Page 40 of Corvak's Challenge

If I don't stress about what we're going to wear, or the fact that more snow-people show up in the valley below every damn day, I'm loving my cave and I'm loving being with Corvak. He spends a fair amount of each day with the snow-people, training them…or trying to. They don't listen very well, but he doesn't give up. He's determined to have his army.

Once he's had his fill of them for the day, however, he comes home to me. We spend time in the pool and then the rest of the evening pretty much twined around each other. The sex is incredible each time, to the point that I'm just as ravenous for him as he is for me. I've never thought of myself as the type to be addicted to a man, but the moment Corvak returns from hunting, it's all I can do to keep my hands off of him.

Some days are trickier than others. Like today? Today I can't stop staring at the entrance of the cave, waiting for him to return. I keep imagining all the filthy things I want to do to him as I make another brothy stew, this time with fish and rabbit-like meat. When a shadow darkens the cave mouth, I perk up, resisting the urge to fix my hair and primp a bit.

It's only Pinkie, though. She hovers near the entrance, tapping her fingers with her name-gesture to let me know it's her. I'm disappointed but not surprised. It's early yet, and no doubt Corvak is busy trying to show the snow-people how to hold a spear. They tend to throw it away and run the momentthere's a threat, which would be funny if they weren't supposed to be an army. "I'll come to you," I say/sign to her. "Stay there."

I grab a handful of roots that I roasted in the coals earlier, because for some silly reason, the women never eat the meat, and I want to give Pinkie some food. I scoop a bowl of soup for her small son and bring it to the cave entrance with me. Corvak has thoughtfully set up a large rock in a safe, level spot just outside the cave for me to sit on. I sit down and set the food next to me as Pinkie warily approaches.

If there's one thing I've noticed with the snow-people, it's that they're heavily into gender roles, to the point that it makes me uncomfortable. In addition to not being allowed to eat meat, the women aren't allowed to fight, either. They hide whenever Corvak approaches, scuttling behind the nearest male.

I try not to think about how I've done the same, seeking protection with Corvak, but it's different. I hope. I don't bow and scrape to my partner the way the females do to the snow-people males. Pinkie cringes around the males in her group, racing around to serve them to the point that she's even handed them her food and gone hungry. She defers to the males at all times, dropping whatever she's doing to groom the one that I think is her mate (I privately call him Dick, because he seems like a dick to her). She defers to her toddler son, too, who is kind of a brat, so I make sure that she always has food when she comes to visit me for language lessons.

Pinkie blinks her big, owlish eyes at the roots and approaches me warily.Food for son?she asks with her hand gestures.

"Food for Pinkie and son," I agree, then hold out both roots and the bowl in my other hand.

She takes the bowl first, offering it to her grabby son, who snatches it out of her grip. When he's slurping down the food, she takes one of the roots I hold out and scarfs it down as if I'm going to snatch it away from her.

I let her eat, and when she finishes, I offer another root. She snatches this one too, but chews a little slower, bits of root falling out of her beaky mouth.More roots today, she says.Roots good now.

I smile at that, even though inwardly I'm cringing. I learned that Pinkie only brings roots every other day because she's convinced she has to sleep on them first. Then, after a full day of using them for a bed, she's convinced they taste better. I eye her matted, gross fur and it just reminds me to never eat anything unless it's brought to me by Corvak. We even have different cooking tools so things don't get cross-contaminated. The snow-people are sweet in their way, but they're also horribly unhygienic. I know we're roughing it, but I can't stop thinking about germs and microbes and what sorts of things they could pass on to us.

So Pinkie's roots stay far, far away from my roots. It's why I cook for them in the front chamber of the cave and for myself and Corvak in the back chamber, in our bedroom. I gesture to her, indicating the cave. "You want to go inside? It's cold out here."

She makes the "no" symbol, a frightened look on her face.Great One cave.

"It's all right! I just wanted to ask." I always ask, and they always decline. I decide to change topics to put her at ease. "Thank you for the roots. You've been hard at work."

Good roots, she says, gesturing.I bring. Good for…

And then she makes a fluttering sign over her chest that I don't recognize. "What is this?" I ask, repeating her signal. "What does this mean?"

She repeats the gesture. Flutter. Chest. It takes me a moment to realize that she's talking about the incessant humming. I've noticed that she doesn't hum, but I've heard some of the other snow-people doing so.

"Does this mean the chest song?" I ask and then mimic the sound with a low purr. "Yes?"

Yes, she agrees, and makes the flutter symbol again.Makes good mate. Flutter always yes.

I digest that, trying to make sense of it. Some bits of language are easier to follow than others. Nouns, piece of cake. Concepts? Tricky. "Why flutter?" I ask. "What's the purpose?"

She is quick to gesture a response.Make good here. Pinkie indicates her privates.Much good. Mate good.

My face gets hot. So the song in my chest makes me…horny? I guess that tracks. I didn't start humming until I got the parasite inside me, and now that both Corvak and I have parasites, we've been unable to stop touching. I'd still be attracted to him without it, but with the darn thing, I can't stop thinking about him at all times. It's a full-on obsession, and one that has worried me sometimes. It's good to know that it's due to an outside influence and not just me suddenly turning nympho.

Good flutter, Pinkie gestures again.Happy family.

Well, she's not wrong there. Corvak makes me very happy. I clear my throat. "Yes, happy. You, um, fluttered to your husband too?"

Pinkie affirms it with an enthusiastic gesture.Make son.

That's not going to happen with us. Corvak and I are two different species. I haven't even allowed myself to consider what our relationship means. We're together, we're having fantastic sex, and we're surviving. That's all I need for now. One day at a time. "And a cute son he is!"

Pinkie hoots with pleasure and furtively snatches another root to eat. I pretend not to see, watching her son lick the bowl of stew I brought for him. I think half of it ended up in his fur, judging from the looks of things. He finishes with the bowl and then flings it at his mother.

"Hey now," I protest, getting to my feet. "Let's be nice."

Pinkie cringes, and I could swear her kid looks indignant that I'm chastising him. I need Corvak to talk with them about respect. Not for me, but for the women of their tribe. They're nice enough to me, but I don't like how overbearing they are to Pinkie and her snow-people sisters. I glance down into the snowy valley far below, where, like every day, there are dozens of snow-people females digging for roots or scrounging plants. The valley has pretty much been picked clean at this point, so they're having to venture out farther just to get enough food. As I pick up the bowl, I notice that there's a lot of snow-people huddled at the base of the cliff.

---