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Perhaps that is what bothers me about this. I do not feel “seen” with this choice she makes. I feel…convenient.

Once the tea is prepared, I adjust my leggings (and the hard cock inside them) and get to my feet, pulling on my boots. I need to think, and work always helps with that. I quietly leave the hut and head down to the beach. Dawn is barely brushing its colors over the sky, the air yet chilly from the night. Heading to the hut I share with I’rec (since D’see has claimed mine), I will gather my nets, deciding to do some early morning fishing to clear my head.

I’rec emerges the moment I pick up a net, giving me a thoughtful look. “D’see?” he asks, wondering where I was last night.

I nod, gathering another net. “She was troubled. Yet another resonance has made her sad.”

He snorts, as if this is foolish, but I know he is bothered that he has yet to resonate as well. He pins all his hopes upon young, flirty Tia. I think he secretly envisions her as his mate and that the reason why his khui remains silent is because she remains in Croatoan. Now that S’am and S’ssah have recently resonated, those of us that have not are all too aware of our lack. R’jaal of Tall Horn grows increasingly desperate. He has always wanted a mate.

Then again, who has not? Every male dreams of a female to call his own, a mate to protect and cherish, to bear our kits and to hold at night. I understand R’jaal’s desperation, even if I do not show it. And it makes me think of D’see’s suggestion once again.

“You seem unhappy this morning,” I’rec comments, picking up his fishing spear and eyeing the point of it. Ah. So that is to be how we will spend the morning. I’rec has decided that he will fish with me. Well, I cannot toss nets if he stands right in the way. I set the nets aside and pick up my spear instead.

“Not unhappy. Just thinking.”

“Of D’see?” I’rec asks, tilting his head toward the waters. “Shall we fish?”

As if it is a question. I jog down to the shore with him, D’see’s offer turning through my mind. D’see’s warm body pressed against mine in the furs. D’see’s mouth parted as she sleeps, looking soft and inviting. D’see’s tears when she thought I’d turned her down.

D’see, her belly swelling with my kit.

I bite back a groan and clench my spear tight in my hand.

Once we are at the shore’s edge, we strip down to our loincloths, abandoning leathers and boots on the shore. I wade into the icy waters with I’rec, letting my skin’s colors shift to match the waters themselves. Once we are past the roughest of the rolling waves, the water climbs to my chest and we bob in the ocean. Tendrils from tentacled creatures brush against our skin and drift away. I ignore them, as they are not nearly as good eating as the fish, and scan the waters for better prey.

D’see likes the fish with the yellow belly, so once I see one dart near, I angle toward it, my spear slowly lining up.

Just before I am about to throw, I’rec speaks. “Who does D’see imagine she will resonate to, if she is so desperate for a mate?”

I grit my teeth. “I did not ask.”

“But you look after her and care for her as a mate would,” I’rec points out. “I bet you made fire for her and breakfast before you left the hut, did you not?”

That does not deserve a reply. Besides, it was not breakfast. It was tea. I focus on the fish flitting near my legs instead.

“Do you know what I find frustrating about D’see?”

“No, but I am certain you will tell me,” I reply dryly. There is nothing I’rec loves more than giving his opinion.

I’rec makes a disgruntled noise at me but continues. “It is that she does not even try to contribute.”

“She watches the kits,” I say, automatically defending her.

“The kits are old enough that they can watch themselves. And there are always a few mothers around camp. It is an excuse. D’see likes for people to do things for her. She does not even try to be part of the tribe. It is like she is waiting for something.” He shakes his head, as if the very thought disgusts him. “Even the outcast is a good contributor.”

“Juth. His name is Juth.” The stubborn kaari still will not say his name.

“Even F’lor has learned to hunt,” I’rec says. “And she is a small one without much strength. Yet she is always part of the tribe, always contributing her share.”

“Careful,” I joke. “R’jaal will hear you and come stomping that you are trying to steal his mate.”

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