Unless something goes wrong…
“I see that look on your face,” Claire says between sips. “Stop it, Asha. You’re just torturing yourself.”
“It is just…what if something goes wrong?”
“My mother always said that worrying about what might happen does nothing but make you crazy.” She finishes her tea and puts down her cup. “So, is there a reason why you’re still sitting here with me and not talking to Hemalo?”
I set my tea aside and draw my legs up, hugging them close. “You push hard.”
“I’m your friend. I want what’s best for you. And sitting on this isn’t going to help things.”
“He could come and talk to me, too,” I point out.
“He could, but he hasn’t, and there must be a reason for that,” Claire says. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move. Maybe he thinks you’re upset and doesn’t want to upset you more. Or maybe he’s being a big chicken. Whatever it is, you’ll never know unless you go and speak to him.”
“Shick-un?” I ask.
Claire waves a hand in the air. “You know what I mean. Quit stalling. Go talk to him!”
“And say what?”
“Tell him how you feel!”
I think for a moment and then sigh, hugging my legs close. “I am not sure how I feel, Claire.”
“Which is also not the worst thing to tell him. I imagine he’s feeling a little conflicted himself.” She gets up from her seat and picks up our teacups. “I’ll clean up here. You go talk to him.”
My gut clenches, the nervous feeling bubbling over. What if he says cruel things? What if he does not want to give mating with me another try? What if he will mate with me but pushes me away again? Then I will have to go through all of this alone. The thought is terrifying, but not undeserved. I have been hard to love. I might have destroyed any hope for the future with my actions.
But it is as Claire says—I will never know unless I go and speak to Hemalo.
I suck in a deep breath. Get to my feet. I straighten my tunic and run a hand over my mane, feeling nervous. If he says cruel things, I will not be able to bear it. I feel as fragile as one of the humans right now.
“You look beautiful. Go!”
“Going,” I mutter. I grab a warm wrap and fling it over my shoulders, then push the flap aside and step out into the air. The chill is bone-deep, despite it being midday. I glance up at the sky out of habit, and it looks as if the storm is abating, which means the hunters will be able to go out tomorrow. The next day of celebrations—coloring eggs and hiding them around the vee-lage for some reason—will have to wait. I wrap my fur tighter around my body and head toward the howse that the unmated hunters live in. It is on the far end of the vee-lage, and I pass many empty, lidless howses as I walk. Perhaps when all the new kits in the tribe are grown up, they will live in these.
And perhaps my kit will be amongst them.
The thought is an encouraging one, and I quicken my steps. I need to talk to Hemalo. To get to an understanding with him. To see how I can make him stop hating me so much so we can mate and bring resonance full circle.
And bring our kit one step closer to death, possibly. I hate that the thought echoes in my mind, but I cannot stop it. The fear will be with me, always, lurking like a shadow.
I must not think about that. Not now.
This end of the vee-lage is quiet, and the only sound is the distant echo of laughter and singing at the long-howse and the endless howling of the wind above. There is no sound of Hemalo working his hides. Those are sounds I know well—the wet slap of the brain-mash on the leather, or the scrape of his bone tool along a hide. Is he not working, then? Sleeping?
I move to his leather-working hut, but it is empty, his tools neatly put away, skins rolled up. No work today, then. Is he sick? Has resonance made him ill enough that he cannot leave his bed? The thought fills me with concern—and floods me with arousal at the same time. It has been a long time since Hemalo has touched me, and I miss it. Of all of my fur-partners, he was my last…and the best one. He would always make sure I was pleasured hard and pleasured well, but my favorite part was how he held me close afterward, as if he could not bear to let me go. I want that again. Even now, I grow slick between my thighs thinking about it, and the tip of my tail tingles with excitement. I have not felt like mating in a very, very long time, and yet it seems to consume my thoughts right now. It is the resonance, I know, but it gives me hope. It makes me feel…normal again. Like I am not completely dead inside.
I like that.
The howse the hunters occupy has the privacy flap pulled back. I peek inside, but it is empty, too. Hmm. Did Hemalo join the celebration, after all? I turn and head back toward the long-howse, fighting back my nervousness. Is he avoiding me? The thought sparks a flash of irritation, and I stomp toward the gathering.
But when I get there and peer inside…he is not there, either.
Where is he?
My skin prickles with awareness. This is not right. This is not like Hemalo. He would not be petty. I leave the gathering before anyone can invite me to stay, and race back toward the hunters’ dwelling. When I make it back, I move through the howse, gauging belongings. That pile of messy furs belongs to Harrec, and that one is Taushen’s, judging by the spear nearby. This one is Warrek’s, and this one, Bek. None of the furs belong to Hemalo, who always has the softest, best-made furs in the entire tribe. I do not see the basket that holds his things, either. I do not see his rarely used spear, or the skinning knife that his father gave him.
He is not here.
He is gone. He’s left.
I stare about the howse numbly. He cannot leave, can he? Not when we have resonated? It is a call that must be answered. There is no avoiding it.
And yet…Jo-see and Haeden delayed their resonance by a full turn of the moons because Jo-see ran away. She told one of the other females that it was still bad, but bearable.
Is that what Hemalo has done? He has left me behind? Shock gives way to outrage as I think about what he said to me yesterday. We do not have to decide anything just yet. Of course nothing had to be decided…because he was never planning on staying.
Once again, he has abandoned me.
It hurts. It hurts and it makes me furious all at once. How dare he? How dare he not want me or this kit? How dare he run away instead of facing the problem? Is he trying to teach me a lesson? I snarl at the empty spot where his furs should be and turn on my heel, storming back to my own howse.
Claire is still there, banking the fire. She straightens, surprised to see me. “Back already? What happened?”
“Hemalo is gone,” I bite out. I move to my own furs and begin to roll them up.
“Gone? You mean he left the village?” Her voice is incredulous. “After you guys resonated?”
“It seems so.” Even the thought makes my head fill with fury. When I see him again, I am going to lash him with my tongue for hours.
“But…I don’t understand.” She moves to my side, a question in her eyes. “How can they let him go? Isn’t it dangerous?”
“The weather is easing,” I say, bundling my furs tight before lashing a cord around them. “He must have seen the break in the clouds and decided to take a chance.”
“That idiot!” Claire exclaims.
I nod.
She looks down at my hands and then frowns up at me. “What are you doing?”