Chapter 11 #4
“This is my own fur, little Roja. We all shed terribly, and up until a few orbital rotations ago we would simply discard it. MeK saw me cleaning my sleeping platform late one rotation when he was here helping with the compound, and he offered to send a cleaning bot. Well, it showed up, and within two risings, it stopped working because our hair is so thick. Aggravated with its incompetence, MeK’s words not mine, he started taking it apart.
When he realized just how much we shed, and because his mind works completely differently than most, he asked me why we were not using the fur in some sort of textile.
Of course, I had no idea what MeK meant until he showed me how some cultures collect animal furs for garments and coverings. We have used furs ourselves for as long as I can recall, from the mountain wolves and the mammoths that we use for comfort but never thought about using our own.
He was like a youngling, suddenly excited about the creation floating through that very complex mind of his, and within a rising MeK was back here with what he called a fur catcher.” He points toward a small, round, black object moving along the floor that I had not noticed.
“OH, it’s a rumba?? Or that’s what ANDI calls them anyway. He used them on the ship; they’re little vacuums.”
“Well, I am not sure what their correct name is, but each dwelling has one of its own, and the occupants have the option of donating or disposing of their fur to the weavers. We just started selling some of the garments they have made on Targres Four. The income from their sales will help us expand and update some outdated surveillance equipment and possibly expand the compound. We are trying to become independent in our trades instead of always relying on the Elders to help. Father and MeK practically paid every credit for this compound on their own, and even though my people, including myself, are grateful, at some point we would like to have a treasury of our own to pull from.”
“So, this coat is a mixture of others’ hair/fur?”
“No … this entire garment is made solely from my own sheds, as are all the coverings in this place.
I asked the others to contribute theirs, but when my turn came, I found myself unable to part with my own.
But I did gather it until I had enough for several pieces.
It was as if something deep within me, something I could not silence, was insisting I would need them one rising.
My beast would not … could not … endure the scent of another male on you, even though the hairs are meticulously sanitized before they are woven together.
If you think my reaction in the passageway was extreme, it would be twice as bad if I smelled another on you.
My kind are extremely territorial, and even though I am half Darverian, my Hallisterian genes are dominant when angry. ”
“If it makes you feel any better, I probably would not have worn it if it had been made from everyone else’s fur/hair here. That’s just kind of yucky to me. But knowing I have a piece of you wrapped all around me, it’s quite comforting, even if it is so large it’s swallowing me.”
I pull the long coat closer, letting the fabric warm my skin, then slowly press my cheek against the softness of its collar.
The thought that every strand once belonged to his body sends a quiet heat through me, spreading beneath my skin until the cold no longer matters.
Especially with his beautiful blue eyes following every small movement I make.
A yawn suddenly creeps up on me, and even though the day seems to have just started, I am exhausted.
“You should rest.”
“I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing.”
“The body needs it to heal. Go on and lie down and I will be here when you wake.”
“I think I liked the hospital better because at least there you were beside me when I woke up. If I go in there, you can’t stay with me without being miserable.”
“We will find our way on this path Dawn, but until we can get you better garments, you should sleep where your body is the most relaxed. I will only be a whisper away if you need me.”
HaL leans his massive form down and presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
His lips are cool against the heat of my skin, a brief contrast that makes my chest tighten in a way I can’t quite name.
Then he nudges me softly toward the other room, knowing I need its warmth but doesn’t want to let me go.
I walk away hesitantly. Each step feeling heavier than the last, like my body is finally admitting what I’ve been ignoring. I’ve pushed myself too hard, too fast, and now it’s catching up to me in quiet, insistent waves of exhaustion.
The warmth wraps around me the moment I step through the bubble. It’s immediate and almost overwhelming. Even though I know I’ll wake up overheated, I can’t bring myself to take off his coat. It feels like the last thing anchoring me to him, so I keep it on as I lower myself onto the bed.
The mattress welcomes me, sinking beneath my weight as if it’s been waiting for me to give in. I don’t fight it, I can’t. The tension I’ve been carrying begins to unravel, thread by thread, until there’s nothing left to hold on to.
My breathing slows. My muscles loosen in reluctant surrender. And as the warmth deepens around me, sleep doesn’t just come, it takes me gently, completely.