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)
Really, everything is great. Sort of.
It’s just me and Pashov that can’t seem to get it together. Have I somehow offended him? Or is he tired of being around us constantly? Does he not want to be a father and a mate to me and he’s trying to let us off the hook slowly? Maybe…maybe he just doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe he’s no longer feeling the connection between us and is trying to extricate himself.
I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy.
I climb out of my furs and pad over to Pacy’s basket. The floors are deliciously warm and I can actually go around barefoot in my own house. It’s nice. I pick the baby up and give him a kiss. “Good morning, little man.”
Someone coughs on the other side of the privacy screen over my doorway.
Is it Pashov? A flicker of annoyance moves through me—why won’t he enter? It’s his home, too, even if he doesn’t want to be here. Holding Pacy close, I move to the entrance and peer out. The brief patch of skin I can see through the cracks near the door tells me it’s not Pashov, and I’m still in my sleep-tunic. Eep. “Who is it?”
“Harrec. May I come in?”
Pashov’s friend? I hurry back over to my pallet of furs to dress, setting Pacy down on the blankets. “Is something wrong?” I call out. While it hasn’t been unusual in the past for Harrec to come by and visit, it’s early. Is there something wrong with Pashov? My heart beats a little faster.
“I wanted to see if you had some of those tasty little not-potato cakes you used to make at the fire. I am tired of eating dried meat.”
I exhale with relief. It’s not a problem…he’s just hungry and a bachelor. Harrec has no family to feed him. “Give me two minutes to dress.” I bind my leaky breasts and fling on my favorite tunic and leggings. Pacy seems restless, but not so irritated that I can’t start breakfast for someone else. I head over to the screen and pull it back, inviting him in. “Come inside. I need to stoke the fire.”
Harrec pats his flat belly and beams a smile at me. He’s wearing a fur wrap over his shoulders, and his long hair is tied into one thick braid that bounces against his arm as he moves inside. “You are a good female, Stay-see.”
“Thanks,” I say drily. “Keep an eye on Pacy, will you? I’ll get food started.” I don’t mind cooking for him or any other of the hunters that show up. I enjoy feeding people.
He bounds over to my furs, where Pacy is crawling around, and scoops the baby up. I hear Pacy’s delighted giggle and smile to myself as I stoke the fire. Harrec is one of the quirkier tribesmates. He’s a hunter, but at the sight of his own blood? Faints dead away. He’s got a weird sense of humor, but he’s also got a kind heart and likes kids. “This little one has a messy loincloth,” Harrec announces. “Shall I change him?”
“You would be my hero if you did,” I say. Once the fire is blazing again, I spear my last clod of dvisti dung and toss it on to keep things blazing, then head over to my little kitchen. I pull out a small not-potato from my basket of roots and chop it with my bone knife. I can’t stop thinking about Pashov, though. A bolt of longing shoots through me, and I decide that I’ll make double the breakfast cakes for when he shows up. If he shows up. Gosh, I really hope he shows up. I glance over at Harrec and he’s changing the baby, making silly faces for him as he does. “Where’s Pashov this morning?”
Man, that did not sound casual at all. So much for keeping my cool.
“Oh, I am sure he will be here soon once he hears I am here.”
I glance over. That’s a weird thing to say. “Why’s that?”
“Because I am trying to make him jealous, of course.” He grins at me and swings Pacy into his arms. “What better way than to come and flirt with his mate and play with his kit?”
I chop a little faster, irritated. Is that what this is about? He’s come to flirt? “Hate to break it to you, but I am not interested.”
“Oh, I know this.” Harrec laughs, playing with Pacy some more. “You are my friend’s mate and I would never do such a thing. But he does not know this.”
What on earth is he talking about? He’s such an odd duck. I frown as I grab a bit of dried meat and mince it, but he says nothing else, just plays with Pacy. Maybe I misheard him.
I move toward the fire and put the little cakes on my scorched bone plate. It’s not holding up well against the repeated use in the fire, but without my skillet, I don’t have another option. No sooner does it start to sizzle than Pashov peeks in through the doorway. “I smell cakes?” he asks, a delighted look on his face.