K’THAR

She’s clever, my L’ren.

I teach her words as we bring our kill and the eggs back to camp. She remembers more of them than I thought, and this makes me proud. I want so badly to have a conversation with her, to find out more about her and her people. To learn what she likes. To hear more of her laughter, see her smiles.

I want to know everything about her.

We take our haul back to the camp, even though we haven’t gone very far. The sviket was a lucky find, and the nest luckier still. The meat will feed us well this night and the eggs will ensure that Z’hren will not starve. And my clever L’ren realized I was not eating and insisted that I have a second egg. Even now, I feel stronger after my meal, and it is no chore to dig a pit a short distance away from the tree and start a small fire. Only a small one, of course, and then I let it burn down until it is mere coals, and layer it with leaves. I skin and gut the carcass, cover it with more leaves, and then leave the pit to smoke for many hours. By the time it will be ready, the suns will be below the horizon and the day over. Until then, there is more to do.

So I take L’ren back into the jungle with me. This time, we go after our true goal, the thick, meaty ground nuts. It is easy to get sick of their taste during times of plenty, but lately they have been the only food that is easily findable. I show her what to look for, and we spend the afternoon gathering nuts and teaching her my words. Even though speaking to each other is proving to be a challenge, I enjoy her company and I love nothing more than making her laugh with delight.

We pause for a small meal of nuts and fresh water when we make it to the stream. I wash quickly, getting rid of dirt and blood off of my skin, and I notice that my mate tries to wash with her clothing on. She is strangely shy, my L’ren. I do not understand it, but then again, I do not understand many things about her. I enjoy the thought of learning all that I can, though.

L’ren sits on the edge of the water and lies back on the bank, closing her eyes and sighing heavily.

“Tired?” I ask, though I know she will not understand me.

She opens her eyes and gives me a pensive smile. “Jsthnkn.” She studies the basket of nuts next to her and picks one up, holding it up for my gaze. “L’ren,” she says after a moment, and then sets it down on the ground. She puts another one next to it. “L’ren, K’thar,” she says, pointing at first the original nut, and then the new one. She adds a third, smaller nut. “Z’hren.” And another. “J…” She looks at me, waiting.

“J’shel,” I tell her, pointing at the new nut. I see where she is going with this. It is a naming game of some kind. I add another nut and place it next to J’shel. “N’dek.”

She nods, excitement in her eyes, and picks up another nut. “Mrsl.”

“No, that is all of us,” I say. “Unless you want to count Fat One.” I pat the nightflyer, who has his claws dug into my shoulder.

She shakes her head and holds the nut up again, going down the list of names and pointing at each one. Then she gestures at the one in her hand. “Mrsl.” She takes it and puts it next to “her” nut. “L’ren. Mrsl.” She moves the L’ren nut away and places a new one by it. “L’ren. K’thar.” Then she gestures at the leftover nut. “Mrsl?” There is a question in her voice.

Realization dawns. I point at the leftover. “Is this the human female that was with you?”

Her brow furrows and she studies me, trying to understand.

“Female,” I point out, then gesture at my chest. “Teats. Kit.”

“Yes,” she says excitedly in my tongue. “K’thar, yes!” She makes the same gestures with the nuts again. L’ren with Mrsl. L’ren then K’thar. “Mrsl?” she asks, tapping the leftover once more. “Mrsl no?”

I see the worry on her face. “Mrsl yes. She is alive. She went with R’jaal.”

“R’jaal?”

I pick up another nut. “R’jaal. He is of the clan Tall Horn.” I take the cluster of nuts that represent my tribe. “This is clan Strong Arm.” I grab a few of the new nuts and place the one that represents R’jaal with them. “This is Tall Horn. R’jaal. T’chai. M’tok. S’bren. And your friend, Mrsl.”

Her eyes get wide. She points at the cluster. “S’nudder grp ppl?”

“Tall Horn,” I tell her again. Then I take another cluster and use them to represent Shadowed Cat, on the far end of the island. “I’rec. O’tek. A’tam. U’dron. That is all that is left of Shadowed Cat. Our people are no longer many.” I think of the great gatherings when I was a kit, of dozens of people gathered to share food, to compete in games, and to visit family. I think of the proving games, when males would go out into the jungle to work together and bring down a skyclaw with no weapons but their bare hands.

I was in my own proving game when the Great Smoking Mountain died. All of us that are left were in the proving game. It was only the fact that we were on this side of the island that kept us alive. The rest of the land sank with the Great Smoking Mountain and took with it almost all of our people.

My jaw clenches with the grief of that time. I study the nuts before us. So few and there were once so many of us. Even now, our hunting territory is but a tiny slice of what it used to be. I remember days of travel to reach the gathering grounds. Now, I can cross all of the territory to Shadowed Cat’s lands with a day of travel.

It does not seem right.

A sniffle catches my attention. I look up and see that my mate is weeping, swiping tears from her cheeks.

“What is it?” I ask her, reaching out to caress her jaw. “Why do you cry?”

“Mrsl,” she says, lip trembling. “Mrsl nnt ded. Shsalive.” She clasps my hand in hers and gives me a pleading look. “Hft tk mi tuhr.”

“What is it you want, my mate?” I need to concentrate on her words, but she holds my hand dangerously close to her swollen teats and it distracts me.

She repeats herself, and when I shake my head again, she looks down at the nuts and then taps a finger on hers. “L’ren.” She picks it up and moves it next to the one for her friend. “L’ren Mrsl.”

She wants her friend. Of course she does. If it were me and one of my clan disappeared, I would be unable to rest until I knew he was safe. Is that what this is? Does she feel responsible for her friend? I nod. “I will talk with my clan and see what they think.”

Her smile is brilliant and my cock aches at the sight of how lovely she is. How did I ever think her strange? She is delicately made, but I have never seen anything better than her face when she is happy.

Fat One hops down off my arm and L’ren glances down, then giggles. “Fat One eat K’thar.”

Sure enough, my fat little nightflyer has eaten the nut representing me. I mock-growl as the flyer waddles toward my mate’s “nut,” shooing him away.

Some things are not to be touched.

* * *

J’shel is elated at my find that evening. He has come back with nothing more than a few small shell-walkers, and even those are scarce, he tells me. The waters near the beach grow warm, and the fish have left the shallows. I do not point out that the jungle seems to grow warmer by the day.

There is no point in alarming anyone, not when there is nothing to be done about it.

That evening, we sit together and enjoy our meal. I am happy to see L’ren eats as much meat as any of us, though she wrinkles her nose at the sight of J’shel gnawing on a leg. She grinds up a tender bit of meat between two stones and squeezes the juice from her share into a bowl, and then offers it to little Z’hren, who loves the mush when it is rubbed against his gums.

“I am surprised we did not think of that,” N’dek admits.

I am, as well. But we are hunters. We are not mothers. I watch as L’ren plays with the kit. I’chai is gone, dead this past moon. Her mate V’den died not long after they resonated. I remember how lucky I thought V’den to have resonated to the very last female of our kind. That was the last of his luck, and now his kit is here with us, motherless. I watch L’ren as she cradles Z’hren in her lap, feeding him the mush and nibbling on bites of her own food. My clan is so small that all of us matter.

What if her clan is no one but her friend? Her Mrsl? She deserves to see her. She deserves to have her at her side. If Mrsl has not resonated to R’jaal, she should come home with us.

I will have to fight him, because he will not want to give her up. But for my mate, I will do anything.

“My L’ren asked about her friend today,” I tell J’shel and N’dek.

“She spoke?” J’shel looks surprised, tossing his long braid back over his shoulder. “She learned our words that quickly?”

“She told me in words and gestures. She wants her clan at her side. I must go tomorrow and take her to see Mrsl, her friend.”

L’ren looks over at me in surprise. “Mrsl?” There is excitement and hope on her face.

I nod at her. “Tomorrow. I am taking her to the clan of the Tall Horn so she can see her friend. And if she has not resonated to one of their clan—”

“Then you will bring her back to see if she resonates to one of us?” J’shel asks, rubbing his hands eagerly and glancing over at N’dek, who seems equally enthusiastic.

“I will see if she wants to,” I warn them. “If she wishes to stay with Tall Horn, I cannot force her to leave.”

“Shall I come with you?” J’shel asks. His excitement is palpable. “I can carry Z’hren on my back.”

N’dek immediately glances away. I know what he is thinking—that J’shel will get to see the female before him because he has two good legs, while N’dek must remain behind, forgotten. It seems unfair. “No,” I say slowly. “They will be suspicious if I bring someone unmated. For now, it will just be myself and my mate.”

L’ren looks at me with hopeful eyes, and when she gazes at me like that, I would fight every male on this island just to see her happy.

I hope it does not come to that.