Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
"He watched us," Valmir comments dryly. "He stalked us and learned from our group when we got khuis for the women."
"And you never saw him?" Thrand arches a brow at the cat-alien. "So much for the vaunted praxiian senses."
Another handful of snow heads Thrand's way. "I was distracted, idiot."
"Doubtful," I say, just because it's fun to needle Valmir. He's been annoying me for days now and it's nice to hear another giving him trouble. Snow gets flung my way, too, but I don't mind it. I am relaxing, bit by bit. "So tell me about living on this beach. What am I to expect? How can I prove myself as a warrior if there are no competitions?"
Thrand gets to his feet and scoops a bit of the tea into a bone cup, skimming the leaves off the top with a finger and flinging them into the fire. "You won't miss them. There is very little time to do anything like that. I remember when I was a fighter, waiting weeks between bouts, doing nothing but training and practicing over and over again for a brief moment of glory. It was monotonous, and that moment was over too soon every time."
"And now your very brief moment of glory comes between the furs when you claim your mate, eh? Has she complained about your speed?" Valmir jabs.
"No joking about mates," U'dron says in a stern voice. "That is off limits."
"She has not," Thrand retorts, ignoring U'dron's warning. "And at least I get to touch her. How's it working with April, friend? She tossed any more food in your face?"
Valmir just scowls. U'dron clears his throat, breaking the tension.
"I thought so." Thrand turns back to me. "One thing about living at the beach—you will never find it dull. There is hunting to be done, always, and supplies to be made for hunts. There is fishing, too, but my brother Vordis has far more patience for that than I do. Skins to be cured, meat to be smoked, clothes to be sewn, dishes to be carved…"
"Drums to bang and songs to sing," U'dron adds with a small smile. "And then there are the kits."
Thrand chuckles, a fond expression creasing his face as he drinks his tea. "The kits are never, ever boring."
"Your offspring?" I am curious, suddenly. I have never been around a young creature. My memories of the lab are brief, cloudy, and only feature fully adult people. "What are they like?"
Valmir makes an irritated noise, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you've done it."
But Thrand and U'dron share a fond expression. "It is the greatest experience in the world, being a father," Thrand begins. "You think nothing can be better than resonance, and then your child is born and placed in your arms." He holds his hands out, juggling the tea cup, and pretends to cradle something. "It is the tiniest, most fragile being in the universe, and when it looks up at you, everything changes."
"They can go on all night about their kits," Valmir complains, all but glaring at the fire. "Ask them about the diapers, or when the kits interrupt when they're trying to have sex. Ask what privacy is like after your child is born. Ask how S'bren's daughter threw up on his face when he was trying to take care of her. Or how when Jethani was teething and kept Juth and Steph up with her cries all night."
"The tiniest package with the most potent stink when they relieve themselves," U'dron muses. "But I would not change the crying, or the belching, or any of the things they do. It is special."
They speak as if they have been mind-wiped, and I am a little skeptical at this. A defecating, screaming thing does not sound appealing to me. Perhaps Valmir is not all snarky comments. "How big are they? Aidy says she is carrying but I have not noticed any change to her size."
Thrand scoops the cup into the tea again and walks across our small circle, avoiding the fire, and holds it out to Valmir. The praxiian takes it with a grudging nod of thanks. "How big do you think a baby will get?"
"I…have no idea. I'm not entirely sure how it comes out of her," I confess.
"The same way it goes in."
The same way…but my reproductive DNA goes over to her body by way of my seed, does it not? I frown intensely. "That is not a very big opening." I put out my closed fist, eyeing it and comparing to the pretend cradling that Thrand was doing earlier. "It has to be smaller than this? But how does such a thing survive?"
"My Deeni was a big baby," Thrand says proudly, and extends his hands out an impossible length, as long as his forearm. "I swear she was this big when Nadine gave birth to her."