Page 42 of Keeping His Mate

I continue making notes on my screen pad about last night’s feed before I forget. Getting to watch the tr’gorys interact up close was a breathtaking experience. I’m learning so much about the dynamics between mother and baby that I’m starting to feel less afraid each time I meet them at the falls.

I wish I could say the same for Bruvix. He’s clearly still shaky when we get close to them, or specifically, whenIget close to them, but he’s handling it like a champ. He knows how important this is for me, and he wants to be part of it. And that makes me fall even harder for him.

At tonight’s feed, I’m going to try to hand-feed Nanay and, if she’ll let me, the pups too. I feel like I’m starting to gain her trust, so it’s likely that she will. All I do is show up and offer food without trying to take anything from her. She’s realizing I’m no longer a threat to her and her four babies, and that makes me feel like a million bucks.

There’s no greater gift than earning an animal’s trust.

“Will remain in seated position about four feet away with meat in open hand,” I write down as part of my action plan for tonight. I want to get there early, right when the sun goes down. After his final training session of the day, which is in a few hours, Bruvix is planning to meet me by the gray tree that’s always dropping meatball-sized acorns at the start of the narrow path. The clan will still be awake, and most will be at dinner, so it’s a risk, but I’m trying to gauge whether they’re actually nocturnal animals, or if they stay away from the village during daylight hours because of us.

I finish with my notes and hop in the shower for a quick rinse. Once I’m clean and my wet hair is tied in a ballerina bun, I head up to the roof to water Bruvix’s flowers. We’re about to enter the cold season, so the rainy days are about to get few and far between.

A jittery chirping sounds from behind me as I prune the dead leaves from the vakopurri plant, and I turn to find a small brown bird with a white beak and green and white speckles covering its wings. “Hiya, birdie,” I say, crouching into a squat.

It continues chirping as it hops around in a half circle, then it stops when it comes across a crumb on the floor from the bread I was eating earlier. “Ah, looking for a snack, huh?” I rise, lightly stepping over the bird and toward the ledge where I left my crust wrapped in a napkin. I return to the bird’s side and drop a few more crumbs in front of it.

Within moments, three more of the bird’s friends arrive, and I turn into “the bird lady,” one landing on my head, and another landing on my shoulder as they lightly peck at the crumbs that I drop for them. Once the breadcrumbs are gone, I wonder if my unique animal connection is really that unique, or if animals have always sought me out because I frequently had food in my pocket.

Will the birds stay now that the food is gone? Or will they fly off and only return when they want more bread?

The one on my shoulder flies off immediately. Then the original bird, the one with the brown spot on the tip of its beak, starts hopping around on the floor with a light flap to its wings. “What are you trying to tell me?” I ask.

When it turns and starts hopping away, I instinctually follow. If the bird wanted to leave, it would just fly away, wouldn’t it? The bird from atop my head flutters down and lands on my wrist as I continue trotting behind the one with the spotted beak.

“Okay, this is a thing that’s happening,” I mutter to myself, wondering how silly I look. “I’m following a bird around a garden.”

When it leads me to the expansive huutra vines, I hear a louder, angrier chirping coming from above. I look up and spot a nest made of brown reeds and blades of grass tucked into the top right corner of the doorway leading into Bruvix’s house. Another of these birds sits in the nest, cawing and chirping at a frantic pitch.

Now I’m confused. Why did this bird want to show me its nest?

Is there an injured bird somewhere around here? Spotted Beak hops around the outer huutra vines, doing its little dance around my feet.

Hmm.

The bird perched on my wrist flies back to the nest as I bend down and slowly pull back the vines, one by one. Spotted Beak hops closer to me, and its chirps grow louder, and that’s when I see it: a brown egg. Smaller than a standard chicken egg, this one is about two-thirds the size, and slightly wider.

Carefully, I pick up the egg and place it in my palm. I step onto the wooden chest next to the door and lift my fragile cargo toward the nest. “Is this okay? You gonna let me do this?” I ask the birds as they squawk and hop on the edge of the nest, seemingly saying, “Yes! That’s it! You found it!”

“Here you go, little bird family,” I whisper as the two birds guarding the nest hop aside, so I can place the egg in the center, surrounded by three other eggs. “Okay,” I mutter once my job is done. “See you later.”

Spotted Beak flies toward my face and I flinch. But when I open my eyes, I find the bird with its claws wrapped around the neck of my tunic. It brushes its beak against the tip of my nose, just once, before flying away.

My lips form an unwavering smile as I continue checking on Bruvix’s plant babies, reveling in the fact that for whatever reason, animals do feel safe with me. It just adds to my confidence that I can keep observing the tr’gorys up close in a way that’s safe for all involved. I carefully transfer the alien caterpillars to the other side of the roof from the qam shrub, according to Bruvix’s very specific instructions, and I grab my pack on my way out to meet my man.

Several minutes pass after I reach the acorn tree, but there’s no sign of Bruvix. It’s okay. His training session is probably running long. It’s fine. He’ll be here. He wouldn’t forget about me.

I fiddle with my grandmother’s ring to pass the time. I pull it off, then tug it back into place, again and again, as the minutes tick past, wondering where the hell he is.

Eventually, he’ll come. I know he will, but how long will I have to wait here? And what if someone sees me? It’s risky enough being out here when the clan is still awake. It’s not like I’m loitering on the main path for all to see, but I’m not completely hidden, either.

When I check the time on my screen pad, it tells me that Bruvix is officially forty minutes late. Maybe he decided against coming with me? Maybe this much face-to-face interaction with the tr’gorys has proven too triggering for him?

If I step onto the main path and go back for him, at this time of day, someone will see me for sure and they’ll wonder what I’m doing on the path toward the falls. It’s safer if I wait it out.

But what if he never shows up? What if I’m leaning against this stupid meatball acorn tree until the sun rises?

Ugh, fuck it.

I’m going alone. Bruvix knows exactly where I am, and he can meet me whenever he’s done. Even if he doesn’t, I’ve shown him that I can handle myself, haven’t I? I mean, he explicitly told me he didn’t want me going alone, but that was before last night’s feed. He saw how smoothly that went. I’m sure he trusts me enough to let me do this without him.