Page 56 of Yasmin and the Yeti
“Is that what you want?”
“No! I feel safe with him. Even when…”
“Even when what?”
“The other morning, he… he was aroused.”
“Oh. I see.”
“I wanted to touch him but when I tried he jumped up and left.” Polly looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Maybe he’s the one who’s frightened,” she said gently. “They worry about hurting us.” And she suspected Njkall was even more concerned, given Polly’s past.
“Njkall? Frightened?” The girl looked thunderstruck.
Content to have planted the seed, she changed the subject as she carefully placed the tiny boots beside her growing collection of baby things.
“Will you stay for tea? Rhaal brought back some of those sweet roots yesterday.”
Polly nodded, looking thoughtful as she settled back on the cushion.
As she went to gather the ingredients, it struck her how much had changed in just a few months. What had once felt like a barren cave now felt undeniably like home. The stone walls were hung with woven tapestries gifted by the clan. The bed platform was piled high with furs and cushions. Her carved beads hungin strands near the entrance, catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the floor when the sun hit them just right.
As she prepared the tea, she felt the now-familiar flutter in her belly—their cub making its presence known. Her hand went automatically to the small, firm swell beneath her tunic, a gesture that had become second nature. She was still taking the sothiti, but Cera had reduced the dose to once a week. With the river cleansed the fish were returning, and although they were being cautious, they were no longer worried about making their quota.
“Does it hurt?” Polly asked, watching her with curious eyes.
“No,” she said, smiling. “It feels like… like butterflies. Or little fish swimming.” She hesitated, then added gently, “Would you like to feel?”
Polly’s eyes widened, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. Yasmin took her hand and placed it on the spot where the movement was strongest. They waited, and then?—
“Oh!” Polly gasped, a genuine smile transforming her face as the baby kicked against her palm. “It’s so strong!”
“Like its father,” she said, laughing.
They spent the afternoon together, working on their beadwork before Polly helped her prepare vegetables for the evening meal. When Polly finally left to return to the main caves, she felt a quiet satisfaction. The other woman’s visits were a bridge between her life with Rhaal and the wider clan—a reminder that she wasn’t as isolated as she had once feared.
Later, as the day began to fade, she wrapped herself in a thick fur and stepped outside the cave. The air was crisp but not bitter,carrying the first subtle hints of spring beneath the lingering winter. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the clean, sharp scent of mountains and snow.
The sky was already darkening to a deep indigo, the first stars appearing like pinpricks of silver. She walked a short distance from the cave entrance to a flat outcropping of rock that offered a perfect view of the valley below and the vast sky above. This had become her favorite spot to watch the sunset and, on clear nights, the aurora that often followed.
She heard Rhaal before she saw him—the almost imperceptible crunch of snow beneath his massive feet, a sound she had learned to distinguish from all other forest noises. He moved with remarkable silence for his size, but her ears had grown attuned to his presence.
“You should not be out here alone,” he rumbled, appearing beside her like a ghost materializing from the twilight. His arms were laden with the day’s hunt—two plump pikka and a small skarn.
“I’m not alone anymore,” she said, smiling up at him. “And I didn’t go far.”
He made a sound that was half grunt, half purr—a noise she had come to recognize as his way of conceding a point while still maintaining his protective stance. Without another word, he disappeared into the cave to deposit his kill.
When he returned, his hands were empty and he had shed his hunting harness. The tension in his shoulders had eased, his posture relaxing as he settled back into their shared space. This was another change she had observed over the weeks—how he seemed to shed a layer of vigilance when he crossed thethreshold of their home, as though the cave itself was a boundary between the warrior and the mate.
“Polly came today,” she told him as he lowered himself to sit behind her on the rock. “She brought boots for the baby.”
His massive arms encircled her, pulling her back against his chest. The warmth of him immediately seeped through the fur, chasing away the evening chill.
“Good,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating against her back. “Njkall says she speaks more now. Not just to you.”
Yasmin nodded, leaning into his embrace. “She’s healing. Slowly, but she is.”
