“I should have carried her for another season,” Asha whispers. “But she came anyhow, and she was so small. So very small. Even this fit her like a blanket.” She strokes the tiny tunic. “She was too fragile to accept a khui. You have to be healthy and strong, otherwise it takes too much and…” She chokes on the words. “Hashala…she…she couldn’t.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her softly. “I know how much she meant to you. Losing her doesn’t mean that you’re wrong for grieving her. You’re going to miss her every single day, and that’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She sits up. “I am scared, Claire. What if my body will not hold another kit? What if I fulfill resonance with Hemalo and my kit comes early again? What if I ruin another life?” Her hands go to her stomach. “What if my khui does not realize that I cannot have a kit and just keeps making me resonate over and over again and—”
“Stop it,” I tell her gently. “You’re panicking. You are strong. You’re healthy, and so is Hemalo.”
“But I was healthy last time.”
“And something happened. I can’t change that.” I take her hand and give it a sympathetic squeeze. “But it doesn’t mean it will happen this time. And it doesn’t mean that there is something wrong with you. If there was, don’t you think Maylak would have seen it and fixed it?”
“I want to believe you. I do. But I am frightened.”
“Of course you’re frightened. That’s normal. Anyone would be, in your place. But look at how many kits have been born—”
“Human kits,” she interjects.
“And Maylak has two healthy children,” I reply. “They are fully sa-khui and fine. And there are kits born every day on this planet. Look at how many metlaks there are out there.”
She snorts. “Those are animals. Beasts.”
“I don’t know about the metlak,” I say thoughtfully. “They might just be furry people. Furry, very smelly people.”
“Beasts,” she says imperiously.
I shrug. “So what if they are? They are born healthy. Birth is a natural thing, my friend. Your kit will be fine.”
“But what if mine is not fine?” Her face is full of fear.
“But what if it is?” I counter. “You will never know unless you try.”
“Oh, I must try.” Asha rolls her eyes in a very human expression. “Resonance will not allow me to say no.”
“Do you want to say no?” I ask. Even on this primitive planet, with a healer, if she doesn’t want her baby, maybe there’s a way to fix that for her, even though my heart hurts at the thought.
She is silent for a very long time, her gaze focused on the hole in the ceiling as if it will provide her with answers. Then she looks over at me. “I want a kit more than anything else in the world. I am so tired of my arms being empty.”
“Then you have to take a chance,” I encourage her. “Talk to Hemalo. I’m sure he’s scared, too, because I’m betting that he’s worried about the same things you are. But you guys can lean on each other instead of drifting apart. This is a sign that you’re meant to have a family, Asha. You can’t let Hashala’s death destroy you and any happiness you might ever have. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have a kit and a mate. You deserve all these things. But going after what you want will mean taking a chance.”
Asha nods slowly. “I am scared.”
“Girl, if you weren’t scared, you wouldn’t be human.” I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her in for another hug, ignoring the fact that the bony plates on her arms scratch at my skin.
A laugh bubbles up from her throat. “I am not human. Not in the slightest.”
“All right,” I amend with a grin. “You would not be sa-khui.”
9
ASHA
Claire is wise. I think about her words as she feeds fuel to the fire and makes me tea. She should be out spending the day singing songs and enjoying the haw-lee-day with the tribe, but she is here with me in my hut. She is a good friend, and I am so grateful for her presence that I nearly start to weep again. I am a mess of emotions this day, it seems.
The resonance thrums in my breast, reminding me that it has not been fulfilled. Last time I resonated, I took Hemalo to my furs immediately. It feels strange to delay things, like I am not doing this right. Is my kit even now inside me, waiting for us to mate so it can begin to grow? It is a strange thought, and I touch my stomach. Hemalo has not come by, and I wonder if he is agonizing like I am. Probably. He is a thinker, Hemalo. He will not say much, but I know his mind is always working, going over everything. He will be thinking about Hashala, and the new kit.
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.