Page 100 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

I do not think Gregar would appreciate being referred to as a youngling, even with the teasing glint in Darran’s eye. Gregar is young to hold the position of chief, but he has always been a wise male and a good leader.

“He has his linasha and their youngling to think about.”

“And such things have a way of making a male wise before his years, I know,” Darran says, his eyes going distant, his headspace filled with thoughts and memories of his own linasha, gone seventeen rainy seasons now.

I know his memories have not faded. My own have not.

I can still see my sisters as clear as if I could return to the village and find them now.

“I remain reluctant to leave my home,” Darran says after a moment.

“More than fifty rainy seasons I have lived here. I may not be an elder yet, but I am starting to think and feel as one. I like my comforts, I like my memories. But I am not so much a fool to not realise that you will take half my tribe with you if I do not promise to follow with all of it. My own brother will likely abandon my side for the promise of a chance to have a linasha.” He flashes Calran a grin.

“And I would not resent him for it. Hard though it has been to have lost my linasha, at least I got to know her touch, her smiles, her laughter. I feel it has been harder on those like you - living in the knowledge that you will never have that joy. Better to have it and lose it than to never know it. My heartspace tells me this is true.”

I do not respond. It is generous of him to show sadness for my plight, when I can only imagine how devastating his loss was.

He is a wise and graceful male. I should try to be more like him - to view my time with Rachel this way.

Perhaps grace comes with age, though, for I find it difficult to even contemplate how knowing Rachel’s touch and never knowing it again could possibly be better than never knowing it.

My blood heats at the thought of anyone taking her from me, though in my headspace I know she has never been mine to claim as my own.

Other members of the tribe have fetched food supplies while we have been speaking, beginning to cook up a feast. I can tell they have far superior skill in this than I do, for what they make fills the area with fine smells, making my stomach growl with hunger.

“You will stay with us tonight, yes?” Darran says. “I imagine you are eager to return to your village, return Rachel to her sisters. But you gain little time by travelling this evening that you will not make up tomorrow for having had a night in a real bed.”

“If you are happy to offer us a bed to sleep in, we will gladly take it,” I say.

“Gregar’s tribe brothers are always welcome at my hearth.” Darran’s smile turns teasing. “Even when he hopes to entice me away from it.”

“You know we would not ask if it were not necessary.”

“I know,” Darran says, clasping his hand on my shoulder again. “I know, and for that alone, I would have agreed. But seeing Rachel makes me certain it is the right decision. I trust you did not pick the most fragile of your new sisters to tug on my heartspace?”

He is teasing again, not serious in his accusations, but I feel an urge to defend Rachel. She may look fragile to Darran’s eyes, but he has not seen her determination. Her courage.

“There are others far more fragile than Rachel,” I say, thinking of delicate little Lorna, or any of the other females who still look uncertain whenever one of my brothers strays too close.

“Then they need our protection,” Darran says.

“It is what Lina would want from us, as good raskarran males. If she sees fit to bless any of my brothers with a linasha, then it will be cause for great joy. But even if I knew for certain she would not, you would still have my warriors’ spears, my hunters’ bows. ”

“I am grateful to you. My tribe are grateful to you.”

Darran grips my arm in the raskarran gesture for sealing a promise. “Rest this night with us, brother, then take the news home to your chief that Darran’s tribe will be but a day or two behind you.”

That evening there is much festivity around the central fire.

The food prepared is delicious and plentiful, and Rachel is the subject of much attention.

She returned from her tour of the healer’s hut with a big smile on her face.

Darran’s healer, Faltok, had gifted her a grinding bowl for crushing herbs and seeds - not just a plain one, but one decorated with colourful tiles made with dyes someone must have traded for with a Wandering Tribe.

A priceless gift, though I do not know if Rachel understands this.

I do know that she is pleased with it, for every so often, she pauses in her eating to gaze at it, running her fingers over the pretty coloured tiles.

I will have Sally explain to her what an honour the gift is. Rachel should know how much she is valued, even by those who do not know her as I do. Her dedication to learning the healing craft should be recognised, and she should know that it has been.

But as the evening starts to wind down, I find my spirits winding down with it.

As the sun dips below the horizon, a chill coming into the night air, I look around at the other males.

The younger ones who did not have mates when the sickness struck.

I recognise many of them, though some I do not recall their names.

There is Calran, who is a fine male, though older than I by nearly ten rainy seasons.

Would Rachel want a male so much older? It was not unheard of among the tribes in the past, but matings tend to occur between those closely matched in age.

No, he would not be right for Rachel, I think.

I can find reasons for all the others too - not strong enough, too loud, not loud enough.

Each of them has some flaw, and it is vanity to think it.

Because in finding their flaws, I am thinking that I do not have any.

I know I do. I am too quiet, too serious.

Flaws enough that Lina has not seen fit to send me to Rachel’s dreams. I am not better than any of these males.

All of them would make a fine mate to Rachel.

I just do not want them to.

We remain around the fire until I notice Rachel shivering.

I do not have the pelts from my pack to bundle her up, so I catch Darran’s attention and tell him it is time for us to retire.

Darran leads us to one of his spare huts - ready made up, with beds in two separate rooms. A family hut, much like my own.

“It is a youngling’s bed here,” Darran says, indicating one of the two rooms. “But she is only small. I thought it would be plenty.”

He looks to me for confirmation and I nod. “It will be fine.”

“Then sleep well, both of you,” Darran says, giving Rachel a smile. She smiles back, and I wonder if Darran’s heartspace aches at the sight of it the way mine does. Though it would be for a very different reason.

Then we are alone, and Rachel changes out of her travelling clothes into her nightclothes. She looks delighted to have a solid roof over her head, and sits on her bed, wrapping her gift carefully in her clothes before putting it in her bag.

“ Shudkeepitsafe, ” she says.

“We should rest,” I say. “It is a long journey we have ahead of us to deliver the good news.”

“Good?” Rachel says, picking out the one word she understands. “Darran.” She mimes walking with her fingers. “Um, home? Hezgunnacomewithus? ”

“Darran will follow after us,” I say, repeating the walking mime. “He and his tribe will join with ours.”

I pat my chest, then tap the wall of the house, trying to mime our village. Rachel nods, then smiles, a bright, wide smile, and I think she has understood.

“Good,” she says, nodding firmly.

“Yes. Good.”

Silence falls between us. Rachel looks up at me, a mix of sadness and hope in her eyes.

She reaches for me, brushing her fingers over my cheek.

I catch her hand, moving it away from me with a shake of my head.

She nods. We do not speak. We do not need to.

I know in my heartspace as I believe Rachel knows in hers - we both wish things did not have to be as they are.

It gives me some comfort to know that Rachel wants me.

It is a cruel sort of comfort, for it means her heartspace hurts as mine does, and I would not wish that on her.

Rachel goes to her bed, shooting me one last look before she curls up under her pelts, her back turned to me.

I can just about see her form through the doorway when I am lying in my own bed.

A bed large enough for the both of us. It is comfortable, but when I do eventually sleep, I dream all night of the cramped space within the tent, and Rachel’s body pressed close to mine.