And I am one of the ones that is mated.
The strangeness of it curls in my belly and makes me sick. Not that I am mated to a human, but that I cannot remember it at all. The humans have been here for three seasons—two bitter, one brutal. Long enough for the human that is ‘mine’ to bear my kit. They are a welcome, happy part of the tribe.
How can I not know of this? How can my mind betray me so?
I scan the smaller forms huddled near the fire and see two humans talking. The one they say is my mate has a flat face with no bumps, a very tiny nose, and no horns. Her mane is a strange furry brown. Other than that, I remember nothing about her. Normally I recognize her amongst the tribe because she carries her kit—our kit—on her back in a strange pack. I do not see a human wearing that today, so I squint at the females by the fire. Not the small one—the other. It is Stay-see. The one that is my mate.
Wasmy mate.
She is pressing something between rocks and talking to the tiny one who waves her hands and speaks angrily. They seem strange to me, with their pasty pale coloring, lack of horns, and small build. If I were to stand next to Stay-see, she would not come to my shoulder. She bends over to pick something up, and there is no tail, a sight I find unnerving.
The other female says something, and then they both look over at me.
I busy myself with my spear again, not wanting to be caught staring. I have tried talking to Stay-see a few times since I awoke in the healer’s tent, but each time it goes badly. It always ends with her weeping and running away, and I do not wish that today. Perhaps her tears should upset me more than they do. They upset me, but only because when she cries, I feel confusion. I do not like to cause distress in another. I want to comfort her, but I have no words of comfort to give.
“Are you sure they will let you out of the camp with that, brother?” Salukh drops to the ground next to me, crossing his legs. He pulls out his favorite sharpening stone and his knife, and begins to scrape it. “If Mother sees it, I am sure she will come running.”
I snort. My mother has been coddling me as if I were a fussy kit and not a grown hunter. “It is a spear. Surely they cannot stop me from making weapons if I am not allowed on the hunt.”
“I suspect you will be allowed soon,” my brother says. “All hands are needed to gather food.” He scrapes his stone along his knife, unruffled. Salukh is always calm. Always possessed. He does not look as if worries over mates and the brutal season ever cross his mind, though I know he has a human mate now, too, and her belly is big with kit.
“I am tired of lying about, doing nothing. I am glad to be out of the furs.”
“I am glad you are out, too.” My brother gives his knife a long scrape and then offers the sharpener to me. “How is your head?”
I take it from him and run it along the sides of my spear-head, even though it is already sharp. “It does not hurt today.”
“A good thing. And your memory?”
I shake my head. “Same.”
“Mmm. It will return. How is Stay-see? Tee-fah-nee says she cries much.”
I shrug, and the unhappy feeling returns to my gut. “We do not speak today. She is busy, and I have much to do.”
My brother is silent. I know if I look over, I will see his look of disapproval.
I continue to sharpen the spear-head, and then add, “When I talk to her, it upsets her. I am trying not to upset her.”
He grunts. After a moment, he adds, “She cares for you very much.”
“I know.” I do not offer more than that.
“And you remember nothing of your resonance?”
“Nothing.” I hand him back the whetstone.
Salukh has a pitying look on his face. “Your khui was one of the first to sing to the humans. I remember being envious of your happiness. You smiled so much in those days, brother.”
“Why are you telling me this?” There is edge to my voice.
He puts a hand to my shoulder and squeezes it. “I am glad I did not lose you in the cave-in, but…I would like for you to smile again. Stay-see, as well.”
I flick his hand off my shoulder. It feels like judgment. Does he think I do not want to remember? A mate is the greatest thing a hunter can hope to acquire, and mine cannot look upon me without weeping. “You think I do not wish these things?”
Salukh sighs. “I know you do.” He claps my shoulder again and then gets to his feet.
He leaves, and I am alone with my thoughts and a spear with a point so sharp and thin that it will likely shatter when thrown. I toss it aside in disgust. Just another thing I cannot seem to do right lately. Maybe I should do more. Talk to Stay-see and try to convince her to stop crying. Gaze at my son and see if his face stirs my memories.
