It would be impractical in this weather, of course, but so nice to have all that skin suddenly exposed to me.

As we near the gorge, Hemalo moves faster, his steps quicker. He is refreshed with energy now that our goal is in sight. As we get closer, however, my relief gives way to nervousness. How will the tribe react to our return? We have both missed all the days of the haw-lee-deh, and it is sure to be mentioned. Repeatedly. What if they tease us about leaving?

Worse, what if someone says something to pull us apart just as we are coming together again? We have been together on the trails, out in the wild, and been happy. What if that changes now that we are about to be around the others again? Nervous, I flick my tail forward, brushing against his. He immediately twines his with mine, a comforting gesture.

I feel better. A little, anyhow.

“All right?” He calls back over his shoulder, glancing at me.

“Just my mind full of bad thoughts,” I tell him. It is still hard to tell him what I am thinking without getting defensive, but I am trying. The old Asha would have pushed aside his concerns and made a hurtful comment.

“It will be all right,” he reassures me. The old Hemalo would have been silent. “Nothing they say is meant to hurt. They are our tribe. They want us to be happy.” He pauses and turns around, reaching for me. He takes my gloved hands in his, concern on his face. “What troubles you so?”

I shake my head. “It is…difficult to explain.” His hands holding mine helps, though. “I feel…as if the tribe does not understand me sometimes. When I grieved, I felt as if they did not grasp why it took me so long to get through it. Why everything would make me sad and why I would hide away. I felt like they wanted me to act like I was not suffering, and that made it hurt even more.” I lick my lips and blurt out my biggest worry. “What if we return and everything goes back to how it was?”

“Impossible,” Hemalo tells me in that rich, comforting voice of his.

“How is it impossible?” I can see myself falling into the bleakness all too easily.

“Because I will be at your side every moment of every day. When you frown, I will give you mouth-matings until you smile again. When you are sad, I will hold you close until you are happy again. When we sleep, it will be together, under the same furs.”

I sigh, because what he says sounds so nice. “Do you promise?”

“I do. You are my heart, Asha. Nothing comes before you. Do you understand?”

I nod slowly and move forward into his arms, tucking myself against him. “I still do not feel ready to see everyone again. Not just yet. I wish we could race to a howse and just put the screen over the entrance and not come out until we are ready.”

He chuckles and strokes my cheek with his glove. “My heart, we can do exactly that.”

I look up at him in surprise. “Really?” My Hemalo is more social than I am. He loves to be around the tribe and talk around the fire. I am the one that pulls away first, the one that would be content to be at home at my own small fire instead of surrounded by others. I have been anticipating our return as hour upon endless hour of tribal celebrations, stories shared, and people feeding us and fussing over us until we can slip away. And while it sounds nice, it also sounds exhausting. Hemalo would enjoy every minute of it, but I would much rather retreat to my furs until I am ready to face them. I am pleased to hear he wants the same thing. “Are you sure?”

“If it is what you want, it is what I want. The others can wait to celebrate.” He rubs my back. “We can boot Farli from your howse, light a fire, and relax until we are ready to emerge.”

I pull a glove off, then reach down and caress the base of his tail where it emerges from his leathers. “It might be a while before I feel like seeing the others.” When I hear him suck in a breath, I tighten my grip. A sa-khui tail is sensitive at the base, where it joins the skin, and Hemalo is more sensitive there than most. I wonder, idly, if the humans have figured this out…and what they have figured out that I do not know. Perhaps I should ask Claire sometime. I let my fingers trail along the underside of his tail. “When I have you alone, I might feel…very un-social.”

“All the more encouraging,” he says, a husky note in his voice. “Does this mean you are ready to fulfill resonance, Asha?”

“I…am still a little scared.”

“Of losing the kit?”

A knot forms in my throat. “What if we lose it again? What if we break again?”

“We will not let it break us again.” He leans down and brushes his nose against mine in an almost-kiss that feels somehow more intimate than mouth-mating. “Look at how far we have come. We are talking, are we not? We say the things we hid before. And I miss Hashala. I will still miss her. But I have room in my heart for more.”

I do, too. So many more. It is the wanting them so badly that terrifies me. What if I want and it never happens? Am I doomed to hold only the kits of others and never my own? I give him a panicked look.

“Stop,” Hemalo murmurs, shaking his head at me. “You are worrying too much. Whatever happens, we will face it together. Let the world bring what it does. I will take it all on as long as I have the perfect mate at my side.”

His words fill me with warmth. I give a playful snort. “You have a strange idea of perfect.”

“No, I do not.” He smiles. “My perfect is a tall, strong female with lovely blue skin and a generous, giving heart. A female with fire in her heart to spare.”

The knot forms in my throat again because he makes me feel so good. How did we grow so far apart before? “You are my heart, Hemalo,” I whisper. “Let us never be bad to each other again.”

“Never.” He nuzzles my nose and then presses his lips to mine. “We will fight from time to time, but we must remember that we are better together than apart.”

I drag a finger along the underside of his tail again. “I want us together. More than anything.”

He growls low in his throat. “Female, I am close to throwing you down in this snow and claiming you right here.”

My body tingles with excitement, and I feel a surge of answering heat between my thighs. “What is so bad about that?”

“The fact that other hunters might come upon us mating in the snow? Or the fact that I have had more snow in my backside in the last hand of days than I would care to?”

I laugh, because he always knows how to bring my mood back from the brink. “Then let us go find my howse and kick Farli out.”

He grins at me, surprisingly boyish, and then grabs my hand. “Come, let us hurry.”

We race forward—as much as one can race in the thick snows—and when we get to the edge of the gorge, we both hurry down the rope ladder with great speed. At the bottom of the gorge, it immediately feels warmer out of the wind, and my face feels flushed. Perhaps it is because I am thinking about mating.

A great, great deal of mating.

We race through the canyon, heading for the vee-lage. The snow is nonexistent down here, and we can run as fast as we please. It seems like it only takes moments before the rock path turns to neat stones and the vee-lage comes into sight. In the distance, I see people walking between howses, and two humans are talking in front of the long-howse. Curls of smoke rise from several teepees, and I catch sight of a familiar human with a rounded pregnant belly as she walks with Tee-fah-ni, both of them carrying baskets full of dirtbeak nests. Claire sees me as well and raises a hand in greeting, her face lighting up.

I pause, wondering if I should stop and speak to her.

“There is no smoke coming from your howse,” my mate reminds me. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Unless you have changed your mind?”

I look over at him, at the simple love and understanding on his face. He is the best of males, my mate. “Oh, I have not changed my mind,” I tell him with a grin. I grab the front of his tunic and pull him toward my howse on the outskirts of the vee-lage. I glance over at Claire, and she has a hand to her mouth, hiding her laughter. She understands.