Ice Planet Honeymoon by Ruby Dixon

18

RUKH

Two more dvisti are mine by the time I decide to head back to the beach, where my pretty mate is safe. There is a large herd of the fat creatures tantalizingly close, but I can only handle so much as I am alone. I haul the two carcasses back with me—one over my shoulders and another in my arms.

I am tired and I have not slept in days, but every kill I bring in is more meat for my Har-loh, more furs to warm her. So I must keep working. Two more, I think. No, four. Better to be safe and have extra furs in case the weather is exceedingly cold.

As I approach the beach, however, I see an orange, flickering light. A fire. It is outside the cave instead of inside, and my heart pounds with worry. Why is the beach on fire? I move closer, rushing, and it is only by sheer stubbornness that I do not fling down my kills and race toward my mate. I know if I put them down, some scavenger will come along and snatch them. It is a fire pit, I realize, as I jog toward the light. A fire pit with someone sitting in front of it.

It is not until I am directly upon the fire that I realize it is my Har-loh.

She has fallen asleep sitting up, a stick in her hand as if she drowsed while poking the fire. Strips of meat are spread atop the surfaces of many rocks and hung carefully from the shaft of her spear high above the flames. There is a great deal of meat, and all of it smells good. A short distance from the fire, however, I see crabs and crawlers and all kinds of things waiting to snatch a bite. That must be why she has stayed out here.

Her eyes do not open when I approach, nor when I set my two kills down. Her face is drawn, with dark circles smudging her face. She is dirty, too. Dried blood crusts her clothing and there are rings of grime underneath her nails and smears of blood on her face. This is not like my Har-loh. She loves to be clean. It was one of the first things she taught me, and she is always quick to bathe.

Why has she not bathed now? Is she injured?

Worried, I drop to my knees at her side and study her face. Her speckles are as bright as ever. That is a good sign, I think. But she is thin, and I do not like how she has not roused even though I am in camp, making noise. "Har-loh," I murmur, brushing my fingers over her cheek to wake her. "Har-loh."

She jerks awake with a funny little snort, her eyes unfocused. Her gaze settles on me, and her mouth parts in surprise. "Rukh. Yerbak." Then, she bursts into noisy tears. "Wydijooleaf me?"

"Har-loh?" I caress her cheek, worried. She weeps at the sight of me? Is she tired of having me for a mate because I cannot provide enough for her? The thought is like a blow to the chest, and I suck in a miserable breath. I wish I had the words to ask what is wrong, but all I can offer is a simple one. "No?"

"Wutdoes datmeen?" she sobs. But she reaches forward and runs her hands along my face, as if touching me with the same concern that I touched her. "Har yew okay? Hurt?"

We can do word noises tomorrow, I decide. I do not like how tired she looks. Too sleepy, and she could fall into the fire. I get to my feet, gathering her against me. "Har-loh cave?"

"Oh." She shakes her head, even though she is wobbly with exhaustion. "No. Wehafta stayen protek dameet." She prods me to release her, and when I do, she gestures at the strips covering all the surfaces. "Food."

Aaah. I understand now…and she is right. It will require a lot of effort to pull everything inside so the predators do not snatch it from us. She is smart to sit out here with the food, but she is cold and tired. At least I can help with that. I sit down by the fire again and indicate she should sit next to me. To my relief, she comes to me immediately, pressing herself against my side and snuggling in. I wrap her cape around both of our shoulders and hug my mate close.

She sighs happily and slides her cold fingers against my stomach. "Weel tokabuddit inda mornin."

I think she tells me I am wise and clever for deciding to guard the food. Pleased at her praise, I press a kiss to her bright mane and stare into the fire. Her hands clutch me tightly, one curling around my tail as if she wishes to anchor me against her. It makes my cock uncomfortably hard, but I do not wake her for matings. Har-loh needs sleep. I hold her and watch the fire, and even though I am tired, I do not drift off. I can stay awake for a very, very long time if I need to, and right now Har-loh needs sleep more than me.

I watch over my mate until the darkness turns to a pale gray and the skies lighten. The twin suns will be up soon. If I am to find that dvisti herd again, I should leave before long. It is difficult, when all I want to do is hold Har-loh and watch her sleep, knowing that she is safe and comfortable and rested.

But holding my mate does not feed her, and so I quietly tug her hands off of me. I slip out of her grasp and get to my feet. I am sore, I realize, and there are a few scratches from one of the fiercer snowcats along my shoulder that ache this morning. I rotate one shoulder, testing my stiff muscles.

A hand goes around my tail, grabbing it and holding it still.

I look down and my sleepy-eyed mate is gazing up at me. "Where dyew tink yergoin?"

She is beautiful, and even though I am tired, my cock stirs at the sight of her. I tap her cheek with gentle fingers and then gesture at the hills. Her brows furrow together, and I think she does not understand, so I point at my spear.

Har-loh gets to her feet and moves to my spear. She grabs it…and then flings it away from us. It skids into the sand a short distance away and I look at my mate in confusion. Why did she do that?

She points at me. "Yewnmee needta tok."

"Har-loh." I move to go pick up my spear, but she makes an outraged noise and steps in front of it before I can. "Har-loh meat." I point at the kills I brought in last night, because I remember the word for food. "Meat, yes. Fur, yes. Har-loh, yes."

Her gaze goes to my catches, and then she shakes her head. "Staaaah," she says softly. She gestures at the ground, and it takes me a moment to realize that she does not wish for me to go. She wants me to remain here with her.

"Meat," I say again, but I worry she does not understand. "Yes meat." I point at the animals. "Yes. Yes. Yes." I make a gesture for an enormous amount of meat. "Har-loh meat." I pat my stomach, indicating I want her to have a full belly. "Mmmm."

Her hand goes to her mouth, and her lips twitch. I would much rather she smile and laugh than weep, and I smile back at her.

"Rukh," she says softly, taking my hand. She pauses for a moment, studying our surroundings. "Iyam tieherrrd." She pauses, and makes a great big yawn. "Tired." She points at the meat, and with each strip, she says her name again. She points at the fire and says her name. She points into the cave, and then gives me another weary look, then yawns again. "Har-loh tired." She moves toward me and brushes her fingers over my face. "Rukh tired."

I make a noise of frustration. How do I make her understand that it is my responsibility to make sure that she is fed and warm? That I am a poor mate if I cannot keep her comfortable? I indicate the hides on the animals. "Fur. Har-loh fur. No brrrr." I mock-shiver. "Rukh mate, Har-loh fur." I nod, as if this answers everything.

She shakes her head again. "Stay," she says in the soft voice again. "Tired. Rukh tired. Har-loh tired. Fur later." She moves toward me and wraps her arms around my torso, pressing her cheek against my chest. She is warm and soft, and I am a weak, weak male. Stay at her side? I would like nothing more.

I pet her mane, loving the nearness of her, of the press of her skin to mine. "Lay-turr?" I echo. I do not know this word, but I suspect it means tomorrow. That we rest today and tomorrow I hunt again.

"Later," she agrees.

Very well. A day of rest, then.