Having the Barbarian's Baby: Ice Planet Barbarians: A Slice of Life Short Story
Page 4
I nod slowly. I know that the tribe will look after our mates. Of course they will. Females are cherished and protected, and mine is heavy with kit; Haeden’s mate is newly resonated. They will be pampered. My head knows this but my heart still worries.
Haeden pulls his bone knife out and uses it to stir the coals. “I am responsible for this.”
“For the fire?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “For you being here instead of at Meh-gan’s side. I said something to Vektal. I should have remained silent.” He sits back on his haunches, staring down at the flame. “I just worry there will not be enough to feed everyone when the brutal season is upon us. If it is already this cold…”
He lets his words trail off, and my imagination takes away the rest. I picture snow piled high, the tribal cave mouth nearly buried under the snow itself. The weather will be bitterly cold, and the humans do not handle the chill as well as the sa-khui. They will need warm wraps and fire. My Meh-gan will need extra food so she can produce milk for our son.
My son. He will be arriving very soon. “You were wise to say something,” I tell Haeden. “I bear no grudge. Hunting is part of our life. My Meh-gan must come to understand that I cannot hover at her side for the rest of my days…” My mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “And I must realize I cannot hover at hers.”
Haeden makes a sound of agreement. He pokes at the fire again, then sits back, his tail flicking a little easier. “Your kit will be born soon.”
“Within the next moon,” I agree.
“Rokan says this storm can last for handfuls of days.”
I nod. Rokan warned me of the same before we left. “Meat must be hunted, though. There is no choice.”
“There is not,” Haeden says flatly. His gaze focuses on me. “What will you do if you miss your son’s birth?”
“I will not,” I tell him, and my voice is firm with resolve.
“How are you sure?” He gestures at the flapping, pounding leather screen blocking the entrance. “That is not letting up anytime soon.”
He is not wrong. I suspect it will storm for many days, and then we must emerge to fight through the weather and hunt even more. But it does not worry me; rather, I am filled with determination.
Let the mountains fling all their snow down upon us. Let the dvisti run to the far ends of the valleys. It does not matter.
I will hunt to feed my mate. And I will be home to see my son born into my arms. I know these things to be true.
“I am sure,” I tell Haeden. “He will not be born before I return home.”
He snorts. “One of Rokan’s feelings?”
I shake my head. Simple certainty. “There are things I know to be true. I know it will snow. I know the two suns will rise in the sky and give way to the two moons. I know my Meh-gan loves me. And I know I will return home to bring my son into this world.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls out a stone to sharpen his bone blade. “Then you had best hope the hunting is excellent after the storm.”
5
MEGAN
It has snowed every damn day for the last three weeks. Not a light fall of snow. Not a cheery sprinkle. Not a slight duster. Nope. It has been balls-to-the-wall blizzard conditions since Cashol has left the cave.
I’m worried about him, of course. I’m only human. But it’s been so busy around the cave that I haven’t been consumed by my loneliness. My mate’s first and foremost in my thoughts, but the gnawing ache of his absence is tolerable. I’m excited for him to come back, and I’m excited for the baby to be born. We’re close now, I can feel it. My stomach has dropped noticeably in the last few days and I have to pee every five minutes. It’s annoying but I’m also excited because that means the baby’s on his way.
And it means that Cashol will be home soon.
For now, I’m content to sit near the fire, facing the entrance of the big cave so I can see when someone returns, and set up shop. My nesting instincts are kicking in which means I want to do a million projects to make our cave cozier, and I’m enlisting others to help.
“Whatcha doing?” Stacy asks. “It looks like you have an assembly line going.”
I glance up from the macramé braid I’m working. The ring is on my toe - not that I can really see my toe — and I’m braiding leather strips quickly. I’ve also got Josie, Claire, and Liz at my side all doing the same. “I’m making a hammock.”
“What? Why?” She gives me a baffled look and sits down with us, adjusting her chest-papoose that she keeps baby Pacy in.
“Because I think Cashol would want one,” I tell her, braiding away. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it in.
“She’s nesting,” Liz mock-whispers. “That baby’s coming soon.”
I shoot her a glare, my fingers never stopping in their endless braiding. “The baby is not coming yet. Cashol’s not home.”
“Whatever you say,” Liz replies sweetly, then coughs. “Coughnestingcough.”
Josie giggles and I hear Claire’s stifled laugh. I ignore them, just like I’ve been ignoring the backache that’s been nagging at me all day. The baby needs to wait its turn, and our son is not allowed to be born until his daddy comes home. So I’m choosing to overlook the fact that my back ache won’t go away, or the fact that my belly has been hard and tight all day.
Cashol needs to be here for his son.
And I need to work faster on this hammock. I braid with renewed vigor, shooting Claire an impatient look when she slacks off. They said they wanted to help, not sit around.
Stacy maneuvers her chest papoose, wincing. “Horn in boob, sorry.” She tucks Pacy against her again, settling him in. “That’s better. So you’re not scavenger hunting today?” She looks disappointed.
“Not today,” I tell her. “Busy.”
“What was yesterday’s gift?” she asks, oblivious to my need to work.
“A pouch of cooked hraku seeds,” Claire chimes in. “It’s so sweet of him to do this for her.”
“All the more reason to get the hammock done for him,” I point out, weaving my leather cords steadily.
Everyone in the cave has been following along with my treasure hunt. After I found my disk, Josie and I found a pair of carved hair sticks at the bottom of one of the bone baskets in storage. They were wrapped in a hide decorated with squiggles and scattered with leaves, and it took me a day or two to realize the leaves were from one of Tiffany’s precious plants that have been struggling to grow in the increasing snow. Because of the storms, it took several days for the weather to clear long enough for me and Josie and Tiff to make it the two hundred feet outside of the cave and check on the plants. Buried near the roots of one was a lovely bone cup that had a pinkish sheen to it. Farli shyly confessed that she had made it, her brother Pashov had traded her for it, and Cashol had traded Pashov.
She’d also let it slip that there were six gifts total, so I’d taken my time discovering each one. I had the hair sticks, the strange disc thing on the necklace, the pretty cup, and after that was a new bone knife that had been made for my small hands. For some reason, I treasured the knife the most, because I remembered saying to Cashol over and over again that all of our knives were sized for his hands, not mine.
After that, it was a few days before I found the hraku seeds pouch, hidden by Harlow’s stonecutter (which was now in disuse). The hide it had been wrapped in was decorated with what looked like drawings of animals. Either that meant I was going to find my next gift in food storage, or with Farli’s pet Chompy, or some other thing that had to do with animals. And I’d look for it…tomorrow. Maybe. The thoughtfulness of the treasure hunt was half the pleasure, and I was in no hurry to have it end.
Besides, I want to get the hammock done. My belly cramps, and I rub it absently. I don’t have much time to get this done and it’s a big project. I braid faster, my fingers aching.
“Is this a Rokan thing?” Stacy teases. “Are you sensing that your man’s going to be home soon?”
“Where are you going to possibly put a hammock?” Stacy asks.
“There’s a nook in the corner of our cave with an outcropping that will work,” I say. I’ve already explained this to everyone else in the cave, but hey, what’s one more? “It’ll be fine.”
“What do you think the next present is?” Josie asks. “And did you ever find out what that disc-thing is?”
I begin to answer, and then my belly contracts, the ripple of muscles hard and surprising. I gasp and drop the leather strands I’m weaving together, putting a hand on my rounded stomach.
The cave gets quiet.
“Is it time?” Claire starts to get to her feet. “Should I get the healer?”
I put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I’m fine. Cashol’s not home yet.”
I ignore the uneasy look she casts at Josie and Liz. They think I’m crazy. I’m not, though. I’m just stubborn and I’m trusting in my mate. He said he’d be back in time for the birth. And since he’s not here, it must not be time yet. Any time now would be nice, though, I think to myself as I pick up my leather strands again.
CASHOL
I sling my pack over my shoulder. “I am returning to the tribal cave.”
Haeden gives me a troubled look as he feeds another dung chip to the fire. “Are you mad? The storms have not stopped. The snow will be so high it will be over your horns. It is not safe.”
I nod slowly. “I know. But I feel in my gut that Meh-gan will have our son soon, and I must be there for her.” It is a feeling that has been gnawing at me for the last day, and I cannot remain in this cave, idle.
We have been trapped here for longer than I want, and every day that passes feels like grit under my skin and chafes. Due to the weather, we are not feeding the tribe. We are just sitting and waiting.
I am tired of waiting. My Meh-gan is close to giving birth, and I will be there at her side no matter what.
“You are a fool,” Haeden tells me sourly. “You will freeze solid, like a dvisti in a cache, and then we will have to bring your stiff body back to your mate.”
I grin, because even as he tells me these terrible things, he picks up his own bag. “And yet you will come with me?”
He snorts. “The idea of freezing solid is more appealing than staying trapped here another hand of days with your smelly boots.” He pulls his heavy cloak off its hook and wraps it around his shoulders. “And I miss my mate, too.”
I pick up my cloak as well; for the last few days we have been trapped, and with nothing to do, we have been preparing. My blades are lethally sharp, my sling supple in case I need it. We have taken the stored hides in the cave and stitched them into heavy cloaks to cover our lighter ones. We both made snowshoes because the snow is deep, but we have not been able to leave the safety of the small cave. The supplies in the hunter cave are down to nothing - the fuel is almost gone, the stored rations are completely exhausted, and we have taken all the furs. We will need to replenish it when the weather is better.
But for now? All I can think about is Meh-gan’s smiling face. The need to see her burns in my gut. I cannot sleep at night because I worry over her. The days last endlessly because I want to be with her. I know Haeden suffers the same.
So even though it is dangerous, we will go.
We pull together the last of our supplies and wrap ourselves in heavy furs. The snowshoes go on over our boots. Outside, it is quiet, the wind muffled by the layer of snow burying our cave.
I put a hand on the leather screen and hesitate.
Haeden sighs.
“I know,” I tell him. I stare out at the endless snow. Our cave was buried several days ago and we have kept a tunnel dug so we could have breathing air, but the landscape will be brutal, even for hunters such as us. The cold will be dangerous, the snow hiding many dangers. We are taking our lives into our hands by leaving.
But staying? With little food and no fire? Without our mates? It feels like no choice at all.
I look over at Haeden. “If the wind is high, we will not be able to speak.” I wrap my furs tighter around my body. “Anything can happen. If I do not make it back, you will tell Meh-gan my last thoughts were of her?”
He glares at me. “You are a fool. I will tell her that.”
I laugh, because my friend is the same no matter the danger. I pull the furs over my head to form a hood, push the screen aside, and step forward into the tunnel of snow. It is very dark. We push forward, our steps slow as we emerge out of the dug tunnel and into the changed landscape. All around us there is snow. Endless snow. It drifts over everything, taller than I am, and only the pink, tufted tips of trees show above the powder. It is cold, desolate, and still. The sky remains thick with clouds, indicating that there will be more snow to come.
I take a step forward, and even with my snowshoe, I sink. I test the depth of the snow with my spear and it goes down all the way to the point. The air feels dry with the bone-searing cold and I can feel ice forming at my nostrils. I pull the furs tighter around my face and test my spear again in another spot. It sinks just as deep.
“Enough fooling around,” Haeden snarls, pushing ahead. “We need to go as far as we can before the weather starts again.”
He is right. I think of Meh-gan and her pale face anxiously watching the front of the cave for my return. The thought of her drives me forward, and I follow after Haeden.
Soon, my Meh-gan.
MEGAN
“Oh my God, you are such a bad liar,” Josie exclaims when I accidentally drop the leather cords I’m holding. “How long have you been in labor?”
I clutch my belly, wrinkling my nose and scrunching my face in an attempt not to bellow out loud at how much it hurts. Everything seems to be contracting all at once, and it takes several moments of me huffing through the pain before I can speak. When I can, I calmly pick up the cords again, starting up where I left off. “It’s not time.”
“Dude. Are you crazy?” Josie’s voice escalates and her hands go on her hips. “That was totally a contraction!”
“What?” Tiffany arrives with the hot tea she fetched for me, a startled look on her face. She sets the pink cup down within my reach from my little fur nest and then moves to the fire to stoke it higher. “Is the baby coming?”
“It is,” Josie says. “I’ll go get Maylak!”
“It’s not,” I correct. Well, okay, it kind of is. “There’s still plenty of time. My water hasn’t even broken.”
“Well I’m not gonna check to see if you’re dilated,” Josie retorts. “We’re buddies but we’re not that close. Seriously, I’m going to get the healer.”
“Josie, please.” I hold out the ring that I’m using to braid my leather-macrame hammock. “It can wait, okay? I think I’d know if my baby was coming. Can you help me finish this? I’m so close. Just another hour or two of weaving, I promise.”
She and Tiffany share a dubious look.
They’re good friends to worry about me. “If my water breaks, we’ll get the healer, okay? For now, I really want to finish this.” I wave the ring at her, and when she doesn’t take it, I hold it out to Tiffany.
Tiffany sighs and folds her body gracefully across from my bloated one. “For a little bit longer, then.”
Josie makes an outraged noise but she takes the ring and thumps down. “Fine, fine.”
“Thanks guys. We’re so close to being done.”
“I love you, Megan, but I feel the need to point out that you’re kinda worrying me,” Josie says as she holds the ring and the braided cords out straight so I can move them into place.
“I know.” I work fast, because I’m so close to being done and I want the hammock finished. It’s a lot of cord to braid, but it’s kept me busy over the last two days, and I’m grateful for it. It keeps me focused on the project at hand an
d not the fact that the weather has picked up, howling and bitter, or that my mate still isn’t home and the baby’s about to make its presence known.
I just…I can’t let the baby be born without his daddy to welcome him into the world. And I can’t worry about the fact that the weather has been so brutally cold that our breath frosts even in the cave, and even the sa-khui themselves have commented on how unusually chilly it is.
Cashol will be fine. He has to be.
Three hours later, I’m putting the finishing knots on the hammock when my water breaks.
“That does it,” Josie declares, jumping to her feet. “I’m getting Maylak.”
My belly gives another hard, angry contraction, swallowing my protest. The baby’s coming, and my mate isn’t here. I start to weep, then, because this is all wrong. This isn’t how my baby’s birth is supposed to go.
“Now, now, honey,” Tiffany says soothingly. She takes me by the arm. “Let’s get you on your feet and get cleaned up, okay?”
“Cashol said he’d be here,” I say between sniffles. “He promised.”
“I’m sure he’s on his way back right now.” She rubs my back and helps me up, and then helps me peel off my tunic. “Let’s get some fresh blankets and some water for you to drink. Maylak’s on her way and we’ll get this baby born in no time.”
That just makes me cry harder.
Maylak arrives with Josie a few minutes later, a smile on her gentle blue face. Her hand is on her own rounded belly and she moves to my side, rubbing my arm. “I see our newest tribe member has decided to arrive.”
“But my mate’s not here,” I say tearily. “Cashol said he’d be back for the baby’s birth. He promised.”
Her three-fingered hand touches my belly and in response, another contraction rips through me. “I think your kit is tired of waiting. It is very close now. Your body is ready.”
My body might be, but my brain is still full of protests. Another contraction surges and the intense need to bear down rushes through me.