Page 33 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)

T hree months later…

The winter had begun to soften at its edges, the days stretching incrementally longer as the worst of the cold retreated.

Yasmin noticed these small changes with a growing sense of connection to this world that had once seemed so alien.

She had learned to read the subtle shifts in weather by the way the snow crystallized at the cave entrance, to identify the calls of different creatures that moved through the underbrush, and to recognize which cloud formations meant they should stay close to home.

She sat cross-legged on a thick fur in their cave, carefully threading beads onto a thin strip of leather.

Her collection had grown considerably over the past months—carved soapstone, polished crystals, and even small pieces of bone that Rhaal had brought her, knowing how much she enjoyed working with the different materials.

The necklace taking shape was a gift for Talvi, for her mating ceremony with Broc.

A quiet shuffling at the cave entrance made her look up. Polly stood there, half-hidden behind the heavy hide curtain, her pretty face watchful.

“Come in,” she said, smiling at the other woman. “I’m just finishing this for Talvi.”

Polly slipped inside, her movements still carrying that cautious quality, as though she expected to be sent away at any moment. It had taken weeks for her to brave the journey to their cave, but lately, she’d been visiting more frequently, drawn by the companionship of another human.

“It’s beautiful,” Polly said, sitting down carefully beside her. “The way you carve the patterns… they look like the stars.”

She nodded, pleased by the observation. “That’s what I was trying for. The night sky here is so clear—I wanted to capture that.”

Polly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in soft leather. “I made something too. For your baby.”

She unfolded the leather to reveal a tiny pair of boots, meticulously stitched from supple hide and lined with the softest fur. They were barely the size of her palm.

“Oh, Polly,” she breathed, reaching out to touch the delicate gift. “These are perfect.”

A flush of pleasure colored Polly’s pale cheeks. “Njkall helped me get the materials. He says… he says your baby will need good boots to walk strong on this world.”

“How is Njkall?” she asked innocently.

“He said perhaps it was time to get my own cave,” Polly blurted out. “That he didn’t want to frighten me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No! I feel safe with him. Even when…”

“Even when what?”

“The other morning, he… he was aroused.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I wanted to touch him but when I tried he jumped up and left.” Polly looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Maybe he’s the one who’s frightened,” she said gently. “They worry about hurting us.” And she suspected Njkall was even more concerned, given Polly’s past.

“Njkall? Frightened?” The girl looked thunderstruck.

Content to have planted the seed, she changed the subject as she carefully placed the tiny boots beside her growing collection of baby things.

“Will you stay for tea? Rhaal brought back some of those sweet roots yesterday.”

Polly nodded, looking thoughtful as she settled back on the cushion.

As she went to gather the ingredients, it struck her how much had changed in just a few months.

What had once felt like a barren cave now felt undeniably like home.

The stone walls were hung with woven tapestries gifted by the clan.

The bed platform was piled high with furs and cushions.

Her carved beads hung in strands near the entrance, catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the floor when the sun hit them just right.

As she prepared the tea, she felt the now-familiar flutter in her belly—their cub making its presence known.

Her hand went automatically to the small, firm swell beneath her tunic, a gesture that had become second nature.

She was still taking the sothiti, but Cera had reduced the dose to once a week.

With the river cleansed the fish were returning, and although they were being cautious, they were no longer worried about making their quota.

“Does it hurt?” Polly asked, watching her with curious eyes.

“No,” she said, smiling. “It feels like… like butterflies. Or little fish swimming.” She hesitated, then added gently, “Would you like to feel?”

Polly’s eyes widened, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. Yasmin took her hand and placed it on the spot where the movement was strongest. They waited, and then?—

“Oh!” Polly gasped, a genuine smile transforming her face as the baby kicked against her palm. “It’s so strong!”

“Like its father,” she said, laughing.

They spent the afternoon together, working on their beadwork before Polly helped her prepare vegetables for the evening meal.

When Polly finally left to return to the main caves, she felt a quiet satisfaction.

The other woman’s visits were a bridge between her life with Rhaal and the wider clan—a reminder that she wasn’t as isolated as she had once feared.

Later, as the day began to fade, she wrapped herself in a thick fur and stepped outside the cave. The air was crisp but not bitter, carrying the first subtle hints of spring beneath the lingering winter. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the clean, sharp scent of mountains and snow.

The sky was already darkening to a deep indigo, the first stars appearing like pinpricks of silver.

She walked a short distance from the cave entrance to a flat outcropping of rock that offered a perfect view of the valley below and the vast sky above.

This had become her favorite spot to watch the sunset and, on clear nights, the aurora that often followed.

She heard Rhaal before she saw him—the almost imperceptible crunch of snow beneath his massive feet, a sound she had learned to distinguish from all other forest noises. He moved with remarkable silence for his size, but her ears had grown attuned to his presence.

“You should not be out here alone,” he rumbled, appearing beside her like a ghost materializing from the twilight. His arms were laden with the day’s hunt—two plump pikka and a small skarn.

“I’m not alone anymore,” she said, smiling up at him. “And I didn’t go far.”

He made a sound that was half grunt, half purr—a noise she had come to recognize as his way of conceding a point while still maintaining his protective stance. Without another word, he disappeared into the cave to deposit his kill.

When he returned, his hands were empty and he had shed his hunting harness.

The tension in his shoulders had eased, his posture relaxing as he settled back into their shared space.

This was another change she had observed over the weeks—how he seemed to shed a layer of vigilance when he crossed the threshold of their home, as though the cave itself was a boundary between the warrior and the mate.

“Polly came today,” she told him as he lowered himself to sit behind her on the rock. “She brought boots for the baby.”

His massive arms encircled her, pulling her back against his chest. The warmth of him immediately seeped through the fur, chasing away the evening chill.

“Good,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating against her back. “Njkall says she speaks more now. Not just to you.”

Yasmin nodded, leaning into his embrace. “She’s healing. Slowly, but she is.”

“Like you,” he said, one clawed hand coming to rest gently on her rounded belly.

The observation caught her by surprise. “I suppose so,” she said after a moment. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

She felt his shrug, the slight shift of his massive shoulders behind her. “You were broken when I found you. Not like her—but broken.”

There was no judgment in his voice, only a simple statement of fact. And he was right. When she had stumbled from that crashed ship into the blizzard, she had been shattered—not just physically weakened, but emotionally devastated by her abduction and the loss of everything she had known.

“We healed each other,” she said softly, covering his hand with her own much smaller one.

Above them, the first ripples of green light began to dance across the darkening sky.

The aurora started as a faint glow on the horizon, then spread upward in undulating waves of emerald and jade.

As they watched, violet and blue joined the display, weaving through the green in a breathtaking celestial dance.

Her breath caught at the sheer beauty of it.

No matter how many times she witnessed this phenomenon, it never failed to fill her with wonder.

On Earth, she had seen photographs of the northern lights, but nothing had prepared her for the reality—the way the colors shifted and pulsed as though the sky itself was breathing, the vastness of the display stretching from horizon to horizon.

“Sky-fire,” he murmured, using the Hothian term. His chin rested gently on the top of her head as they both gazed upward.

They sat in comfortable silence as the aurora strengthened, casting an ethereal glow over the snow-covered landscape. The colors reflected off the white ground, creating the illusion that they were suspended in the center of the light show rather than merely observing it from below.

His hands moved in slow, gentle circles over her belly, a protective gesture that had become habitual for him.

Occasionally, she felt the subtle press of his claws—deadly weapons capable of tearing through hide and bone, now retracted to their most gentle state as they traced patterns over their growing child.

The baby responded to its father’s touch with a series of strong kicks, making her laugh softly.

“Already a warrior,” he said, a note of pride in his deep voice.

“Or a dancer,” she countered, smiling as she felt another flutter of movement.

His answering rumble was amused, the vibration of it comforting against her back. “Perhaps both.”

The aurora reached its peak, the entire sky awash with shifting color.

In this moment of natural splendor, she felt a profound sense of rightness settle over her.

If someone had told her a year ago that she would find peace and belonging on a frozen alien world, mated to a creature who looked like something from Earth’s most primal myths, she would have thought them mad.

Yet here she was, and she had never felt more at home.

He shifted slightly behind her, adjusting his position to better support her weight. His movements were always careful around her now, mindful of her changing body and the precious life it contained.

“Yasmin,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

She turned her head slightly, trying to see his face. “What is it?”

He was silent for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost reverent.

“I love you, Yasmin,” he whispered, the human words now as natural to him as his own tongue.

The simple declaration filled her with warmth that had nothing to do with his body heat.

Though their bond had grown stronger with each passing day, he rarely expressed his feelings in words.

He was a creature of action, showing his devotion through protection, provision, and his constant, steady presence.

She twisted in his arms to face him, reaching up to touch his rugged face. In the glow of the aurora, his blue eyes seemed to hold their own inner light, watching her with an intensity that still took her breath away.

“I love you, too,” she said, her voice clear and certain in the quiet night.

His answering rumble was the tenderest sound she had ever heard—a deep, resonant purr that seemed to come from the very core of his being. It was a sound of pure contentment, of a soul finally at peace.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against hers in the Hothian gesture of deepest affection. They stayed that way for a long moment, connected in the most fundamental way, while the sky continued its magnificent display above them.

For the first time since her abduction, she felt not just safe, but whole. The journey had been unimaginably difficult—filled with terror, pain, and loss—but it had led her here, to this moment, to this life that she would never have chosen but now couldn’t imagine living without.

She was not a victim, not a survivor, not an outsider. She was a mate, a mother-to-be, and finally—irrevocably—home.