Page 162 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

I look at the beetle like a puzzle now, trying to work out how all its parts fit together.

Once the shape of its body looks right, I add the legs and the pincers and the other things that protrude from it.

Capturing the shimmering colour of it is impossible with the chalk, but I smudge some of the lines with my fingers, shading it in a little, giving it some depth.

I’m almost happy with it, when Ahnjas thrusts his own slate under my nose.

I nearly laugh at the adorable little bug he’s drawn - a round body with lots of legs sticking out of it, and a smiley face where its head should be.

I ruffle his hair and give him the thumbs up.

He beams at me, then puts his slate down and comes round to look at mine.

I turn it so he can see better, smiling as he climbs himself into my lap.

He has no concept of personal space, or that anyone wouldn’t want to snuggle with him.

And, to be fair to him, I don’t think there is anyone in the village who doesn’t want to snuggle with him.

He looks down at my picture clapping his hands together with delight.

“Mamamamama,” he calls across to Sally, who heaves herself out of her chair, one hand supporting her belly, and comes to join us.

“What is it, my flower?” she says.

“Looloo,” Ahnjas says, pointing to my slate.

“Oh. Wow. Isn’t Carrie talented?” She turns to me. “Where did you learn to draw like that?”

I flip the slate over and sketch out a quick dress.

Sally nods. “Impressive. I can barely keep my handwriting tidy on these slates, never mind make something beautiful.”

I feel heat rising in my cheeks at the compliment. To distract from my embarrassment, I nudge Ahnjas and point to his own slate. He hops off my lap, fetching it to show his mother. Sally doesn’t hold back her laughter at the smiling bug.

“That’s brilliant,” she says, grinning down at Ahnjas as she hands it back to him.

“You know, Jassal has never shown any interest in drawing. But since Lorna showed Ahnjas how to draw smiley faces, he hasn’t stopped.

It’s funny how different they are. It’s one of my favourite things about being a parent - watching their little personalities grow and develop. I wonder what this one will be like.”

She pats her stomach, but her expression abruptly shifts from a light smile to a grimace, and she shifts on her chair, puffing out a heavy breath.

“This baby is definitely getting ready to be born,” she says after a moment, relaxing back into her chair. “These practice contractions are getting intense.”

She smiles at me like this isn’t anything to worry about, while I’m on the edge of my chair, ready to run and find Shemza.

For the rest of the morning, Ahnjas forages for things around the fire for us to draw, while Sally sits beside us, giving him lots of praise and encouragement between more practice contractions.

We draw a leaf, a stick, some stones, and when the raskarrans start returning to the fire for their lunch, Rardek sits on the floor next to us so Ahnjas can draw him, prompting much laughter between the two of them as Ahnjas draws some very lumpy, unflattering figures.

As Darran’s tribe start gathering around the fire, I feel the weight of their gazes again.

There’s an almost accusatory look in the faces I see when I glance round at them, as if it’s our fault that only Calran and Grace mated overnight.

The stares are broken up by them gathering close and whispering together, and I can’t help but feel they’re plotting something.

I spot Endzoh sitting at the edge of the group.

He still looks uncomfortable, but maybe a bit less than yesterday.

That, or he’s hiding it better. I watch him for a while, smiling a little at the memory of his awkwardness last night.

He was so worried when he thought he’d upset me, rushing to try to explain himself.

Hard to believe I thought of him as stern and disinterested.

There’s a kind soul behind that craggy, unwelcoming exterior, and I’m glad he let me see it.

And then there was the moment when he sat right next to me, leaning over to examine the embroidery work I’d done on Jassal’s trousers.

Just a little thing, a tiny little flower.

One of the most basic designs I know - not even close to some of the designs on the old raskarran garments.

But he’d traced his finger over it like it was something magic, all the while, his big body pressed close to mine, radiating a heat that chased away the night’s chill, but left a different kind of shivering in its wake.

I watch him until he looks in my direction, then point at him, to my head, then make the quiet gesture.

He grimaces, and there is a distinct difference between the expression and his usual resting level of grumpiness.

He points to his head, then makes the ‘okay’ gesture, definitely indicating the lower end of the scale of ‘okay’.

I try to give him a sympathetic look, wishing I had a gesture for ‘hang in there.’

When I turn back to Ahnjas, I find Rardek watching me.

His gaze is searching, though not unfriendly, and he cants his head to the side in question.

Despite there being nothing to be embarrassed about over a friendly interaction, I find myself blushing again.

Rardek grins, but there’s only a little mischief in it.

Then, as if to ease my embarrassment, he picks up Ahnjas’ slate and holds it up to his head, pointing at the shape drawn on it that’s just about recognisable as a face and then to himself, grinning.

For once, the laughter actually escapes my throat.