Page 152 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

I am surprised that he sounds sincere, not teasing. I had not thought him capable of it.

I let out a huff of breath, hoping it conveys my lack of interest in Khadija as a mate.

She is a fine female - better suited to these forests than many of the others.

She is not fragile like Shemza’s little Lorna or easily frightened like Hannah and Mattie.

She climbs well, despite having no claws, and does not squeal at the sight of bugs.

Most importantly, she does not bother with nonsense.

She wishes to learn warrior skills, and she watches me closely to do so.

She does not try to touch me. Nor does she pressure me to speak. She would not understand me, anyway.

All these qualities make her a very agreeable apprentice, and I am as surprised as anyone that I find I enjoy her company.

I still require patrols on my own now and then, but she does not raise the level of noise in my headspace the way Rardek and my other brothers often do.

She has a way of just being that does not get under my skin.

But I do not wish to have her as my linasha. She does not call to my spirit, though I confess, sometimes I have wished that she would. It would be a straightforward kind of mating, and I think I could be well content with that.

But my heartspace has other ideas.

I glance over at the females again, seeking my Carrie.

My Carrie.

Simply the sound of her name in my headspace has my heartspace full of longing, and I do not like it.

I do not like how the gentle wave of her hair makes me want to run my fingers through it.

How when she braids it out of her face to better work on her sewing, I want nothing more than to pluck the tie loose, let it escape its confinement until it tumbles about her shoulders again.

I especially do not like the way her hips flare outwards, more so than all the rest of the females, her bottom rounded and full, her breasts large and enticing.

I have had to endure Callif speaking overmuch about my Carrie’s shape, and I have wanted to snarl and snap at him as much as I have understood him.

She does have the most appealing shape of all her sisters.

And I do not like it because I do not know what I am supposed to do about it.

It would be easier if I were a more agreeable male.

If I had an easy way with people, the way my brothers do.

If I did not need aloneness and quiet. What female would want a mate who is made the way I am?

A mate who desires time away from them. A mate who does not know the right words to make them feel his affection.

Whose headspace’s thoughts do not show so well on his face.

Whose heartspace’s feelings do not so easily leave his chest.

Before the females arrived, I never had a problem with how Lina made me. I am strange to my brothers, yes, but they are my brothers. They do not need to understand me to have my back. And I do have my place among them, I have never felt unsure of that.

But the females - they are a different thing.

They watched me and my brothers with such wariness when they first arrived.

Day by day, that wariness has been fading, replaced by amusement and affection.

It is hard to be wary of Namson and his enthusiasm for long, or to resist Rardek’s laughter and teasing.

Even Darsha, who can be sullen and grumpy when he so chooses, has shown the females that his moods are nothing to be worried about, that his frowns can shift to smiles with great speed.

Only I am still subject to their wariness. Only I still make them shift uncomfortably when they find themselves alone with me.

It is my own doing, I know. I have not made the effort to appease them.

And it is not that I do not want them to be comfortable.

I just do not know how to make them feel so.

It does not matter to Rardek that he cannot speak their words - he only has to smile and they are put at ease.

Shemza is gentle and kind and anyone can tell that just for looking at him.

I do not smile, and I do not look gentle and kind.

If I had their words to speak, I would say them wrong.

They would hear things in them that I did not mean to say.

It is how I have always been, even when I was a youngling of only a handful of seasons.

Only Khadija of the females has spent any length of time in my presence. She does not seem to mind my strangeness, but I think perhaps that is just her nature. She does not let anything frighten or worry her.

My Carrie is more nervous. It does not make her any less appealing. My warrior’s spirit wishes to find ways to show her that she is safe and protected.

If only she would feel that she did not need protecting from me.

“Come,” Rardek says, gesturing us forward. “We should help our new brothers get settled.”

Darsha huffs, but he follows behind Rardek without question.

They take packs from shoulders and lead our new brothers to their homes, talking with them about the kind of nothings that have never held my interest - the things they have seen on the journey, whether they are aching overmuch.

What my grandfather called ‘pleasantries’.

He never had much interest in them, either.

The females slip away while everyone else is distracted, heading over to the fire with Namson, no doubt to get the evening meal preparation started. I consider leaving with them, slipping away into my hut. I doubt anyone would notice my absence, but it feels the wrong choice to make.

Not knowing what else to do, I go to Shemza, who is standing with one of Darran’s elders.

He is my favourite of my brothers. Where the others try to coax me into behaving more as they do, Shemza has always accepted my quiet.

He knows better than any of the others what I am feeling - can read in me somehow that I am overwhelmed, even when I most try to hide it.

“Endzoh,” he says, smiling at me as I approach. “I believe you have met Faltok before, but it will have been many seasons ago. He is Darran’s healer. I am most grateful for his presence - especially with so many younglings due to the tribe now.”

Including his own, I think, though it will be many seasons of the moon before Lorna is ready to birth.

I incline my head to Faltok, who smiles as he scrutinises my face - probably looking for the shape of the youngling he once knew within it. I do remember meeting the elder, but I doubt I made much of an impression on him. So, it surprises me when he nods.

“Kieyam’s boy?” he says, referring to my grandfather.

I nod. Faltok’s answering smile is sad in the way that elders get sometimes - a distant kind of sad that does not pinch at the gut so sharply as it once did, but still lives there all the same.

“He was a good male. A great shame that Lina called him back to her embrace so soon.”

A greater shame that so many in the tribe were taken by the sickness my grandfather managed to survive. But we all accept, whatever that sickness was, Lina’s hand was not within it.

“Let us carry your things to your hut for you,” Shemza says, picking up the pack on the floor beside Faltok. “Is there anything beyond this bag that you require?”

“Several sunsets of sleep and a decent meal,” Faltok says, patting at his stomach.

“Namson and Hannah will see that you are well fed, you can be certain of that. As for the sleeping, you will find your new home most comfortable, I am sure.”

I follow behind them as they walk toward the huts, clenching and unclenching my empty fists, uncertain what to do with my hands.

Uncertain what to do with my entire self.

The buzzing in my headspace grows louder with each passing moment, but worse than that are the thoughts that zip around inside it.

Thoughts about my Carrie and the mating age males who have arrived here this day, any of whom could find themselves in her dreamspace and take her from me forever.

Worst of all, the little voice that tells me perhaps such a thing happening would be for the best.

If only I could silence that little voice as easily as I do my own.