“So why not open it up again?” Liz slings her arm around my waist as we head toward the bachelorette caves to sit for a bit.
“Because they’re not sure if we have enough supplies to feed two caves,” I tell her. It’s been a topic of much conversation lately. “The caves are a half a day’s walk during good weather, and impossible to get to during bad weather. They’re afraid someone might starve in the winter. For now we’re going to stick here and see what happens.”
I’m torn on the thought of another cave. It might be nice to have a bit of privacy…but I also worry that it will turn into a ‘send all the rejects over to this other place’ situation and I don’t want that to happen, either.
“I don’t mind the crowding,” I add after a moment. “I–
A high pitched squeal echoes in the cavern. Liz and I share a look and then we both race for the bachelorette cave, which is where the squeal came from.
When we get there, Megan’s got her arms wrapped around Cashol’s neck. He holds her against him, his face tucked against her, and her feet aren’t touching the ground. She giggles and squeals again, and then we hear it–the faint sound of purring in symphony.
“Oh shit,” Liz says, and gives a happy clap. “Did you two just resonate?”
“We did,” Megan says, and presses a kiss on a stunned Cashol’s face. “Are you okay?”
“My mate,” he says reverently, and then swings Megan around again. “My mate!”
She kisses his face over and over, and then gives him a smacking one on the mouth that confuses him.
By now, there’s a crowd forming at the entrance of the cave, but Megan and Cashol are oblivious. She’s staring happily into his eyes and he can’t stop touching her. We might as well not exist. The purring in the cave is loud enough to make my own silent chest feel over-quiet.
“This is a good day,” Vektal says behind us. “Our tribe continues to grow and thrive.”
“Yo,” Liz says as Cashol starts to undo the laces in his pants. Megan’s equally oblivious, now tonguing his mouth with an enthusiasm that’s a little obscene to watch. “I think we should give them some privacy.”
Georgie strides forward, pushing past all the onlookers, and she pulls the curtains over the entrance to the bachelorette cave shut. “Let’s leave them alone,” she says brightly. “Most of the hunters are back, and we’ve got good news. I’d say this calls for a celebration.”
A few happy cheers echo in the air, and chatter begins, drowning out the happy couple’s purring. I step away, feeling a little lost and lonely. I should be happy for Megan. I should. For some reason, I glance over at the edge of the cavern and see Aehako.
He’s watching me.
And my heart aches a little more because I can’t have him.
AEHAKO
There’s a fermented tea called sah-sah that Maylak’s husband Kashrem is an expert at making. It smells like the backside of a scythe-beak, but the taste is pleasantly warm on the tongue and it loosens inhibitions. The tribe is breaking out skin after skin of the sah-sah in celebration, and everyone is feasting, laughing, and happy. Old Kemli and her mate pull out their drums and flutes, and happy music fills the cavern, covering any noises that the now-resonating couple might make as they give in to their khui’s demands.
Kemli’s daughter Farli – still young enough to be nothing but a sapling – has out her paints and draws decorative symbols on the skin of anyone who will sit long enough to let her. I have a soft spot in my heart for Farli, so I’m one of the first to fall prey to her pretty begging, and when I’m done, she’s painted spirals on my horns and sweeping symbols across my face and chest. The elders smile at this – it was common for people to decorate their bodies in celebration of a mating back in their time, and they like to see the custom revived.
The humans are enthusiastic about the painting as well, and I watch as Joh-see gets blue shapes painted on her pale skin. Kira of the sad eyes sits nearby, watching. There’s a smile on her face but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It rarely does. Occasionally she glances over at me, and then just as quickly turns away.
Even amongst a celebration, she seems alone.
“Can I have this?” I ask Farli, reaching over for a pot of the reddish paints. She and Joh-see are giggling at the stripes she’s painting, and the red is unused.
“Of course,” Farli says in sa-khui. “Are you going to paint someone?”