She doesn’t really want me for a mate, not completely. She is willing to stay with me and work beside me, but she doesn’t want to mate. She doesn’t want me to put a baby in her.
I place my forehead to her shoulder and let out a long breath, trying to hide my sadness.
The light rain stops completely during the night, and the sun is shining brightly by the time my mate’s eyes open. I have been watching her for some time now, and I have come to the conclusion that I must do more if I am going to win her over. Even though she is here with me, and she is obviously my mate now, I want her to want it, too. I want her to open herself to me…give herself to me. After the previous night, feeling how wonderful just her mouth on mine felt, I have been plagued with thoughts of how good it would feel to have my penis inside of her.
So now I am going to do everything I can to make her happy and convince her to mate with me.
I start with breakfast.
As soon as her eyes open, I kneel beside her with fresh pieces of rabbit meat in my hand. I cooked them very slowly over the coals, and I’ve blown on them to cool them off a little because I want the temperature to be just right for her—not too cool or too hot. I stare into her eyes as she rolls over and pulls the furs up under her arms. She props herself up on one elbow and smiles up at me through blurry eyes.
Her mouth makes sounds, and I silence her with a piece of the meat. She gnaws at it slowly and seems to like it as she swallows and accepts another one from my fingers. I give her a drink of water, careful not to spill any on her, and then offer her more of the tender flesh.
Once she has eaten her fill, I hold her hand and take her outside of the cave to relieve herself. As soon as we reach the area, I let go of her hand, turn, and cover my eyes with my fingers so she knows I am not watching her. When she places her hand on my arm, I know she is done, and I smile down at her. She gives me a half smile back, but her brow is furrowed.
I wonder if I have done something wrong.
Determined, I take her back to the cave to gather up what we need for another trek to the lake. I want to check the rabbit traps I reset as well as give Beh a chance to wash, which she seems to like to do. Every time we go there, she spends some time washing herself in the water, which is beginning to warm nicely now that summer is upon us. When she goes into the water, I try not to look at her body, but it’s difficult.
I startle as Beh makes a squeaking sound when we get into the cave. I rush around her, holding my arm out to protect her from whatever has frightened her, but there is nothing there. When I look at her face, she is smiling and pointing toward the fire. I follow her finger to the little cups and plates she made from the clay and then look back up at her, confused.
Beh makes more sounds, kneels next to the fire, and holds up the little brown cup. I take it in my hand, and I am surprised at how hard it is! It’s no longer mushy and soft but feels more like a rock. The edges are rough and scratch the tips of my fingers. I turn it over and over again in my hand. Even the inside of it is dry and rigid. I look back to Beh, amazed at what she has handed to me.
She holds up one of the plates as well, which is also dry and unyielding. I give her the cup back and examine the plate a little more closely. I try to bend it with my fingers, but it doesn’t bend at all. It doesn’t even feel like clay anymore, and I wonder just how strong it is.
I knock it against one of the cooking rocks, and it shatters with a horrendous sound. The noise is loud and echoes through the cave. I jump up and back away, bringing Beh with me. She is yelling now, and I wrap my arms around her to shield her from the thing.
After a moment, I realize it is just sitting there in pieces, and I let my struggling mate free. She stares at the plate, now broken into three pieces, and her eyes go wide. Beh drops down to her knees and reaches for the fragments as a strangled cry comes from her mouth. She covers up her lips with her hand, but I can still hear her repeating the same set of sounds over and over again while I stand behind her, unsure and ashamed.
“Ohmygod…ohmygod…”
I know immediately that I haven’t just destroyed the clay plate she made, but I’ve also ruined any chance at all I had of making her want me to put a baby inside of her. I didn’t know the plate would break—it seemed so sturdy in my hands! Though it felt like a hard stone, it is apparently more like the flint I use for tools, easily broken if not handled correctly.