Aftershocks: Ice Planet Barbarians: A Slice of Life Short Story by Ruby Dixon

1
    RUKH
    M y mate has been sitting at the wall again all day.
    “Come away,” I tell her, putting our kit into her hands. “Rukhar wants his mother.”
    She looks up at me and gives me an absent smile. “I’m obsessing, aren’t I? I’m sorry.” She gets to her feet, but glances back at the wall with its flashing lights and clicking buttons. “It’s just…I don’t like things I can’t fix, you know?”
    I grunt acknowledgment, because the way her mind works is a mystery to me. I know things I can touch and taste. My world is in this moment, with her and our son. I like doing things the way they have always been done. I do not like change. My Har-loh is different, though. She constantly thinks of ways to improve how our people live. To create new things to make changes for the better. She does not see limitations. To me, the thing she stares at all day is just a wall. To her, it is full of ideas and concepts that can help, and she sees herself as the one who must unpack them.
    And as her mate, I must be the one to pull her away and remind her to eat and to take care of herself.
    Har-loh cuddles Rukhar, pressing kisses on his brow as she gets to her feet and moves close to the fire. I have put on a bit of meat to roast for her, and some of the roots she prefers. If it were up to her, she would eat nothing but roots, but I make her eat good red meat. She needs to stay strong.
    Always, I think about how fragile she is. How close I came to losing her. I must protect her in all ways.
    “What are you working on today?” she asks distractedly as she sits near the fire. She opens her tunic, revealing one breast, and Rukhar immediately leans in to nurse. “Still trying to fix those hides?”
    I get one of her little bowls that she likes—she does not wish to hold handfuls of food as she eats, a concept that is still strange to me—and fill it with more meat and roots than she normally eats. I do not want her getting thin with the brutal season coming. I sit next to her and pick up one of the cubes of fresh meat and offer it to her lips. “Eat.”
    She rolls her eyes but smiles at me and obediently eats a chunk, her lips brushing against my fingertips. “You’re so pushy.”
    “Because you forget,” I tell her. “Always forget.”
    She smiles at me, warmth in her eyes, and my chest burns with sheer joy. My sweet mate. Every day with her is a gift. “I’m lucky I have you to keep my head on straight.”
    I frown, eyeing her. “Is not straight?”
    Her laughter is like a warm blanket. “It’s a thing humans say.”
    I smile at her. “Then I like it on straight.”
    I love it when she smiles. I watch her, feeding her another cube of meat when she swallows. She nurses our son, who is old enough now that he watches her with interest and pushes his hands against her teat as he feeds. He eats a mushy version of Har-loh’s roots sometimes, but his fangs are small and not yet ready for meat. I watch as she smooths a hand over Rukhar’s hair and strokes his horns. Sometimes I am jealous of the attention she gives our son, because I want her to look at me and only me with so much love. But then he looks over at me as he feeds, and a silly, milk-wet smile curves his mouth, and I feel my chest squeeze with affection for my son.
    “He looks like you more and more every day,” Har-loh says. “Don’t you think?”
    Eh? I gaze at my son. He looks like me? I rub my jaw. I have never seen my own face. “My nose has…bumps.” I reach out and touch Rukhar’s small nose. “His like yours.”
    “If you say so,” she teases. “But the rest of him is all you.”
    I find it odd that a creature as small as my son would have my face. I thought I would look like my brother, the way Pashov and Salukh have similar features. But my brother Raahosh is ugly and scarred. Am I ugly to Har-loh? Disturbed, I push another chunk of meat into my mate’s mouth.
    Rukhar finishes nursing, and Har-loh wipes his mouth with a bit of soft