This makes him happy, too. He gives me a fierce look, as if he likes the idea of me calling him mine. In that moment, though, the sand-scorpions start to pop and sizzle on the fire. Reluctantly, he pulls away and moves to the food. "Rukh food Har-loh," he says instead.
"If we must," I say, fighting back a little disappointment. I wouldn't mind rolling around in the furs for a while, but I guess that's not how you survive out here. It's a lot of work, and I need to start thinking like my barbarian does. "Food, and then we start to make a home, right? Right."
Rukh only grunts an answer.
2
RUKH
I will never grow tired of watching my female eat the food I have brought for her. I know she does not like the look of the crawlers, but she enjoys the flavor when they are sizzled atop the fire. I must remember to do that every time. Har-loh likes all her food warm. Har-loh likes everything warm, I realize, as she piles a few of the furs over her body before coming to join me by the fire. She does not walk about in nothing but her speckled skin. Instead, she piles the skins of others atop her and shivers when she does not have enough of them.
This is another thing I must learn when it comes to my mate. Har-loh is fragile and weak compared to me. I must take care of her. I must handle all the things that are too difficult or that she does not like to do, because I am her mate. I hand her one of the hard-shelled things and she immediately drops it into the sand, hissing and licking her fingers. "S'tewhawt," she fusses, sucking on her thumb. "Gimmemowment."
I touch the hard-shelled creature, but it does not seem too warm to me. She has gotten sand on hers, though, so I crack mine open, revealing all the tasty white flesh inside, and set it down on a corner of the animal skin in front of her.
Har-loh's expression grows soft. "Dankyewbehbeh," she tells me, and my cock surges in response to her soft words. I love hearing her speak.
I nod and take the one she dropped, brushing off the grains of sand before cracking it open and eating it. I watch as she picks at hers with dainty fingertips, nibbling on the tiny bits of flesh she pulls free. She is so…soft. And pink. I worry that I will not be a good mate to her. That I will not be able to take care of her like I should. I am fine with sleeping in the sand. I am fine when the weather turns brisk and the clouds come and do not leave for days and days. But these things will be hard on my little mate, and the thought of that makes my gut clench with fear.
I cannot lose Har-loh like I lost my father. I cannot go back to having no one at all. Har-loh is everything to me. She showed me how to kiss, and how to put a kit inside her. She showed me how to wash. She smiles at me and she is teaching me words. I have never been so happy as I am now, with Har-loh at my side. It scares me, a little. I know of too many nights when I woke up and there was no one to talk to, no one to give me food when I was hungry. Too many times I was sad and alone, missing my father.
I will not let my Har-loh be sad and alone. With that thought racing through my mind, I pick up another crawler, crack the hard shell open, and offer it to my mate. "Eat."
After we eat our fill, Har-loh makes noises that she wishes to leave the cave. It is safest for her inside, but if she wishes to see the great salt water, I will not deny her. It is a fascinating thing to look at, and I find the constant roar of the waves soothing. I watch as my mate puts on all the furs, covering her speckled skin, and then smiles at me. "Reddytewgoh."
I grunt and wait for her to leave the cave. I plan on staying at her side for as long as possible. Har-loh is clever about a great many things, but she is not as hardy as she should be. She is delicate and fragile, and I will not have her hurt.
When she emerges from the cave, she reaches for my hand. I wait, wondering if she has something to show me, but all she does is hold my hand. At my baffled look, she just chuckles and reaches up to touch my face with her other hand. "Snew to yewissit?" But she gives my hand a squeeze and does not let go, then tugs me along, indicating I should follow her.