to nature.
I set her boots aside for her, even though I know her toes must be cold.
I will warm them for her later, I decide.
April dons a skirt of dried seaweed that she has made and encircles her waist over her clothing.
She stands in front of us, and U'dron begins to drum nearby.
I wanted to drum for her, but April insisted that U'dron do it since he's the best drummer.
She does not want to offend any spirits that might be listening.
Then she begins to dance.
I have seen U'dron's mate dancing before, and some of the other females, but this is very different.
April's face is serious as she chants, moving her arms and feet in fluid motions.
Her hands ripple to mimic the waves, and her footsteps are measured and precise.
I do not know the words to the song nor the motions to the dance, but the meaning is obvious to me.
She tells the land that she respects it, she tells the spirits that she is listening, and she asks them to bless our home and our future.
The beat on the drum is steady and solemn, and it is April's voice that provides the music.
She sings a story, her hips swaying the grass skirt as she moves, her arms sinuous and beckoning, and her face is alight with happiness.
When she finishes singing, her smile is radiant and tears roll down her face. I know in this moment she feels connected to her people, even though she is a universe apart from them, and it makes me ache with joy for her.
"Do we clap?" Jason whispers.
"You'd better keffing clap for my mate," I growl at him.
There is a scatter of applause, and April beams at all of us, wiping happy tears from her face. "I don't know if all of that was right, but I have a good feeling. It felt like I was honoring my kuleana."
I know that word from her using it. It means she feels a moral responsibility to the land and to live in the way of her people. "I think it was perfect." I shoot a few looks at the others, as if daring them to say anything about it. No one does, and I turn to my mate. "What's next?"
She shrugs, eyeing the entrance flap that has been pinned back. "We go inside?"
I pull Makana out of the pouch on my chest and let the creature waddle into the hut first. Jason told me that there is a human custom where males carry their mates over the threshold and I want to do that for April.
I scoop her up in my arms. She flings her limbs around me with a panicked squeak.
"I'm carrying you over the threshold, woman," I tell her. "Calm down."
She clings to my neck, her arms chokingly tight. "Warn me next time!"
"Is there a next time for such things?" I ask, setting her down as she squirms.
"I guess not." She takes a step back from me and clasps her hands under her chin, gazing at the interior of the hut with shiny eyes.
From outside the hut, Jason calls out. "We're going to take off and grab something to eat. Catch up when you can, Valmir."
"Heard." I don't take my eyes off my mate, though.
I'm not leaving her side. This moment is hers, and I want to drink in her reaction.
She's beautiful, her eyes shiny with happy tears.
She gazes up at the ceiling of the hut, where the two of us worked on stitching waterproofed skins together for days before the walls even went up.
April sewed our initials into some of the stitching, to further brand this as "ours," and when I look up, I can see those symbols near the smoke hole.
April lowers her gaze and turns slowly, admiring all of the hut. "This is incredible, Valmir."
"It's just a hut," I say with false modesty. I'm loving her reaction.
"But it's our hut. This is where we're going to live, with our Makana and our baby." She moves toward me and puts her arms around my waist. "And it makes me so happy, too. Thank you."
As if I wouldn't make her a home? I've been dying to ever since we resonated. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her soft, hungry mouth.
She lifts her lips from mine and gives me a sly smile. "Did you mark the doorway?"
"Not yet. I'll do that after dark, when no one's watching."
April wiggles her brows. "I wanna watch."
"Better yet, I'll let you help."
"You're right, that is better." She kisses me again, and the scent of crushed vines from the leis around our necks mingles with the scent of my mate. "Thank you again. For not thinking I'm weird for wanting to bless the hut before we move in."
"Why would I judge you for that? It's part of who you are. It makes me proud to see you follow your heart."
She beams at me and smacks my ass with a sharp slap in the way she knows I love. "Wanna bless the bedding?"
"It makes sense to bless everything in the hut," I tell her, trying not to grin. "Make sure we cover all angles. Wouldn't want to offend the ancestors."
"I'll get the door," April says. "You unroll the bedding."
I like to think the ancestors would be thrilled at our enthusiasm as we bless the floor, the bedding, the firepit, the door frame, and then the bedding once more. I'm sure they approve. How can they not? I am a male in love with my beautiful, clever mate in the home that we've made for ourselves.
How could they be anything but overjoyed?