Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
My mate. I taste the words on my tongue and like them. The others will be so very envious.
I wake up at dawn with a start, rubbing my eyes. My hut is cold with morning air, and a hint of mating scents lingers in my furs and on my skin. I reach over for my mate, abashed that I have slept through the night, but my furs are empty.
No B'shit.
Confused, I sit up, frowning at my empty hut. Did she not return? Did she twist an ankle and return to her sleep furs instead of mine? Worried, I pull on a loincloth and shove my feet into my boots, then race out of my home. The entire platform shudders as I run, threatening to fall apart. I do not stop to check it, though—I am too worried about my mate. Frantic, I race to the fire where everyone gathers.
B’shit sits amongst the women. She has her head bent with V'ronca and they share whispers. Relieved—and irritated—I stride toward my mate. "B'shit!" I call out.
Her delicate nostrils flare and she turns to glare at me. "It's Bridget."
"That is what I said," I point out. V'ronca slips away and I take her place at my mate's side. "You should have woken me."
B'shit flushes, looking around at the others. "I didn't sleep in your furs," she hisses. "Can we not do this right now?"
"You were supposed to come back! Did you not? Did I sleep through everything?" Is she mad that I slept while she had needs? "I will pay more attention to you tonight, this I promise."
Someone snickers.
B'shit jumps to her feet, giving me a horrified look. "A'tam, please. Not right now."
I do not understand her reticence. "Why not right now?" I stand up, reaching out to brush her hair back from her shoulders, but she ducks under my arm and storms away. "Wait," I call. "I do not understand."
She turns and glares at me, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Our hookup was supposed to be a secret," she hiss-whispers at me.
I turn and glance back at the group by the fire. Everyone is staring at us. This is why B'shit is mad, but I am also confused. "Why would we keep our mating secret?"
"Because it's personal!"
"But we are now mates, just like V'ronca and her A'tar—"
She crosses her arms over her teats. "No, we're not."
A sinking feeling fills my gut. I look at her stormy expression and there is no hint of the smiling, soft B'shit that was in my furs last night. I do not understand. "What do you mean, we are not mates?"
"It was just sex," B'shit says. "It was you and me hooking up just to see what it's like. And I don't want to do it again. I'm certainly not your mate." She gestures at the fire, her eyes filling with tears. "And now you've gone and frigging told everyone."
"I still do not understand. Why would I not tell the others? I am pleased that we are mates—"
She presses her hands to her brow. "Oh my god. We're not mates! It was just sex!"
"But…" I pause, at a loss for words. "I liked it. And I like you."
Her angry expression fades, and her face fills with such sadness. "I'm sorry, A'tam. It just wouldn't work out for us. Please just accept that and leave me alone."
And she turns and walks away. I want to follow her, but V'za moves to my side and touches my arm, shaking his head. The meaning is clear. B'shit does not wish to talk, and she will get what she wants. I watch her leave, my chest aching with deep sorrow. How did I lose my mate so quickly?
Why does she think what we had is not important?
How is this just “sex” to her? Angry, I turn and stomp back toward my hut. I will let B'shit have her way this day, I decide. She can pout all she wants about me telling everyone, but tomorrow, I will tell her to get over her tantrum. I will not give up. We will be mates.
She just needs to be reminded how good I am for her.
7
ONE MONTH LATER
BRIDGET
Nothing feels better than slapping clay and imagining it's A'tam's face.
I take my pile of wet dirt-slash-clay that I've been tweaking for the last while and give it a good smack, then jiggle it. It's not quite workable as I want it to be, and so it's been a process to get it down to what I need. I'm going off of what I remember from those high school classes. Unfortunately, it's not a lot.
I know clay hangs in the water and dirt moves to the bottom, so I've been letting my clay substance sit for a few minutes, and then I carefully scoop the water out and get rid of the dirt. Once I have a decent amount of clay “water,” I spend days sifting things through a porous skin. The water is eventually absorbed into the skin and the clay matter is left behind. I add it into a bowl and when I've picked out all the seashell and bits, I slowly add a bit of water again and make it into a workable clay mass.