Page 46 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER SIX

Anghar

T he dreamspace is different this night.

Instead of the comfort of one of our travelling tents, I find myself standing in a dark cave.

But it is a cave unlike any I have ever seen before.

The walls, the floor, the ceiling - all are perfectly straight and flat.

No uneven surfaces anywhere. It is unnatural, and my heartspace is uneasy with it.

My Ellie stands a little way ahead of me, gripping a hunting knife in her hand.

She has her back to me, and she looks down at the knife before touching her other hand to her head.

It is the second time I have seen her make this gesture, and I wonder if her headspace pains her.

I know not having enough to drink or eat can cause pains not just of the stomach.

I will ensure we refill our waterskins tomorrow before we arrive at the sands, and Shemza has his supply of djenti berries to ease the worst of my linasha’s tribe’s ills.

I take a step towards her, intending to let her know of my plans to care for her.

She spins round, and for a moment, there is a look of pure joy on her face.

My heartspace stutters to see it, even as my headspace accepts it is not a look intended for me.

Sure enough, when she sees me, her smile falters.

“Oh,” she says. “I thought you were going to be someone else.”

“You share your dreamspace with another male?” I try to keep my voice light, as if the thought doesn’t make my heartspace shatter.

Such a thing is unheard of among my people - if a female is intended for more than one male, they would all arrive in the dreamspace together - but I must not forget that my linasha is not raskarran.

“I thought because I was here that I’d broken it. I thought…”

She looks frustrated, but there is despair there, too. And I am paralysed, unsure what I need to do to help her.

“This is your cave?” I ask.

I think for a long while that she is not going to answer. It is a stupid question I asked, the first that came into my head. I fear she thinks me an insensitive fool. But then she sighs, defeat in every inch of her body, and answers.

“This is where I used to work. I used to dream about it all the time. Spend all day somewhere, I suppose it’s not surprising you end up spending all night there, too.”

I cannot fathom why anyone would want to spend all day in this place.

It is dark and oppressive. What manner of creatures would live in such a place?

There are creatures that like to hide away in caves, yes, but while caves can be dark, they are also sheltered from the elements and other predators.

There is nowhere to shelter here. No cosy nooks in which a nice nest could be made.

And yet, my Ellie holds a knife made for hunting.

My unease grows, and I wish we could go elsewhere.

“I do not think this is a good place for hunting,” I say.

I do not think it is a good place for anything.

She looks down at the knife in her hand. I notice her skin is sticky with blood, as if she is fresh from a kill.

“You might be surprised,” she says. “Although, it’s not much of a hunt.”

She lets go of the knife. The moment it leaves her hand, it vanishes, gone from the dreamspace.

It takes the blood on her skin with it. She wraps her arms round herself, as if to hold herself together.

And I wish with every beat of my heartspace that I could hold her, that she would accept the comfort I wish to give her.

I do not know how to do it with words alone.

“I never thought I’d miss this place. I don’t, really, but I do miss the girls. Jane, Helen, Reena. Neris. Mostly Neris.”

“They were your tribe sisters?” I say.

“I suppose so.”

“And you left to join a new tribe? Because you took a mate from another?” It is the only reason I can think that a person would change tribes, leave everything they know behind.

She looks up at me, confusion in every line of her face.

“Why do you talk so weird when you come from my imagination? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Are my words not clear to you, linasha?” The dreamspace should make us understand each other well, but I am reminded of how sometimes her meaning is not clear to me. The dreamspace is having to breach a far greater gap between our headspaces than if we were of the same species.

“I understand you. You just say things in a way I wouldn’t. Tribes and mates and caves. This is a building, not a cave. Why wouldn’t you just call it a building?”

“Your tribe built this place?” My headspace tangles with the idea - both that my Ellie’s tribe has such capabilities, but also that they would use them to make such an unappealing place. “How do they get the rocks so smooth?”

Ellie throws her hands up. “No idea. I just work here. That’s Mercenia for you - train you to do one little thing really well, keep you stupid in every other way.”

I do not like that she thinks this way of herself. Whoever Mercenia is, they have made my linasha blind to her cleverness.

“You are not stupid,” I say.

“Well, apparently I can’t even figure out what’s going on in my own head, so I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

And then, much to my surprise and distress, she starts to cry.

Not small, silent tears, but great wracking sobs that seem to explode out of her.

For a moment, I am frozen by indecision.

Every instinct in me clamours to reach out to her, to hold her to my chest and soothe her with words and touch.

But last night she demanded that I did not touch her.

She is not as angry, as combative tonight, but I do not wish to ignore boundaries she has set, to dishonour her that way.

In the end, I cannot bear to let her suffer alone.

I go to her, drawing her into my arms, watching closely for any signs of resistance.

There are none. She allows me to hold her close, and for a moment, I am overwhelmed.

Her scent fills my nose, earthy and delicious.

The feel of her body against mine is even better than I imagined, each place where we touch alive with energy and need, and I know if I allow my headspace to linger on the softness of her curves, the heat of her skin, my body will respond.

Instead, I focus on the salty tang of her tears, the damp patch where she has her face pressed to my chest. My linasha is distressed and comforting her is my only priority.

I stroke my hand along her back, murmuring to her that things will be okay, that I will help her, that there are few problems too large and difficult to be solved when you have a tribe at your back.

I tell her of my tribe brothers - that Gregar is a wise leader, that Vantos and Maldek are skilled warriors, that Shemza will heal any ills and Rardek and I will hunt until we have food fit for a feast. I do not know if she fully hears my words, but I feel the tension in her shoulders start to fade, her tears slowing.

I should probably release her, but I find it difficult to imagine letting her go. Comforting her through touch fills my heartspace with such a sweet joy, and I am a selfish male, for I do not want to stop.

If she asks me to, I will stop touching her. For now, I wish to hold her for as long as she allows.

“I don’t want to be crazy,” she says, her voice a watery whisper. “The others. They need me. I have to be strong, I have to…”

I feel her stiffen in my arms, as if she means to break out of them, but it only takes a soothing sound, another brush of my hand along her back to make her melt into me again.

“Why do you think you are crazy?”

“Because I can’t stop this. I can’t break the dream.”

“You wish to break it?” My heartspace contracts. “Why?”

“You’re not real. You’re not real, and you’re not coming to find me. I am going to die on that beach. That’s what’s real. That’s what’s in my future. Not this.”

She is afraid to hope. I understand this.

When the sickness ravaged our tribe, the elders had reason to carry on.

They had younglings to take care of - me, Gregar, the others our age.

I was only five seasons, Shemza only two.

We depended on the elders for everything.

But there is no one to depend on us. As the last born raskarrans, we all knew our future was one of hardship and loneliness.

That there would be no joy of younglings to raise, no linasha to while away the evening hours with.

That when we grew too old to hunt and build and gather, there would be no one to take care of us.

That we would die sooner than we might have.

That we might have to send our own spirits back to Lina, rather than suffer in the end.

It is hard to want to live when that is your future.

I have thought many times whether it would be better to go back to Lina early, for what is the point of struggling onwards?

Gregar always counselled hope, but hope is a blade with two sharp edges.

It might cut away the fear and despair, but if you are not careful, it will slide into your gut and twist. To hope for something and not get it is far worse than to never have hoped for it at all.

I am glad that we are so short a distance from my linasha and her tribe. Glad that she does not have to endure the battle between her headspace and heartspace much longer. Tomorrow, I think, she will know that she can trust my word. That she need not be afraid to hope for a better future.

But nothing I can say to her here will make her believe that. I must offer her a different kind of comfort, and an idea comes to my mind.

“My Ellie, can we leave this strange cave? I do not much like it here.”

“How?” She looks up at me through watery eyes. I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping the tears away.