With that thought, I remember my cooking and kneel down by the spit on the fire, my sudden and ravenous hunger overshadowing my thoughts surrounding my mate’s first impression of my home. I tear off a strip of the meat and chew on the end of it. It is warm from the fire and nicely fat from the animal’s winter stores. I gnaw on it until I have devoured the first piece, grab for another, and then another after that.
When I look up, I see her watching me. As I chew, I wonder if she is also hungry and groan at myself. Here I am hoping to impress my new mate with the cave, and I haven’t even fed her! Choosing what looks to be the best piece, I jump quickly to my feet. She startles and steps away from me as I approach, holding out a strip of the antelope’s tender flesh for her.
Her eyes are wide again, and her hands tremble. Her head jerks from one side to the other as she continues to back away from me. I hold the meat out to her in offering again, but she starts making those sounds just before she bolts off to one side, heading back to the entrance of the cave.
Instinctively I dart after her, grabbing her around the waist before she can get more than an arm outside. It will be dark very soon; the sun has almost completely disappeared over the horizon. She would never survive the night alone and out in the open. I pull her back against my chest and drag her toward the fire.
My ears start to ring with the sounds coming from her mouth. She alternates between screams that sound as though she is in agony and the strange, more fluid sounds that come from the back of her throat. They are unusual, rhythmic, and I still don’t like them.
Her fingers claw at my arms as I wrap them both around her torso and sit down on a torn grass mat next to the fire with my mate in my lap. I hold her tight against me as I look around the cave and wonder what she does not like. She is obviously very upset about something, and she continues to twist and turn in my grasp as I try to determine what could be considered so lacking.
It occurs to me that it might be the whole place. It is small—perfectly fine for me but not large enough for her and her children. I only have one grass mat, and it’s not very well made, but she could make more of those over the winter. She has certainly noticed I don’t have any food left over from the winter and is probably worried I won’t be able to provide enough for us both. Except for my recent kill, I don’t have any food at all. She might even think I don’t have enough wood to keep us warm, but I have more in another crevice in the rock up above the cave. It is too dark outside now to show it to her, but I could reassure her in the morning.
I let her struggle against me until her movements slow down and eventually stop. I am pleased that I was right about my strength compared to hers. She would at least know I was strong enough to protect her.
I feel myself smile again, and I wonder if she will eat now.
Before I can offer her the meat once more, my mate’s body shudders from her head to her feet as she begins to shake in my arms. I quickly flip her around so I can see her face, and I notice the tears staining her cheeks as the moisture is caught in the light from the fire. I examine her quickly—as much as I can see, anyway. With her strange clothes, it’s hard to see if her legs might be injured, but I don’t think she has been hurt. She is crying, but I don’t understand why. Was I already a bad mate for her? Was my cave really that inadequate? I would find her another one—there had to be more around in the rocks. If not, I could search for a new place, one that was bigger and better and perfect for her.
I will provide for her. I will protect her. I will give her anything she wants.
Another memory rolls around in my brain, images from when I was young, and my father held my mother tightly in his arms after one of my baby sisters died. She had also cried like this, and my father held my mother close to him, making quiet sounds in her ear until she stopped.
I whimper softly and pull my mate close to my chest, cradling her against me. At first, her hands push on my body as she tries to free herself from my grasp, but she is already exhausted from fighting me earlier and quickly gives up. Her head slumps down to my shoulder, and I bring my hand up to run down her hair. The feeling of the strands through my fingers is just as intriguing as it was before though I can’t enjoy it as I might since she is shaking in my arms.
My mate continues to sob.
I hold her for a long time, rocking her back and forth, my arms gently wrapped around her. I don’t know what else to do. The strange painted-on coloring around her eyes makes dark circles all the way down to her cheekbones. It smears further across her face as she wipes at her eyes.