We wave goodbye to the women, and Georgie wipes her eyes frequently. I know she worries about them. Despite the food, they all seem a little more tired this morning, a little more pale.
It is the lack of the khui, which is why it’s so important that I bring Georgie back to my own people, and soon. I cannot bring down a sa-kohtsk by myself. It is a task that requires many hunters with strong spears.
I carry Georgie’s smaller form on my back, and I take different route down the mountain. This time, I do not go to the winding game trails but head straight across the land, as the winged birds fly. This way, instead of many hunter caves along the path home, there is only one: the elders’ cave, with its strange smooth walls not unlike Georgie’s cave.
My mate seems to understand my sense of urgency. We stop only for brief rests to refill a water skin or so we can relieve ourselves. When the two suns are high in the sky, I find a quilled beast, and Georgie does not protest when I offer her raw tidbits. It will take too much time to collect wood for a fire. We eat, and then we are on our way once more.
The day is an endless cycle of running and hiking, and even Georgie’s slight weight grows heavier over the hours. I do not put her down, though. My strength is far more suited for travel than hers. She’s exhausted, too. Her grip on my clothing becomes less strong over the hours, and I worry we’re not making good time when a familiar snow-covered rectangular hill appears in the distance. I give a sigh of relief and point it out to Georgie.
“Looksweerd,” she says with a yawn. “Wegoinder?”
“That is our one stop today,” I tell her. “We will rest and sleep, and tomorrow we will return to my people.” Mentally, I make note of the hunters who can help me shepherd the sick humans back. Maylak will want to come, as tribal healer, but she has a small child. Her mate Kashrem, then. Raahosh, if he has returned from his own hunts. Rokan. Salukh. Zennek. Haeden. Dagesh.
All of them are unmated hunters, except for Kashrem. It might be smarter to take the mated ones, so there are no fights over the small females, but I do not want to build resentment amongst my tribe. I know the men will be eager to see the female humans, especially after I return with my lovely Georgie.
I rub her arm thoughtfully. I would not deny my men the chance to see if their khui resonate with the humans. Not when I felt the pleasure of my own spring to life.
We make it inside the cave, and Georgie exclaims at the oddness of the walls. I don’t blame her for being surprised. They’re covered with a thin sheet of ice, but there’s no denying there’s a uniformity to the walls that is unnerving. It looks as if a gigantic hand has scooped the side of the hill out and smoothed the sides down. But there are furs and wood and a stretched hide to block the door. I set Georgie down and prepare the cave.
To my surprise, she immediately begins to make a firewood pyramid with supplies while I hang the door covering. She gives me a shy smile. “Wantto lern.”
My heart swells with pride. I move to her side and ignore the fire, cupping her small face instead. She’s lovely, flat-nose and all, and I am obsessed with touching her.
She smiles up at me, and my khui begins a steady thrumming in my chest. The fire can wait. My khui and my body have been aching with need for her since this morning. Any longer and I feel as if I will be in physical pain. I tug at the collar of her leathers.
Georgie chuckles, the sound sweet. She presses a small, cold hand against my chest, right where my khui vibrates under my skin. “Luvit wenyew purh,” she says softly. Then she looks up at me with those strange, white eyes and tilts her head back for my kiss.
I grab her and pull her against me, mindful of her wounded wrist. I want to touch her everywhere. Taste her everywhere. The khui inside me demands a mating, and it’s a call I want to answer. I kiss her just like she’s asking, my lips moving over hers before I slide my tongue into her mouth for a taste. It feels like nothing I have ever experienced, this kiss, and I want it over and over again with Georgie. I love her smooth tongue brushing against mine.
She is just as hungry for my touch. Her fingers tear at her clothing until she exposes her breasts to me. I groan at the sight and drop to my knees to tug one soft nipple into my mouth. I love her breasts, how similar and yet different they are to those of the women of my people. Her pink nipple hardens when I touch it, but it’s still like brushing my fingers over soft leather instead of the armored, hard tips of my own women. I wonder how human children are, if their mothers have such soft, tender swells. I picture my child there and crush her against me.