Calm: Ice Planet Barbarians: A Slice of Life Short Story

by Ruby Dixon

  I know exactly what he means. Little Esha left with Rokan so she would not be frightened of any cries I made while giving birth. I miss my daughter, though. I want her here. I want to show her the new brother she has, and see her charming smile. I want to hug her close and reassure myself that she is safe, even though I know she will be with Rokan and his Li-lah. I am just…worried. “A name?” I ask my mate, keeping my tone light. “Have you considered one?”

  “I thought we might blend our names, as the humans do. Makash.”

  “A fierce name for such a sleepy kit.” I smile down at the small bundle in my arms. I could watch the small face for hours, the fat cheeks working as Makash nurses.

  “He will grow into his strong name,” Kashrem says, giving my arm one last caress and then getting to his feet. “Better that he be a hunter than a tanner like his father.”

  I look up, frowning at such negative words. “Why does it matter?”

  As I watch, my gentle Kashrem picks up his seldom-used spear and goes to the entrance of our tiny cave. He sits and watches out the entrance, and his face is solemn.

  “What is this?” I ask. This is not like my mate. My Kashrem is sweet of nature and not a fighter. I have never cared if he picked up a spear to hunt or if he cured a hide. Why the sudden change of heart?

  “I have worried,” he says in a low voice, his hands gripping the spear awkwardly. His eyes glow as they fix on tiny Makash.

  “Over the kit? But—”

  He shakes his head. “Over what you said this morning when you woke. That something was wrong. And it made me think…should I be stronger to protect my family? Should I do more? Should I hunt? Be fierce like Hassen and Bek?” He gazes down at the spear in his hands as if it is foreign to him. “Will that help?”

  “My mate,” I say softly, calling to him. I hold my hand out, waiting.

  He gazes down at the spear, then sighs and casts it aside. He moves over to my side and kneels, then cups my face in his hands. “I want to be enough. Enough for you, enough of a father for Esha and Makash.”

  “You are. Never doubt that.” I stroke his hand and hold it there, against my cheek. “Do not think you have to be anything other than who you are.”

  “But the danger—”

  “Could be nothing,” I say firmly. “I spoke with Rokan, and he feels the same unease, but it is not like the khui-sickness from before. We do not know what it is, and it might be something as simple as bad weather this brutal season.” It feels like a lie against my teeth, but seeing the worry on my mate’s face disappear is worth it.

  “I want to protect you,” Kashrem says fiercely. “You are my female. My mate. The mother of my kits.”

  “A mother who is busy tending a tribe that grows every day,” I say softly. I nuzzle his hand and then look up at him again. “A mother with two very young kits who is thankful that she has a husband not out on the trails, because it lets her focus on helping all.”

  My words soothe some of the tension from his shoulders. “Why do you always know the right thing to say to ease my heart?”

  “Because I am the healer,” I say gently. “And your mate. My duty is to know you and to know how to heal you in all ways.”

  He gazes down at Makash, then chuckles. “He has fallen asleep feeding.”

  I glance down and our small son’s little mouth quivers, as if trying to latch on in sleep. I lift him to my shoulder and rub his back, waiting for the inevitable belch. When it is done, I swaddle him in soft furs and then hold him out to his father.

  The look of love on Kashrem’s face as he takes his son in his arms makes me melt and fills me with fierce protectiveness. We do not require a hunter in our family. I am the healer. I will keep my family strong and safe with my healing. The tribe provides food for us in thanks. There is no more that is needed.

  And I feel guilty that my worry has bled over to my mate. This is why a healer has so many secrets. Because sometimes they should not be spoken until they have turned into something that can be healed away with a touch. I have made my mate worry over formless dangers that might never come to light. And yet…I cannot hold these things back from my mate. He is my heart. He is the only one I can share my burdens with.

  “I know that look on your face,” he murmurs, even as he gently rocks Makash in his arms.

  “What look?” I straighten my clothing, wrapping my tender breasts with a chest-wrap like I have seen the human females do.

  “The look that says you regret sharing your worries with me.” The smile he gives me is wise. “But I would not have it any other way.”

  “Me either,” I say softly. Even a healer must lean on another. I fuss with the blankets, feeling strangely vulnerable at how well he knows me. “Is the privacy screen over the entrance? Rokan and Vektal will be by soon to talk about the bad feeling and what we can do.”

  He sets the kit down in a new basket—a basket woven by my mate, with cleverly colored cordage that gives it a decorative pattern—and then goes to the entrance and moves the screen. He returns a moment later, and Vektal and Rokan both are behind him.

  “Healer,” Vektal says, nodding at me. “Is your new kit well?”

  Kashrem raises a hand, stopping both hunters before they can sit down. “My mate just gave birth. It is only because she wants you here that I removed the screen at all. You will say what you need, and quickly, and then she will rest.”

  Rokan’s eyes go wide, but he is grinning. Vektal just nods, his lips twitching with amusement. “You are fierce tonight, Kashrem.”

  “My mate looked after the tribe all day and then came home to give birth to my son. Of course I am fierce. She will not stop until she is certain all are well, so I will make sure that she rests.” He gives his chief a firm nod, and then the same at me. “So do not sit, because you will not be here long.”

  I chuckle and pull the furs up closer around my waist. He is right; I am tired. My eyelids are heavy and I want nothing more than to sleep, but it feels that there is so much to do.

  Vektal comes to stand near the furs and then glances over at Kashrem before squatting at my bedside. “Tell me more about your concerns.”

  I look at Rokan, who nods, and then I speak. I tell my chief of waking up with my worries, and my visits to check on the tribe. I tell him of my doubts, because I cannot point to a specific thing causing my worry. It is just there, waiting. “I do not know what to make of it,” I say at last. “I would think it is just the worries of a pregnant female, but Rokan shares them.”

  “Yes, and I am not pregnant,” Rokan says, straight-faced.

  Vektal just gives Rokan a patient look, and then turns back to me. “And you are sure it is not focused on your new kit?”

  “Makash is strong,” I say proudly. “Very healthy.”

  My chief grunts. “It is a good name.”

  “It is.”

  Vektal turns to Rokan. “Could it be related to the khui hunt that we must do for Makash? We will need to go soon.”

  Rokan thinks, and then shakes his head. “It does not feel like hunting danger.”

  “And not weather?”

  Rokan shakes his head again.

  “And it is focused on the tribe?”

  “It feels that way,” I say. In the light of all the questions, I wonder if I am imagining things. Everyone is healthy. No one is sick. I see on Rokan’s face that he wonders the same thing. So I ask, “Are we seeing smoke where there is no fire?”

  Vektal is silent for a long moment, gazing down at me. Then he speaks. “I have never known you to panic, Maylak. You are steady and unwavering. If you have worries, we will listen.”

  “But I do not know what it is I worry over,” I fret.

  “Then we wait,” Vektal says. “We remain watchful and we wait for whatever it is to happen.” He gets to his feet slowly. “My Georgie has a human expression—a calm before the storm. Perhaps that is what this is.”

  “But then what is the storm?” Rokan asks.

 
Vektal spreads his hands. “We do not know yet.”

  I look helplessly at Rokan. “So what do we do?”

  “Enjoy the calm,” Vektal says. “Say nothing to the others. There is no sense in spreading panic. Until then, enjoy each day, each hour with your family.”

  I look at their serious faces, and then back to my own mate. “That is no answer, my chief.”

  “It is because I have none.” Vektal’s face looks momentarily bleak, but then his expression changes to determination. “We will not be caught unawares, whatever this is. We will watch the weather. We will gather more food supplies, more fire supplies. We will send hunters out in pairs instead of alone. We will be safe.” He closes a fist and rests it atop his flat palm. “If we can prevent this from happening, we will.”

  “Very well,” I say softly. “There is more I can do. I can work with Kemli and gather more healing herbs. Make more medicinal teas. I can watch the pregnant ones even closer.” And the ones I secretly have an eye on, like Har-loh and Analay.

  “You will sleep,” my mate says, striding forward and putting himself between my chief and my bedside. He gives the two men a stern look. “She is tired. Let her rest. You can worry more tomorrow.”

  “As you wish, fierce one.” Vektal nods at me, and then at Kashrem. “Bring your Makash by when you are rested, healer. My Georgie will want to hold him.”

  “I will,” I promise.

  The two hunters leave, and Kashrem puts the screen back over the entrance. He rubs his face and then walks to my side, footsteps heavy, before dropping down into the furs. He puts his arms around me and buries his face against my shoulder.

  I play with his sleek braids. “Long day?” I tease.

  “I worry over my mate even if she does not. Someone must make our tireless healer get her rest.” He lets his fingers trace over my skin. “And I worry over what Vektal says. If there is a problem—”

  “Then we wait until it surfaces,” I assure my mate. “He is right. We cannot live every day worrying over a formless, nameless thing.”

  “Enjoy the calm,” Kashrem agrees, holding me close. “Easier than it sounds.”

  Over in the basket, Makash hiccups and then begins to cry.

  Despite my exhaustion, I chuckle. “Much easier than it sounds, especially with a newborn kit.”

  “I will get him.” My mate climbs to his feet again and moves to the basket. He picks up the bundle, rocking Makash in his arms as he returns to my side.

  I watch them, and my resolve is strengthened. Vektal is right. We live in a dangerous world. There are threats every day, and we cannot live in fear of them. We will wait. We will prepare. We will keep our secrets, and we will hope for the best.

  And until then, we enjoy the calm.

  I hold my arms out for my new son, and smile.

  Author’s Note

  Well, wasn’t that a fun tease? I hope you enjoyed the little glimpse into Maylak’s headspace. I wanted to show things from her perspective—as both integral part of the tribe and worrywart—as well as check in with several of our other couples. I hope you enjoyed this! As Maylak says, it’s a little bit of calm, right before the storm.

  Speaking of storms…Maddie’s book, BARBARIAN’S TAMING, will be out right at the end of summer, and I’m thinking it’s going to be a game changer for our aliens in many ways.

  I hope you enjoyed this little taste and it’ll get you through until the next full-length release. As always, thank you for being a fan. I really do have the best ones on the planet!

  <3

  Ruby

  MOVING DAY

  FARLI

  Cham-pee bites at the cuff of my leggings as I walk through the cave, nearly tripping me.

  “Cham-pee! Stop it! I am trying to carry these blankets!”

  He bleats at me, looking so funny and so very sa-khui in his outrage that I laugh. I cannot be angry at his furry little face. When he gets indignant, he reminds me of Bek in one of his moods, which just makes me laugh harder.

  Hands grab the tall stack of blankets from me, and I am surprised to see it is Bek. I am not surprised to see he is scowling.

  “My thanks,” I tell him, grabbing Cham-pee before he can attack Bek’s leggings.

  “You must be more careful,” he tells me in a flat, angry voice. “You nearly stepped into Hemalo’s hides.”

  I look over in surprise. Sure enough, Hemalo has set up his skinning tools just outside the cave the unmarried hunters share. It is in the way of the normal paths through the tribal cave, but I suppose he cannot set it up in his own cave anymore, now that he has moved out. “Oh. I did not see—”

  “Clearly.” Bek nods at me. “Now, where do you take these?”

  “I am going to get Mah-dee,” I tell him, ignoring his foul mood. “Today is her moving day.”

  He grunts. “I will carry this for you so you do not hurt yourself.”

  “And so you can see Mah-dee?” I tease.

  A scowl darkens on his face. I have probably pushed too far, judging from his reaction. I do not care. Bek needs a kick in the tail after several moons of his sourness. The only one he is kind to anymore is the human Claire. I think he misses her. But he only says, “Where is the human, then?”

  I shrug. “Where did she sleep last night during the celebration? In which cave?”

  He does not know, and I do not either, so we start peering into the caves with no screens. If she has bedded down with a hunter, we will find her soon enough. This is a cave with few secrets…though I think if she has bedded down with someone, I will lose Bek’s assistance.

  We find Vaza before we find Mah-dee. He is all smiles as he spies us, a basket in his hands. “Have you seen the human Mah-dee? I wanted to give her a basket.”

  I smother my amusement behind my hand. Vaza is so obvious. So is Bek, actually. He scowls at his competition. “Why does she need a basket?”

  Vaza gazes down at the basket in his hands and then shrugs. “Does not everyone need a good basket?”

  “I am sure she will be grateful.” And a giggle slips out of me.

  Both Bek and Vaza frown at me. Cham-pee bleats and bites at my chin. I release my little dvisti and he immediately scampers away, thinking we are playing a chase game. I do not follow.

  The chase game that is unfolding is far too interesting.

  “Perhaps she is sleeping in one of the storage caves,” I suggest. “I will go look.”

  They do not pay attention to me. They are too busy glaring at each other. “She can make her own basket,” Bek snarls at Vaza.

  “She can make her own blankets, too!”

  “I am helping Farli. You are just stalking her like a snow-cat, like you always do.”

  “As if you are one to speak,” Vaza hisses. “You had a human and you lost her. Let others have a chance!”

  I roll my eyes like Leezh does when she is annoyed.

  Every time a human female is unmated, it is the same story with the unmated males. They make fools of themselves to push their way into her presence, hoping for a pleasure-mate, if not resonance. Now that there is only one unmated female again, they grow more desperate and more angry in their conversations to each other. Some of the hunters—like Harrec and Warrek—do not bother to chase the females. They figure if it is meant to be, resonance will bring them together. The pushier ones like Bek do their best to help things along.

  I find it exasperating…but also a little exciting. In a few seasons, I will be a woman, old enough to be courted. Will they chase after me as heatedly as they do Mah-dee? The thought of all that attention makes my stomach flutter. I do not know that I want Vaza or Bek, but it is still exciting to think about. I pat my flat chest. Still no teats. I have a season or two yet.

  I sigh. I am ready to grow up.

  I leave the two hunters behind to bicker, and search the caves. In a pile of extra furs in the back of the storage cave, I find Mah-dee. She has slept in my family’s cave since arriving, because we have a larger one, but
she did not return last night. “Good morning,” I call out to her as I approach. “Wake! It is time for your moving day!”

  Mah-dee sits up blearily, her yellow mane a snarl on her head. “Why are you here and so loud?”

  “Am I loud?” Behind me, Cham-pee bleats at the entrance of the cave as if to agree. “I am sorry,” I whisper. “Is this better?”

  “I think I’m hungover,” Mah-dee says, rubbing her face. “That sah sah is some potent shit.”

  I gasp. “It was bad?” I have heard “shit” many times from the humans, but they usually say it when they refer to dung. “Oshen will be so displeased—”

  “No, no,” she says quickly. “Potent stuff. Stuff. I misspoke.”

  Oh.

  “Where is my sister?” She straightens her clothing and peers around. “Is she awake?”

  I giggle. “We will not see much of them all day, I think. They are resonating.” It is so exciting to think about. I picture Rokan and how he gazes at his new mate, and a little sigh escapes me. I want a male to look at me like that. Then I wrinkle my nose. Not Vaza or Bek, though. Someone nicer. Maybe Taushen.

  Mah-dee just gives an unhappy little groan and lies back down in bed. She pulls the blankets over her head. “I hate this place.”

  I giggle and reach forward to tug the blankets down again. “You are so silly.” I have gotten to know Mah-dee well in the last few weeks. She says many sour things, but she is just sad and lonely and in need of friends. “Today is a good day. You are getting your own cave!”

  She lets me pull the blankets down, and there’s a thoughtful look on her face. “I am? I’m not going to stay with my sister?”

  “No, you will be caving with Asha,” I tell her. “It is a girls’ cave!” The thought is very exciting to me. Maybe when I am old enough, I can cave with them. We can braid each others’ hair and make clothes together and share secrets.