He presses another kiss to my forehead and then sheds another layer of furs. The ends of his hair have iced over, and there’s a slick layer of ice on his horns. “I look forward to a day of terrible stew and equally terrible eggs. Tell me you have something for your poor starving mate to eat?”

I giggle, because my ‘poor starving mate’ is a picky eater. He loves raw meat and raw meat and that’s about it. He’ll eat other things, but he likes to joke about how terrible they are. “Stew?”

Ereven clutches his belly, grinning. “I can hardly wait to choke it down.”

I laugh, moving toward the fire as he continues to strip off clothing. “How was your hunting? You were gone a long time, so I hope it went well?”

“Very well,” he says, stripping off his tunic. “I filled one cache again and brought a pair of fat dvisti down into the gorge. They’re in one of the storage huts until I can butcher them.”

“Yum,” I tease. Dvisti is my least favorite of the meats we eat, mostly because they remind me of shaggy, ugly ponies. But I’ll eat it. I’m just happy that the hunting has been so great lately. The pinched, worried look has eased from the faces of the hunters, and even Vektal looks like he’s finally slept a full night recently. I’ll eat pony if I have to. The baby growing in my belly needs food, and I’m not going to be picky. “I’m glad the hunting went well,” I tell Ereven. “One less thing for everyone to worry about.” Even my easy-going mate has expressed concerns about the food situation, but it sounds like that’ll be in the past soon enough.

“Very well. Now feed me, female, before I am overcome by my mate’s beauty and tackle her to the furs.”

I choke back a laugh at that, moving toward the fire where I have the last of the stew warming in the pouch. His mate hasn’t felt particularly beautiful lately, what with my belly growing by leaps and bounds and my ankles seeming to swell to keep pace with it. I’ve felt fat and bloated for days, and I have almost another year of being pregnant ahead of me—joy. I ladle the stew into one of the bowls and hand it over to Ereven.

He immediately grabs me by the hips and pulls me into his lap, ignoring the bowl. He nuzzles at my neck instead. “Too late. I am overcome.”

“You should eat,” I chide him, squirming. I love the way he fusses over me, always making me feel beautiful.

“Why should I? There is something much more pleasant to put my mouth on.”

“You’ll…need your strength.”

“Ah.” He presses one last smacking kiss on my mouth and then takes the bowl. “Always wise, my Claire.” He takes an enthusiastic bite of stew, grimaces, and then shoves another mouthful in. “Tell me what you have been up to,” he says between bites. “How go the No Poison Day plans?”

“Fantastic.” I put an arm around his neck, making myself comfortable in his lap as he eats. “We’ve got everyone signed up for the secret gift exchange, and there’s a lot of excitement. Nora told Dagesh about the Jewish tradition of dreidels, and now he’s making one for each kit in the tribe.” I think it’s the sweetest, and it goes to show just how thoughtful Nora’s mate is. “And then there’s decorating, which is first on the celebration days. We lost our decorations from the last holiday, but Farli said she saw a few of the rekrek bushes that are good for stringing seeds, so she promised to get some of those for next time. And Liz said she and Raahosh will get us a tree.”

“And presents?” he asks, scooping another bite of stew into his mouth. “We still have time to work on those, yes? I have not finished Borran’s decorated waterskins yet.”

“Plenty of time,” I assure him. The moons don’t turn for another week and some change, though everyone’s already eagerly looking forward to the beginning of the celebrations.

“What happens if someone gives a gift early?”

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s all right, though it’s not much in the spirit of the game.”

“Did you decide to play, after all?”

I tilt my head at him, curious. “Of course not. I’m running things. Someone has to make sure things go smoothly. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs and sets his empty bowl aside. “Because there is a wrapped package next to the door.”

“What?” I pry out of his arms and stagger to my feet. “There is?”

“Shall I get it?” He gets up as well.

“No, I’ve got it.” I head to the door and push back the flap, peering out. Sure enough, there is a small, fur-wrapped package on the step. Curious, I pick it up and look around. “Did you see who left this?”

“It was there when I arrived. Perhaps someone is playing early?”

Or they don’t understand the rules. It makes me sad, because both Asha and I have worked so hard to get everyone to pay attention. I know we’re throwing a lot at them, but it’s all in fun, and everyone seemed to understand the concepts when asked. “Perhaps it’s for you?” Except Georgie is his secret gift partner, and I’m pretty sure she grasps the rules, being human and all. There’s no cultural misunderstanding there.

“Open it and see?”

I offer it to my mate, but he shakes his head. After a moment’s hesitation, I pull the sinew-cord tie off of the small square package and unwrap it. It’s mostly hide, but in the center is a delicate, shining bone bracelet. It’s been worked with care and precision, the carving delicate and beautiful, and someone’s spent hours on this to make it glossy and lovely to wear.

“That is not for me,” Ereven says with a grin. “I do not think it would fit over my hand.”

He’s right. The size is definitely human. It’s so pretty, and yet…I’m not playing the game. I shouldn’t be getting any gifts. “I’ll have to talk to Asha in the morning and see if she can think who would have left this.”

“Until then,” my mate says, and puts his arms around my waist, “you are all mine.”

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7

ASHA

Two Weeks Later

Decorating Day

“And you don’t have any idea?” The look on Claire’s face is frustrated. “I’ve gotten three gifts now. We haven’t even started playing until today.”

I shake my head, putting the final stitches on a soft little tunic, perfect for a kit. It is dyed a dark reddish color with light, contrasting stitches, and while I am not the best at sewing, I am pleased with it and its contrasting sister tunic made of buff leather with dark stitches. No-rah’s secret gift-giver is Warrek, and he has not been himself since his father passed, so I am helping him along. “Perhaps someone simply wishes to give you gifts?”

“But who?” Claire puts down the colored seeds she is stringing. “We’ve checked and everyone says they know the rules. You know I’m not playing.”

I shrug. I am not nearly as concerned as my friend. “Take the gifts and be thankful. It is a kind gesture.”

This is not a good enough answer for Claire. In the days we have been spending together, I have learned that she is quiet, but when she plants her feet, she is more stubborn than an old dvisti. I can tell by the look on her face that she will not rest until she solves this. “I just want to know who and understand why.”

“It is as you have said—it is the awful-day spirit.”

“Holiday spirit,” she corrects.

“Same thing,” I tease. “Your human words all sound the same.”

She gives a little irritated snort, and I bite back a grin. Spending time with Claire is fun. Just having a friend to talk to makes even the most monotonous of chores entertaining, and I see now why the human females are so quick to cluster together on a daily basis and share stories. Having a friend your own age is…vastly enjoyable. I have never felt friendly with Maylak, and I do wonder if that is my own fault. I have always seen her as competition, never as a friend. She was always so perfect, so lovely, so talented with her healing, that I felt I had to be that much more flirty with all the males of the tribe to get any attention. There is no competing with Claire, just friendship.