Chapter 9 #2
I can feel my face get scorching red. “All right,” I say, and I sound as fluttery as I feel.
That was a bold statement if there ever was one.
And it’s not like I’m going to protest that statement.
I’m down with another round of pussy-licking.
I’m thinking my mate is back to his old self more and more every day, and it makes me so happy.
If only I could stop worrying.
Pashov takes his spear and puts his knives in his belt, then heads out of the cave. “Back soon, my mate.”
“I’ll be here,” I call back after him, wry.
A few moments pass, and the cave starts to feel very empty. I begin to worry. What if his playful mood from today is an act? I can’t stop thinking about the nightmares, or the fact that it’s been weeks and his memories still haven’t come back.
He won’t be gone for long, I remind myself. Hunters go out all the damn time. I need to stop being such a worrywart. I can’t help it, though. I nearly lost my mate recently. Of course I’m going to worry about him.
I occupy myself with feeding Pacy. He’s fussy and doesn’t want to settle down, but after a belly full of milk, he starts to get drowsy and even crankier.
I let him cry himself to sleep, though I’m starting to feel like I need a nap myself.
Eventually, though, he’s quiet and drifts off, and I get up to put him in his basket in the next room. Finally, I can get some work done.
I hear the screen move in the other room and relief shoots through me. Pashov’s back already? I tuck Pacy in one last time and head back to the main cave.
It’s…not Pashov.
At first, I don’t know what it is. I’ve spent my time on the ice planet sheltered in the tribal cave, and so I’m not familiar with some of the creatures that live here.
All I see is dirty white fur and long arms and legs as something sneaks into the cave.
Then the stench hits me. Like wet, filthy dog, it permeates every inch of the small cave and makes my eyes water.
I must make a sound of some kind, because it turns to look at me.
That’s when I see the big, rounded eyes, the small owl-like mouth, and the flat face.
This has to be a metlak.
The creature is hunched over on the far side of the cave, away from the fire.
It hisses at me, and I feel a bolt of alarm.
My little Pacy is asleep in the next room.
I have to keep him safe—but my knife is near the metlak, and Pashov is away from the cave.
I don’t know what to do. Frozen with fear, I stare at the creature, waiting.
It crawls along the side of the cave, as if trying to get as far away from the fire as possible. It heads towards the packed baskets we have stacked along the back of the cave, and sniffs the air. It opens one, finds a packet of herbs, and shoves a handful into its mouth.
Is it…hungry?
Pashov told me that these lands were close to metlak territory. I didn’t give it much thought, considering that they, like the dvisti, aren’t much of an issue in the safety of the tribal cave. Out here alone, though, I stare at the creature and try not to panic.
How do I get it out of here? They’re known to be wildly unpredictable and fierce when cornered. Being in my cave probably counts as cornered.
It spits out the handful of herbs and swipes at its tongue with its long fingers, then makes a high-pitched, whistling sound before yanking down another basket and digging through its contents. As it moves, I can see ribs showing through the dirty, matted fur.
It’s starving.
And I feel a twinge of guilt over this creature. It’s clearly struggling to survive. I’m still scared of it, but maybe I can feed it and get it out the door before anything bad happens.
“Are you hungry?” I ask in a low, soft voice.
The creature hisses at me again, and I remember what Lila told me—that she had found one that understood hand signals. Well, to a certain extent. Maybe this one does, too? I gesture at my mouth, miming chewing.
The thing pauses, watching me with avid eyes.
Okay, yeah. It definitely is interested now. My skin crawls, but I force myself to move forward.
It stops hissing and growls low in its throat instead. It’s a warning to me, but I need to show it where the food is before it destroys all of the things we’ve worked so hard to replace since the cave-in. I pick up one of the baskets of dried meat and pull out a dried slab, offering it up.
The creature grabs it from my hand, sniffs it, and then flings it aside.
“All right,” I murmur. “You’re clearly not a meat eater.
” I try to remember what Lila said about these things, but all I can think about is that my little Pacy is sleeping in the next room, and I don’t want this creature to know he’s there.
I need a weapon. Actually, scratch that. I need this thing gone.
It grabs at another basket, and I wince, because it’s another one full of smoked meat. The creature grabs a handful—a dirty handful—and then casts it aside like it’s garbage. It’s ruining all of our food, and that’s something we can’t afford. I need to do something.
I push the metlak aside, reaching for one of the large, basketball-sized not-potato roots that my mate brought back yesterday. I was going to dry it and save it for later, but if it gets this thing away, I’m game.
The metlak hisses at me again, and it bats at my arm, its claws leaving raised welts on my arm.
I bite back my yelp of shock, recoiling.
“I’m trying to help you, asshole,” I whisper.
I have to keep my voice low so I don’t wake up Pacy.
He’s a sound sleeper like his daddy, but he’s also still a baby and easily startled.
The creature clutches at its side, and for a moment I think it’s wounded. But then the fur wiggles and moves —
—And I realize this starving creature has a baby.
It’s a she and it’s a mom, like me. I’m suddenly flooded with sympathy.
The metlak is clearly scared of the fire, and probably scared of me, too, but she’s desperate to eat.
I’m guessing her milk is close to running dry if she’s starving, and it’s fear for her baby that’s making her be so bold as to come into an occupied cave after food.
“Here,” I say softly. I offer her the bulbous root and make the miming gesture for eating again. “Eat.”
She snatches it from me and begins to sniff it. The furry bundle on her chest makes a peeping noise, not unlike a baby chick. With another wary look at me, she takes a bite directly out of the not-potato. Her eyes widen, and she begins to devour it with frantic, enormous bites.
And I notice for the first time that despite the fact that she’s a vegetarian, she’s got some impressive fangs…
PASHOV
Maybe we will spend the brutal season alone, Stay-see and I.
I muse this as I head back to our cave, a freshly slain dvisti slung over one shoulder.
One of the many herds happened to be passing through the nearby valley, and so I followed the trails over and picked off a shaggy elder.
There are many kits with the herd, and I watch them run past as the herd races away, frightened.
I do not think I can kill the young anymore. Not with my own son so helpless and small.
But now I have even more meat and a new hide for Stay-see to fuss over.
We will have much smoked meat, and the cache is still half-full.
If the weather holds for a few more hands of days like Rokan said, that will give me plenty of time to fill the cache and to dig up several of the not-potato that Stay-see makes delicious things out of.
With only two mouths to feed, it would be no problem for Stay-see and me to ride out the brutal season alone, even if the snows last longer than usual.
And it will give us more time to bond.
I know my chief wants us to return sooner, but I worry it will not be enough time.
I do not have my memories back yet. The ones that return are fleeting and disappear as quickly as they flicker through my mind, leaving me only with the knowledge that I did remember something.
Each time it happens, it fills me with a sense of loss and frustration, like I am failing both myself and my mate.
She worries, too, I think. There are questions in Stay-see’s eyes when she looks at me. She has concerns, and I think they are not just over my health. She has not yet invited me to sleep in her furs again. I am trying to be patient, but it is difficult.
I think of Rukh, the newcomer, and his mate Har-loh.
Out of all of the tribe, they seem the most tightly bonded.
He hovers over her obsessively, and she seems to need him as much.
Harrec told me they spent the last brutal season in a cave down by the great salt lake.
It makes sense that they are so close. After moons and moons of time alone together, of course they are intertwined like roots.
I am jealous, though. Did I have that with Stay-see before?
I want it back. And if it takes spending the brutal season alone with her, I am willing to do so.
It will be lonely without my family and tribe nearby, but I crave closeness with my mate more than I crave my mother’s herbal teas or the company of other hunters.
I have not told Stay-see of my plans yet.
She will not like them, I suspect. She will want to return to the tribe for fear that I am still too injured to hunt.
I feel fine, though. I am fit and capable.
There is nothing wrong with my body, and I can only hope my memories will return in time. Until then, I must be patient.