Page 9 of Barbarian's Treat

He grins. "You want me to bring you back a portion of whatever's at the main fire?"

"Yes please." I blow a kiss at my son. "If you run into your father, tell him to do the same." Salukh has been out hunting. It's not a surprise that he's been gone all day—hunting is more of an ordeal in the brutal season. The treks take longer, the animals are less active, and the weather is usually nasty. It's times like this I'm happy to be in our snug canyon. I'm not worried that Salukh is gone for a long time. He knows what he's doing.

I just finish cutting the last of the squares when Salukh enters and shrugs off his ice-crusted cloak. He gestures at a pair of hoppers in his hand even as he hangs the cloak on its hook by the door. "I hope you were not waiting for me to eat. The meat is frozen."

"I sent Lukti to the main fire. I totally forgot about making dinner." Rising to my feet, I help him take off his wet, cold leathers. "How was hunting?"

"Unpleasant, but it is done now." He strips off his tunic and then brushes chilled fingers over my face. "You have forgot to eat? That is not like you."

"Thanks...I think?"

Salukh tips my head back, gazing into my eyes. "It was not meant to be a jibe. You know me better than that. I simply worry. You did not sleep well last night."

"I did not." I'd tried not to wake him up, but I guess my tossing and turning must have alerted him anyhow.

"Bad dreams?"

"No. Just...weird restlessness." I shrug and press a kiss on the tip of one cold finger. "I promise it's nothing. Maybe I drank too much tea and it kept me up."

"Then is it a bad time to say that I have brought more tea?"

"More tea?"

"To help you sleep. I had Mother create a mixture for you."

That's sweet. Salukh is always so thoughtful. Even when he's not with me, he's fussing over me. I smile up at him, my heart full of love. "I'm sure I'll sleep well tonight."

CHAPTER

SEVEN

STACY

"All right,I think it's a caramel now," I tell the boys as I stir the goop in my pan. "Are you ready?"

"Ready, Mama," Tash says, his eyes bright.

"Ready," Pacy agrees, and gives his bowl brimming with snow another pat.

"Ready to eat," my mate Pashov adds, clutching his own bowl. He licks his lips and then gives me a wicked grin. "You know how I love to eat your food."

"This is more of a candy," I remind him, trying not to blush. Pashov manages to make everything sound like an innuendo, and you would think after all this time I'd be used to it. Nope. Still giggly as a schoolgirl the moment my mate gives me a heated look. "Okay, Tash, you're the littlest, so you get the pan first. Be careful. Got your glove on?"

My younger son nods and when I move over with the hot pan, he stirs the hot caramel with his spoon, both of his hands gloved so he doesn't accidentally touch the pan or get caramel on his fingers. It's not exactly caramel like on Earth, but when hraku is ground into a powder with mortar and pestle and thencooked over the fire with a bit of liquid, it ends up making a close (if slightly gritty) approximation to the sugary treat from back home. I remember reading about this particular candy-making trick in a Laura Ingalls book when I was a girl, and it immediately came to mind once Josie and Claire mentioned Halloween.

Tash scoops up some of the liquid caramel and then dribbles it onto his snow. The caramel hardens quickly, becoming a fat disc of candy even as the snow melts underneath it.

Pacy leans over his brother's bowl, critiquing. "Don't put it all in the same spot. You're supposed to move it around and make strings out of it."

With a snort, Pashov tugs on one of Pacy's short little horns. "Let your brother make his treat as he likes. There is no wrong way to do this."

"Yes there is?—"

"You'll get your turn, Pacy," I chide my older son. "Be patient. And we're just experimenting right now. We'll have to make more closer to the holiday for everyone else."

"I don't want to make a bunch of treats and then give them all away," my older son grouches. "I want them to be for us."

"Half the fun is giving them away, I promise. You'll see. And I'll make so many goodies that you'll be sick of them by the time the holiday gets here." I watch as Tash carefully dribbles another line in the snow and then hands the spoon back to me. "Did anyone ever say what we're calling this holiday anyhow?"