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)
"I am going to clean up in the pool," he says, nuzzling my face and giving my ponytail a gentle tug, letting me know he's feeling amorous. "I'll be back."
I nod and move to the fire, pulling off my cooking pouch. I'm out of stew and roots, but there are still more snow-people waiting outside to eat. "No more today," I sign to the male waiting near the entrance of the cave. "I'm out."
He crouches where he's at, as if saying that he'll wait.
A second comes and sits behind him, and they both stare at me, hungry. Great. Just fucking great.
I'm completely wiped and close to crying at the realization. It doesn't matter how much food I make—it'll never be enough. I head back into the tunnel, towards the pool. "Corvak, I need you to talk to the snow-people. They're not listening to me."
No response. He probably can't hear me from this far away.
I burst into the tears I've been trying to hold back on. I'm so tired. Is this what the rest of my life is going to be? Making batches of stew in a cold cave for people that smell like wet dog fur and treat the females like they're shit? And aren't I part of the problem, staying back and letting a man handle everything? But I'm terrified of hunting.
I'm trapped. The thought is overwhelming, and I can't stop the frustrated tears rolling down my face. It's weak and I don't want to seem weak and helpless and girly in front of Corvak. I want to be a strong partner, but god, I'm so tired. I try to compose myself, wiping at my face and taking deep, shuddering breaths. When I glance out at the entrance of the cave, though, I see the glowing blue eyes of the snow-people that are waiting to be fed.
And I just cry even harder.
"Aidy? What's wrong?" Corvak appears, rushing to my side and skidding on the slippery rock floor. Naked and dripping, he grips my arms gently and studies my face. "What is it? Did someone threaten you?"
I shake my head. "It's nothing—"
"It is not nothing," he says hotly. "Tell me what's upsetting you."
I gesture at the front of the cave. "I'm out of food and they still won't leave. They just ignore me and—"
I stop because Corvak immediately lets go of me and storms towards the entrance. He snarls, raising his hands like claws, and mock-lunges for the entrance. With a flurry of hoots, the snow-people scatter and disappear.
"We shouldn't scare them," I tell him, even though a small shameful part of me is relieved. "There's so many of them and only two of us. The last thing we need to do is aggravate them."
"They are not aggravated. They worship me, remember?" He returns to my side, tipping my face up and studying my eyes as if waiting to see the tears dry up.
Yeah, they worship him, all right…and ignore me because I'm female. Well, unless I'm feeding them, which is a female's job in their eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek, determined not to cry again, but it's tricky.
"Go on," he says gently. His thumb strokes along my jaw. "Tell me more of what bothers you."
"It's going to sound whiny."
"It will not. I promise you."
I hesitate for a moment longer and then spill it out. "I'm just so tired. I cook for them all day. There's an endless stream of them constantly climbing up here and just waiting for me to hand them something to eat. Every time I turn around, someone's bringing more food that has to be cooked. I have roots. I have questionable fish brought to me. I have dead rodents handed to me. And I'm trying to be a team player, but it's exhausting and my fingers are burned and I can't cook fast enough…" I raise a hand, gesturing weakly. "And now you've brought more food that needs cooking, and I'm not mad at you for doing that, I'm just tired, and—"
"Aidy," Corvak says, so very gentle. "May I speak?"
I hiccup. "Of course."
"You are always the one that initiates cooking. I have never asked you to. I thought you enjoyed it, so I have not volunteered to take this task from your hands. I can cook a bird. I can cook all the food if you like."
I can feel my mouth hanging open. He thought I liked cooking? I think back to all of our interactions near the fire, and how I'm always trying to prove my worth, putting on water to melt, or food to cook. No wonder he thought I liked it. I've never shown otherwise. I feel silly. "Oh. I don't like it, but it's something I can do, and I want to help out."
"There is a difference between helping out and exhausting yourself. I would rather eat raw roots than watch you be miserable because you have to stand over the fire." He brushes his fingers over my temple, pushing my hair behind my ear, and searches my face. "You have to tell me if you're unhappy. I will not know if you pretend everything is fine and it is not."