Barbarian's hope

15

HEMALO

Six Days Later

“Are they still following us?” Asha murmurs as she moves to my side, wading through the deep snow. “Or did we lose them?”

I glance backward, squinting at the distant ridgeline. My eyes are better than hers, and I can pick out the yellowish coats of the metlak in the distance, even against the endless white hills. “They are still there.”

“Good,” she says, her expression brightening. “I think this is a good valley. Lots of plants. They will have plenty to eat here.”

I grunt agreement, turning forward again and wading through the snow. The weather has been foul off and on, dumping snow every time the clouds appear. Between storms, Asha and I have been collecting roots to feed the metlak couple. We leave them outside of the cave every evening, and by morning they are snatched away again. It does not matter how much food we put out, either. It is all gone by the morning. Asha frets that they do not know how to pace themselves, to save food when their bellies are full. She worries what will happen if we leave.

I do not want her upset, so we stay on, even though I wish to return to the tribe. I will not leave without her…and my need is a selfish one, I admit to myself. I want to take her back to the vee-lage so I can claim her as my mate. So she has no more distractions. I force myself to be patient, because I know this is important to her, and she is important to me.

So we hunt roots every day for the metlaks. Trudging through the thick snow and digging out roots takes its toll on both of us, and by the time we return to the cave each night, we are both exhausted. The days that the weather is bad, we have kept to the cave. I thought perhaps it would be awkward between us to be alone again, but we have fallen into an easy companionship once more. Asha keeps busy with weaving and cleaning, and I work on scraping furs. We chat, and she tells me about Claire’s plans for the haw-lee-deh that we are missing. I suppose we should be upset about not being with the tribe for the celebration, but I am enjoying the quiet time with my mate. It’s nice to be alone with her, just the two of us. When we return to the vee-lage, I will give her the presents I have been holding back, waiting for the right time to give her. To show her that my love is unchanging.

But until then, I will be patient and let Asha take the lead.

We walk, and my khui hums in my chest as her hand grazes my arm. My cock immediately hardens, and I reach through my layers of clothing and tighten my loincloth against my flesh. It is difficult to walk with a stiff cock, but I ca

…and take myself in hand whenever I have a quiet moment to myself.

I hear Asha’s khui singing to mine, and it makes me smile even as my body fills with tension and need. Perhaps it affects her differently than me. Sometimes, I can smell the scent of her arousal in the air, but she has not indicated that she wishes to mate. She ignores resonance and ignores the song in her chest, so I suspect it does not fill her with the aching, bitter need that I feel. Perhaps she does not wake up in the night, full of unfulfilled desire and hunger. If this is true, then it is good. I do not like the thought of Asha suffering.

I will gladly pay whatever I must to ensure that my mate is content, and if that means ignoring my cock as if it is a frozen, useless limb, then that is what I will do. Until then, I will just imagine spreading my favorite fur cloak onto the snow and laying her down upon it. I will think about pulling off her thick, woolly leggings and revealing her long, beautiful blue limbs and the smooth, bare cunt that seeps with arousal. I will dream of burying my face between her legs and licking her until—

“Do you think they will follow us into the valley?” Asha asks, interrupting my thoughts. “I would hate to think we have come all this way for nothing.”

“They will follow,” I reassure her. “Do not worry.” And I force myself to think of metlaks again, instead of my mate’s sweet limbs or the way she sighs and clutches at my horns when my tongue is buried deep inside her.

“I just want to be sure they are well off before we leave them,” she frets. “We ca

I am glad we are agreed on that. “They follow us yet,” I reassure her, extending my tail backward to her. I am pleased when her tail twines with mine in response. Just a brief touch, and then she detangles it once more, but it is enough.

Today, we have decided that since the metlaks ca

“There,” Asha murmurs, pointing ahead. “I see a cluster of chadok roots. They like those.”

“And there is a stream in the distance,” I agree, noting the puffs of steam rising from the thread of blue at the far end of the valley. I pause and look back at her, walking close behind me. “This is a good place. Perhaps we should dig up a few roots and leave them in our trails?”

She bites her lip, her small fangs white against her mouth. “I do not know if that is a good idea. What if they continue to think we are feeding them? Perhaps we should just make sure our trail goes past the plants and let them figure out the rest.”

I nod agreement. What she says is wise.

We spend the afternoon walking around the valley, pausing by each cluster of plants. There is a variety of foliage here, enough to feed several families of metlaks throughout several seasons. Asha is encouraged when she looks back and sees the metlaks stopping by a few plants to dig them up. By the time the suns begin to lower in the sky, we have trekked around the valley several times and paused by every bit of greenery in the hopes they will realize what we are trying to show them. My mate begins to slow down, her steps lagging as the day goes on. She is tired, but when I suggest we return to the cave, she refuses.

“We have to make sure they have food to eat,” she tells me, protesting.

“We have led them past food several times today,” I say, patient. “They know how to eat, or they would not have grown to adulthood. Let them be, Asha. It will grow colder by the hour, and we must return to the cave so we do not freeze.”

“But,” she begins, and then sighs, flinging her arms up. “Fine! We will return to the cave.” She stomps away in the trail I have cut into the snow for her.

She knows I am right, and so I do not get mad at her frustration. Asha has always burned hot. I move to walk next to her, keeping pace with her angry storming. She ignores my tail when I caress hers, a sign that she is angry, as are her hunched shoulders and deadly silence.

I let her sulk for a bit, and then when she continues to remain quiet, I decide to prod her. “Asha.”

“What?” Her tone is sullen.

“Are you angry? We promised we would tell each other if we were upset, remember?” It is one of the many good conversations we have had in the last two hands of days. One of our big problems is not talking to each other, so we have agreed that if we are upset, we will tell the other. It is a good rule, but we have not had to put it to use…until now. In the past, I would let Asha bluster all she wanted, assuming she would get it out of her system. However, I am learning that her anger is a cue for me to pay attention. That when she is wounded, she turns thorny because she is hurting and she needs to be distracted away from the hurt. So I will make sure she does not dwell on it. “Talk to me.”

“Yes, I am angry,” she snaps back, casting an irritated look over her shoulder at me. “Is it not obvious?”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I am not ready to leave yet!”

“Because you are not ready to abandon the metlaks and their kit, you mean?” I press.

The look she sends me is full of anger. I lift a challenging brow. She sighs, and her lower lip trembles. “I just…what if they ca

“If they ca

“I still worry!”

“Of course you worry. They will not be as good parents as you and I.” She looks surprised at my response, and I add, “But they are still his parents.”

She sighs heavily. “I think I liked it better when we did not talk.”

“No, you did not,” I say easily.

“No, I did not,” she agrees. “I am just being prickly.”

“You are.” I brush my tail against hers and am pleased when hers twines with mine. “But I would not have you any other way.”

Her smile is faint, but it is there. She reaches for me and puts her hand in mine, a human sign of affection that makes my heart leap with gladness. “I just want to know they will be all right.”

I pat the pouch at my hip. “I saved a root from our walk today. We will leave it outside the cave. If they take it, we will know they followed us back instead of staying in the valley. If that is what happens, then we will lead them to it again tomorrow. We will not let them starve, my mate.”

Her eyes shine with relief, and she squeezes my fingers.

I wake up in the middle of the night. It is so cold that my tail—sticking out from under the furs—feels numb. I tuck it in and gaze up at the ceiling, sleepy. I am exhausted, but Asha is pressed against me, her hand on my side, her cheek tucked against my shoulder, and it is making my khui sing to hers. My cock aches painfully, and my entire body is brimming with unfulfilled need. She slumbers on, though, so I do not wake her. I slide out from her grip and stretch, moving to the entrance of the cave. I step outside, shuddering at the intense cold, and relieve myself quickly. The root we left out is still there, iced over. That means the metlaks stayed in the valley. Good. Asha will be relieved. I move back inside, replacing the privacy screen over the entrance, and head to the fire to stoke it up.