Will he want a male or a female? Will he think of Hashala as my stomach grows? Or will the new kit replace all the aching love I have for her? I worry that I will forget her. That if a new kit fills my arms and my heart, I will have nothing left for the kit I have lost. But maybe…maybe Hemalo can help me remember.

As I muse quietly to myself, Claire moves around my howse. She dips her small finger into the pouch and pulls back with an exclamation at how hot it is. She moves to the cupboard where Farli keeps our dishes and pulls out a pair of shiny new bone cups. I realize as she pours tea that those must be Farli’s cups, not mine. I have made no effort to replace anything that I lost in the earth-shake. That will not do. Not if I am to have a kit. Not if I am to cave with Hemalo again. Not if we are to be a family once more. Farli will have to return to her mother’s hearth or keep the howse to herself. I wonder if Hemalo has a howse in the vee-lage or if he will move into mine. I muse on the thought as I sip the tea and Claire chatters about the haw-lee-day. I know she is trying to distract me, and so I smile and pretend to listen.

Perhaps…perhaps this is a good thing.

I am still terrified, of course. The thought of spending endless seasons pregnant again, only to lose the thing I want most in the world? It breaks my heart. But…resonance chooses when the kits are born, and to whom. We do not choose. I cannot fight it, because in the end, I will give in. The khui controls all. It does not make me angry, strangely enough. I know some of the humans have fought hard against resonance—Jo-see and Haeden spring to mind. In the end, the khui always wins.

If I knew Hemalo wanted this—wanted me—then I think I could bear it a bit more. I could stand the terror and the fear if it felt like we were in this together. But his words yesterday hurt me down to my core. Telling me that we did not have to act right away? Acting as if this is unimportant? He should know how I feel.

I truly do not think he wishes to be with me. I fret over this as I drink my tea. Once, I thought he was devoted to me despite my unfairness to him. Perhaps he has truly given up, and not even resonance can salvage what is between us. The thought makes me sad. I picture us together, as a family, laughing and smiling around a fire, cozy during the worst storms that the brutal season can bring down upon us. I think of him as the father to my kit, holding the child and tossing it into the air as Vektal does to his little Talie. My heart feels warm. He would be a good father.

Now that my initial terror is ebbing, I am starting to grow excited.

Resonance means a new kit to love. A new life to carry and nurture. I have never wanted anything more than I have wanted this. And while it will not bring Hashala back to me, it will let me try again. Perhaps this time, I will be the mother I have wanted to be. I will get to hold my own kit close to my breast and love it, instead of holding someone else’s and wishing. The new kit will not take the place of the one I lost, but to have my own…oh. Just the thought is a dream. I touch my flat stomach and think about it with wonder.

Unless something goes wrong…

“I see that look on your face,” Claire says between sips. “Stop it, Asha. You’re just torturing yourself.”

“It is just…what if something goes wrong?”

“My mother always said that worrying about what might happen does nothing but make you crazy.” She finishes her tea and puts down her cup. “So, is there a reason why you’re still sitting here with me and not talking to Hemalo?”

I set my tea aside and draw my legs up, hugging them close. “You push hard.”

“I’m your friend. I want what’s best for you. And sitting on this isn’t going to help things.”

“He could come and talk to me, too,” I point out.

“He could, but he hasn’t, and there must be a reason for that,” Claire says. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move. Maybe he thinks you’re upset and doesn’t want to upset you more. Or maybe he’s being a big chicken. Whatever it is, you’ll never know unless you go and speak to him.”

“Shick-un?” I ask.

Claire waves a hand in the air. “You know what I mean. Quit stalling. Go talk to him!”

“And say what?”

“Tell him how you feel!”

I think for a moment and then sigh, hugging my legs close. “I am not sure how I feel, Claire.”

“Which is also not the worst thing to tell him. I imagine he’s feeling a little conflicted himself.” She gets up from her seat and picks up our teacups. “I’ll clean up here. You go talk to him.”

My gut clenches, the nervous feeling bubbling over. What if he says cruel things? What if he does not want to give mating with me another try? What if he will mate with me but pushes me away again? Then I will have to go through all of this alone. The thought is terrifying, but not undeserved. I have been hard to love. I might have destroyed any hope for the future with my actions.

But it is as Claire says—I will never know unless I go and speak to Hemalo.

I suck in a deep breath. Get to my feet. I straighten my tunic and run a hand over my mane, feeling nervous. If he says cruel things, I will not be able to bear it. I feel as fragile as one of the humans right now.

“You look beautiful. Go!”

“Going,” I mutter. I grab a warm wrap and fling it over my shoulders, then push the flap aside and step out into the air. The chill is bone-deep, despite it being midday. I glance up at the sky out of habit, and it looks as if the storm is abating, which means the hunters will be able to go out tomorrow. The next day of celebrations—coloring eggs and hiding them around the vee-lage for some reason—will have to wait. I wrap my fur tighter around my body and head toward the howse that the unmated hunters live in. It is on the far end of the vee-lage, and I pass many empty, lidless howses as I walk. Perhaps when all the new kits in the tribe are grown up, they will live in these.

And perhaps my kit will be amongst them.

The thought is an encouraging one, and I quicken my steps. I need to talk to Hemalo. To get to an understanding with him. To see how I can make him stop hating me so much so we can mate and bring resonance full circle.

And bring our kit one step closer to death, possibly. I hate that the thought echoes in my mind, but I cannot stop it. The fear will be with me, always, lurking like a shadow.

I must not think about that. Not now.

This end of the vee-lage is quiet, and the only sound is the distant echo of laughter and singing at the long-howse and the endless howling of the wind above. There is no sound of Hemalo working his hides. Those are sounds I know well—the wet slap of the brain-mash on the leather, or the scrape of his bone tool along a hide. Is he not working, then? Sleeping?

I move to his leather-working hut, but it is empty, his tools neatly put away, skins rolled up. No work today, then. Is he sick? Has resonance made him ill enough that he cannot leave his bed? The thought fills me with concern—and floods me with arousal at the same time. It has been a long time since Hemalo has touched me, and I miss it. Of all of my fur-partners, he was my last…and the best one. He would always make sure I was pleasured hard and pleasured well, but my favorite part was how he held me close afterward, as if he could not bear to let me go. I want that again. Even now, I grow slick between my thighs thinking about it, and the tip of my tail tingles with excitement. I have not felt like mating in a very, very long time, and yet it seems to consume my thoughts right now. It is the resonance, I know, but it gives me hope. It makes me feel…normal again. Like I am not completely dead inside.

I like that.

The howse the hunters occupy has the privacy flap pulled back. I peek inside, but it is empty, too. Hmm. Did Hemalo join the celebration, after all? I turn and head back toward the long-howse, fighting back my nervousness. Is he avoiding me? The thought sparks a flash of irritation, and I stomp toward the gathering.