Three days were not enough time to teach Rah-bee enough to understand me, not about the depth of the mate connection I felt, or to explain mates if his kind did not have them, nor about where we were going and why. Still, I had to trust in the Sky Gods, didn’t I? For the first time in my life, I found myself second guessing my faith in their benevolence. What if they decided to take Rah-bee and the others away? I’d be doomed to remain mateless. My heart ached at the thought of returning to our village without him, to my hut inside the mountain. I’d lived happily enough alone in it before Rah-bee came, but already, his presence filled it, and if he was gone, I knew the small space would feel cold and empty no matter how hot I built the fire.
“Whut iz thuh mad tur?” Rah-bee said, the way he said it and looked at me indicated he was asking me a question. No doubt he was wanting to know what the chief had said. I smiled at him reassuringly, hoping he didn’t notice the hollowness I was feeling inside. I patted his shoulder. “It is good news. We take you to meet the Sky Gods! They will surely help you and your friends.” That much would be true, I knew deep within the very marrow of my bones. It was me they might not help, and Rah-bee would go with them back to the stars, remembering only the short-lived attraction between us. Short-lived for him, unless his kind had mates, too. What if his kind experienced mate sickness if separated, like the kulana bird? Kulana mated for life and if one died or their mate was taken to add to a flock for their eggs and they were left behind, they became despondent and in a handful of days, simply sat down and died.
No! I would not let that happen to Rah-bee! I would ensure the Sky Gods knew we were mates. If he and the others had to go, then I would throw myself on their mercy and ask for them to take me with them.
First, though, I needed to get everything Rah-bee and I would need for the journey together. Food, better clothing for him, extra furs, a larger sledge as he would no doubt need to ride at least part of the way, I also needed to confer with those accompanying us, to help them do the same for the rest of our charges. We could not allow anything to befall them. It would not only be a tragedy we’d all mourn, but the Sky Gods would be most displeased and perhaps would not aid us anymore against the demons and their mighty graks.
My attention was so consumed with making plans for our journey that I almost didn’t notice that we’d reached home already. I let out a grunt of soft surprise when I noticed where we were and brought myself up short lest I pass it by and have to double back. Rah-bee noticed my distraction and let out that odd sound he made when amused.
“Yoo didnut pay attenshun huh?” He made the soft sound again. “Ah dun no whut yoo wehr ahl tahlking abowt buht yer hedz beehn ihn thuh klowdz ehver sins.”
I smiled brightly at him once more, not wanting him to think I was inattentive of him. “Let’s have some tea,” I told him, opening the door and ushering him inside.
“Tea?” he replied, and I beamed at him more genuinely this time, proud of how he’d learned that word so quickly. “Yoo ahr liek thuh Brihtush ohn teevee. Thay drihnk thaht aht thuh drawp ov uh hat. Rayningh? Tea. Bahd news? Tea. Wahnt kookeez? Tea.”
He kept rambling, despite me obviously only understanding the word for tea, but sat down, placing his primer in front of him. I lit the lamps, stoked the fire in the stove, and began preparing the drink. When he became suddenly quiet, I glanced over at him, immediately feeling immensely pleased that he’d opened the book and began looking at it. Good. We could begin his first lesson over tea. It felt right, like a path forward for us was opening up. Foolish self-deception, I knew, as we only had three days, then the trip where we’d be too busy trekking to our destination to do more than make a hasty camp at one of the shelters scattered along the way and fall into a quick sleep after posting guard. Still, it was something, yes? A memory we could both carry forward with us should the worst happen and the Gods deem us unworthy to remain together. A memory that hopefully will not be among his very last before his soul rejoined those of his ancestors in the warm lands of the afterlife..
19
ROBBIE
Gree-Gree was acting weird, and whatever the reason for it was, I knew it had to do with whatever that older dude had said to him. Grishk was definitely some kind of big wig by the way he was deferred to by Gree-Gree and the others that were there. His house was fancier too, with a large reception type area in front of a much bigger stove that warmed the place up and lots of seating in a semi circle facing a big ass chair which wasn’t quite a throne per se, but gave off “boss chair” vibes.
He placed our mugs of tea on the table, sitting next to me this time instead of across from me as usual. He reached for the book, and I let him have it. It was obviously a children’s book, with lots of pictures of everyday objects like a cup, a triangular knife like the one Gree-Gree had worn the day we first met, various animals and types of food, and items of clothing. A blocky script beneath each picture identified the items. I felt a shiver of anticipation as Gree-Gree flipped to the first page. Yes! I’d been correct in my assumptions - he was going to teach me more of their language! Was this what he’d been nervous about? Had his chief or king or whatever given him a deadline for me to be able to talk to them or something? Or cast doubt on his ability to teach me? If so, fuck ‘em. We’d show him just how wrong he was, and then he’d have to apologize to Gree-Gree and praise him, maybe offer him a step up in position or whatever.
Gree-Gree tapped the picture of a shirt with the tip of his nail.
“Hrabah,” he said. Then slower, “Hraaa bah.”
I tried to repeat it exactly as he said it, but it kept coming out more like ‘hurrah buh’. He finally accepted it was simply my damned Southern accent getting in the way. I’d tried for years to shed it, as folks hearing it outside of the South would hear it and automatically assume I was an ill educated yokel of some kind, and in the South, outside of the state I’d spent just over half of my childhood, they’d cock their heads and ask, “Where are you from?” in an often suspicious tone.
“Hrabah,” he said one final time with a satisfied sort of nod, if I was reading his body language correctly. So far, I’d not had any indication that I wasn’t, so I was going to go with that. He turned the page. Great! Pants! “Krohkange.”
Oh, boy. This one was even harder to say.
“Krohhhhh kanjjjjuh,” he drew it out.
Okay, maybe not. “Kroh-kanjuh,” I tried. Then I thought about how that ‘juh’ sound the first time had been more like a soft g, like at the end of the word orange. “Krohkange.”
Gree-Gree’s eyes lit up.
“Sa!” And now it was onto a pair of boots. We did a total of ten pictures before he was ready for us to quit. I found myself wishing for some index cards and pen, so I could make myself some flash cards that I could study these on my own while he cooked or whatever.
Not that he was cooking now. No, he’d gotten up and taken out some bread and berries and strips of dried meat, arranged it all on two plates, refilled our mugs of tea, and presented it to me for our lunch. I didn’t mind that at all, if I was honest. I was a big fan of beef jerky, and the meat was similar in texture to the homemade stuff my mom used to make in her food dehydrator, though it was spicier and gamier. Still, it was tasty and it filled the hole in my belly, which was the most important part. It wasn’t like I could stroll out the front door and go wandering back to what passed as downtown for the village, walk into a convenience store, and buy one of the sandwiches my company sold to them. There weren’t any Denny’s or Burger Kings, or anything else, either. Okay, there were a few food vendors I’d seen, but I had no way to pay them myself, or the words to order any if I did, and the food was still alien. I suddenly really missed my mom’s meatloaf and wondered if I’d be able to get across the idea of ground meat and if they had anything like tomatoes. Probably not, as tomatoes were a warm weather crop.
I finished my last bite, head down, blinking back tears. My mom… I’d spent years trying to distance myself, prove I could be somebody, and utterly failed to do any better than she had. I’d had it all planned - go back there and show off and have her regret telling me at eighteen that she couldn’t provide for me on her own anymore or pay for college. Hell, now that I was being completely honest with myself, she had been measurably more successful because at least she’d kept her one job all those years as a waitress at our local IHOP.
Ohhh…pancakes…bacon…
A sob tore out of my throat.
“Rah-bee?” Gree-Gree’s voice was unusually soft and gentle as he touched my shoulder lightly. His kindness undid me, and I began to cry in earnest, hating myself all the while for wanting my mama like a small, abandoned child. Not the best way to impress the guy I wanted to fall for me, and boy, that fact made me cry even harder.
“Rah-bee,” he said again, sounding distressed. Great. Now I’d upset him too, and I didn’t have the words to tell him what was going on with me, so we could kinda laugh about it shakily and get back to how things had been.
20
GRIGHRI
