Page 18 of Betrothed to the Yeti

“Gamma and Delta don’t have Leaders. I can’t tell, but I don’t think they have controlling Elders either. I can ask the Seer—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Her reply is rushed, and I glow at our mutual desire for the extra time alone. A call to the Seer would start a mental dialogue which would lead to a religious ceremony…and my thoughts aren’t at their holiest right now. I want to experience this with Jaya—alone. When her face lights up with the contagious joy of Gamma, those smiles will be mine.

“Here they go! Watch this!” The villagers of Gamma bring out their giant arches. The rusted, metal structures signal the beginning of dancing, singing, and feasting. I’ve seen their ceremony a thousand times. Both Gamma and Delta do this every day. Beta villagers will sporadically break into song but it’s more of a ‘sing while working’ culture. I want Jaya to see other humans in blissful existence.

I had hoped she would explain them to me…

She leans forward to take in the arrangements of humans. Can she appreciate a society where everyone is equal? How can Alpha be mired by hierarchies when Gamma is a utopia a few miles away? She stuffs a fist in her mouth when they clasp hands to form rings. Tears drip down her cheeks as they lead the chains of people through the arches. Their song reaches past our high perch and to the burning light of Saturn. It is punctuated with laughter, giggles, and shouts of joy.

“They must be pressured into this by a Leader. There’s no way people are organized like this without someone pulling their strings,” she mutters. “Who taught them the dance? Why?” If only she could see their happy faces, Gamma and Delta maintained the original values of the first humans. These humans are living duplicates of the portraits in the temple…paintings I must show Jaya.

Jaya covers her ears as they raise their voices in their big finish. The largest ring of people breaks apart first to carry giant tables and rows of chairs into the village square. I’m about to tell Jaya that these are only half the tables because Delta hasn’t joined them—but think better of it. Sorrow pulls down the corners of her mouth. The largest ring returns to the dance, now promenading around the tables. People of the smallest ring break apart and disappear into the smaller buildings. Jaya chokes on a sob when they emerge carrying platters of food. Chains of people stand behind the chairs at the table, so they sit in unison.

Large and small, old and young, everyone has an equally sized plate. Serving dishes are passed around for everyone to eat their fill. Perhaps now Jaya will believe me when I talk about my love for humans. Alpha can’t be as bad as she says when Delta and Gamma are its neighbors.

“They are fed,” she whispers after a gasp. “No one goes hungry in Gamma when half of Alpha starves. How do they have enough to eat? Is it because none of them wear dyed fabrics or glittering crystals? Oh Pabu, if I’d been born in Gamma, I wouldn’t know hunger. How can Gamma do this to us?”

Wait.Gamma choosing to share and live happily as one community punishes her? Maybe the problem is Jaya. I observe her in a new light. Could her abrasive attitude be the root of her problems? Would these happy villagers shun her, too? Am I her last hope of belonging?

As if answering my unspoken question, Saturn’s light reflects onto us—more specifically on Jaya. Her hair shines and her features sparkle under their glaze of frozen tears. My right hand finds its way to her thin hip while my left knuckles drag along her cheek. My soft human can’t hide her heart with walls of ice. The warmth of living in my home and our moments of companionship melt them. I can’t help but love the sweeter, gentler Jaya whose barbs have been filed down by moments of joy.

I want to do everything in my power to be the family she never had and create the home she deserves. The confession rocks me to my core.

“Will you take me home now?” she asks in a tiny voice that squeezes my heart. Her sorrow shakes my thoughts loose. “I’ve seen enough. You’ve proved your point.”

Chapter 11

Jaya

I haven’t the energy to fight him. His arm sweeps behind my knees, and I’m cradled in his embrace. His heavy steps, combined with the gentle sway of his body, lull me into a stupor as we race back to the temple.

I twine my arms around his neck and cuddle his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. From his embrace, I check Ku Huang in her straw nest. She seems content, but her sides billow with labored breathing. We are close to kidding time—perhaps hours away. I shamelessly burrow my face in Pabu’s fur, as if to block out the future challenge of separating Ku Huang from another kid. It breaks my heart every time to surrender a newborn to Nawang. I rationalize it as a quick death instead of slowly starving the helpless lamb. Now I’ll have Ku Huang’s pleading bleats and her kid’s screams echoing in my head the entire walk from Pabu’s temple to Alpha.

The thought of returning to Alpha—even for a short errand—brings empty sobs to my lips. I have no more tears. Pabu’s huge hand smooths over my shoulder and down my arm. He makes shushing noises against my hair. How can he be so supportive when I’ve been cold and prickly? Hasn’t my moody nature and panic attacks scared him away?

My sisters would have thrown me out of the hut by now—even if it was snowing. They claimed nothing calmed me like the cold and wished for pelting ice to freeze my tears faster. How can civilized ladies be so cruel to their little sister and this beastly stranger console me? I wish I dared to ask him why he tries so hard to like me. What if his loneliness blinds him to my nature? My pity party shifts its focus from my situation to my companion.

“Are there other Yetis?” His fur muffles my voice, so he leans his head over mine when I repeat myself.

“Yes,” he says with a growly rumble against my cheek.

“They don’t visit. Do they hate you?”

“Yes,” he says with a sigh.

“How do you cope? I mean—what makes you wake each morning when your kind is hateful? How will I continue to live when my kind is awful to one another?”

“I showed you Gamma. Let me show you more.”

Whatever he has to show me burns his insides, so I might as well indulge him. With a nod of my chin, we make a sharp turn at the top of the stairs. He returns to the room where he tried to imprison me. Even the damp, collapsed bed in the corner looks inviting. The release of my grief left an empty husk behind. I’m disappointed when he sits on the floor, cross-legged, with me in his arms beside the stacks of paintings. I hope this isn’t a lecture on how humans are wonderful, and I’ve imagined all my trauma in Alpha. I know he has loved humans for generations, but another round of gaslighting may shatter my mind permanently.

“These keep me going,” he says while separating the canvases. He handles each one with reverence—not the slightest sound comes from the frame resting on the floor. “My kind hates me because I chose the first humans over them. I’ve always been a protector, but I switched sides.”

“I’m sorry they wouldn’t accept you,” I mumble.

“They didn’t accept you—not me. They wanted me to annihilate the invaders, but I saw humans celebrating their completed perimeter walls. Their dancing and singing warmed my heart. I couldn’t harm them, no more than I can harm the mites who live against the temple’s base. I only killed those which trespassed upon your head.”

The mite analogy is touching and disturbing at the same time. I’d rather not remember the infestation, or that they were my companions in poverty. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Pabu how he isn’t disgusted by me, as I am disgusted by the mites when he continues his story.

---