Page 16 of His to Worship
“Sedona,” I call, getting to my feet. She looks at me and then points to the sky a string of words falling out of her mouth. Curious, I move to stand next to her and cock my head curiously.
She says her words again, saying the word ‘dahk’ over and over. I give her a dejected look and shake my head indicating I do not understand. She huffs and then looks from the sky to me again. Finally she crooks her finger at me and I lean down closer. She points up, directly at the Mother’s eyes and then looks at me intensely before covering my eyes with her hands. She does this a few times and for a second I am still lacking understanding, but then I get it.
She wanders about the dark season. I shake my head, “The dark season is coming, my mate, but not for several more hands of days yet.”
She looks at me with surprise and looks at the sky again. She looks back at me and says something that sounds like, “Fuhken aylee-in plahnits.” Then, she walks around me and back in the sky cave. I follow at her heels as she mutters to herself still. She says something else, rubbing at her braided mane, a frown painting her face.
“I do not understand,” I state, folding myself at the fire.
Though large, the sky cave is not tall enough to allow me to stand to full height comfortably. My body is still stiff from the hard stone of her cave and I stretch out my limbs as I watch her. Her eyes flitter between my face and my abdomen, and an emotion I cannot quite pick out flashes over her.
She clears her throat, averting her eyes and the tips of her ears turn a deep, ruddy color. When she looks back at me, her eyes are firmly fixed to my face. She repeats her words, pointing to her mane. It is only when she makes a combing motion that I understand her meaning. She wishes to comb her mane. I frown as I realize that is something I cannot give her. My grooming kit made of carved bone is in my hut with my mother. As I had packed to go, I had thought to myself, what is the point of taking it on a hunt? Such foolery.
I open my mouth to tell her as such when a thought occurs to me. My body grows warm at my own thoughts, but I question if she will allow me to do what I wish. I suppose there is only one way to find out. Grabbing the pouch of now warmed water from its tripod over the fire, I toss an additional vifer into the flames, to ensure that Sedona remains warm. Then, I fold my body back to the ground and tuck my legs inward, crossing them underneath me, turn to her, and expectantly pat the ground in front of me.
I can visibly see her weighing her options and I wait with bated breath, hoping beyond hope that she will let me care for her in this way. It feels like a celebration when she hesitantly moves towards me, sitting herself in front of my crossed legs with her back to me. My face breaks with my smile and I am glad she faces away from me and cannot see my giddiness.
Sedona’s mane is coarsely curled in her braid and stops at her shoulder blades. It is beautiful, a darker brown than the mane of any Lieq I have known. At the base of her head and at bottom of her braid are long black strips of…leather? I gently pull the bottom one off and realize with astoundment that it is stretchy and feels nothing like any fur or leather I have seen before. It is also not a strip, but rather a circle. I slide the second one off of her thick braid.
I set both ties aside, fascinated but unwilling to wait any longer to touch her mane. My clawed fingers work at carefully unraveling her braid, and as I do her natural scent floods the air around me. It takes a great deal of effort not to bury my face in her mane just to smell her. Something tells me that my Sedona would scurry away if I did that, so instead, I focus on the task in front of me.
Working her hair out of the braid is fairly easy, but detangling the individual coils with my claws requires water and a gentle touch. Yet, I do it with care and soon her hair is damp and hanging around her shoulders. When I have finished detangling, I tell her so and she crawls away from me, taking a seat to the side of me.
“Thank you,” she mumbles sheepishly, avoiding my gaze. I barely hear her words.
She is more beautiful than anything I have seen in my thirty-three seasons. With her mane a halo of curls around her, a slight red tint to her cheeks, and the fire flickering shadows across her features, I feel that I am looking upon something magic. She puts her hands to her head and begins running her fingers through her mane. My hands inadvertently reach out and stroke at the curls closest to her face.
I hear her breath hitch and her eyes find my eyes. Neither of us moves for a long moment, my hand still embedded in the coils on her head. Too soon, Sedona is the one to break the spell, giving a little cough and pointing at the ties beside me. I blink away my distraction and give it to her.
She sets them next to her and for the next while, she splits and braids at her hair. My eyes never leave her as I watch her fingers flit, tucking and twirling until she has several smaller braids against her scalp. She doesn’t braid all the way down, her hands smoothing over the braids and gathering the loose curls into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She ties it off and then does one more larger braid with the leftover curly tail. And when she finally finishes, I miss the unruly wildness of her hair, but she looks gorgeous with it tamed and braided down.
Braids are sacred to my people and Lieq females only braid their manes for celebrations, such as mating feasts and birth celebrations. During those times, they braid in bone beads dyed and colored with the vibrant, resilient plants that grow along the mountains. Lieq braids are far more intricate during these times, and yet, I have never seen a Lieq female look as ethereal as my Sedona does in this moment.
TEN
- sedona -
Kuvier is nowhere to be seen. The fire isn’t something that stays alive on its own in this cold though, so when I see it still blazing, I know he didn’t leave too long ago. I stretch and pull myself up from the makeshift bed.
It’s been a couple of days now since he saved me, and I’ve gotten oddly comfortable with him. Too comfortable, maybe. But there’s something else, too. A weird, almost homey feeling when I think of Kuvier. I tell myself it’s just a crush, a result of him being the only thing standing between me and certain death. Like some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, except he didn’t do the kidnapping, but whatever.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Focus, Sedona. You need to figure out where Kuvier went. My stomach grumbles, and I realize I’m starving. Maybe he went to get food. We’d seemed low on the dried jerky he’d brought.
I wrap his cloak tightly around me. It’s lost the scent of him, and I have to pretend that doesn’t make me sad. I walk out from under the awning and peep into the endless snowscape. The air is crisp and cold as my eyes scan my surroundings. The sky is lit up—something I’ve learned does not change on this planet that apparently never experiences dark. With the suns reflecting against the snow, it’s hard to see much of anything, but I definitely don’t see a Kuvier-shaped form, so I head back in to sit by the fire.
I sit for maybe a few minutes before boredom gets the better of me. A brilliant thought crosses my mind. This would be the perfect time to wash up and feel more presentable. If there is one thing my mother ingrained in me as a child, it’s that if you look good, you’ll feel good. Right now, I really don’t look good.
I spot the water pouch Kuvier left and decide to heat some up to pseudo-bathe. It takes some time, but soon enough, I have enough water for a bird bath and a relatively clean strip pulled off of my shirt to use as a washcloth. There’s no soap, but this will have to do.
Tossing a few extra red reeds into the fire, I strip down to my raggedy bra and underwear, cringing as I realize that I don’t recognize these clothes, definitely something those mantis aliens gave me. I try not to think about how they must’ve seen me naked to dress me in these, and instead I focus on the task at hand, dipping the pseudo washcloth into the lukewarm water.
I’m bent over, shivering only slightly, trying to use sheer force of will to exfoliate my ashy legs, when I hear a rustle and a sharp intake of breath behind me. Kuvier. Shit.
Snapping upright, I turn slightly, about to say something casual like, “Hey, I'm just finishing up,” but the words die in my throat when I see his face.
He’s standing there, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. I freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I am in just my bra and underwear. I curse silently at myself for not being more careful, and for not noticing his approach sooner.
For a moment, neither of us move. Part of me itches to cover myself. But a different, brazen part of me wins out, and I bask under his observation. His gaze flickers from my face, down my body and back up again, and I see something primal and hungry in his eyes. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and something else—fear? Desire? I'm not sure.