Crossing the short width of the cave, I head over to get one of my water bags. I hold it out to her, but she only looks at it, her eyes narrowed. She makes some noises with her mouth, but they are still fairly quiet and don’t hurt my head this time.
I tilt my head and hold the water bag out to her again, but she still doesn’t take it. I look down at it to try to determine if it is somehow unappetizing, but it looks fine to me. It is a simple water bag made from the stomach of an antelope I killed in the spring. It had been a large buck, and I managed to make a few things from its body. Between this one and the other water bag, I usually have to make the trek to the fresh water lake only every few days.
I wonder if her people carried water in a different way, and maybe she doesn’t know about carrying water the way I was taught. I bring the water bag back close to my body, unwind the sinew holding the top closed, and take a short drink myself before offering it to her again.
This time, though tentative, she reaches out and takes it from my hands. I watch her expectantly, and she slowly brings it up to her nose and sniffs. Her face crinkles up for a moment as she turns away but then sniffs again. She takes a small sip before quickly handing it back to me.
I’m elated. She took the water from me, so she knows I can at least provide that much. All I need to do now is show her what else I can offer her as her mate, and then she will like me. Reaching out, I take her by the hand and lead her to the entrance of the cave. She steps out into the sunlight of the new day with me and looks over the grass steppes. The day is warm already, and the sun shines and sparkles on the dew. It is a beautiful sight.
I look over to my mate with a smile, and she bursts into tears.
When I reach out to comfort her as I did last night, she places her hands against my chest and shoves. As she pushes me, she makes a high-pitched, screeching sound.
Startled by the noise and her physical attack, I jump backwards and crouch a few feet away from my mate as she sits with her back against the outside wall of the cave and shakes with her cries. Her hands are over her face, and her hair falls around her head like a fur blanket. I want to touch it again, to try and comfort her like I know I should, but when I try to get close to her, she screams and snarls at me.
I don’t know what to do.
So I stay where I am, sometimes reaching out to her with my hand but never quite touching her. I don’t think she notices because her eyes are covered. As the sun slowly climbs in the sky, my stomach growls as if my body knows there is food nearby. My mate must be hungry as well since she would not eat anything last night. I want to go inside and get some of the meat, but I don’t dare leave her alone.
I’m a little confused as to why I have such a strong desire to keep her in my sights. I’m afraid she won’t be here when I come back out, and I will have to track her down so she doesn’t get hurt. I’m also afraid she’ll be scared if she uncovers her eyes and I’m not there to protect her, and I want her to know I won’t abandon her. I don’t want her to be even more afraid than she is already.
My legs get tired, so I sit on the ground a few feet from her and just wait instead. I can go a while longer without food, even if the smell of cooked flesh so close to me is very tempting. It makes my mouth water, but I also know I have to take care of my mate first.
The sun’s rays creep closer to the bottom edge of the rocks, and its warmth will soon be upon us. My mate finally takes one long, shuddering breath and raises her head again. She looks at me with red eyes and a quivering lower lip. Her expression tears at me; I want to go to her, but I’m not sure if she wants me close.
For a long moment, we just look at each other. When she doesn’t make any of those loud noises again, I shuffle forward, little by little, until I am close enough to touch her. I slowly reach out with my hand, and when she doesn’t flinch back, I wipe some of the tears from her cheeks. My mate takes another deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment. Her shoulders slump, and her head drops forward, but she doesn’t start crying again. I wonder if she has run out of tears.
I move a little closer and kneel down in front of her. I don’t reach out to her again because she still seems a little hesitant. I sit there with my hands on my thighs, unmoving as she watches me. Eventually, her mouth opens and many sounds come out again, but they are the softer rhythmic noises she made before falling asleep, not the loud ones. She looks out over the steppes as she makes the noises, then pauses, looks to me, and makes more clatter.