There’s a large boulder I can use for a lookout on the far side of the narrow valley, and I head there, pushing through the ever-deepening snow. Though the weather doesn’t bother me, my mate’s shivering increases the longer we are out. She won’t be able to travel far unless I get her something warmer to wear. So, food first, then skins so I may dress my soft, fragile Shorshie.
I’ll protect her with my life if I must.
The need to claim her resonates in my chest, my khui reminding me that I have found my mate and not yet claimed her. I pat my chest as if to tell it I know. I know she is mine. Communicating with her is difficult, and she is frightened and weak. Once she is strong and we can share more words, she will see what I have been trying to tell her. Then she will spread those soft, pink thighs for me again, and I will have her on my tongue. I will bury my cock inside her and feel the resonance reverberate between both of us.
My cock grows hard at the thought, and so I force it away.
Once I get to the boulder, I gently set Shorshie down. She climbs up on the rock when I gesture to it. “Stay here,” I tell her.
Of course, she tries to follow me.
I gesture that she should stay again, and she gives me a panicky look. “Sheorshie Vektal?”
“I’m not leaving you, sweet resonance,” I tell her, brushing a finger over her pale cheek. “It’s dangerous.” I point at the lurking creatures that are even now watching us. I point out the scythe-beak and then the snow cats. I even point out a lurking quill-bundled rodent that will be her meal. It takes a few moments for her to recognize the creatures hiding in plain view, blending amidst the snow. When she sees them, though, her eyes go wide, and she gives me another frightened look.
“You will stay here,” I tell her. “I’ll hunt something for you to eat.”
She babbles something in her weird language. “Hly sht thse thngs r hugednt leev me!”
“It will be fine,” I sooth. I bundle the cape tighter around her small shoulders. She responds by reaching for one of my knives, a question in her eyes. I nod and hand her a bone-handled one that I created myself. Now she has protection.
It’s clear she feels better with it in her hand. She crouches down on the rock and nods at me, gripping the knife. I brush my fingers over her cold, hairless skin again and then pull my sling from my pack. I keep a few smooth stones at hand and put one in the pouch, then whirl the sling through the air, taking aim. My arms flex as I let the stone fly, and I’m pleased to see that the rodent flops to the ground, staggered.
I approach it before it can recover and slice its throat with a motion of my knife. Then, I cut a slit in the neck to drain the blood and another in the belly to remove the offal. I leave the heart and other tasty bits for my mate, then bring the entire thing back to her. I’m leaving a trail for the snow cats to follow, but they won’t attack as long as they scent me. Their memories are long, and they don’t like the taste of sa-khui flesh. We are a bitter meal.
I return with my prize and display it to my shivering mate.
She wrinkles her nose and gives me a confused look.
“Not familiar with quilled beasts, are you?” I say, because it feels good to talk to her. I lay the kill down on the cold stone she’s crouching upon and notice she flinches backward. “It’s dead, sweet resonance. Look, I have saved you the choicest parts.” I pull open the belly flap and reveal the heart and liver. They’re still warm, though they’ll cool fast in this weather and won’t taste nearly as good. “Just avoid the quills in the fur. We’ll get you something larger for a cloak. There are furred dvisti in this area that will make a fine meal.”
Shorshie stares at the kill blankly. Then she points at it. “Yewspectmiteweet thet?”
Is she not familiar with this food? She ate the meal bar easily enough. I pull the heart out and hold it to her lips. “Here. Taste.”
She nearly falls off the rock in her haste to move backward. “Ohmigodfckno!” A moment later, she points at the dripping delicacy held between my fingers. “Fckincookthtshit!”
I tilt my head at her. “What is it? What are you saying?”
She mimes a gesture, holding her hands out like she did over the fire. Then she points at the food. “Fiiiiir,” she tells me. “Cookhit.”
This time my lip curls. “You want to burn the food? Do you not understand what this is?” I toss the heart into my mouth and chew to show her. Flavorful blood bursts across my tongue, hot and sweet.