Page 149 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

BONUS SCENE

Lorna

A s soon as we enter the dreamspace, Shemza’s all over me. But not in the naked fun times way – instead it’s questions.

How are you feeling tonight?

How did your lessons with Jassal and Molly go?

What has been your favourite part of the day?

What thoughts fill your headspace now?

It’s like this every time we fall asleep.

“I cannot speak so well with you when we are awake,” Shemza says when I tease him about his questions. “I wish to know all your thoughts while we are here and can talk properly.”

It’s sweet. As is the way he’s taken to trailing his fingers over my still unchanged stomach whenever we lie talking together, caressing the place where his baby grows.

I don’t feel any different yet. Sally says it takes a little while for things to change enough for you to notice.

“I think we’ve finally gathered up enough slates to start proper lessons for the girls,” I say. “I’m a bit nervous about it. Teaching Jassal is one thing – she already knows some basics. The others know nothing at all. I’m not sure where to start.”

“From the beginning,” Shemza says, smiling at me.

I grin. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Most things usually are when you really stop to consider them.”

I kiss his nose, because if I kiss his lips, I won’t stop, and I won’t ask what I want to ask him.

“Will you let me practise on you?”

Shemza sits up, intrigued. “You wish to teach me your writing?”

“You don’t have to learn all of it. I just wanted to try it out with someone before I try to teach everyone.”

“You wish to start with a training bow.”

“That’s… a strange comparison, but yes. I guess so. Will you be my training bow?”

“I will be anything you desire, my Lorna.”

He doesn’t say it with heat, but it warms me all the same. I wrestle my mind away from thoughts about his body sliding against mine, and will a couple of slates and chalks into existence.

“Do raskarrans do any sort of writing?”

“The wandering tribes carve markings into trees to note where their supply caves are. They are symbols of what sort of supply it is, which tribe it belongs to. Understanding them is similar to your reading, I think.”

“Do you know any of them?”

He draws one for me, a circle with two lines beneath it.

“This symbol here indicates which tribe,” he says, pointing to the circle. “The lines show what sort of supplies they have left. Two means it is a good hunting ground.”

I nod. “Letters are similar, but they don’t carry a meaning individually like that. Letters are just to describe a sound. You put the right combinations of letters together to make a word. So the word has the meaning, not the shape of the particular letters. If you see what I mean.”

“I think I do, but perhaps you could show me?”

I take up my slate and draw out the letters of his name – at least, how I assume it would be spelled. “Each letter has a sound associated with it. Well, more than one, usually, and they combine with each other to make different sorts of sounds.”

I talk about the letters in his name, the different sounds they make, how ‘s’ and ‘h’ combine to make ‘sh’. He watches me closely, occasionally stroking my hair back from my face.

“Does that make sense?” I ask when I’m finished explaining.

Shemza shoots me a guilty look.

“I am afraid I am not a good student,” he says. “I find I am very distracted by your passion.”

He presses a kiss to my lips, and then I’m very distracted by his.

Afterward, we try again, but Shemza scowls in frustration after only a short while.

“It is difficult for me to keep the shape of the letters straight in my headspace,” he says. “They are all so similar to each other. It is as if I look at them and there are no differences between many of them. If I really focus, I can see it, but it does not come easily to me.”

“Jassal finds it harder than she should. Some humans do find reading harder than others, but I have wondered if it was just that, or if it was her raskarran blood.”

“Human headspaces and raskarran headspaces are very different. I think it will be you who has to teach our youngling their letters. I will teach them how to carve a spear and how to climb trees.” He shoots a grin at me. “I know you do not much like climbing trees.”

“I won’t like you climbing trees with our baby much, either.”

“But you will let me,” Shemza says, no doubt in his tone. “Because you trust me to keep our youngling safe.”

I can only concede to that, because it’s true. I trust him completely.

“Between us, we’ll cover all the important things,” I say.

“There are only two truly important things,” Shemza says, his hand going back to my belly. “That our youngling is healthy, and that it knows how well it is loved.”

“It’s definitely well loved. Even now when it’s barely got started, I love it so, so much.”

“And I, also.” Shemza looks down at me, and his eyes hold so much adoration – for me, and for the baby. It makes me a little teary.

“And with the village healer as its father, it has the best chance to be healthy, too.”

A slow smile starts to build on Shemza’s face, growing and growing until it’s blinding in its intensity.

“What?” I say.

“Father,” Shemza says. “I like how that sounds.”