I know I’m going to hear the sound of that cracking bone in my dreams, though.
Once it’s done, I set the bone as best I can. It might not be perfect, but it feels as if it will heal straight if it remains in place. I snap my ski poles in the middle and wrap them around the wounded limb, snaking leather straps in and out to hold the poles in place against the leg. They form a crude cage around it, but I think with a few days of it being braced, it’ll be better than it was.
I hope. I’m not a veterinarian, and I’ve never set a bone before. Why did I think we could do this?
Because there’s no other choice, that’s why, I remind myself. It was this or a mercy killing. We still might have to come out here in another week or so to finish him off if it doesn’t take, but I’ll handle that when the time comes. For now, the leg is splinted and the cat remains asleep.
“Come,” Skarr says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s getting late and there is no more we can do.”
“Oh, but…should we leave him? He’s vulnerable like this.” I bite my lip, hesitating. “Something could come across him and eat him.”
“And if that is the case, then there is nothing more to be done for it.”
Even so, I fret. “What if he pulls the bandages off? What if—”
“Vivi.” Skarr helps me to my feet. His expression is gentle as he looks me in the eye. “You have done all that you can. We will take the ropes off and check on him in the morning. If something happens between now and then, you have done what you can. Remember that this is a fierce predator who has been hungry for a long time. You do not want to be around when he awakens.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. I’ve just invested so much in giving this cat a second chance. Logic tells me to leave before it wakes up and decides we’re prey. “What now, then?”
“Now we retreat to our cave and wait.”
I hesitate. We’re a few hours away from the village, with a hunter cave probably about a half-hour from here. Skarr needs a warm place to sleep tonight, and I’m exhausted from this day, mentally and emotionally. Part of me doesn’t want to leave, but I remind myself that this wasn’t about fixing him. It was about giving him another chance.
That’s why we’re on this planet, right? This is our second chance after the universe decided we’re rejects. We’re not guaranteed anything, and I’m fine with that. I just want the opportunity to create my own happy ever after.
I want the cat to have the same. So I untie the ropes holding him down and let Skarr lead me away. “We’ll be back in the morning?”
“Absolutely.”
We skip the skis, since we have no poles, and make our way back to the hunter cave on foot. It’s late by the time we get there, the moons high in the skies and the dark bitter cold. My boots feel wet and slushy and by the time we get to the cave, I’m relieved to start a fire. Skarr doesn’t complain, but when we cuddle under the blankets, I can feel the chill setting into him. I kiss my mate and roll him onto his back, and this time I ride him until I come, taking turns on both of his cocks. Skarr comes moments after I do, and we hold tightly to one another under the furs, listening to our khuis sing.
I’m happy, I realize. It’s strange to think about, but I’m happy. I have a mate and a home. I have friends, and at some point, I’ll have a family. This might not be what I’d envisioned my life turning out to be, but those were someone else’s dreams, someone else’s life.
I make Vivi’s future, and I’m liking how it’s shaping up. I run my fingers over Skarr’s touchable green skin, and I’m struck by the lack of the tattoo on my finger once more. The quotation mark, to remind me to speak up.
Doesn’t feel like me anymore, that symbol, but I think I’d like something there. “I think I’m going to tattoo my finger in the morning,” I tell him. “I heard that if you rub ash into a mark, it’ll leave a permanent stain. I think I’ll try it out.”
Skarr’s hand lazily trails up and down my spine. “You can tattoo me, too.”
“I have to make sure it’s going to work, first,” I tell him, grinning. “But I can try it. What sort of tattoo do you want?”
He shrugs, his body rippling under me. “What are you going to have?”
I hold my index finger up to him, pointing at the side of it. “I’m going to put a tiny cat scratch here. Just to remind me that I’m in charge of my own fate.”
Skarr slides his hand down my backside, giving my butt a squeeze. “Perhaps you can put your name on me.”
That makes me pause. “You want my name on you?”
“Why not? You are the best thing that has happened to me. Is it wrong to want to wear your brand proudly?”
“We’ll talk about it,” I tell him, leaning in to kiss him again. Maybe just a small V somewhere on his body, because I don’t want the others noticing. I like our secrets. I like having things that are just ours.
There’s plenty of time to decide, though. We have all the time in the world.
Epilogue
VIVI
Flor’s wedding feast is the biggest party that they’ve thrown on the beach, Elly tells me from our spot at the edge of the group. Elly’s like me in that she likes to quietly hang out on the fringe of things, and I’ve noticed her and her mate saving a spot for us near the back of the seats around the main fire. It’s nice to have a friend, and even nicer that Bek and Skarr get along well. It’s also nice to know that others get exhausted by being social and aren’t afraid to leave a party early.
Skarr is in his element, though. I watch from my seat near Elly, sipping a bit of hot tea as he gestures, telling a story about a battle he won. Pak and Rukhar are seated in front of him, listening intently. Z’hren has his thumb in his mouth, one of his other hands clutching his tiny spear as if he can’t decide whether or not he wants to fight along with the story or if it scares him.
Bek returns to Elly’s side, their daughter tucked under his arm. He brings her a bowl loaded with food and sits down with a scowl on his face. “I still do not understand why everyone keeps calling it a ding ding feast.”
“It’s because of Liz,” Elly tells him in her soft voice.
“Enough said.” He settles his daughter on his thigh, pulling a chunk of root out of Elly’s bowl and blowing on it before handing it to little Emma to gnaw on. He glances over at me. “You and your mate did not see any of the Ancestors when you were out in the mountains?”
I shake my head. “All we saw were snow-cats.”
It’s a bit of a lie. We only saw the one snow-cat, and less of him than I’d liked. We’d remained out in the mountains for another day, looking for the wounded cat. When we’d returned the next morning he’d been gone, a chewed leather strap the only thing remaining in the spot we’d left him at. I’d fretted over that, worried he was going to chew off the splint and ruin our hard work. I haven’t seen him since, but I’ve been out in the hills, looking for tracks every day since. And while I don’t know for sure if my snow-cat is still in the area, I haven’t seen the drag-marks again. Once, I saw snow-cat tracks that looked as if it was favoring one leg slightly, the spacing between the paws off, but not necessarily injured. I like to tell myself that it’s him, and that he’s doing better. I might never know the truth, but I’m at peace with it.
We gave him a second chance, it’s up to him to take it.