Transcendence

I watch her face. She is peaceful and quiet in her sleep. As I look at her, I get a feeling in my stomach that I don’t understand. It doesn’t take long before the strange feeling moves lower, and I realize what it is. My tongue runs quickly over my lips as my mind begins to think of what it will be like to mate Beh.



She is my mate. I can mate with her whenever I want. At least, I should be able to…



I feel the fingers of my hand twitch automatically across her stomach. I brush against the smooth, soft material of her clothing as I move my hand down until it reaches the edge. I can feel a thin sliver of skin between the top part of her clothes and the odd, rough fabric of the lower part.



My heart begins to beat a little faster, and my neck and face warm with the flow of blood. I swallow once, and my gaze shifts along the length of her body. With my mouth open, I inhale her scent, and I feel myself grow hard. Instinctively, I rock my hips slightly against her back.



It feels really good.



I push against her a little harder, angling downward along her body. I reach inside her clothes, and I press the palm of my hand on her bare stomach. I pull her against me at the same time my hips push the opposite way.



There have been times when I have wrapped my hand around my shaft and moved it up and down until my seed has erupted. It always felt good to use my hand, but not like this—this is much better.



I rub against her again.



“Ehd?”



I didn’t hear her wake up, but I’m glad that she did. I touch my nose against the side of her cheek and rock against her again.



“Beh,” I sigh into her hair. It still smells good though the scent of fruit seems to be gone.



“Ehd!” Beh grabs at my hand, pushes it away from her skin, and scurries out of the pile of furs, away from me. She hauls the top fur toward her and wraps it quickly around the top part of her body. Many sounds come out of her mouth—loud, fast, and harsh.



I look over to her, confused. I don’t understand what she is doing.



Beh turns away and looks toward the fire, still making a lot of sounds. She is angry. That much is obvious, but what I’ve done wrong is a mystery. I start to move closer to her, but she cries out, stands, and wraps the fur more tightly around her shoulders. More loud sounds come from her mouth as she backs away from me and goes to the cave’s entrance.



I stand as well, following her outside. She is crying, and I don’t want her to be sad. Yesterday she was happy; I know she was. We had to work hard, but she was happy. Now she’s upset with me, and I don’t know why.



When I get close to Beh, she turns and narrows her eyes at me. I stop short as she holds her hand out and points at me with her finger.



“Ehd, no!”



Every muscle in my body halts.



I remember the sound from before, when I tried to help her undress at the lake. I take a quick step back, cowering slightly. Is she going to hit my nose again? I whimper and watch her closely as she pulls her hand back to her chest. She stands in the dim morning light and stares at me a moment. I can see hurt in her eyes.



I want to go to her, to hold her until she feels better, but I’m certain she won’t allow it.



“Beh?” I say softly.



Beh groans as her hands come up and cover her face. She rubs her fingers into her eyes so hard I’m afraid she will hurt herself, but when she takes them away, her expression is softer. She looks from me to the ground and back to me again before making more sounds with her mouth.



They are soft noises again, though, so I listen carefully. I don’t want her to say that no sound again. She doesn’t, and after a while, she sighs and takes a step toward me. I flinch a bit, and she holds out her hand to me slowly.



Tentative, I reach out my own hand. When our fingers touch, Beh comes closer and takes my hand in hers. She whispers more sounds as her thumb runs over the back of my hand. Her eyes meet mine, and they are expectant. She looks out toward the steppes, makes more sounds, and looks back to me again. Her eyes are questioning, but I don’t know what she needs.



I never know what she needs from me.



Unexpectedly, Beh takes a step forward and places her mouth on the side of my face.



Her lips are warm and soft, and I have no idea why she would do such a thing. I look at her out of the corner of my eye as I take a slight step backwards. I lift my hand to my cheek and touch the spot, rubbing at it a little.



Beh’s lips smash together, and she seems to be holding in a laugh. I don’t understand why, but I’m glad she doesn’t seem to be sad now. Maybe whatever I did wrong was fixed when she put her mouth on my face. It would not surprise me.



My mate really is rather strange.



And beautiful.



Twisting my fingers around hers, I bring Beh back into our cave and get her a drink and eat some of the dried antelope meat. When we’re done eating, Beh uses more mint leaves to rub her teeth and mine before heading out to find more food to store for winter. Though I have not tried for some time, I decide to make some traps in the pine forest to see if I can catch rabbits. Beh’s strange foot coverings don’t seem like they would keep her warm at all, and rabbit fur would be good for her hands and feet if it gets too cold in the winter months.



I think back to the previous spring and wonder how I managed to even keep myself alive. Before I had Beh, I didn’t think about winter until the temperature changed from hot to cool again. Now I have to think about everything much sooner, even before the weather turns hot. I’m glad I’m alive—glad I didn’t give up—because now I can take care of Beh. If I hadn’t survived, she wouldn’t have anyone to take care of her now.



I set three traps before we go back to the field and collect more grain. This time, I think to bring an extra hide with me so I don’t have to use the one I am wearing. We work quickly, but when a rumble of thunder crosses the sky, we must head back to the cave with all we have gathered.



We are barely through the crack and into the cave before the rain starts to fall. I’m pleased I brought more of the firewood from the hidden space above the cave into the living area the day before, so I don’t have to go out in the wet to get more. I build up a roaring blaze and drag one of the older furs from the bottom part of the sleeping area for Beh to sit on. It seems better than the grass mat I tried to weave last year, which is already falling apart.



I take my mate by the hand and lead her to the fur to sit. I drop down on the mat and tug at the edges of it to try to fix it up a bit, but it is no use, so I give up. I decide to finish working the antelope hide instead, hoping it will serve as some proper clothing for my mate.



Beh spends a moment staring intently at the mat I made, and then she looks over to the pile of reeds we brought back the day before. As the rain continues to pour down outside, Beh reaches over and pulls a pile of the reeds closer to her. She picks up two strands and twists them together just as pointlessly as she had before. She looks back at my mat and lays a few of the reeds side by side.



After a few minutes of staring at the reeds and the mat, she makes a short sound with her mouth, picks up the reeds, and starts weaving them in and out. I watch her intently while I work and for some time as she weaves many reeds together. Often she gets them tied up in knots, growls at herself, tears the whole thing apart, and then starts over again.



The second time she doesn’t fare much better.



By the time the rainstorm finally subsides, she has managed to weave a decent-sized mat out of the reeds. The strands are woven tightly, and appear to hold together pretty well. I tilt my head to one side as she smiles broadly and lays the thing out on the ground.



Then she sits on it.



I narrow my eyes, watching her face.



It is not long before she squirms, whines, and then gets up again. She takes the mat in her hands and looks it over, feeling the surface of it and then looking at her fingers. She finally glances over to me, shakes the thing, and makes more growling sounds.



I guess she thought it would be comfortable.



Beh obviously isn’t happy with the results, but I think it looks pretty good—just not something you would want to sit on. That is why my sitting mat is made of grass. I shift and hold it up to her, but she scowls at me. I move a little closer and reach out to take the reed mat from her. I look it over, bend it in the center, and use two pieces of sinew to tie the edges together, making it loop at the bottom. I tie a couple more pieces going down the side until it looks like it would at least hold the dried meat or berries. Grain would fall out, but it could certainly be used for something.



I hold it up and smile at Beh.



She smiles back, takes a long breath, and moves closer to me. I give her the grass mat to sit on as I go back to the antelope hide. As I scrape and work on the hide, Beh starts trying to make something else with the remaining reeds as the rain begins to fall hard again.



I remember other rainy days under the thick canopy of trees where I worked alongside others in such a way. It feels good to work beside someone again, especially when that someone is Beh. She may be strange; she may not know how to make baskets, and she may be very noisy, but she is my mate, and I’m thrilled she is here.



I focus on the hide, hoping to make it perfect for her. I don’t know how long we work in silence next to each other, but suddenly Beh lets out a cry, and I look over to her.



Her face lights up with her smile, and she holds high a somewhat rounded object made out of reeds. It’s entirely possible it could hold something if it absolutely had to. Beh laughs and turns it around, obviously proud of her accomplishment.



My heart beats faster, and my body tingles in her presence.



Warm, soft furs and the scent of my mate’s hair.



This is how I wake up, just as I have for the last several mornings. While I sleep, my mind creates images of Beh on her hands and knees in our furs as I enter her body, and now that I am awake, my body wants to continue along the same path.



I don’t understand why, but Beh doesn’t like this. When I rub up against her, she uses that no sound, and sometimes she gets angry, too. She does not mind when I touch her with my nose though, so I pull her body closer to mine and run my nose across her neck, inhaling her scent as I go along. I try not to push my hips into her back at the same time though it is still very, very tempting.



I hope if I am patient, she will let me put a baby inside of her soon.



A flash at the cave’s entrance signifies yet another day of thunderstorms. I will have to go out today and check the traps I set—rain or not. At least I don’t have to go all the way to the lake for more fresh water. The rain has filled my water skins from a trickle just outside of the cave.



Beh wakes slowly to my gentle touches on her neck, shoulder, and ear. For a moment, she rolls over and tucks her head into my chest. She pulls the fur up around her head and hides underneath it.



My mate does not like waking up in the morning, and it makes me smile when she does this. I don’t really think much about how I spent my mornings before Beh, but now that she is here, I can’t imagine waking up any other way.



Even though I know she is sometimes sad and scared, and I think she still misses her tribe—wherever they are—I can’t help but feel happy about her being here. She is extremely confusing, and I never seem to know just what she will do next, but I’m still glad she’s here with me.



I didn’t understand how lonely I had been until I had her.



She is most strange when it comes to her body, and I don’t understand why. She doesn’t seem to realize that going out to relieve herself alone isn’t safe and gets angry with me when I follow her—especially if she has to relieve her bowels. I don’t watch but stand and look the other way. Even that worries me somewhat, and I fear I will turn around to find her gone.



By the time Beh’s eyes open completely, the rain has tapered off a bit. I bank the fire for the day, and we both head toward the pine forest. I have caught two young rabbits in my traps, but when I hold them up for Beh to see, she covers her eyes and shakes her head.



Strange.



I tie them at my waist and decide to head to the lake after all. The rain has slowed to a misting, and the clouds are beginning to thin out and blow away. I go to the far edge of the water where there is a small pile of flint, thinking it would be useful for Beh to have her own knife. I’m not good at flint knapping, but I should be able to make her something useful.



Beh sits down next to me as I pick up the flint as well as a nice, round stone to use to break off pieces. After a while, she stands and walks a few feet away near the small stream that feeds the lake. I can still see her out of the corner of my eye, so I don’t worry. I continue working the flint until I have a knife that should be suitable for Beh to use on the antelope hide to make some new clothing.



I brush bits of flint off my legs as I stand and look over to my mate. She has her back to me and she is bent over. I can’t tell what she is doing with her hands until I move closer. I come up behind her and look over her shoulder.



My mate is really, really weird.



She is also absolutely covered in brown, mushy clay.



She laughs and holds a large lump up to show it to me. Her mouth moves, and she makes enough noise to scare away a group of birds near the shore.



She is so, so strange.



I look at her out of the corner of my eye and wonder if there really is something wrong with her. She continues to make a lot of noise as she begins to smoosh her hands into the clay by the side of the bank. She comes up with two more handfuls and shows them to me. I just keep looking at her, wondering why she’s playing in the mud.



She shakes her head and makes more sounds, gesturing wildly and pointlessly in the process. I reach down and try to pull her up by her elbow, but she bats my hand away. I growl under my breath and check the sky. It doesn’t look like it’s going to start raining again, and it’s still early in the day. I suppose if she really wants to poke around in the clay, I will let her.