I do not mind the company. It helps keep my mind off my mate. “Keep your cold feet on your side of the bed tonight.”
He gives me a scathing look. “The only person I want crawling into my furs is Jo-see. Stay on your side of the cave.”
I chuckle. He is far too easy to tease. “Let us hope your Jo-see and my Meh-gan are safe and warm back at the caves.”
“If they are not, I will wring the neck of every hunter who was there and did not take care of them.” He scowls at the fire. “And a few female necks, too.”
I nod slowly. I know that the tribe will look after our mates. Of course they will. Females are cherished and protected, and mine is heavy with kit; Haeden’s mate is newly resonated. They will be pampered. My head knows this but my heart still worries.
Haeden pulls his bone knife out and uses it to stir the coals. “I am responsible for this.”
“For the fire?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “For you being here instead of at Meh-gan’s side. I said something to Vektal. I should have remained silent.” He sits back on his haunches, staring down at the flame. “I just worry there will not be enough to feed everyone when the brutal season is upon us. If it is already this cold…”
He lets his words trail off, and my imagination takes away the rest. I picture snow piled high, the tribal cave mouth nearly buried under the snow itself. The weather will be bitterly cold, and the humans do not handle the chill as well as the sa-khui. They will need warm wraps and fire. My Meh-gan will need extra food so she can produce milk for our son.
My son. He will be arriving very soon. “You were wise to say something,” I tell Haeden. “I bear no grudge. Hunting is part of our life. My Meh-gan must come to understand that I cannot hover at her side for the rest of my days…” My mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “And I must realize I cannot hover at hers.”
Haeden makes a sound of agreement. He pokes at the fire again, then sits back, his tail flicking a little easier. “Your kit will be born soon.”
“Within the next moon,” I agree.
“Rokan says this storm can last for handfuls of days.”
I nod. Rokan warned me of the same before we left. “Meat must be hunted, though. There is no choice.”
“There is not,” Haeden says flatly. His gaze focuses on me. “What will you do if you miss your son’s birth?”
“I will not,” I tell him, and my voice is firm with resolve.
“How are you sure?” He gestures at the flapping, pounding leather screen blocking the entrance. “That is not letting up anytime soon.”
He is not wrong. I suspect it will storm for many days, and then we must emerge to fight through the weather and hunt even more. But it does not worry me; rather, I am filled with determination.
Let the mountains fling all their snow down upon us. Let the dvisti run to the far ends of the valleys. It does not matter.
I will hunt to feed my mate. And I will be home to see my son born into my arms. I know these things to be true.
“I am sure,” I tell Haeden. “He will not be born before I return home.”
He snorts. “One of Rokan’s feelings?”
I shake my head. Simple certainty. “There are things I know to be true. I know it will snow. I know the two suns will rise in the sky and give way to the two moons. I know my Meh-gan loves me. And I know I will return home to bring my son into this world.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls out a stone to sharpen his bone blade. “Then you had best hope the hunting is excellent after the storm.”
5
MEGAN
It has snowed every damn day for the last three weeks. Not a light fall of snow. Not a cheery sprinkle. Not a slight duster. Nope. It has been balls-to-the-wall blizzard conditions since Cashol has left the cave.
I’m worried about him, of course. I’m only human. But it’s been so busy around the cave that I haven’t been consumed by my loneliness. My mate’s first and foremost in my thoughts, but the gnawing ache of his absence is tolerable. I’m excited for him to come back, and I’m excited for the baby to be born. We’re close now, I can feel it. My stomach has dropped noticeably in the last few days and I have to pee every five minutes. It’s annoying but I’m also excited because that means the baby’s on his way.
And it means that Cashol will be home soon.
For now, I’m content to sit near the fire, facing the entrance of the big cave so I can see when someone returns, and set up shop. My nesting instincts are kicking in which means I want to do a million projects to make our cave cozier, and I’m enlisting others to help.
“Whatcha doing?” Stacy asks. “It looks like you have an assembly line going.”
I glance up from the macramé braid I’m working. The ring is on my toe - not that I can really see my toe — and I’m braiding leather strips quickly. I’ve also got Josie, Claire, and Liz at my side all doing the same. “I’m making a hammock.”