“Stay-see must sleep,” I tell the giggly females and glance over at Pacy. My wrap has moved off of his shoulders, and his tiny tail is waving in the breeze. He gives me a delighted smile andtaps a little hand on my face, and I chuckle to myself. How is such a small being mine? I feel a fierce, protective surge and hug him closer, re-wrapping him. “I will keep looking for Maylak. My thanks.”
“Check by Vektal’s tent,” offers a quiet female. Aehako’s mate, I think. She points in the direction of the far end of the encampment.
I nod and head toward the cluster of tents there.
At this end of the camp, Vektal crouches over a stone, spear in hand. He is using it to trace a map into the snow for Bek, Taushen, and the other hunters. Perhaps he is sending them off on a hunt while we travel. Days ago, I would have been the first to volunteer. Hunting is a source of pride, and I take great pleasure in it. But days ago, I was not thinking about my mate, Stay-see, or my small son, who even now is relieving himself on my arm and my favorite wrap. I adjust the leathers to try and find a dry spot, and when I do not find one, swap it out for the wrap I am wearing. I re-bundle him, tuck the filthy leather under my arm, and move to the other side of the camp, where the chief’s mate is talking with Asha as they pack their gear.
“Have you seen the healer?” I ask.
Asha frowns at me and moves forward, taking Pacy from my arms. “Why is your son naked, Pashov? Did you hit your head again?”
The chief’s mate gasps. “Asha!”
“I did not know how to tie his clothing,” I admit, and a flash of memory pulses through my mind. Of Asha, weeping over her small daughter, born too soon for even a khui to save. My gut clenches. It is a fresh memory, though it must be many seasonsold by now, because I have my own son. I let her take Pacy, noting how her eyes light up at the sight of him. “Can you watch him for me for a moment, my friend? I wish to talk to the healer.”
Asha pulls Pacy close and holds her cheek to his, a peaceful smile on her face. “Of course. I am going to dress him properly, though.”
“If you do, you have my thanks.” I offer her the wet, pissed-on leathers I am carrying. “What do I do with this?”
“You take it back with you and clean it when we arrive at our new home,” Asha says.
The chief’s mate grimaces. “My laundry pile is growing enormous, too. If we stop near a hot spring, I’m going to ask Vektal if we can take a day and just clean clothing. Babies go through so many changes, and there’s no time to set out anything, much less dry it.” She turns her gaze to me. “Does Stacy have enough clothing for Pacy? Do you need extras? I know she lost everything in the cave-in.”
“I…did not think to ask. I will talk to her.” I feel shame. How have I not thought about my mate’s comfort? Every time I turn around, there is another task I am failing at. I must do better.
“Go find the healer,” Asha says, bouncing my son and making him laugh. “She is in the small tent near the end.”
I nod at the females and head toward the tent indicated. The flaps are closed, and so I clear my throat, unsure how to signal that I am waiting outside. I do not wish to be rude if she is mating with Kashrem.
Esha’s tiny head sticks out of the tent a moment later. Maylak’s kit. So small in my old memories, but a gap-toothed toddler now. I grin at her. “Is your mother inside?”
Maylak emerges, moving Esha gently aside. “Pashov. Are you well?” Worry crosses her face. “Does your head trouble you?”
“It does not hurt, but it does trouble me,” I tell her. “May we sit?”
“My tent is full.” Her smile is apologetic. “But there are endless amounts of snow we may sit in. Kashrem, watch Esha, please,” she calls into the tent and straightens, gesturing at the snow. “Shall we?”
I follow her a short distance away, to a rocky outcropping overlooking the valley below. It is peaceful here, the snow thick and a herd of dvisti staining the snow in the distance. I take a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air. Normally I enjoy the turn of the weather toward the brutal season, but now, with a mate and kit and no shelter, it fills me with a vague sense of dread. I glance at the healer, but her expression is as calm as ever.
“Tell me what is bothering you,” Maylak says, voice gentle. “Perhaps I can help.”
I extend my hands toward her so she can touch them and use her healing magic on my khui. “My memories. I need them back.”
Maylak looks startled, pausing before she takes my hands. She grips them a moment later and gives me a gentle squeeze. “I have done all I can for that, and your horn. Some things take time to heal, Pashov.”
“Try again,” I demand. When she frowns, I realize I am being unfair. “Please,” I ask her. “I want to remember my mate. My kit. I…there is nothing there when I think of them. I should at least remember something, should I not? The memories must be there. Can we just try to find them again?”
She must sense my desperation, because she gives my hands another squeeze. “You were very hurt when they pulled you from the cave,” she murmurs. “Your brain was very damaged. It took everything your khui had—and mine—to keep you alive. I am pleased that all that happened to you was memory loss, Pashov. Do you realize how close you came to dying?”
“I am still dying.” My voice cracks. “My mate’s pain is destroying me. Help me, Maylak. Please. Try again.”
She nods and closes her eyes. I close mine, too, waiting for her healing to sweep over me. I feel it a moment later—a subtle warmth that pours through my body. My khui shivers in my chest, responding to hers. I force myself to relax, to slow my breathing, to let my khui speak and tell her of the pain I am in. I need my mate back. I need my life back.
There must be a way.
The warmth recedes, and I open my eyes, frowning. That was…fast. I rack my brain, trying to think of the first time I saw Stay-see. Of memories of how she arrived and our quick resonance.
But there is…nothing.
