Calm: Ice Planet Barbarians: A Slice of Life Short Story (2 page)

“They’re home,” Jo-see says. “I saw Harlow yesterday, and I doubt they left overnight.”

“I should go greet them,” I say with a smile and begin the arduous process of moving my ungainly body upright. Har-loh is one with a khui that must work that much harder—there is a tumor inside her head that her khui keeps under control. Her khui is strong, but when she was with kit, her body was severely taxed. Is it possible she is pregnant again? And this time she will not fare as well? I think of Rukh, so wild and untamed yet, and their small son. I must visit them and make certain they are well.

“Want company?” Jo-see jumps to her feet.

“Oh, no, stay with the others. I am fine.” I smile to take the sting out of my decline. “I am going to say hello, and then I must help my husband with his skinning.” I straighten and head out of the clustered circle of women.

“Wait,” Stay-see calls.

I turn around.

She picks up my plate, all smiles. “You forgot your cake.”

“How silly of me,” I murmur, taking it in hand. “Thank you, Stay-see. You are most thoughtful.” Perhaps Har-loh will like the cake and I will not be forced to eat more of it. I clutch the small plate and wander through the cavern, heading for Har-loh and Rukh’s private cave.

A
s I head
to the far side of the tribal home, the sound of retching makes my healer senses prick. I turn, heading toward the cave that Leezh shares with Raahosh. The privacy screen is not in front of their cave entrance, but I can hear Raahosh murmuring to his mate from inside. It might be a private moment. I hesitate outside, holding my cake, and avert my gaze to be polite. “May I enter?”

“Oh good,” I hear Leezh say. “The healer. Now I
know
I’m dying.”

I know enough about this human to know that she exaggerates, but her words still send a pang of worry through me. Is Leezh the source of my worry?

I hear Raahosh snort, and then he appears, beckoning me in. “She has her morning sickness, that is all.”

From the spot on the floor where she is crouched, Leezh gestures with one finger at her mate, and then hunches over a bowl again, vomiting. “Dick,” she pants between dry heaves.

He moves back to her side, gently stroking the hair away from her face as she vomits. “You will be all right, my mate,” he murmurs, and rubs her back. “It will pass soon enough.”

“Take your time,” I tell them, setting the cake plate down near the entrance and then moving to the fur-lined basket near their bedding where Raashel waves her tiny fists. I get down on the floor next to her—no easy task—and offer her my finger to grab. She takes it, and her khui sings out to mine, strong. I smile, because I always worry most about the little ones, especially after the death of Asha’s little girl. I could do nothing to save her because she had no khui, and it haunts me yet.

As Leezh straightens and sips water, I reach out and brush a hand on Raahosh’s shoulder. He is healthy.

He looks at me with a frown on his face, questioning.

“Shall I help your mate? Maybe my khui can calm hers.”

“My khui’s fine,” Leezh declares, sitting back and resting for a moment. “It’s my stomach that hates me.”

I chuckle and pat the ground next to me. “It might be easier for you to come to me than for me to come to you.”

Leezh nods and crawls over to plop down onto the ground next to me. She looks tired and drawn, and I put a hand on her. Carrying a kit strikes some harder than others, and Leezh has had a rough time of it. Still, she is strong and there is no worry to be found in her body, only a sour stomach. I send healing thoughts from my khui to hers, to calm the anger in her gut and ease some of the sickness. “You must drink more water,” I chide her, and then add, “and more tea. Kemli has a good one for taking care of angry bellies.”

“I think I tried it. The tea that tastes like shoe leather?” She makes a face. “I think I’d rather just puke.” Her face pales, and then she reaches for her bowl again. “Actually, maybe not.”

I sit with Leezh and Raahosh for a time. There is nothing I can do for Leezh’s stomach that more water and time will not fix. We chat about hunting, and mates, and Raashel, who is one of the kits that looks more human than sa-khui. I brag on my little Esha, who is already learning how to work a skin with her father. And we discuss more pregnancies.

“I think I’m the only one that has resonated twice,” Leezh says. “Is that fast?”

“Mmm.” I think of Shorshie and her secret. “Not always. If the mother is healthy enough to carry another kit, it can happen even faster.”

Raahosh touches his mate’s flat stomach. “Can you tell us if it is male or female?”

Leezh grins at me. “We’re already arguing over names. I told him if it’s a boy, he can name it, but if it’s a girl, it’s all mine. I want to call her Aayla.”

“Ay-lah?”

“Yeah, after Aayla Secura. From the prequels. I mean, they were pretty shitty, but Aayla was a badass Jedi. And blue! It’s like a win-win.” Leezh rubs her stomach happily. “Not that my kid would be a Jedi, but it’s a pretty safe bet that she’ll be blue and badass, so I think it works.”

“Ah.”

“She does not understand your words, my mate,” Raahosh says. “And the only reason I do is because I have heard this many times already.”

“I am sure Jeh-die is a nice name,” I tell Leezh.

“Aayla. Not Jedi.” She just sighs and shakes her head at us. “Where are my
Star Wars
nerds when I need them?” Raahosh just snorts and gets to his feet, moving to pick up Raashel. As he does, Leezh gives me a curious look. “I don’t mean to be weird, but is that…cake by the door?”

Oh. I have forgotten about Stay-see’s food. I was hoping to quietly abandon it. “Yes.”

Leezh’s eyes light up. “Is there more?”

“I think it is gone,” I say, and then quickly add, “but you may have mine.”

She pumps a fist in the air. “I could just kiss you, Maylak.”

I do not point out that I would like that about as much as I would like more cake.

* * *

H
ar-loh has
a dirty smudge on her face, a tool in hand, and a look of concentration in her gaze.

“It is a what?” I ask, frowning down at the strange boxy creation she is working on.

“A
spays
-heater,” she tells me. “For the brutal season. It makes its own heat. Well, in theory. I need to figure out how to make it get hot enough using the sakh
bah-tur-ees
without overheating.” She sticks the shiny tool into the spays-heater and pries a slice of it off of the front. “Right now it kind of gets molten, but I’m close. I think. Right, baby?”

Rukh grunts in agreement, handing little Rukhar a carved bone rattle. “Warm.” On a blanket near his father, the kit flails his arms, his tail flicking. He throws the rattle and then begins to crawl after it. A small, reluctant smile curves Rukh’s grim face, and it pleases me.

Har-loh is looking at me as if she expects an answer, so I nod. “I see.”

“I don’t want to freeze when it gets cold.” She pauses, and then tilts her head. “Well, colder. And with little Rukhar here, I want to make sure we’re cozy.”

“So you will be staying for the brutal season?” I know both Har-loh and her mate like to go to the Elders’ Cave to get away. Rukh is still not used to so many people around. The brutal season will be difficult on him.

“We stay,” Rukh agrees before Har-loh can speak.

“We will be glad to have you.” I place my hand on her arm and give her a little squeeze of affection. I reach out to her khui, and find it pulsing steadily. It is strong, but keeping Har-loh healthy takes much out of it. I send a bolstering wave of healing from my khui to hers before I remove my hand.

“I must get going,” I tell Har-loh and her mate. “I want to check on Ti-fah-ni and Salukh before the day gets too long.” I rub my belly, using it as an excuse to move along. “My feet are already tired of all this standing.”

“I walk with you, healer,” Rukh says, gathering up his son. Har-loh goes back to her box, pulling off another shiny layer.

As we get out of the cave, Rukh stops me. He glances back at his cave, then at me. “I have…worries.”

My senses tingle with dread. That strange, nagging feeling that has been following me all morning moves over me again. “Over Rukhar? He is doing very well.” I run a finger along the kit’s fat blue cheek. He practically hums with good health. “Or over the upcoming brutal season?” I place my hand on his arm casually. There are no problems. “Your family is fine, Rukh.”

His mouth sets in an unhappy line, and he holds his squirming son closer as he leans in. “Har-loh. I…worry. Resonance.”

“You resonated again?” So many kits will be coming to our small tribe. I can scarcely imagine it.

He shakes his head quickly, and there is fear in his eyes. “It my worry. Leezh—”

Ah. I understand now. Har-loh is the most fragile of the humans, and carrying Rukhar was hard on her body. I give him a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “I just spoke to her khui and it is fine. There are no problems.”

“Is…a way to stop more?” He caresses his son’s head, fierce love in his gaze.

“You do not want to resonate again?”

The look on his face is tortured. “Yes. But no risk Har-loh. She is…everything.” He clenches a fist over his heart, anguished. “I cannot lose her…”

“I know.” And I suspect he will not leave the caves unless there is a healer nearby. He will not risk his mate. “Perhaps you will not resonate again. Perhaps you will. Only the khui can decide.” When he looks troubled, I add, “Her khui will not allow the kit to destroy her. If she is not strong enough to carry, it will not happen again. And if it does happen, I am here. I am not going anywhere.”

Some of the tension eases from his face. He nods slowly and grips my arm tightly, then returns to his cave with his son. I watch him go, sorting through my emotions. I know how he feels. Some nights, I watch Esha sleep, terrified of all the things that could happen that could break a small, fragile body. And sometimes I stay awake and gaze at my mate, thinking the same thing. Our world is dangerous, and even though Kashrem is a tanner and stays near the cave most days, there are still many things that can happen. I worry. I always worry. The entire tribe is mine to protect, but Kashrem and Esha are
mine
.

I know Rukh’s fears well.

“Maylak,” someone calls, pulling me from my thoughts. “Healer.”

It is Bek. I head toward the sound of his voice, near the entrance of the cave. “I am here.”

He storms forward, an irritated expression on his face. “We need your healing. Harrec has sliced his hand open on his spear.”

“Again?” I take the arm he offers me and lean on him so I can walk faster. His khui is vibrant and stronger than most. It is not surprising—my brother has always been a fierce male. Of course his khui will be fierce as well. “What were you doing?”

He snorts, his steps impatient as he slows his gait to match mine. “
I
did nothing.
He
has hands like clubs. I merely tried to show him a better way to wrap his spear point.”

I chuckle. “You must be patient, brother.”

“I am.”

“With
others.
”

The grunt of acknowledgment he makes tells me that he does not agree, but he also does not wish to argue. We head out through the entrance and into the snows. The day is nice and mild, the wind ruffling my braids. In the distance, I see two or three of the hunters clustered together. It is odd—one of them is wounded and yet my sense of dread does not seem to be any greater. “I suppose Harrec could not walk to the cave himself so I could tend to his hand?”

“He could…if he did not pass out at the sight of his blood.” My brother’s voice is sour.

A small giggle escapes me. I had forgotten Harrec has such a problem. Hunting does not bother him, but one drop of his own blood and he is on the floor. “Of course. Well, I suppose it is a nice day for a walk.” I place a hand on the underside of my belly to support it. It is uncomfortable to walk so far, but I can endure it.

My brother is silent as we head up the ridge to where Harrec lies sprawled. I see Taushen and Hassen near him, crouching. Spear-making supplies are scattered in the snow. “Are you well?” Bek asks after a moment. “You seem…withdrawn today.”

“I am tired,” I tell him.

“That is not it.”

My brother knows me well. “And I worry, of course.”

“About the kit?”

I shake my head, my gaze fixed on Harrec. “Something feels wrong. I am not sure what. But I will find out.”

“Tell me when you do. If I can help, let me know.”

I smile at my brother. He hunts for us, and he is a good male. A good provider. I am sad for him in that the other humans have all started families and resonated, and there is nothing for my hot-tempered brother. I know he is jealous of their happiness. I know he still misses the quiet one named Claire. “I know. If there is anything that I need done, I will come to you. This I promise.”

Then we are at Harrec’s side and do not discuss it further. Bek helps me to kneel next to the fallen hunter, and I am relieved to see his color is good despite his stillness. In his breast, Harrec’s khui thrums, as bright and pulsing as ever. I send healing songs through to his khui, encouraging it to close the wound in his hand and knit the flesh…and to wake him, because the others will tease him mercilessly if he does not stir soon.

Well, they will tease him mercilessly regardless.

Harrec is roused, and the others rib him about the cut, even as I wrap a strip of leather around it. The flesh is almost completely healed, but the cut was deep and will need to be protected overnight. I take this time to touch Taushen and Hassen both and find no issues. Bek sees me sneaking a quick brush of hands against the others. I suspect he knows what I am doing, but he says nothing.

My brother may not be patient, but he is understanding.