“Georgie’s right,” Megan says, rubbing the back of her little one as it nurses. “You’re stressing out over nothing. Enjoy the day, girl. Isn’t that what today is all about? Relaxing and enjoying ourselves? You’re the only one not relaxing!”
I doubt I’m the only one. But I sigh and sit back down again. “But what if—”
“Nope,” Georgie interjects before I can say more. She’s got her ‘chief’s mate’ voice going now. “Leave it alone, Claire. I promise you, they’re fine. Someone going after them would just make it worse. And do you really want to send someone away chasing those two bickering dorks when there’s hunting to be done? Do you want Ereven or any of the other hunters to miss out on the celebrations only to find Asha and Hemalo bickering—”
“And humping,” Megan adds quickly.
“—in the snow?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m being a worrywart.”
“You are,” Georgie agrees with a smile. “But it’s sweet that you’re concerned. You’re being a good friend to Asha.”
She’s been a good friend to me, too. I wouldn’t have half of the stuff organized if it weren’t for her help, and she knew just how to approach people to make them excited about silly human customs. Even if she doesn’t believe it sometimes, people in this tribe care about her and love her. They want what’s best for her.
Including me.
“Claire?” Warrek asks, moving to my side. He’s got a basket in his hands.
“Oh no,” Megan moans, a horrified laugh escaping her throat. “Another?”
I gasp, getting slowly to my feet. “Warrek, is it you?”
“No,” the quiet hunter says. He has such an awkward look on his face that I feel a stab of pity for him. “I was only told to deliver it. I promise.”
I narrow my eyes at him and then cross my arms over my chest, resting them just over my baby bump. “What if I don’t want it?”
He glances over at the far end of the longhouse and then back to me. “I…uh…”
Oooh. So the gift-giver is still nearby? “They’re here, aren’t they?”
Warrek shakes his head, a panicked look moving over his features. “No. I did not say that.”
“You don’t have to.” I use Megan’s shoulder to brace myself, and maneuver my way through the crowd of people. I head for the entrance, because that’s where Warrek was looking. Sure enough, as I move to the entrance of the longhouse, I see a figure cloaked in furs hurrying away back down the main street of Croatoan village. Hmm. I look around the fire once more, but my mate is here. My friends are here. Who is it?
Ereven looks over at me, curious. I raise a finger at him, indicating I’ll be just a moment, and then head out of the lodge after my mysterious gift-giver. Time to figure out who it is.
I can’t exactly hurry after the person, but there’s only so many places one can hide in our little village. I know where to go, and so I head down the main street, then look for smoke plumes. My gift-giver’s gotten a little careless, and now I’m going to have her. Or him. The figure disappears into a hut at the far end of the village, the only one with a trickle of smoke from the teepee top of the house. I recognize the house, too. I slow down as I approach, not wanting to scare off my furtive friend. As I move toward the house, I see the privacy flap is up, and I enter, ready to confront the person.
It’s exactly who I thought it was. The moment I saw the house, I knew. And the person that looks up when I enter isn’t the least bit surprised to see me.
It’s Bek.
11
ASHA
I am lucky that I have the fire burning in my belly to keep me warm. After days of chasing Hemalo’s tracks, I am tired, cold, and hungry. I am even more annoyed with him for leaving me behind, and hurt that he would do such a thing without even trying to talk to me.
I am also incredibly, irritatingly aroused. The soft fur of my thickest tunic only serves to rub against my sensitive skin and drive home the fact that I have resonated and have no way to relieve myself of this need. When I find Hemalo, I am going to tear his hide up, I decide, for making me trek all over the hills looking for him.
And then I hope he wants to go straight into the furs.
Actually, do I even want that? My heart is still torn. He has abandoned me—twice now—and yet my body craves his. I want the kit our resonance will bring, as much as it terrifies me to think I could lose another. If I must do this—and resonance says I must—I need my mate at my side. I need his quiet strength to lean on. Without it, I am just an endless fire of rage, burning myself and others as I struggle to come to grips with my grief. I need him.
In return, I will be…kinder. I will not lash out at him as much when I hurt, I decide. I will try to be a better mate. It will be a struggle, but all good things are worth more effort. I only hope that Hemalo sees me as something still worth the effort. Perhaps he does not. Perhaps this is why he has abandoned me again.
Even as I think about it, the helpless anger that has burned in my gut for days, ever since I found him gone, stirs forth once more. Why leave without talking? Why not speak to me? Tell me what he feels instead of just leaving? I hate that I must guess. I assume I know what is in his heart—are we not closer than anyone else in the tribe?
And yet…he has left me. So I do not know him at all, and it makes me furious. Does he think I like being angry all the time? Or sad? I want to be normal. I want to be happy. I need his help to regain my grip on happiness. His absence feels all wrong. It has since the moment he left me.
I am stomping now, I realize, as I trudge through the snow. Stomping because thinking about everything makes me feel angry, frustrated, and helpless all at once. My future is in his grip and he will not even talk to me, I grumble to myself as I move through the path forged in the snow. At least his trail is easy to follow. There has been no new snowfall, and the suns have even peeked out from behind the thick cloud cover, letting the gouge Hemalo has carved into the hip-deep snow crust over. I have seen no sign of him yet, but I suspect I am close. The trail grows fresher by the hour.
I pause and inhale the cold air, glancing around. The trail merges with another trail a short distance away, which is puzzling. Did he meet another hunter? But everyone was back at the vee-lage, so that cannot be it. Perhaps he ran across a dvisti and went after it? But the trails are wrong. It is almost as if someone saw Hemalo’s trail and then began to follow him. Strange.
The nearest hunter cave is in the next valley, very close to where I am. Perhaps he went there. I move a little faster, getting out my bone knife, just in case.
A moment later, I see a flash of blue up ahead. It is no more than a dot in the distance, but I recognize the shade of Hemalo’s skin. Aha. Encouraged, I walk faster, my khui beginning a loud, pleasant song at the realization that my mate is close. I try to think of the words to say to him now that I have caught him. Before I left, Claire advised me to be calm, to tell him my thoughts without being accusing. I have had long hours to think of what to say, but everything I planned has disappeared from my mind.
All I can think is ‘you left me.’ You left me.
The angry fire burning in my belly once more, I storm forward, but as I do, I notice that the blue mound in the distance is not moving forward. I grow closer to it with every step. It also does not look as tall as Hemalo, though that is the dusky blue of his skin. Is he…sitting?