Transcendence (4 page)

Remembering the hyaenodons from earlier in the day, I hope they have moved far enough away not to hear her. If they can hear her, I hope the smell of the fire will keep them away from us. She is fighting me so much, I can’t let go of her to cover her mouth. Her fingers pull at my arms, but I don’t release her. She wrestles with me but doesn’t win. I am resolute in my desire to keep her safe even if she seems determined to do something to hurt herself. It doesn’t require much strength to hold her, and I think she is probably already exhausted from her previous tirade. Before long, she begins to slow her movements, and shortly after that, she drops to the furs.

Glad she’s finally decided to let me protect her, I relax my grip a little and pull my arm out from underneath her. I place my hand on the side of my head to prop myself up and look down at the woman who will now share my bed.

Even in the dim glow of the firelight, I can see how stunningly beautiful she is. Maybe it’s because it has been so long since I’ve seen another person, but I don’t think so. I wish I could see more of her body, but her strange coverings obscure most of her skin; only her hands and face are visible.

I inhale deeply through my nose, and her scent is unique. She smells sweet, like overripe fruit, and I realize the scent comes from her hair, but not her skin. I lean a little closer and sniff at the base of her neck.

Everything about her is unusual; her clothing, her hair, the color around her eyes, which is now mostly smudged away. I find it enticing and exciting.

She turns over to look up at me, and her eyes are red-rimmed from crying. My chest clenches to know she has been so sad, and I again wonder what I can do to make her feel safe. She stares at me with apprehension, and I decide to try to comfort her the way my father had comforted my mother in the past.

With my arm still around her waist, I slowly move my hand up and down her side. I hope the sensation of touch will calm her, but her body tenses instead. She wraps her arms around herself, and I think she might be cold; her clothing doesn’t seem thick enough to keep her warm. I reach down and pull one of the furs up around her, but she still doesn’t relax.

I have no idea what she needs, and I wonder what might have happened to her to make her so sad.

I suddenly realize that she must have lost her tribe just as I have. Though I don’t know how she got where she is, I do know there are no people anywhere near here except for me. I haven’t seen another person since the fire drove me from the forest. Though I had looked for many days through the blackened tree stumps for signs of other survivors, I had found nothing but the bones of my people.

Now that I comprehend, my heart aches for her. I know what it is like to feel alone though I have grown so used to it, I try not to think about it now. I wonder if she has been alone for a long time and decide she must not have been. If she had, she would have been more receptive to me as her mate. She is frightened of me, and though I have tried to show her I will keep her safe and provide her with a home, she is still scared.

She must miss her family and tribe terribly. Maybe she even had a mate in her tribe, and she misses him, too. There had been no females my age in my small tribe, and I had been waiting for one of the girls to begin her womanhood before I took her. I had been several seasons older than the one closest to me in age, and there were no other tribes nearby to trade mates. If an older woman’s mate had died, I might have mated her instead.

But they all died at once, and I had no one.

I remembered how frightened I had been in the beginning. The fire had destroyed the berry bushes in the forest and the homes of the rabbits I liked to hunt. I was a man but had only killed larger animals twice and then with the help of the other men. I nearly starved before finding the freshwater lake among the pine groves and figuring out how to catch the fish at the edge of the water.

Looking down at my mate, my fingers reach out and brush strands of her beautiful long hair away from her forehead. The softness distracts me from her sorrow, and I pinch a few of the strands between my fingers to hold them out and look more closely. The firelight brings out the slight tinges of red in a few of the strands, but it is the texture that intrigues me the most.

As I look back at her face, I can see she is still frightened. Releasing her hair, I reach up and let the tips of my fingers touch the tear stains on her cheeks. I feel like crying for her—lost and alone out on the steppes. I touch slowly her cheek and jaw before my hand finds her shoulder and the incredibly smooth tunic covering her. Like her hair, I find it fascinating. I have never felt anything as smooth and soft. It’s lightweight, too—as if it were made from strands of a spider’s web.

I stroke her hair again to feel the difference between its softness and the texture of the clothing and find myself again fascinated by how soft and beautiful it is. I know I am very lucky to have found such an attractive mate though I am really just thrilled to have another person with me. As I take a deep breath, I inhale the scent of her hair, and the combination of sweet fruit and possibly some kind of flower confuses me—it is still too early in the season for buds to be blooming. Pulling her close to me, I run my nose from her hairline to her temple.

Definitely fruit.

She tenses again, and I’m reminded that she is sad and frightened about the loss of her people. I look into her eyes and tilt my head to the side, wanting her to know I understand. I touch my nose to her temple again—gently bumping her skin in a show of companionship.

Her tongue darts over her lips, and she makes her rhythmic sounds again. She is not as loud this time, but the noise is strange and unfamiliar to me. I continue to watch her closely until she stops making the sounds and lets out a long breath. She sniffs and turns away from me again but seems to have settled down somewhat.

I lay my head next to hers and strengthen my grip around her body. I keep my eyes open and watch the entrance to the cave until I hear her breathing slowly and regularly with sleep. Only when I’m sure she is no longer awake do I allow myself to do the same.

I wake during the night.

At first, I’m confused by the presence of the body next to me. Though in the tribe we shared communal sleeping areas, I have slept alone for so long I forgot how warm and comfortable it is to have someone share a sleeping area. I smile to myself and nuzzle into her hair for a moment before I remember my duty to protect her.

I rise up on my elbow and look around the cave. I survey the normal, darkened shapes in each corner and verify there is nothing out of the ordinary. The fire is down to coals but still brightly burning without any danger of going out. I let my fire extinguish my first season alone, and that had nearly caused my death. I certainly won’t let it happen now that I am responsible for a mate.

The second time I wake in the night, my mate is crying out in her sleep again. At first I think she has woken up as well, possibly disoriented to find herself in a different home and without her tribe. However, her eyes are closed while her mouth makes those sounds, and her muscles tighten in distress. Again, I hold her to me, hoping to offer her comfort even if I can’t fix whatever is wrong with her. After a minute she calms, turns toward me, and lies in my arms.

As I begin to fall back into slumber myself, it occurs to me that my mate is going to need a lot of care. If I want her to like me, I’m going to have to show her that I can take the place of her tribe. I’m sure I can be enough for her if I make sure she has shelter, provide enough meat for her to cook, and of course, put a baby in her. A list of things to show her starts forming in my mind and continues into my dreams.

The next time my eyes open, there is faint light coming through the opening of the cave. I raise myself up on one arm and look down at my mate as she continues to sleep, wrapped up in my furs. Her eyes are closed, and she looks so peaceful as she lies there that I don’t wake her even though it’s getting late in the morning, and there are many things I needed to point out to her.

For a while, I also stay in the furs and just watch her sleep, memorizing the shape of her jaw and the shade of pink that covers her lips. As sunlight peers through the rocks, her hair shines around her face, and I can’t help but touch it and revel in its softness again. First, I push it off of her forehead, and then I smooth it over her shoulders. It seems to have tangled somewhat in the night, but it’s still just as soft as before. I tuck it gently behind her ears, and her eyes finally open.

My mate blinks a few times as her eyes focus on me. I smile just a little – careful not to show my teeth – but her eyes still get wide as they dart around the small cave. I can see the tears start to well up again, and I know I will have to show her everything as quickly as possible. She is obviously not impressed with what I have, and I can’t blame her. I have only barely provided for myself over the seasons and haven’t even thought about acquiring the things I would need to support a mate.

I am going to change that now.

I whimper low and brush at the corner of her eye, wiping the tears away. As gently as I can, I lean in close to her and touch my nose to hers. She startles a little, but at least she stops crying. I pull my legs underneath me and jump over her to the edge of the sleeping furs and hold my hand out.

She only looks at it, and her eyes widen again. She looks away from me quickly, takes a few deep breaths, and then glances back to my eyes. I reach forward and touch her hand with mine. When she does not pull back, I intertwine our fingers and tug at them until she sits up. I can’t help but feel some excitement as she responds to me. She has not yet screamed or made any other strange sounds, and she doesn’t seem as frightened as she was yesterday. Maybe she will accept my cave after all.

Once she stands up and takes a step away from the furs, I release her hand and grab my fur to wrap it around myself. My mate makes another sound as I dress, and I look to her for a moment. She glances away again and clasps her hands in front of her stomach, and I think about how she will look with a large, round belly. The thought makes me smile.

Crossing the short width of the cave, I head over to get one of my water bags. I hold it out to her, but she only looks at it, her eyes narrowed. She makes some noises with her mouth, but they are still fairly quiet and don’t hurt my head this time.

I tilt my head and hold the water bag out to her again, but she still doesn’t take it. I look down at it to try to determine if it is somehow unappetizing, but it looks fine to me. It is a simple water bag made from the stomach of an antelope I killed in the spring. It had been a large buck, and I managed to make a few things from its body. Between this one and the other water bag, I usually have to make the trek to the fresh water lake only every few days.

I wonder if her people carried water in a different way, and maybe she doesn’t know about carrying water the way I was taught. I bring the water bag back close to my body, unwind the sinew holding the top closed, and take a short drink myself before offering it to her again.

This time, though tentative, she reaches out and takes it from my hands. I watch her expectantly, and she slowly brings it up to her nose and sniffs. Her face crinkles up for a moment as she turns away but then sniffs again. She takes a small sip before quickly handing it back to me.

I’m elated. She took the water from me, so she knows I can at least provide that much. All I need to do now is show her what else I can offer her as her mate, and then she will like me. Reaching out, I take her by the hand and lead her to the entrance of the cave. She steps out into the sunlight of the new day with me and looks over the grass steppes. The day is warm already, and the sun shines and sparkles on the dew. It is a beautiful sight.

I look over to my mate with a smile, and she bursts into tears.

When I reach out to comfort her as I did last night, she places her hands against my chest and shoves. As she pushes me, she makes a high-pitched, screeching sound.

Startled by the noise and her physical attack, I jump backwards and crouch a few feet away from my mate as she sits with her back against the outside wall of the cave and shakes with her cries. Her hands are over her face, and her hair falls around her head like a fur blanket. I want to touch it again, to try and comfort her like I know I should, but when I try to get close to her, she screams and snarls at me.

I don’t know what to do.

So I stay where I am, sometimes reaching out to her with my hand but never quite touching her. I don’t think she notices because her eyes are covered. As the sun slowly climbs in the sky, my stomach growls as if my body knows there is food nearby. My mate must be hungry as well since she would not eat anything last night. I want to go inside and get some of the meat, but I don’t dare leave her alone.