Page 183 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

My Carrie laughs as Lorna allows herself to be dragged onto the court. I cannot resist the urge to toy with a lock of my female’s soft hair, and she leans into me, reaching for my hand and taking it in hers, interlocking our fingers again.

Lorna is… not good at djossi. She is a female with a great talent for caring for younglings, and for teaching of writing and reading.

But she does not manage to catch the ball in her net even once.

Every time she fumbles a catch, Ahnjas runs after the ball for her, bringing it back and placing it in her net.

This is not one of the accepted rules of djossi, but in the face of Ahnjas’ giggles, it is difficult to worry over such things.

Despite Lorna’s lack of skill, Rardek’s team score twice, Darsha not able to fend them off.

“ Weneedanutha raskarran onarteem ,” Molly says, breathless from exertion. Her cheeks are pink with the effort she has put in and she looks vital, healthy. It is hard in moments like this to believe that they were once all so fragile, so frail. Underfed and unloved.

Calran rises from his seat next to Grace, heading out onto the court. Molly watches him with wariness, but she nods, handing him one of the spare nets. Calran nods as he takes it, reaching out a hand to gently grip her shoulder.

They play for a while, evenly matched with two raskkarans to each team. When the points are three to each team, Lorna takes a bow and ducks out, breathing hard as she drops into the seat next to my Carrie.

Jaskry also retires, grabbing Ahnjas and carrying him over to where Sally is sitting. Ahnjas babbles excitedly to his mother, while she kisses his ruddy cheeks and speaks to him in the exaggerated tone she uses when she wants him to know she is proud of him.

My Carrie would do that, I think. She would make sure our youngling knew how proud she was of them. I look down at her, wondering if Lina will see us blessed as the other mated females have been.

Mating first, I remind myself, ever my headspace rushing ahead of itself where my Carrie is concerned.

On the djossi court, new teams are forming up.

Anghar grabs Ellie and shows her how to best hold the net, practising throwing the ball high up into the air and catching it again.

It is no surprise to me that Ellie picks it up very quickly.

Gregar brings his Liv out to join them, Paskar coming to fill the last place.

“I am too tired to play anymore,” Darsha says to Jassal. “You will have to ask someone else to be on your team.”

Jassal pouts, but she looks to those of us watching, seeking her next teammates. Her eyes land on me and my Carrie and brighten. She comes skipping over, speaking rapidly to my Carrie in the human tongue, before turning to me and grinning.

“Will you be on my team also, Endzoh?”

I reach out and ruffle her hair before rising to my feet, pulling my Carrie with me.

Jassal skips ahead of us, bringing back nets.

My Carrie holds hers uncertainly, so I step up behind her, showing her the best way to hold it.

My headspace flashes back to last night, standing behind her as I pressed kisses to her neck, and my cock twitches in my leathers, a small, but noisy, part of my headspace considering abandoning the game and carrying her away back to our hut to pleasure her all over again.

“We are still one team member down,” Calran says to Jassal. “Who else would you like for your team, little one?”

Jassal looks around, but my Carrie goes up to her, tapping her shoulder, holding her hand out for the spare net.

“ Yoowannapick, Carrie?” Jassal says.

My Carrie nods, and Jassal beams at her, giving her the net.

I expect her to choose one of the females, but my Carrie turns toward Darran’s tribe, standing up straight, her shoulders back, her head high as she walks up to them. Unease rises in my throat as she approaches Larzon, holding out the net to him.

A moment of tense silence follows as Larzon stares at my Carrie’s peace offering.

For that is what it is, I am sure. My Carrie is brave and kind and magnificent, and she wishes to end the friction between our tribes.

Friction Larzon caused. It is he who should be begging for her forgiveness, but my beautiful female offers it to him without his asking.

Not out of fear, or submission, but with strength, courage, pride.

Was there ever a finer female born? I do not think it is possible.

Larzon puts a hand to his heartspace, bowing his head respectfully, then takes the net. My Carrie turns back to me, and when she reaches my side, I draw her into a hug, not caring in that moment about the many eyes of the tribe on us.

“She is a very fine female,” Larzon says, his voice low, none of his previous combativeness remaining in it. “You are a lucky male. I wish you much happiness together.”

I incline my head to him, acknowledging his words. I am not so fine as my Carrie. It will take me longer to reach a place of comfortable forgiveness with the male who frightened my female so. But this is a start. A very good start.

“Come on!” Jassal says, bouncing excitedly, still full of energy in the way only younglings can be.

Liv grins at her, bending low as she pretends to mark Jassal. Jassal laughs, a full-bellied laugh, her head tipping back. I glance at the gathering clouds overhead. This will be our last game, I think.

“Okay, little chieftess,” Calran says, grinning. “We are ready.”

Jassal raises her net, the ball inside it, ready to start the next round. But before she can throw it up into the air, a commotion sounds at the edge of the village, and Maldek suddenly bursts from the trees.

He has been running, hard. Sweat drips from his brow and his lungs strain for sufficient breath. His legs wobble beneath him, and only Rardek’s arm going around him stops him from collapsing to the floor.

The game forgotten, we all surge forward.

“Hold still,” Gregar shouts, and we all freeze in place.

Maldek shrugs off his brother’s arm, walking forward on unsteady feet. I expect him to go to Gregar, but Maldek looks past our chief as if he were not there, his eyes locked instead on our chieftess.

Liv’s dark brows knit close together as she watches him wobble towards her. But our chieftess has a headspace as sharp as her tongue can be, and I see the realisation come over her expression, her already pale skin going paler.

“Sam?” she says, making the name of her tribe sister a desperate kind of question.

Maldek drops to his knees before her, pain written into every line of his face as he looks up at her, shaking his head.

And that is when the clouds overhead release their waters, the big rains starting to fall.