Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
There’s too much to worry over, though. I nearly lost my mate once. I don’t want to lose him again. So I smile and shrug and decide to pretend I’m excited about the new living quarters. “It’d be nice to see what the new little houses are going to be like. And Georgie said there would be toilets. I admit, I’m looking forward to toilets.”
Pashov turns his face up for a kiss. “You will have more than enough time to set up your new nest, my mate. Let us enjoy our time together, yes?”
“All right,” I say, and press my mouth to his with affection. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Nightmares don’t mean a brain injury. The healer would have seen it already. And we’re safe here. Pashov wouldn’t take me and his son somewhere like this if he thought we were even in the slightest bit of danger.
I’m just overthinking.
I pull out one of the big hides from a recent kill. We’ve scraped it clean of all meat and fat, and it’s dried out. Now it’s stiff and ready to be worked, and I consider it, trying to figure out what to make. Extra boots would probably be wise, even though it’s not water-proofed. But Pacy needs more diapers, or as the sa-khui refer to them, loincloths. This particular hide is too tough, but I could get out a scraper and work it over to soften it up. Pashov needs winter tunics, I need a couple of ponchos to go over my winter tunics, and there’s just so much stuff to make that I get a little stressed thinking about it all. I wish we could hop in the car to the nearest Walmart and buy supplies, but it’s all on us. Sometimes it’s a little overwhelming.
So I focus and try to think about what is most urgently needed. Boots are probably the smartest idea for now, because one pair only means that my feet turn into blocks of ice by the end of a day of travel, and the boots take longer than one evening to dry out. My current ones can be reinforced with more padding to make them warmer, and I can use the hard leather to make a spare pair. Extra diapers are nice to have, but I can just use a bit more arm muscle and scrub the ones I have. The good thing about frozen leather is that you can just scrape off the gross bits and wrap the skins in herbs to freshen them. It’s not quite the same as having disposable diapers, but beggars can’t be choosers. I should make Pashov a new tunic, but the leather’s poor quality, and I don’t know how soft or comfortable I can make it, even with scraping. It would need days and days of scraping to be supple. That might be wasted effort. I spread the skin and look at Pashov. “Boots for me or a tunic for you, do you think?”
“Boots,” he says without looking over at the leather. “You need to keep warm. I am not as bothered by the weather.”
“Yes, but you’re out in it more than I am,” I fret. “It’s just that the leather’s so hard and gross for a tunic. You need something soft.” I look over at him. “Are you going to hunt anything with a better hide that I could use for you?”
“I do not like the thought of leaving you and Pacy here alone while I hunt,” he tells me, taking Pacy’s small hands and helping him wobble a few steps forward. He has a delighted smile on his face at the baby’s progress, and reluctantly looks over at me. “But I can check my traps, and if they are empty, I can see what else is frozen in the cache, but it means smoking more meat.”
“I’m fine with that,” I tell him. “Better too much meat than not enough.”
He picks Pacy up and gives him a noisy kiss on the baby’s round cheek. “Then I shall go and do as you ask. Will you be all right alone with this fierce little one for a short time?”
I chuckle, and not just because Pacy is so clearly delighted with his father’s playfulness. “I’ll feed him and put him down for a nap.” He’s been playing with the baby for a good while, and I’m hoping Pacy will be tired enough to sleep. That’ll give me free time to work on the skins without having to fish things out of Pacy’s small grabby hands. This cave isn’t exactly baby-proof.
My mate nods and gets to his feet, swinging Pacy into his arms as he does. “I will try not to be gone for long.” He moves to my side and gently hands my son down to me.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, since I can’t help but worry.