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12
HEMALO
Something smells foul, so foul it rouses me from my sleep and a ringing headache. I am disoriented, but even with my eyes closed, the smells and sounds are familiar. Well, most of the smells. I smell smoke through the stink, and feel the soft down of fur against my skin. I hear the crackling of fire, and Asha’s soft, tuneless humming, the rumble in my chest as my khui sings to hers—all of these are familiar and comforting.
But I open my eyes, because something about this is not right. My eyes slowly focus, and I see a rock ceiling above me and not a teepee. A cave. I am in a cave. How did I get here? I search my memories, but my last ones are of travel, and slogging through thick snow. Have I forgotten part of my trip? Is this why my head aches so?
My cock aches, too. I realize this even as it occurs to me that my khui is singing, and quite loudly. I look over, and there is Asha by the fire, a bundle cradled in her arms and a lovely smile on her face.
My mate. My sweet, beautiful, fiery mate. I am filled with a fierce joy at the sight of her happiness, but as I study her and the leather-covered bundle she cuddles close, fear shoots through me. Is that…our kit? I touch my brow. Have I fallen victim to the same problem that Pashov did? Have I been struck on the head and forgotten the last few turns? Panic surges through me, and I sit upright quickly. The swift action makes my head pound in response, and I press my hand to the base of my horns, groaning.
“Hemalo,” Asha murmurs in a soft voice. “Are you well?”
“I do not know…I… Asha, have I forgotten our kit? Have I forgotten seasons like Pashov did?”
She blinks at me, surprised, and then down at the bundle in her arms. Her mouth twitches in a smile, and she gives a slow shake of her head. “Do not panic. This little one is not yours.”
I frown. “Then whose?” I am surprised at the vicious stab of jealousy that takes over me. She is my mate. She resonates to no one but me.
Her smile widens, and she pulls the leather away, then holds the kit out for me to see.
It is not a sa-khui kit. It is…fluffy. It is white and downy and looks like a fuzzy ball of fluff with metlak eyes and a tiny metlak beak. It chirps and coos at me even as it clings to one of Asha’s braids.
“It is…a metlak?”
“A much cleaner one,” Asha says, tucking it back into the blankets with affection. “The poor thing was filthy when I found it.”
“What is it doing here?” I glance around me, curious. “For that matter, what are you doing here?”
“I am here because I came after you.” Her smile fades, and she will not look me in the eye. She focuses on the tiny metlak instead, dipping her finger in a bowl and then putting the fingertip into the metlak kit’s mouth. It licks hungrily at her, trying to feed. “And this little one was left here in this cave, probably by the metlaks that attacked you.”
“Metlaks attacked me?”
“You do not remember?”
I rack my brain, trying to recall. All I remember is walking and thinking of my mate. Thinking ravenous, hungry, needy things about my mate. “Perhaps…I was distracted?”
“One hit you on the head from behind. They knocked you out.” She strokes the fluffy face of the creature, gazing down at it before smiling over at me. “Does it hurt?”
It does. I touch my brow and find it covered with tight leather bindings. “I should have been more careful.”
“They are starving and clever, these metlaks. I do not think you could have imagined that they would attack you to steal your pack.”
She is right; that does not sound like typical metlak behavior. I frown to myself and resist the urge to rub my aching forehead as I move toward the fire to sit next to her. “Why did they want my pack?”
“I think they have been living in this cave.” She gestures around her. “It was a filthy mess when I arrived, and I found this little one here. They must have left it behind to go hunting, and I think when they saw you, they assumed you would have more food. The supplies here have been eaten or ruined.” She gets to her feet and hands me the bundle in her arms. “Hold him while I put fresh tea on for you.”
I take the metlak kit from her, trying not to frown down at it. It is clear to me that Asha is attached to the creature. I have never liked metlaks, and like them even less now that I have been told they attacked me. But looking down at the small kit in my arms as it yawns sleepily and waves a small fist, I see why she is doting on it. Though it is ugly and covered in fur, it is a helpless kit. Asha has too soft of a heart to do anything but love it.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she moves to my side and begins to fuss with the bandages on my brow. It puts her teats at level with my eyes, and I can hear the hum of her khui through her skin. She smells like soapberries and sweat and arousal, and my cock stirs in response. I force myself to remain still while she checks my brow.
“The wound has closed,” Asha says, pleased. “Good. It is swollen but should go down in a few days. You will need to get a lot of sleep. I want you feeling better as quickly as possible so we can return to the vee-lage.”
She is talking as if it is already decided, which surprises me. I did not anticipate my reunion with Asha to be so…calm. I expected fire and anger. “You wish to return to the vee-lage with me? You are not mad?”
“Oh, I am furious with you,” Asha says, her tone sweet despite her words. “But I am not going to yell and shake my fist at you today. Not when I thought I had lost you.” She chokes on the words and then swallows hard.
I reach out and caress her tail, dragging my fingers down the smooth length of it.
She jerks out of my grip, her tail flicking angrily. “I did not say I was not mad. Do not think I have forgotten. But I am not going to spew my anger when there is a little one and you have a head injury.” She casts me a heated look and then moves to the fire, grabbing her tea pouch and shaking far too many leaves into the water.
She is agitated, my mate. I hope it is because she worries over me. That is a nice thought. I ca
The little one in my arms chirps, and I look down at it. It blinks at me, just like a sa-khui infant. Strange. I have never thought of the metlak as people, but I know several humans have convinced their mates that the creatures are intelligent. I do not know if I believe this, but I can see why Asha is fascinated by the kit. “It is much cleaner than its parents,” I tell her absently, thinking of every other metlak I have ever seen. To a one, they are filthy, smelly creatures.
“I gave him a bath,” Asha says, stirring the tea. “He smelled foul when I found him.”
“And it is a boy?”
She nods, and the soft smile curves her mouth again. “I have been calling him Shasak.”
I grunt. It means ‘little spark.’ “And what will you do with Shasak? Release him into the wild?”
“Of course not. He is a kit. He ca
I…have no answer for that. The idea is strange, but the humans have put a lot of strange ideas into our tribe ever since they arrived. “If it makes you happy, then you should keep it,” I tell her. I will support her in this.
Her mouth twitches as she scoops tea into a cup. “I did not ask for permission. You are no longer my mate. You do not live with me. I can do as I please.”
My heart sinks at her smiling words, delivered with the force of a spear-throw. “I see.”
“You do not, but I do not wish to talk about it today.” She moves toward me and sits down with the cup of tea, holding it gently in her hands. “Tomorrow, I will be angry at you. Today, I am grateful you are alive.”
“Tomorrow, we will talk then,” I say, adjusting the kit against my side and taking the cup with my free hand. “Thank you for coming after me. If you had not, I might be dead.”
Her face tightens. “I know.” Her hand goes to my knee and she touches me.
Just once, but it is enough for now.
She does not hate me. She is upset with me, and I sense I have hurt her, but she does not hate me. I can fix this, then. Whatever it is, I can make it better between us. And then I can claim my mate once more.