He is happy, my once-mate. Hemalo has always loved to feel needed, and that is something I have not been able to give him. This move to the new vee-lage, the chance to work his skills and be important to the tribe—all of it is wonderful for him. For once, it is Hemalo that is needed and in demand, and Asha who is unimportant.

I cross my arms over my chest, curious at how uneasy that makes me feel. In my mind, I am very different from the Asha I used to be. The one that flirted with all the males of the tribe and who went from pleasure-mate to pleasure-mate, just because she could. Just because I was one of two young females in the tribe and all the strong hunters wanted my attention. Then, all I wanted was to be the center of attention.

Now, the thought makes me tired.

“Grab the cords,” Hemalo instructs, and I watch as Taushen and Ereven move around the far side of the howse, and the roof pitches even higher. “Just like that, Hemalo tells them. “Good job.”

“Ho, Asha,” Taushen calls out. “Do you come here to help?”

All of the workers stop, but my gaze is on Hemalo. He stiffens, his tail flicking, and he turns slowly to look at me. There is sorrow and apology in his eyes. It makes me angry.

“No,” I say, keeping my voice tart. “I was looking to see who was making so much noise that they would rouse good people from their sleep.” Not that I was asleep, but they do not need to know that. “It is early.”

“Ah, but if we wait until you are awake and out of the furs, we could be waiting a very long time,” Ereven calls out.

I ignore his jibe.

Hemalo shoots Ereven a look. “My apologies,” my once-mate says in his low, thrumming voice. “We will be quieter.”

“Do as you like.” I shrug as if it does not matter to me. It feels strange to stand apart from him as if we are merely tribesmates and not once-mates. I cannot be easy around him, and judging by the tense set of his shoulders, he feels the same about me.

Nothing is simple between us. I hate that, even though I know it is my fault as much as his.

The males continue to watch me, as if waiting for something. I shrug and move on, as if I am unaffected. The truth is, being this near Hemalo bothers me, like an itch I cannot scratch. Things are wrong between us, and I can feel the hot eyes of the others as they watch us both, waiting for one of us to blow up at the other. Waiting for us to fight and snarl like we always have in the past.

I am not interested in that, though. I am just…tired. I want to move on.

I head toward the long-howse, and the closer I get, I smell something cooking over the fire. Someone is there, at least. I hurry in to get out of the wind—one of the things I am not quite used to despite several moons of living in the vee-lage. It still feels very open to me, very exposed. Perhaps it always will. The humans love it, though. They say it feels more like home to them.

I step into the long-howse, and warmth hits me. This room is drowsy-warm and humid, thanks to the warm pool at the center. The lid of the long-howse is cleverly rigged as multiple skins that can be dragged closed or pulled open, depending on the weather. Most days it is left open because the walls keep the worst of the wind out, and everyone likes the sunlight. It is so warm here that Tee-fah-ni has potted several fruit plants and keeps them in the direct sunlight, hoping they will grow. In one corner, there are drying racks of roots and herbs, and another of meat.

Stay-see is by the fire, and No-rah is with her, both of her kits’ baskets at her feet. I feel my spirits lift at the sight of them—No-rah always needs help with her twins, and I am glad to hold them. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Asha. We were just sitting down to have some eggs.” No-rah beams a bright smile at me. “You hungry?”

“I will eat.” I sit down next to No-rah while Stay-see pushes a lumpy yellow paste around in her skillet over the fire. I personally do not like the taste—or the thought—of the eggs. The humans love them, but the sa-khui are revolted by the taste and texture and the fact that they are uncooked young. We revere the act of life, so it seems horrible to me to eat dirtbeaks before they hatch from the shell…but it is food, and the stores are lean. So I will eat eggs and smile through gritted teeth as I do so.

One of the twins starts to snuffle and cry, and I look over at No-rah. “May I?”

“Please do.” She gives me a tired smile. “They were up all night fussing.” No-rah stifles a yawn.

I pick up one of the twins—Ah-nah. I can tell her apart from her sister because of the way her bright yellow mane sticks up. Her ‘cow-lick,’ as the humans call it, makes her tufts stick up toward her brow, whereas El-sah has a smooth mane. If I have to be particular, Ah-nah is my favorite of the two. She is a little fussier than her calm twin, a little less settled. I can relate to that.

I hold her close, inhaling her sweet kit scent. She cries a little but quiets when I tuck her against my neck and I stroke her small head. My kit would have been like this. Not with the yellow mane or the pale, pale blue skin, but my Hashala would have filled out like Ah-nah if given time. Her little fingers would curl around my larger one, and she would gurgle and make happy noises and tug on my braid when she got excited, like Ah-nah is right now. My heart squeezes painfully.

Sometimes I pretend that No-rah is tired of two kits and will give me one. It is a foolish hope, but one that lives in my head anyhow. Why should one female have two when I have none? But that is not how life works, and my arms must be empty while No-rah’s overflow.

Stay-see serves up the eggs, and she and No-rah tuck into the food with enthusiasm. I choke down a few bites but spend most of my time cuddling the kit as the two humans chatter about the weather, their mates, and Stay-see’s ever-increasing stash of frozen eggs.

As the humans talk, Claire wanders over. “I smell eggs. Are there any left?” She rubs her lightly rounded stomach, the kit she is carrying now starting to show even though it will not be born until well after the brutal season is over.

“I can make more,” Stay-see tells her. “Not sleeping in today?”

Claire shakes her head and sits down by the fire, smiling a greeting at me. “Sleep? Not with the men shouting instructions at each other while I’m in my furs. But at least the leak in the roof will be fixed. Hemalo knew exactly what the problem was. Something about how the leather was treated, so they removed the piece that was dripping meltwater and replacing it.”

The humans glance over at me, as if expecting me to say something since my once-mate was brought up. I remain silent, content to hold Ah-nah. I do not want to leave and return to my howse. Not when there are kits here by the fire and I have nothing waiting for me at home.

Stay-see cracks another egg over her skillet and then begins to stir. “So, did you talk to Georgie?” She asks Claire.

“It’s a go,” Claire says happily, settling into her seat and sliding her hands over her rounded belly. “She thinks another holiday will help perk everyone up.”

No-rah looks excited. “I would love that. I think it’s nice to have the guys home on bad weather days, but I know they get restless when too many of them string together. Just the other day it snowed so hard that the hunters were stuck in the village for five days straight, and I thought Dagesh would climb the walls, he was so restless. By the time the weather cleared I was ready to shove him out the door.” She chuckles.

I smile faintly. “It is just part of the brutal season. We endure the slow days and get as much as we can get done on the good weather days.” I shrug. I would not mind a day that was so busy myself. Without a mate or kit at my hearth, I have too much free time. I am no huntress, like Leezh or some of the other humans that are learning.