Once Lah is sleeping, Beh will put her hand on me until my seed spills on the furs. It feels good but isn’t what I want. I want to hold her to me while I move, taste her lips and hear her cry out my name-sound as she shudders around me.
Pushing the fur that covers the cave entrance to one side, I slip through the crack and into the warmth of the cave. I shake my head rapidly to send the snow flying in all directions. I hear some laughter from the other side of the cave and smile to myself. After I use the thick fur to cover up the crack leading to the outside and to keep the winds from us, I move to the other side of the cave where my family is.
I drop the two rabbits I caught in traps to the side of the fire—I will skin and cook them later—and turn to my mate. Beh hums and makes her fluid sounds as she sits with Lah near the fire. Whenever Beh makes noises with her mouth, Lah watches her face intently. I come up behind them both and sit, wrapping my legs around Beh’s hips and my arms around them both as we keep ourselves warm by the fire. Outside, the wind howls and the snow blows, but inside we are content.
Beh turns her head toward me and leans into my chest as I place my chin on her shoulder. Lah’s eyes meet mine, and I think I see the corners of her mouth turn up a little. My heart beats faster at the sight of the little girl who seems to recognize me now. Before too long, I think she will actually smile at me.
Beh’s sounds are soft, and she cradles our child in one arm as she reaches around my head to grip the hair at the back of my neck and bring my mouth to hers. I press against her, and my tongue traces the outline of her lips.
As we part, we open our eyes and look closely at one another. For a long moment, we just stare. It is not at all threatening or uncomfortable; it’s just the two of us, together, and my skin warms at the thought of being with her.
With a sharp cry from our daughter, we are both brought back to the moment. My chest shakes a little as I try not to laugh, but Beh does not even try. Lah’s eyes go wide as she looks up to us both, startled into silence by the strange sounds we make. Then her eyes squeeze shut, and she lets out a long, shrill cry.
My head hurts.
As she grows, Lah makes almost as much noise as her mother.
There is a part of me that likes watching the two of them as they look at each other and make sounds, but the constant noise inside the cave makes the temples on the side of my head throb. Our home has begun to feel a little cramped with three people in it. There is barely room for me, Beh, and Lah, the size she is now. She is all wriggly and squirmy when you hold onto her, but she cannot move anywhere on her own. Once she is more people-sized, this cave will not be big enough for us. Besides, by the time Lah is grown, Beh should have had several children. We could have a whole tribe by then, and a tribe would definitely not fit in our cave.
At some point, before Lah gets too big or before I put another baby in Beh, we will have to look for a new place to live. This is not the only thought that concerns me. I’m also worried about Beh because she still doesn’t seem to want to have me put another baby in her at all.
Lah sits on her plump backside with her mother holding out her arms for balance. The baby rocks back and forth a bit and squeals. Beh makes a lot of noises at her and then turns to make noises at me. Lah looks to me, too, and lets out another squeal as she bounces up and down.
I have to laugh because she looks so funny when she does that, but at the same time, I can’t wait until spring when I can get out of the cave and away from all of the racket. The solitude of hunting on my own seems more appealing all the time.
I go to the entrance to the cave and pull aside the fur to look outside. The sky is overcast, but the air is slightly warmer than the day before, and the thick snows are finally starting to melt. Just as an excuse, I get one of the clay bowls and take it outside, fill it full of packed snow, and stare up at the sky for a few minutes until the wind chills my ears. When I go back in, Beh has placed a suddenly sleeping Lah on a pile of furs for her nap.
I place the bowl near the fire to melt the snow and come to Beh’s side. She strokes our daughter’s cheek, and Lah makes little sucking motions in her sleep before letting out a long yawn.
Beh yawns, too, and I lead her over to the sleeping furs near the baby and coax her down. She needs more sleep—we both do—but she rarely seems to fall asleep when Lah does. She spends all that time just watching her.
Hoping to help her rest, I get into the furs with Beh and wrap my arms around her middle. She turns her back to me and presses it against my chest so she can look at the baby. I tuck my head against Beh’s shoulder and inhale. Her hair always smells so good. I grip her tighter and push my hips against her. Beh stiffens slightly, and I know she can feel me hard on her back.
I didn’t mean to; I just can’t help it.
I feel her chest rise and fall with a long breath before she rolls to face me. Beh places one hand on my chest and reaches up with the other to cup my face.