“Clearly,” I tease, tapping the tip of her small human nose. “Let us eat something before we go.”
We dress, and then sit by the coals of the fire as we eat our morning food. She still does not like the taste of kah, wrinkling her nose at the spicy taste. Lately we have been making it blander for human tongues, but I did not think to grab it when I snagged kah from the stores. I was distracted, my thoughts on my mate.
“I will catch you something to eat later tonight,” I promise her as she takes a big mouthful of water.
“This is okay. I’m getting used to it. Slowly.”
“You are a bad liar,” I tease.
“The worst.” She wrinkles her nose and grins. “It’s really not that bad, I promise. I’m just being extra dramatic. I’ve never been a fan of spicy food, even human food.” As if to prove she is fine, she takes another big mouthful and washes it down with more water. “Should we get going?”
I nod, then clean up the cave, straightening the supplies and packing things away for the next hunter to come in this direction. Georgie bundles up in her layers, and when she pulls on her mittens, I tug the hood of her cloak over her pretty face and then steal a kiss. “We will be at your flying cave later today.”
Georgie takes a deep breath. “Okay. And Dominique? The red-haired human?”
“She is much closer.” I still remember the heart-stopping sight of her, frozen in the snow, and how for a moment I thought it was Georgie. How my heart had thumped with panic. Just the memory of that makes me uneasy and I pull her against me. I want this day to go well for her, I think as I press my mate to my chest. I try not to think of all the bad things we can find, if metlaks or other predators have gotten to the corpses first.
“We’ll take her and bury her with the others, won’t we?” Georgie asks in a quiet, subdued voice.
“Of course.” It is important to her, and I will deny her nothing. Even so, I do not want her to be surprised if what we find is not…whole. “My mate, I do not want to fill you with worry, but it is possible others have gotten to them before us.”
“I know,” she says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Trust me, it’s been going through my mind constantly. But whatever we can do to put them to rest, it will be enough.” She looks up at me, her eyes bright with khui-blue under the hood. “Thank you again.”
“There is no need for thanks,” I say again.
“Right. Of course.” Georgie smiles tremulously up at me. “I suppose we’d better tackle the day, then.”
But her eyes are filled with dread.
* * *
We walk, and she tells me of human burial customs. They are far more ornate than those of the sa-khui. Poems are read, prayers sent, and monuments in stone carved for those that have fallen. We have no such things to give these dead females, but Georgie says it is fine. It is the thought and effort behind it.
I tell her of sa-khui customs, the few that we have. Sometimes if someone does not come back from a hunt, there is no body to be found. Sometimes it is left behind for scavengers, only knives and personal possessions passed on to the family. Horns are etched and cut to show grief, snow poured over the head and the mourner keening their loss. The tribe celebrates the life of the one that has passed, and then…the world goes on. When there are dead, they are taken to an unused cave, dressed in their finest leathers, and then the cave is collapsed so they may sleep eternally. My father - and many others - sleep in such a cave thanks to the khui sickness.
Those were bad times, and I do not want to dwell on them more than I must, though.
We find the red-maned female’s body a short distance from a cave I once shared with Georgie. I remember the spot, remember covering her with snow and marking a nearby rock so I would know the place to show her later. I dig in the snow, with Georgie watching nearby. Once we find the red mane, it does not take long to dig out the rest of her pale limbs. She is frozen solid, and I wrap her in a large sa-kohtsk hide I brought for such a thing. I heft the corpse into my arms and look to my mate.
Her arms are crossed over her chest and her face is paler than usual.
“I can walk,” she tells me, moving close. She looks very small, very fragile.
“Stay near,” I tell her, even though the words are unnecessary. “This is metlak territory.”