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“One of the males in that tribe has moved to a village near to ours. He is not a bad male,” I rush to assure her, not wanting her to think her sisters are in any danger, “just one who lost his way for a time. He has said that Basran’s tribe passed three rainy seasons there.”
“Rainy seasons?” My Brooks throws up her hands. “Seasons of the moons, rainy seasons, seasons. We need to establish actual time scales here, because I don’t understand what you mean.”
She stares at me, expression hard enough to bruise.
“How old are you?”
“I have twenty-five rainy seasons. Rainy seasons, seasons - it is the same thing said differently.”
A flash of annoyance lights her eyes, but she takes a breath. Calms herself.
“And how many rainy seasons would you say I have?”
“Close to the same, I should think?”
A wildness enters her eyes. “Years? When you said earlier that this Lorna thinks the base is fifteen seasons old, you meant years?”
I see her legs wobble the moment before they give out, so I am there to catch her, to sweep her up into my arms. I push away the blank, unfamiliar room, taking us not to the tent, but home, to my hut. The one I share with my brother. The one he will have to leave now, I realise, for I will not force my linasha to endure sharing with him. Rardek will never have been so thrilled to be inconvenienced, I think, a small smile tugging at my heartspace, even as pain for my linasha’s pains threatens to overwhelm me.
She shakes in my arms. Not just trembles, shakes. Her eyes stare off into the distance, seeing nothing of the space I have conjured around her. Her strength, her magnificence, it has all left her in a rush.
I set her down on my bed, cradling her to my chest as I make low, soothing sounds deep within it. I run my hands over her arms, her back, my tail looping around her calf as I hold her close. Hold her until the shakes reduce to trembles and then fade completely. Then, for another long moment, we just sit together, her head resting against my chest where my heartspace beats. Despite her closeness, that beat remains steady, and I am glad. I hope the rhythm is a comfort to her.
“Well,” she says, after a long moment. “At least that explains why I can’t fucking remember anything.”
The humour in her tone is strained, but it is there, and I allow myself a small laugh in response.
“I fear that perhaps we have played a small part in your memory loss, also,” I say. “We were watching thepods, my brother Razhan and me. He leaned up against yours and it made a terrible noise. I think he triggered your waking improperly.”
She makes an amused sound. “That probably didn’t help.”
“I am sorry your memories are missing. I am sorry for the distress this causes you.”
“Thank you. And thank you for your kindness.”
“As I said,” I start, but she cuts me off with a sad sort of smile.
“My hurts are your hurts, right? My pain is your pain? I’m sorry about that, too.”
“Do not be.” I stroke my fingers over her cheek, feel its softness, then trace a path down her neck, over her warrior markings, bringing my hand to rest on her shoulder. “It only means that the joys we will share in will be all the greater.”
Her spirit shutters away in her eyes.
“Like being mates. Kids.”
There is a bitterness to her tone. It should cut at me, but I am starting to understand my linasha already. She may not fully remember the hurts that have shaped her feelings, but their presence is a weight on her shoulders, just as my guilt over Sam has been a weight on mine.
I wonder if she has her own little voice in her headspace, jabbing at her.
“Do not worry on any of that,” I say, for I would not give that voice any further barbs to fire at her, if it does exist. “Your headspace has too many other concerns to be thinking about some foolish male come into your dreams.”
I try to coax a smile from her, and it almost works.
“Is there not a nice raskarran girl back at your village you’d rather dream with?”
“No,” I say, the ache in my heartspace sharpening. But I will not burden her with the knowledge that the females are gone, not now. “Lina chooses who we visit in dreams, and she has chosen well for me.”
I rest my forehead against hers, my eyes going to her mouth. I know much of human kisses and my tail flicks erratically behind me as I wonder how it would feel to have my Brooks’ lips on mine. But I draw back, give her space. Until we can find her the answers she needs to ease her warrior’s spirit, I will make no further talk of mates or mating.
