It’s driving me insane with desire.
There is also a mystery around her—a very, very strange mystery. Specifically, it’s around the top half of her body. It’s another piece of clothing wrapped around her back, over her shoulders, and around her breasts. I can feel it when I put my hand on her back, though when I try to feel it in the front, Beh pushes my hand away. I have no idea what the thing is, only that it is pale pink—like the beginning of a sunset on the clouds—and that she only takes it off when she is bathing.
As I relieve myself into the ravine, the morning air is decidedly cooler than it has been in recent days. I wonder how long it will be before the leaves on the trees begin to fall and there is snow on the ground. I should try to hunt another large animal before then. We have a decent amount of dried meat and fish in Beh’s clay containers, but winters can be unpredictable. Having more would be better. It would also provide a larger piece of leather for carrying the last of the grains in the field or arrowroot plants back to the cave.
Beh’s pots are good for storage inside the cave but too heavy to carry around. Since the antelope is for Beh’s winter furs, I did not scrape the fur off to make more supple leather that could be used as a carrying pouch, and Beh’s baskets aren’t much better than they were in the beginning. Beh hasn’t made any clothing for herself out of the fur though she does wrap it around herself when she is cold.
Maybe I will go out onto the steppes and look for a nearby herd of antelope or horses. It will take a long time to dig another pit trap, but it will still be helpful. Beh can gather more of the field grains while I dig.
I return to the cave with this thought in my head, and find Beh hovering over the pot she has been warming in the fire for many days. She has filled it with water and placed it close to the fire. She sticks her finger in the water every few minutes, and I wonder if the water is getting hot in the clay pot. Eventually she seems satisfied and adds some of the arrowroot and wild onions to it, as well as a little of the pheasant meat from the bird I caught and roasted yesterday.
A sudden, long forgotten memory comes into my head. It is the image of my mother hovering over pots of tightly woven leaves. She would place rocks in the fire until they were hot and then place them in the woven basket to heat the water inside. Beh’s way seems to take less time.
I watch in silence, and when Beh is done, the stew she has made is pretty tasty. It is undoubtedly the best thing I have eaten in a very, very long time. As I tip up a clay bowl and pour the contents into my mouth, I groan with appreciation and then pull Beh into my lap to hug her to my chest.
She giggles and wraps her arms around my neck. When she tilts her head up, I capture her lips with mine. I’m too happy to wait for her to instigate the action like I usually do. Beh hums against my lips, and I hold her tightly to my chest.
When we part, Beh narrows her eyes a little as she looks up at me. It is a look I have seen on her face before, usually right before she tries to do something I have never seen her try before. It is a look of resolve and determination.
“Beh,” she says as she points to her chest. Then she places her hand on my shoulder. “Ehd.”
I tilt my head to the side and hug her gently.
“Beh,” I repeat.
She smiles, leans closer, and places her lips against mine briefly.
“Kiss.”
I frown. I hope she isn’t going to start making that snake noise over and over again. Reaching up, she touches the tips of two fingers to my lips and then to her own before she repeats the sound again. I watch her eyes dance around my face. She sighs and then points to herself and then me, saying our name-sounds again.
Strange mate. I smile at her so she knows I accept her oddities.
Beh sighs, this time in frustration.
“Kissssss,” she says again, touching our lips with her fingers before she leans in and gives my mouth a quick peck. “Kiss!”
I tilt my head the other way so I can see around her and wonder if there is more of the stew to eat.
“Kiss!” Beh wraps her arms around my neck and comes very close. I can feel her breasts touching my chest. She touches her lips to mine… “Kiss,” … again … “Kiss,” … and again … “Kiss.”
She leans back and I whimper, trying to move closer to her face so I can repeat the motion. I want to taste her to see if she now tastes like the stew we had for breakfast, but she places her hand on my chest and pushes me back. I frown again.
Beh presses her fingers to her lips, makes that sound, and then touches my mouth again. I lean in a little—hoping she’ll put her mouth on mine. This time I’m going to be quick enough to taste her.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she takes my hand and places my fingers on her lips, then makes the sound again.
“Kiss.”