Maybe…maybe I can fix this.
Pacy digs in the basket, making a frustrated noise. I reach over and absently pull out the bone he’s tugging on, which is too bigfor him to pull out. It’s a pelvic bone, flat and wide, and reminds me a bit of a plate. I lost all of my cooking gear in the big cave-in, and I miss it. If I had it here, maybe I’d cook something for Pashov, to jog his memory…
I pause, then dig another bone out of the basket. This one’s a femur of some kind, but it looks a bit like a ladle. It’s like the universe is giving me a sign.
Maybe I should cook for my mate. What’s stopping me? I have time, now that we’re stopping in the cave for the next few days. And I love to cook. Some people sew to soothe their nerves, or whittle, or even work on hides. I cook. I started cooking for the tribe when we first landed, because I couldn’t stomach all the raw meat that was being passed around. Some of the other girls were too terrified to protest that they didn’t enjoy the sa-khui food, so I took it upon myself to figure out how to fix things that were more palatable to humans. The sa-khui are happy to have a diet mostly of meat, but we humans get sick of that easily. We’ve found some plants that are edible, and one plant in particular that is almost like a potato. I’ve used that dang not-potato for a ton of dishes, and while they’re not quite what we had on earth, everyone loves to try them out. I’ve gotten really good at potato cakes, stews, and I’ve even made a chalky sort of cake out of the not-potato and a variety of seeds. It’s been kind of a fun adventure to test out my skills and see what I could make with what the wintry planet provides, and it makes me happy to cook for others and see their faces light up when they get a little taste of home.
I haven’t cooked for anyone since the cave-in. I move my fingers over the smooth surface of the pelvic bone, thinking. I could make myself a few dishes with these bones. They wouldn’t be perfect, but nothing ever is. And I can dig through the supplies of dried food we have and see what I can make without beingwasteful. I could make some food for Pashov. My mate has always been a hungry one, and he’s the only sa-khui that eats most of my dishes with enthusiasm. Everyone else takes a polite bite or two, but Pashov eats anything and everything.
Well, everything except the hraku cake. It’s made from the toffee-like seeds of the hraku plant and mixed with not-potato and more or less fried in the skillet and frosted. It’s more like a donut than a cake, and very sweet. The sa-khui don’t like sweet, and the one time I got Pashov to eat it, he made such a face…
I smile to myself at the thought. I could make it again if there’s hraku stored somewhere. See if he makes the same face now as he did when he was himself.
Maybe the memory of it will jog his brain. Maybe if I cook for him, that will help him remember.
For the first time in days, I’m excited and filled with hope.
PASHOV
Stay-see seems…happy.
My insides are filled with warmth as I watch her by the fire, picking through the basket of bones and humming a little song to herself. Pacy bangs two leg bones together, and she smiles at him. Her smile fills my chest with such aching and longing. Did she smile like that for me? Did she look at me like she does our kit—full of love and gentleness? I want her to look at me like that.
I want her to look at me with heat in her eyes, like she did the night we mated.
I think of that night, over and over again. Not the part where she cried, because it wounds me. But the way our bodies movedtogether, the way my cock sank so deep inside her, the noises she made when she was gripped with pleasure; all of these things are burned into my mind. Most of all, I think of how it felt to hold her smaller body against mine and feel…complete inside her. There is no other way to describe it.
I want that completeness again. I want her smiles to be for me.
I want to remember. We were happy before my accident, this I know. She would not be so devastated if we had quarreled like Asha and Hemalo. She would not look at me with such hurt need in her eyes.
It is up to me to fix it. Somehow. This time together alone in the cave will help us mend. I will get to learn Stay-see, and she will see I am the same male I always have been. That nothing about me has changed.
As if she realizes she is in my thoughts, Stay-see looks over at me, a soft smile on her face. A warm flush moves through my body, and my cock stiffens in my breechcloth. “Are these supplies for our use?”
Her voice is so soft I do not realize she is asking a question at first. I am too entranced by her pink mouth and the smile there. “Eh? Oh. Yes. We must leave supplies for the next hunter to visit, but we can take what we need.”
“I need some utensils,” she tells me, running her fingers along the shaft of one long white bone.
The sight of that makes my sac tighten and my mouth go dry. I have to fight the urge to rush out of the cave and take myself in hand. I am going to see her stroking that bone in my dreams tonight. “I…see.”
“Do you think you could help me?”
“Show me what you want and I shall do it for you.”
“No. I mean…” She bites her lip and gives me a shy look. “I’d like to learn how to do some stuff myself. I figure I can work on making spoons and dishes while Pacy is playing or napping.”
Is that what yoo-ten-sills are? I was not paying attention. I am still thinking of her stroking that bone. “Sometimes bone can be heated and bent, and sometimes it can be carved into what is needed. What would you like first?”
She takes a pelvic bone from Pacy. Before he can cry, she waves the long leg bone at him, and he grabs at it with little blue hands. A smile curves her mouth, and I decide that her smiles are even more need-inducing than when she strokes the bone. “I would like to make a plate out of this,” she says. “It’s too big here, and here. I want this flat section.” Her fingers sweep over the surface. “Do you think we can do that?”
“Of course.” Just as soon as I stop imagining her fingers moving over me like that. I force myself to focus and get out my bag of tools. Every hunter keeps a set of tools to repair his weapons, and I was given a replacement one by my father to make up for the one I lost in the cave-in. I have a sharpening stone, a knife made from flaked rock, and a few other small tools. I give her the sharpening stone. It is rough to the touch and will be perfect for what she needs. “Use this to smooth the edges down.”
She takes the stone awkwardly and holds the pelvic bone, trying to juggle the two. After a moment of consideration, she rubs the stone against one side. “Like this?”
Pacy reaches forward, clearly fascinated by his mother’s new possession and tries to grab the stone.
I chuckle and take the stone back, along with the bone. “I will do this one for you and show you how to proceed. You can do the next.”
