ARIANA

A storm blows in overnight, dusting our protected little gorge with a layer of thick snow and keeps falling. I get worried at the sight of it, because storms here on the ice planet don’t last for a day or two. They last for weeks or more. If it’s storming like that, Veronica and Ashtar aren’t going to want to fly anyone from the beach to here, no matter how badly someone’s wanting their mate to return.

It means we’ll just have to wait.

Full of disappointment, I brew up a batch of my calming tea. I’ve tweaked the recipe over the years with the help of Kemli and Sevvah, and now the tea doesn’t knock me out cold, but just makes me a little languid. It doesn’t help in the worst of times, but having a cup helps soothe my nerves anyhow.

“Mama, there is so much snow on the ground,” Analay exclaims happily. “Look at all of it! Even when I step outside it covers my boots! The copplestones are covered!”

“Cobblestones,” I correct absently. It’s awful cold and I absently reach for the heavier layers of his furs from their hook on the wall, then indicate he should come over and put them on. “If you’re going to play in the snow, you need to bundle up.”

His eyes brighten with excitement, and my heart squeezes a little at the sight of it. My sweet little son doesn’t realize that snow means his father is that many more days away from being home. All he knows is that snow is fun, and with the village protected between two overhanging cliffs, we don’t get much of it.

“Do I have time to play before school, Mama?” Analay asks as he shrugs on his furs. “I want to throw snowballs at Anna.”

That brings a smile to my face. So much for true love. Despite his odd comments the other night, he’s still my little boy. “Maybe we’ll skip school today,” I say thoughtfully. “Back on Earth we’d have snow days where school was out because of the weather. I don’t see why we can’t have that here, too.” It’ll allow me to think about my lessons for the next few weeks and how I’m going to manage without Gail helping me. The kits are all getting to an age where they’d rather pull each other’s hair and throw things than listen.

“I like that idea,” Analay tells me in a very adult voice that makes me bite back a giggle. “I can play with Anna and we can collect dirtbeak nests for you and Claire.”

“Me and Claire?” It seems an odd pairing. We’re friendly, but not as close as myself and Marlene. “Why me and Claire?”

“Because Papa’s going to come home with Ereven,” he tells me and wriggles out of my grasp. “I’m going to go see Anna now! Bye!”

Papa’s coming home with Ereven…? “Wait, Analay—” I begin, but my small son, so full of energy and excitement, is already out the door and in the snow. I move to the doorway of the hut and watch as he races out into the street, where the other kits are playing. There’s a long bank of snow right down the middle of the street, where the snowfall has settled from the cliffs above, and as I watch, Analay and Joden fling themselves into it, shrieking with glee. Nearby, Talie and Elsa fill little bowls with snow—probably to practice “cooking”—and off where the snow is piled highest, a group of kits are taking turns sledding down a small “hill” under the watchful eyes of Summer and Warrek.

I’m torn. I want to grab my son and shake more answers out of him, but…he needs to be a kit, too. If he really does have Rokan’s sense, I guess I’ll know it soon enough. My heart thuds with excitement at the thought, and the baby in my belly kicks as if in agreement. Of course, then she sits directly on my bladder and I have to run inside again. Pregnancy, so glamorous.

* * *

“That’s what he said, Marlene. He said, ‘Papa’s going to be home soon, with Ereven.’” I blow on my cup of tea and try to settle my knotting stomach. My anxiety’s been back and forth all day, and even tea and a nap earlier didn’t help. Since Analay’s still playing in the snow with the other children, I’ve headed over to Marlene’s hut just to try and get out of my own head. I know if I stay at my hut, I’ll just worry endlessly over Zolaya and the weather and Analay and anything else my anxious mind will toss in my direction. So I’m here, nervously spilling my guts to my friend and trying not to freak out.

Marlene tuts and bites at a bit of loose sinew on the tunic she’s sewing. I wish I had her skill with the needle, but mine is merely passable. Marlene is the true genius when it comes to clothing. “Ma petite chou, you stress too much. He knows how to survive in the snow. That is what he does.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. He has endured many brutal seasons before you, and he has endured many since you arrived. You simply worry over nothing, as you always do. Now, come, hand me that sleeve. Zalene’s little arms are as fat as lambchops and I need to make this tunic looser.” Her tone is full of affection. Zalene is an adorable butterball of a little girl compared to the skinny blonde twins, but she’s happy and healthy and that’s all that matters. Marlene finds her daughter perfect and adores her chubby cuteness.

I find the cut-out sleeve in the pile of leather pieces scattered over Marlene’s floor and hold it out to her. “Of course I’m worried. How can I not be? He’s been gone so long. What if Analay’s right and he’s trying to come home but the snow’s too bad? Have you seen what it’s like outside? Up above? The sky is practically dark and it’s early afternoon.”

“Ca c’est bon,” Marlene says. “The kits enjoy the snow. Look at how much they have played today. Let them enjoy it before it comes down every day and it is no longer fun.” She threads her bone needle while I toy with the sewing in my lap. It’s hard to concentrate when all I can think about is the nasty weather and what Analay said. What if Zolaya’s laid out in the snow, frozen? What if he fell off the back of the dragon? He hates heights.

Oh god. I picture him falling and the panic rolls over me like a slow wave, my skin prickling. I can’t breathe. I can’t—

A child screams outside, the sound one of pure delight. It pulls me out of my spiral and I raise a shaking hand to my head. “I just…worry,” I say again.

I’ve never said anything about my anxiety to Marlene, but I think she guessed a while back, because I can’t let certain things go. She just pushes her needle through the leather and studies me. “Shall we take a walk to settle you? Go see the grues désagréables?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Ever since I told Marlene I wanted a little girl this time, she insists we take a walk to see the dirtbeak nests regularly. Marlene thinks they’re nasty, but she also said that her mother had a saying that if you saw an owl when you were pregnant, your baby would be a girl. She’s convinced dirtbeaks are almost the same thing. I’m not convinced myself, of course, but maybe a walk will do me good. Analay did say he wanted to go gather some fuel. Maybe I’ll round him up and he can walk with us. “We can do that.” I roll onto all fours and then do my best to get to my feet with Marlene’s help. I feel fatter every day, and more ungainly. This baby can’t come soon enough.

Then I think about how Zolaya’s not back yet and I decide I want her—my girl—to stay in place in my belly until her papa gets home.

Marlene and I bundle up and then head out of the hut. Away from the warm fire and insulating stone walls, the cold hits like a brick to the face. It’s positively frigid, and even the layers of fur I’m wearing don’t feel like they’re warm enough. “Brr! The brutal season’s definitely here.” I try to make it sound light and carefree, but I’m dying inside. “Gonna be a hard one this year.”

“It’s a hard one every year,” Marlene says, ever practical. She glances around and snaps her fingers. “Zalene! Coco! Come along, bebe. We are going to go see the birds.”

Zalene comes trotting up, covered in snow, her pale blue skin flushed. She has the cutest hat on that looks like a gigantic fur puff with cutouts for her horns, and she looks so adorable. I feel an excited little squeeze at the sight of her, because I’d love a little girl to dress up and make cute. Then again, I love my Analay and I’d be happy with another boy, too. I feel disloyal for wishing for a girl, like it somehow reflects on my son.

And then my son skids across the icy cobblestones on his boots, laughing like a loon. He’s covered in snow, his long waves of hair crusted with snow and ice, his nose almost purple with cold. I shake my head at him, grinning. “Who is this crazy snowbeast I see before me?”

“It’s me!” Analay says and laughs with the pure joy of a child. “Did I surprise you, Mama?”

“Oh yes. You look like a wild metlak.” I push his hair back from his face. “And where is your hood? You’re covered in snow.”

He looks around, then shrugs. “It’s somewhere.”

That would be the third hood he’s lost in the last few weeks. I sigh. “Boys. Oh well. Get your gathering basket, Ani. We’re going to go get dirtbeak nests.”

He skips off toward our hut and grabs his gathering basket, peeling it away from the side of the hut and then shaking the snow and ice off of it. Then he races back toward me, all boundless energy. I extend my hand to him and he grabs my fingers, beaming. His little hands are ice cold and the mother in me takes over. “Gloves, Analay! Your hands are freezing!”

Marlene, Zalene and myself wait while Analay finds gloves. And then a hood. And then his boot is untied. By the time he’s finally ready to go, Zalene’s practically dancing with impatience. I take my son’s hand again and the four of us head out of the village, toward the dirtbeak nests. The hidden canyon our village is in has high walls, and a few dead-end passages that snake along the main roadway, as I like to think of it. It’s safe from predators, which makes it the ideal place to raise children, really. The kits can run around as far as they want, as long as they don’t go up the pulley to the world above.

Which is why it’s surprising to see two bundled, snow-covered figures staggering down the path toward us.

They’re coming from the pulley, that much is obvious. They’re also coming from above, because they’re so crusted with snow and ice that they look like two walking snowmen. Their furs swaddle their bodies so completely that I can’t tell who they are, and one is limping. Actually, they’re both walking like it pains them, and I rack my brain, trying to think of who went out on the trails hunting today and got caught in the storm.

Analay skips forward, all excitement. “Papa!”

I can’t breathe.

I go utterly still, even as the baby in my stomach does somersaults. My khui begins a low hum, as it always does when Zolaya’s around. Not the insistent throbbing of unfulfilled resonance, but a sweet welcome to its mate. Oh.

Oh, it’s my Zolaya.

Oh my god, he looks like death.

“Zo!” I cry, and put a hand under my belly to support it as I try to race forward. I’m so heavy with kit that I can’t do more than waddle toward him even as Analay flings himself into one of the snowmen’s arms.

“Mon dieu, you two look like hell,” Marlene calls, shrugging off her wrap to pull around one of the men. “Zalene, coco, go and get your father. And the healer,” she adds after a moment’s thought. “Run fast.”

“Oui, Mama!” Zalene turns and races back toward the distant village.

I’m sobbing as Zolaya pushes back an ice-crusted hood and reveals his face, burnt dark with frost, his lips cracked. He’s smiling, though, and I reach up and caress his cheeks, unable to stop weeping even though ice is forming in my lashes. “Zolaya, what happened. Where’s the dragon?”

“Ereven and I…we decided to take the long way instead of waiting.” He looks exhausted, my mate, but still finds the energy to heft his son into his arms and pulls him in for a hug.

“The long way? What do you mean?”

“Walked,” he says, and he sounds like he’s panting even though he’s standing still. “Me and Ereven. Wanted to get here before the brutal season. Vuh-ron-ca and Ashtar were not ready. Left anyhow.” His weary gaze rests on me. “Tired.”

“You knew it was about to be the brutal season and you decided to cross the mountains anyhow?” I’m shocked and a little angry. It’s so dangerous. I’m so happy he’s here. There are a million things running through my mind.

So I burst into tears. Naturally.

“Do not cry, my mate,” my Zolaya says, putting an arm around my shoulders. He presses his mouth—chapped and raw and cold—against my brow and kisses me.

“I should kick your ass,” I tell him, sobbing. I’m so wound up—I don’t know if this is anxiety or relief. Possibly both. I want to simultaneously choke him for putting himself in danger and fling myself in his arms because I’m so glad he’s home.

“Once it is thawed, you may do whatever you wish to it,” he tells me. “Shall we go to our hut?”

“You need the healer.” I glance over at Marlene, but she’s helping Ereven out of his ice-caked overfurs and into her wrap. A moment later, Claire comes running, her voice little more than a high-pitched scream. In the distance, I can see Maylak being led forward by Zalene, and others are coming running, too.

Oh good, because I’m starting to feel faint. The world starts to go black at the edges even as the baby kicks and kicks in my belly. I gulp air, my panic rising.

Zolaya grabs my chin in cold fingers and tilts my head toward him. “Air-ee,” he murmurs, and I’m dimly aware of him setting down Analay. “Look at me. Breathe. In. Out.”

I cling to his furs, my gaze locked to his as we breathe together. I hate that I’m having a panic attack right now, when he needs the healer. I’m going to tell him that, just as soon as I’m no longer ready to pass out.

“Stay with me,” he says in a low voice. “I have waited endless days to see your face again, and I prefer it awake.”

I choke out a laugh, and then suck in a deep breath. I’m breathing. I am. I’ve got this. My mate’s home. I throw my trembling arms around his waist and hug him close.