She’s squirmy—not as much as the boar was, but right now, I don’t care. I feel my stomach churn, and I’m desperate to get her back in the cave and safe with me. She is making a lot of loud sounds, and I hear that no sound a few times as her hands slap painlessly against my back. In response, I smack her backside a couple of times with the hand that holds her, just to quiet her a little. If the boar has a mate, I don’t want her coming after us. Even in my frantic state, I’m careful not to hit hard; I would never hurt my Beh.
By the time I reach the path right outside the cave, she has stopped wiggling and is still. I let go of the boar outside the crack, knowing that I can’t leave it there long, or it will attract other animals. I rapidly turn us sideways to fit both Beh and myself through the entrance to the cave. Before she can protest, I pull Beh from my shoulder and toss her into the furs at the back of the small cavern. I fall in after her, covering her completely with my body, wrapping her up in my arms, and trying to stop my heart from beating so hard.
In my mind, I see the boar slashing at her over and over again.
My arms tighten around my mate. I register her hands wrapping around my head and holding me as I hold her, and I am slightly calmed. I breathe in short, sharp pants against her shoulder, and I squeeze my eyes shut to try to stop the burn behind them.
She’s my mate.
I was almost too late.
She could have died.
I cry out and bury my face in her neck as the horrific thoughts and images of what could have been overwhelm me. I try to stop the thoughts, but they keep coming. Even when I hold her as tightly as I can, all that comes to mind are thoughts of her being hurt. What if she is injured and I haven’t seen it? It could have happened before I arrived. Swallowing hard, I lean back and look down at her shocked and tear-stained face. The cut on my arm throbs, and I quickly look over Beh to see if she is wounded anywhere.
I should have done that before, and I’m angry with myself for not considering it earlier. I remember the boar going after her leg and causing the rip in her strange leggings. What if her leg is cut? My hand reaches down and rapidly examines the skin of her leg—now clearly visible with the odd material of her strange clothing torn all the way up one side. It hangs in tatters from her hip.
I still can’t see around it, and unlike a fur wrap, how to open and close the strange leggings is impossible to determine, but I have to know if she’s hurt or not. Frustrated, and with my muscles still tense from the fright, I grab at the edge of the garment and tear it the rest of the way off. The whole top part of the clothing rips and pulls away in my hand, leaving a section of it still wrapped around her other leg. The little, hard, round piece near her stomach pops off and flies into the air before it drops to the dirt and rolls toward the edge of the fire pit.
I am immediately distracted by something extraordinary.
Underneath her leggings is another garment I have never seen before. It’s wrapped just around her hips, crossing low on her waist, down between her legs, and presumably covering her buttocks. I brush my fingers over the edge of it to feel the extremely thin material. It’s rough and bumpy, feeling a little bit like the underside of a thickly veined leaf. It has lines and patterns in it, too, and it is the same pale pink as the mysterious wrap around her breasts and back.
At first, I think it might be her bleeding time, but there is no wool or absorbent leather between her legs, just this little covering. It is so thin, I can see the short hairs underneath it.
The bit of cloth is so… so tiny.
And pink.
Beh’s whimper draws my attention back to her face, the streaks of tears over her cheeks, and her teeth nearly embedded in her lower lip. I feel my chest clench, and the pressure behind my eyes starts again as I quickly look the rest of her over. I don’t see any wounds on her, but what if the boar had gotten her leg instead of the cloth? I could have lost her, and I haven’t even given her a baby yet. As I realize this, a sense of panic paralyzes me.
My mind is completely consumed by the thought.
What if there is another boar in the area? What if she falls, gets hurt, and dies? What if there isn’t enough food to hold both of us until spring? What if I get sick and I still haven’t given her a baby? What if a hyaenodon finds our cave in the night, and I can’t fight him off?
We have to mate now before it’s too late.
I have to put a baby in her.