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Leezh clasps her hands in front of her chest, her eyes swimming with tears of mirth. “We’ll go along with your plan, yes. Just please say it one more time for me?”
I sigh heavily.
R’hosh does, too.
“Taters,” I mumble, feeling foolish. But it is for my F’lor, and I would do anything for her, even tolerate Leezh as she hoots with joy.
* * *
The plan is enacted.S’brina has been casually asking F’lor about her people’s foods for days, and has some dishes that she is working with L’ren, D’see and O’jek to prepare. There will be whole hoppers stuffed with herbs, roasted over the fire. In F’lor’s home they were called “lechon” and were made from something called a “peeg” but hoppers will have to do. There will be the last of the noodles, sauced and tossed with tasty leaves, flavorful roots, and bits of fish to be similar to a dish she had at home called “pancit.” Roots have been chopped into piles of incredibly fine bits to mimic a food from her home called “rice” and they will be spiced and flavored in several different ways. Hraku seeds have been soaked and boiled for two days now to make a thick, sweet paste that will be mixed with ice for some reason. It seems strange to want cold food when surrounded by cold, but the females are excited to taste it. Shail says it is called “halo-halo” but I do not know if she is teasing me.
After the “taters” incident, I do not repeat any of the human words.
The plans for the feast will go underway the moment I get F’lor out of camp. I told her I need some time away from the others this day, and so we will head for one of the heated streams and spend the afternoon bathing and relaxing before returning to camp. I will keep F’lor away until sunset, and then we will return and enjoy a feast.
I cannot wait to see the look of delight upon my mate’s face.
Since the arrival of the newcomers, she has not mentioned her feast again. There has been much to do—from getting khuis to the problem with the fruit caves to settling people in their new homes. There has been another resonance, and the arrival of yet more strangers, and my sweet F’lor has been busy every day. She makes sure to spend time with the human females, helping them learn basic tasks, and answering their questions when they are afraid or intimidated. They trust her, and I love that my F’lor is so devoted to ensuring that all are comfortable. I have done the same for the taters—the new males—to let them know they have a friend in me, and they have asked a great many questions about life here, about hunting…but mostly about females. It is to be expected. I do not know of any male that is not absolutely enamored with the idea of a mate of his own.
She has worked hard, and she deserves a reward. She gives much to the tribe, and I would see the tribe celebrate her for the incredible female she is.
* * *
It istwilight by the time we return to camp. I deliberately walk slowly, holding F’lor’s hand as we head down the well-trodden trails in the hills just beyond the protective cliffs of the beach. My mate is dressed in fresh leathers, wearing a new tunic, her long, silky hair pulled up into a knot at the back of her head like mine.
“It was so nice of Raven to make this for me,” F’lor tells me, petting the front of her new tunic again. “She made a drawstring at the front that I can loosen once I start to get big with the baby. That’s so thoughtful of her.”
“She thinks about young a lot recently,” I say to my mate. “U’dron says she dreams of a girl-child. Perhaps they will resonate again soon.”
“Oooh, perhaps.” F’lor smiles at that. “We could have our babies close together. Her and me and Daisy. Lots of Shadow Cat brothers and sisters. Or sisters and sisters. Or whatever comes out, I guess.” She chuckles, squeezing my hand. “Do you have a preference?”
“No preference. Just that it is an easy birth for you.”
“Aww,” she beams up at me. “You big softy, you.”
“I do not see why that makes me soft if I do not want pain for you. You are my mate. I want nothing but the best things for you.”
She continues to smile up at me, her face wreathed in happiness. “Well, today was a pretty good day if you ask me. Fresh clothes, my mate washing my hair for me, and a nice hot stream to bathe in. Oh, and a quickie in the water. I liked that part, too.” F’lor squeezes my hand, content to walk at my side. “I’m surprised you managed to get away with me for a whole day. Everything’s been so busy with the newcomers and the whole fruit cave situation.”
I clear my throat. “I spoke with Leezh.”
F’lor pauses. “Oh, ugh. You did?” She makes a face. “Did she tease you again?”
“Yes.” My pride will not let me expound on it.
She gets a fierce expression on her face. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s cute that you called them ‘taters.’ And the English language is a beast anyhow.” She runs a hand up my arm. “Do you want me to beat her up for you? Only I’m allowed to laugh at the way you mangle words.”
I snort. My F’lor would be nothing but a nuisance to the much fiercer Leezh, but I appreciate her offer. “I would rather you find some bit of gossip and mock her mercilessly with it.”
F’lor brightens. “I’ll tell her I’m going to name our kid Anakin if it’s a boy. She’ll shit an absolute brick that I get the name before she does.”
“And…are we going to name our son that?”
“Fuck no,” F’lor says. “But she doesn’t need to know that.”
Chuckling, I am amazed at my mate’s devious mind. I try not to glance too hard at the village as we head down the paths back toward it. I do not want F’lor to notice anything amiss. I want her to be delighted and surprised by her ding-ding feast…or whatever it is called.
We get near camp, our boots crunching on the pebbled sand. My mate makes a “huh” sound in her throat. “Someone must have brought back a lot of meat. Look at all those cook-fires.”
