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)
I want to whine about how things are never easy for me, but it would be stupidity. After all, there is nothing easy about life on this beach. Not when everything—and I mean everything—requires dozens of steps. Even something as small as a morning cup of tea is the work of many hours and multiple hands. I think of the carved tea cups. I think of Gail and Elly, picking tea leaves and then sorting and drying them for hours. I think of the pouch the tea boils in, and how the pouch is cured, treated leather. I think of the fire, of the fuel gathering, and the work to keep it going.
Nothing is easy anymore. Nothing at all.
With a frustrated sigh, I flop onto my back and wince, because the uneven floor of the cave is hard and covered with broken shards of almost-pottery. "Let's just give up, A'tam. Let's go back to camp and I'll learn how to carve bone or something. Fuck the pottery."
When he doesn't answer, I prop up on my elbows and look over at him.
He crouches near the fire, a thoughtful expression on his face. He has a piece of pottery in his hand, but he's not looking at it. He's looking at the fire pit instead, the round indentions in the ash where the pots were lifted from the coals. His tail flicks slowly, very slowly, in a manner that tells me that he's thinking hard about something.
"What is it?" I ask.
"This is not right." A'tam gestures at the fire pit.
"Well, of course it's not right," I answer irritably. "If it was right, all of my pots wouldn't break into a million pieces." Immediately, I bite my lip, because I sound pissy even to my own ears, and I don't want to bitch at him. Not when we've been so happy. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to lash out at you. I'm just frustrated."
He reaches over and pats my knee, still staring at the fire. "You are upset. I do not take it personally." A'tam stares at the fire for a moment longer and then looks over at me. "My mother's fire was not like this."
"No?" I sit up. "What was hers like?"
He lets out a long, heavy sigh. "I do not know. I wish I could remember. All I know is that this does not look quite right." He tosses the broken piece of pottery back into the ashes and turns to me. "I am sorry I cannot remember. I want to. But it was not something I ever gave much thought to."
I manage a half smile. "I know. I never thought I'd have to create my own pottery myself, but here we are." I nudge the broken curve of what was probably the lip of a pot. "I'll start over tomorrow, I think. Tonight, I am far too tired to deal with this shit."
A'tam moves to my side. He kneels next to me and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Do not stress, my pretty mate. As with everything else, the answer is time and patience."
My mouth quirks with amusement, but I settle into his arms. "I find it incredibly ironic and yet on the nose that you're the one preaching time and patience."
"I have learned a lot in the last two hands of days," he admits. His hand travels up and down over my arm, a silent invitation for more sexy petting. "I can only imagine how good things will be in the next two hands of days. Or the next turn of the moon."
I chuckle at that. He's right. I just need to be patient.
After all, we're on an ice planet with no television, no radio, no books. What else do we have but time? I tilt my face up to his, and when he kisses me, I forget all about pottery.
At least, for a little while.
37
BRIDGET
"You two have really come so far in the last few days," Steph says to me as she enters our hut the next day. "I'm so proud of you both."
I smile at her. "Thank you." I'm a little sleepy this morning. We've been staying up late, exploring and touching one another and just talking, and talking, and talking. It's funny, I never feel as if I'll run out of things to say to A'tam. He's endlessly fascinating, and I love hearing how his mind works. I think he likes hearing how I think, too. We just always seem to have a lot to say to one another, and sometimes the conversations turn into teasing, which turns into kissing, which turns into…foreplay and mutual masturbation.
Which is what happened last night. It means I'm yawning this morning, but pretty happy. My khui is humming angrily, but I'm trying to ignore it.