Transcendence (14 page)

I come to a quick halt on the rocks behind her and tense, waiting to see what she will do next. A moment later, Beh drops to her knees and lets out a long moan. Risking further wrath, I go to her and wrap my arms around her from behind.

I don’t understand. I never understand, but I hold her as tightly as I can until her struggles subside, and she turns toward me. Her arms go up and around my neck, and she tucks her head against my chest. My mate alternates between crying, screaming, and smacking her palm against my chest or shoulder as she makes her strange noises. All I can do is hold her and wait until she collapses in exhaustion and closes her eyes. I feel her relax against me as her breathing becomes metered and quiet.

I look down into her tear-stained, sleeping face and sigh. Pulling my legs underneath me, I slip one arm under her legs and the other behind her shoulders. I brace my legs underneath me and stand up with her in my arms. I’m grateful she’s small and not too heavy to lift this way. Her head flops against my chest as I turn from the water and carry her up the bank, through the woods, across the steppes, and into our cave.

Looking around the cave, I decide not to lay her down in our furs. Instead, I lower myself slowly in front of the fire and continue to hold her close to me. I use one hand to add more wood from the pile but manage to let her sleep at the same time.

It is late in the day when she wakes, and her bloodshot eyes look up at me. I feel the shiver run through her body as she stares at me, looks around the cave, and then closes her eyes again for a moment. When she opens them again, she pushes herself from my lap and goes to the small rock shelf where the water skins sit. She picks one of them up and brings it back to us.

I watch through my hair warily as she picks up one of the small round cups she made and pours water into it. She holds the cup out to me and then pours a second cup when I take the first from her hand. I look at the water for a moment and then quickly drink it down. I run my tongue over the edge of the cup, and it tastes like mud in my mouth. It is not like the cups my mother created out of broad leaves laced tightly together, but it certainly still holds the liquid securely. Though the sides of the cup have a muddy taste on my tongue, it doesn’t make the water taste like dirt.

Beh is looking at me as she drinks from her own cup, and I try to smile at her with my head bowed down—still hiding. She looks down to the ground, but there is now the hint of a smile on her lips. She reaches over toward the fire, and I can hear a slight scraping sound. I glance up through my hair and see her gathering up tiny broken shards still on the ground. I know I should probably do it myself—it is my fault the plate is broken—but I’m afraid to move. I only want to do things that made her happy today, and I am failing miserably.

Beh stands with the broken bits in her hands and heads toward the entrance to the cave. I crawl behind her, still unwilling to let her go out alone but also not wanting to show myself in my shame. Once we are both outside, she takes the remaining broken pieces and tosses them off the cliff and into a shallow ravine before she turns back to me. I’m standing right by the cave entrance, pushing myself against the rock wall, hoping she won’t yell that
no
sound at me again.

Beh walks up to me and stands very close. I let my eyes meet hers, and she takes a long, deep breath. She lifts her hands away from her sides and takes my fingers in her grasp. With a small tug, she brings herself against my chest and tips her forehead on my shoulder. My arms go around her, and I feel her relax into me.

“
Beh?”

She turns her head to look up at me and smiles, but her eyes remain dull. My thumb strokes her cheek softly as she makes muted sounds with her mouth. I want to put my lips on hers to make her quiet again, but I’m not sure how well that would be received at the moment. I still feel lost and confused. Without knowing what else to do, I pick her up and carry her back into the cave as the rain begins again. She makes a little squeaking sound as I lift her into my arms but doesn’t protest as I lay her back on the furs and bring her the remaining rabbit meat from earlier.

I feed her a little piece at a time from my fingers, followed by sips of water from the cups she made. My mate is quiet as she eats, and I alternate between feeding her and slowly stroking her arm with my fingers.

After the meat is gone, Beh’s eyes meet mine. She watches me carefully as she reaches up and runs her hand over my cheek. With her fingertips, she slowly pushes the hair from my forehead. I lean against the warmth of her palm, and when she smiles this time, the firelight hits her eyes and makes them sparkle. She leans forward, and her lips brush softly over mine.

Finally, I am forgiven.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The spring rains have finally ended. Though the sun is high in the sky, Beh still hasn’t moved from our bed. Eventually, I climb back into the furs with her and nuzzle against her neck with my nose until she is roused. She still seems tired, and when I take her outside to relieve herself, she gasps loud enough for me to turn around to make sure she isn’t harmed. There is nothing around her to pose any threat, but she is squatting near the ravine and looking down at her hand. There is blood on it, but I don’t think from her expression she is injured—just worried.

Her eyes widen, and she glances up at me as I approach to find out what is wrong. Her strange leggings are around her ankles, and she starts to stand to pull them up her legs—she still doesn’t want me to see her body—but then stops and looks to her hand again.

She is bleeding. Her eyes well up with tears, and at first I think she might actually be hurt. As soon as I am close enough, I know from the smell of the blood that it is different from a wound, and I know why. It is her bleeding time. What I do not understand is why that makes her cry. She is too old for this to be the first time her blood has come.

I bend down and pick her up with her leggings still down around her lower legs. Even though she pushes at me, gets all wriggly, and makes loud sounds, I don’t stop or put her down. I remember the other women of my tribe—especially my mother and sisters—and what they did during their bleeding time. I carry Beh back to our cave and hold her still until I can dig one of the older furs out from the bottom on the depression where we sleep. I spread it out on the floor and sit Beh on top of it.

I know she doesn’t like things to be messy.

She bursts into tears again as she pulls at her leggings but stops before she gets them all the way on.

I don’t have any of the things like my mother used to give my sisters when they were bleeding, but I think I can figure something out. I quickly cut strips of antelope hide—one to tie around her waist, and two to go between her legs and catch the blood. I don’t have any wool or anything to put between them to help absorb, but I know some dry grass can be used until we find something better, and fold some in between the two straps of leather.

I start with the strap of leather around her waist and pull her up so she is standing. She pushes at me, but I grab her hand. Since she is using her other hand to hold her lower garment part way up her legs, she can’t push me anymore. I kick at her ankle until she spreads her legs and lets me maneuver the other pieces between her thighs. Then I wrap the ends around the strap around her middle. It seems to fit reasonably well once I get the whole contraption on her. Beh alternates between laughing and crying as she shifts around, adjusts the straps, and then hugs me.

My mate is weird.

She is also very tired and keeps crying off and on throughout the rest of the day. Thinking she might want to untangle her hair, I bring her a stick from one of the trees outside, and she cries again. I bring her a drink of water, and she cries again. I bring her some meat from the fire, and she cries again.

I give up and plop down a few feet away from her.

She looks over at me, her chin begins to quiver, and she starts crying again.

I move closer, and she wraps her arms around me. We stay inside the cave where I keep the fire going and feed her pieces of dried meat as she lays on the old fur and rubs her stomach. When the piece of leather strap and grass are filled with blood, Beh replaces it with another one. I go to the ravine to throw the dry grass away and wash the leather even though the water there has a foul odor and isn’t really any good for cleaning or drinking. I will have to go to the lake for that, but I don’t want to go too far away from Beh.

I place the somewhat washed leather up high in a tree with the hope that no predators will be attracted to the scent and steal it. I make her several more from an old hide, and she cries when I give them to her.

Thankfully, Beh feels better the second day, and she follows me to the lake to wash out the leather pieces in the clean water. After a few days, Beh stops bleeding and crying, and my head stops hurting.

There is nothing—nothing in my entire existence—that compares to waking up with my mate curled tightly against my chest. Though I had not realized it at the time, the loneliness had weighed heavily on me during my time of isolation, and now I’m beginning to wonder if I would have survived much longer on my own. I could hunt and protect myself, but the lack of companionship had been slowly destroying my will to live.

Before Beh, I hadn’t thought about the loneliness in such a way. Maybe I just ignored how I felt when I would lie awake and look out into the darkness of my cave, listening to nothing except the crackling of the fire and the wind outside. I only remember feeling empty inside.

Now that Beh is beside me, like she has been for the first part of the spring season, I feel warm and full.

Tensing my muscles, I pull her closer to me and nuzzle my nose against the top of her head. Beh sighs in her sleep but does not move as I hold her close, watch the burning coals, and doze off again with my mate’s body pressed close against mine.

The next day, we head out toward the lake again. I bring along the antelope fur so I can wash it and finish it for Beh. Along the way, I collect three rabbits, which means Beh will have good fur for mittens and foot coverings for winter, too. She still doesn’t seem impressed by the rabbits, I notice, and like the last time, she won’t even look at them when I try to show them to her.

Once we reach the lake, Beh goes immediately to the place where she found the clay before. I swallow hard, wondering if she is still upset with me, but she doesn’t appear to be angry. She seems excited to find the clay again. Before I start on the fur, I follow her to the little stream and find a nice, flat digging rock. I pull the clay together in a pile and then watch her form some of it into smooth balls. I make a couple of them for her, and she smiles at me with sparkling eyes as I work. When I’m done, Beh smiles and places her lips against my cheek. My heart begins to beat a little faster as I wait and hope she will bring her lips to my mouth as well.

She doesn’t, and after a moment, I frown and grunt to get her attention. Beh looks over at me with questioning eyes, and I reach out and place my fingers on her lips. After a moment, I remove them and press them over my own mouth.

Beh’s lips press together as she holds back a grin. I lean forward a little, still hopeful, and she narrows the distance between us until her mouth is on mine. I close my eyes and revel in the warmth of the sun, her lips, and her presence. Her fingers creep up around my neck and dig into the back of my head, holding me closer as her mouth opens to mine and our tongues touch.

If I weren’t already on my knees, I would have fallen to them.

I reach my arms around her shoulders and bring her body closer to me. There’s a rock digging into my knee, and I don’t care. I can feel myself getting hard, and I don’t care about that either. Just this—just her lips against mine—
that
is a wondrous thing to me.

Beh pulls away from me, breathing hard and leaning her forehead against mine. I lock eyes with her, silently pleading for more when Beh makes that sound again—the one that sounds like a snake.

“
Kiss.”

I tilt my head looking first to her mouth and then back to her eyes.

“
Kiss, Ehd.”

“
Beh…” My fingers stroke up her arm and down again as my eyes focus on her mouth.

She moves forward and presses her lips firmly against mine, then backs off again.