Page 134 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lorna

I feel horrible sending Shemza away. When I finally hear his footsteps retreating, I slide down the inside of my door, dropping my head to my knees as I fight the urge to sob.

I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to stop being whatever it is that we are.

But if there’s a chance I can be his mate even now, after all these days together, I can’t be near him.

Especially not when it’s clear that’s what he wants.

Better to lose him this way - a way in which one day we might be able to be friends again - than for us to become mated and for him and the tribe to reject me forever.

What would you do if you were free?

Rosa’s voice echoes to me across time and space. In our loneliness in the prison, it was a fun game to play. In my loneliness out here, it’s only a torment.

What would I do if I was free? I would feel overjoyed at Rachel’s mating. I would think the same could happen for me. I would rush to Shemza’s arms, exploring ways we could make that connection forge.

But I can’t do that. I can’t do any of that.

A memory comes back to me, vivid in my mind. Something Rosa said to me when I first arrived at the prison.

“There’s a phase everyone goes through when they get here, Jojo.

It’s like mourning. Except instead of it being a friend or a relative that’s died, it’s you.

The you who could have been. The you who you thought you were going to be.

You have to get her out of your system. Shed a few tears.

Maybe hit a few things. Once you let her go, you can find a way to be happy with your lot here.

Maybe not as happy as you might have been, but happy enough. ”

I never had to do that in prison. The version of me that died wasn’t happy, was never going to be happy. Letting her go wasn’t difficult.

Only, maybe I never really did let her go.

Not the version of me that was miserable, betrayed by her parents, and married off to a man she despised.

The version of me before that. The little girl who always hoped one day to have a happy, loving family.

Even without Robert, the chances of her getting her wish were always slim.

But not here. Not in this strange, primitive place, where the men are good and kind, and children are loved and valued.

Here, that version of me could have been, and I’ve been stupid enough to let her rise to the surface.

To walk in her shoes and give myself a flavour of how it would have been to be her.

I have to let her go, get her out of my system. Find a way to be happy enough.

I’m just not sure that’s possible after the taste of bliss that was Shemza’s body moving over mine, his arms wrapped around me. His kiss against my skin.

I can’t pretend to be ill for the rest of time just to avoid Shemza, though, so the next day, I get up for breakfast as normal.

Everyone’s full of concern, but I just tell them I overdid it on the exercise, crashed out and slept for a long time, and woke up feeling much better.

I don’t want any of them feeling the need to usher me to the healer’s hut.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to avoid Shemza everywhere else, that would be perfect.

There aren’t many people around the fire. The hunters have already left - they were up extra early to cover the distance to the ensouka herd in good time for the hunt.

“They’re actually going after them today then,” Khadija says to Ellie.

“With Darran arriving in a couple of days, they wanted to make sure our stores were bursting,” Ellie says. “With luck, they’ll bring down a couple today.”

“And we’ll all be sick of eating it in three weeks’ time,” Khadija says, looking up from the spike she’s carving to shoot Ellie a grin.

Khadija runs her blade over the wooden spike another couple of times, then holds it out to Endzoh, who’s sitting next to her, fixing a pile of spikes together onto a vine by carving holes through them, then weaving the vine through.

Another one of their traps to fortify the village when the big rains arrive.

Endzoh examines the spike Khadija gives him, then gives her the thumbs up, and my heart throbs with pain as I realise Shemza’s taught the signs to his brothers to help them communicate with us.

Across from me, Sally takes out the two slates and chalks, ready to teach today’s lessons to Jassal and Molly.

Jassal sits at her feet, taking the slate ready.

There are already words printed on it, and Sally directs Jassal to have a go at reading them, while she looks across the fire to Molly.

Molly has found a piece of ribbon from somewhere and is trying to use it to tie her hair up in different styles, staunchly ignoring the lessons taking place, and the frustrated looks Grace shoots in her direction.

“Are you not joining us today, Molly?” Sally asks.

Molly sighs, like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. “No, I don’t think so.”

A muscle in Sally’s jaw ticks. I don’t know if it’s Molly’s dismissiveness, or the fact that Jassal will probably not want to do her work either now, that winds her up more.

“Molly,” Grace says, her voice stern but weary. “Don’t you think it would be good to do your lessons? Reading’s a really valuable skill that a lot of us would love to have.”

“What for? To read all the books?” Molly throws up her hands, indicating the primitive village around us.

And I do think she has a point here, but she doesn’t need to be a dick to Sally just to get back at Grace for this argument they’ve had about a hut.

It’s such a very teenaged thing to do. Part of me wants to give her a big hug and tell her everything’s going to be okay.

The other part of me wants to give her a sharp slap.

“It’s too easy, anyway,” Molly says. “They’re lessons for babies.”

Her malice isn’t aimed at Jassal, but it doesn’t stop the blow landing.

Jassal’s expression falls, her bottom lip wobbling.

She’s too young, too inexperienced at social situations to know that Molly’s lashing out, trying to be hurtful.

That she’ll probably regret it once she’s over whatever’s causing her to fight with Grace.

Khadija stands abruptly, hands on her hips. “Too grown up for it? Then you better come with me. I’ve got a grown-up job you can do. The perfect job for an eighteen-year-old who’s an adult and can make her own decisions, thank you very much. The latrines need cleaning out.”

Molly scowls. “I am n…”

“You better think carefully about the next words out of your mouth.” Khadija’s voice is sharp-edged with threat. Where Grace always looks like she’s trying to appeal to Molly’s better nature, as if she doesn’t want to upset her any further, Khadija has no such qualms.

Endzoh comes and stands behind her, his arms folded. There’s no way he can understand what’s being said, but he obviously trusts Khadija’s judgement enough to back her up without question.

“This isn’t fair,” Molly says, but she’s smart enough to know a losing argument, and after a moment she gets out of her chair - in the most stompy fashion she can manage - and stalks off in the direction of the latrines, Khadija following close behind her.

“Khadija did say it would get uglier,” Ellie says. “Are you alright, Grace?”

“I’m fine. I just wish I knew what to do about her.”

“Khadija can keep her busy for today. She’s not a lost cause. She’s probably just dealing with the same kind of shit we all are. She’ll talk to someone about it, eventually.”

“How many people is she going to hurt in the meantime, though,” Grace says, her eyes going past us to where Sally is trying to console a teary Jassal.

“Don’t listen to Molly, my sweet,” Sally says, her voice weary. “She doesn’t mean what she’s saying at the moment. Sometimes when people feel bad inside, they say bad things to make other people feel like they do. I think that’s what Molly’s doing.”

Jassal’s lips are pressed together tight, and her next breath shudders through her as she tries to hold her tears back. “She didn’t say a bad thing. She said a true thing. These lessons are for babies.”

“They’re for people learning the first steps to reading and writing.

” Sally’s tone is imploring, but I can see her colour is draining out of her, the muscles in her jaw tightening.

She’s too tired to deal well with this. “Lots of people learn it when they are very young. But lots of people learn it when they’re older, too. ”

“I don’t know how to read,” Hannah says. “Your mama would have to teach me the same lessons, and I’m not a baby.”

She offers Jassal a smile, and it almost, almost works.

“And you would learn it really quickly, just like Molly does, and I would be left behind!”

“That’s probably true,” Sally says, “but that’s only because Hannah’s a lot older than you are, just like Molly is. Some things are easier to learn when we’re older.”

“They’re not. I’m just too stupid.”

Sally looks on the edge of bursting into tears herself. She can’t think of anything to say quick enough to placate Jassal. Anything that comes out of her mouth now will sound like a lie.

“Jassal,” I say, keeping my voice light, “will you show your reading to me? Maybe I can help. Bring a slate and chalk for Ahnjas, too. Perhaps we can teach him some words.”

I say it like there’s no possibility she’ll refuse. She’s a good-natured kid, and I think we’ve got a good enough relationship for it to work.

Jassal gives me a look of disbelief. “He’s a baby. He can’t even speak words yet.”

“He can. He says ‘Lolo’ very well.”

“That’s not a real word!”

“Ssh!” I say, making a scandalised face. “Don’t tell him that!”