3

CLAIRE

I’m utterly focused on holidays and Christmas all day. Even though I volunteered to organize things, it still feels like a massive undertaking, and I want to make sure everyone enjoys the holiday. It’ll be spread out over several days, of course, because that means we can get a reprieve from the endless snow and boredom of the brutal season.

We’ll need food, because no holiday celebration is complete without a feast, but we’ll have to be mindful of tight supply stores.

We’ll have gifts, because every holiday involves gifts, and we’ll need to make sure everyone is included and feels like they can participate. We’ll have games and decorations so everyone can share in the fun.

And I can’t make things too complicated, because then people will just get confused. So many human customs don’t translate over to sa-khui. I still remember from our last holiday and the fact that the tribe couldn’t figure out what mistletoe was used for. Hunters ended up giving their mates piles of leaves, expecting kisses for gifts of ‘not poison.’ In fact, everyone I’ve chatted with so far has referred to our holiday as ‘No Poison Day’ instead of Unity Day, like had originally been suggested.

I sit by my fire and make notes on a tough, pale hide with a bit of charcoal. I want to make sure I get everything right, and I want to make sure I don’t forget a thing, so I need lists. I wish I had paper, but coal and hide must do. I first make a list of all the ideas from all the holidays I can think of and write them out. Easter egg hunts. Secret Santa. Valentine’s Day and cards for your sweetheart. Heck, New Year’s and kisses. Since No Poison Day is a mashup of everything, as long as we make things fun, it doesn’t matter if it’s a Halloween tradition or a Christmas one, because the sa-khui will be none the wiser and the humans just want to enjoy themselves.

Secret Santa is a good one to start with, I think. We can have everyone in the tribe pull names and be assigned a ‘secret’ person to give gifts to. Everyone will enjoy that, and the act of making gifts as well as giving them should be fun. I pull out a second hide and start writing out names. Someone will have to run things, and I can do it. It means I’ll be in charge of the rules and making sure everyone plays, but if I’m going to have things running smoothly, I need to take control of it myself and I need to make sure no one is forgotten. I still remember last year, when everyone was being showered with gifts and poor Josie only got one from Liz, and how guilty I’d felt that I hadn’t thought to give Josie a gift myself. I won’t let that happen again. Everyone’s going to share in the fun. So I write. I list each person’s house and then everyone living there. I’m going to have to chat with each person individually to make sure everyone’s clear on the rules. It might even take me a few days just to get everyone squared, so some of the other ‘holiday’ fun things will need to be easy. A feast day. A football day. A decorating day. A—

I’m so caught up in my plans for the holiday that I almost miss my baby’s first kick. My stomach flutters, and I think it’s gas, but when something smacks against my insides again, I gasp and sit upright, clutching my stomach.

“What is it? Are you well?” Ereven moves to my side, shoving away the skins I’ve been scribbling notes on. The look on his face is one of concern. “Shall I get the healer?”

“I think the baby kicked!” I beam a smile of wonder at him. “It’s incredible.” My stomach’s been rounding out steadily for the last month, but I haven’t felt more than the occasional flutter that made me wonder if it was a kick or just my imagination. What I just felt? That was most firmly a hello from my insides.

My mate’s face lights up, and he shoves his tangled hair behind his ears, leaning in. His hands reverently touch my stomach, moving over the layers of furs I’m wearing. “You are sure?”

“Positive. Maybe he’ll do it again.” We’ve been calling the baby a ‘he’ just to have a gender, but something in my gut tells me I’m not wrong. I think it’s a boy, and I hope he’s as handsome and kind as his daddy.

Ereven waits, crouching low next to me. He keeps his hands on my belly, and he’s so still, his gaze so intent, that I want to laugh partially out of joy and partially out of the absurdity of the moment. But then it happens again, and the sheer happiness and wonder on his face makes me want to weep. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “I felt it,” he whispers. “Do you think he is trying to talk to us?”

“I think he’s just restless,” I say softly, sniffing back my emotions.

A slow smile curves Ereven’s mouth. “He is not the only one.” He leans in and speaks to my stomach, as if the baby can hear. “Your father wants to go out and hunt to feed your mother, but the weather does not permit it.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in with me,” I tease. Like it’s a chore to be snuggled in our little house together, especially now that the roof has been fixed. I don’t mind the lazy days when the weather is bleak and awful and that means the hunters stay in. I like those, because it means we get to sleep late and cuddle, and it means I get to spend the entire day talking to Ereven about nothing at all and just enjoying his company. It’s certainly not the worst way to spend the time.

He smiles at me, and I feel warm and good inside. My life is so wonderful with Ereven. He’s so perfect for me in every way. His confidence in me makes me stronger, mentally. He gives me courage. I don’t hide away any longer—now I do my best to take part in the tribe and participate every day. I feel like I’m making up for lost time. Heck, sometimes I feel like a different, better person. It’s all thanks to him.

The baby kicks again, and Ereven sucks in a breath.

“You felt it?” I say with a laugh.

“I did.” His voice is soft with awe. “He is strong.”

“Like his father.”

He brushes at my furs. “He is also covered in ash. Why do you have soot all over you, my mate?”

I do? I dust my fingers over my clothing, just now noticing the dark smears all over my gray leathers. Of course, that just makes things worse, and I realize my hands are far filthier than my clothing, my fingers black from where I’ve been holding the coal to write with. “I forgot all about the coal when the baby kicked. Did I smear some on my face?”

“You did,” my mate agrees with a wry smile. “Let me get a cloth and you can tell me about what you are doing.”

“I’m writing.” I sit and wiggle in place, trying to tuck my legs under me. It’s getting harder to sit compactly the more my belly grows. I kind of hope the baby will kick again, but when Ereven returns, all is quiet once more. I obediently let him clean my face with a damp, warm cloth.

“Ry-ting?” he prompts. “What is this?”

So I tell him about my plans. Well, I also have to tell him about writing and written human language, but he seems to grasp it enough that I move on to talking about the plans for the holiday—No Poison Day—and the events I’m trying to set up. “I want things to turn out well,” I tell him. “So I’m writing it all out to make sure I don’t forget anything. My memory’s been terrible ever since I got pregnant.”

“That is normal,” he says, used to my complaining about that. “Maylak says it will pass.”

“Which is why I’m writing,” I say, and offer him my filthy hands. “Because I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to forget to include someone, or forget to do an event someone is looking forward to. Holidays are important.”

“So let one of the other humans help you organize things. It sounds like a big task, and you are busy growing my son.”