by Asia
As he entered the hearth, his mate stopped her tasks and quickly drop to the ground, her head down, avoiding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed impatiently and he ignored her, walked to the fire and sat heavily on a mat nearby.
The woman's eyes were empty as she got up slowly, her hand supporting her growing belly. She got used to his manners long ago.
Once she was up, she hurried to the fire and put a water skin above it. She rummaged through her medicine bag and found the chamomile, it was his favorite.
The water hissed while boiling, she poured them to a cup and sprinkled some of the chamomile along with some fennel to calm him down a bit. Though she knew it wouldn't help, he was in a battle mood, she saw it in his eyes, and nothing would calm him.
Warily, she took the cup, walked to her mate and dropped to the ground again.
This time he acknowledged her by tapping on her shoulder.
She handed him the cup, still avoiding his eyes.
"This woman would take the ptarmigan and prepare it for the meal." She hurriedly gestured.
When he nodded she got up as quickly as possible, it wasn't easy since her belly was in the way and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
She held her palm over her mouth to stop her from vomiting, took some lemongrass and smelled it until the nausea past, then took the ptarmigan and started plucking it.
After seasoning it and filling it with wild carrot, she wrapped it with grape leaves. She wished she had the eggs to stuff the ptarmigan with, but her mate never wanted to waste time on looking for them.
She put it carefully in the warm pit she dug and covered it with earth.
When she finished with the preparations, she sat on a mat near a mound of grass and started weaving a basket.
Her old basket was torn from use and she needed a new basket to collect the herbs she wanted.
From the corner of her eyes she watched her mate as he sipped the tea and wished there was some men ceremony to keep him away from the hearth. It was only midday and he was sitting in the hearth like it was already dark.
She knew he planned something.
Fondly, she patted her abdomen, then clutched her amulet, pleading with her totem again to make the baby a girl.
Everyone were so surprised to find out she was pregnant after so many years of infertility. But none was surprised as she was.
For years she took the secret medicine to prevent her from getting pregnant. Her mother taught her the recipe, that she learned from her own mother, and this medicine was suppose to help woman who had too many miscarriages or deformed babies. Of course no man ever knew about it, if they would ever find out they would forbid her from making it again. Her mother swore her not to tell anyone but her own daughter, the continuation of their ancient line of medicine women.
But she made herself the tea every day, not because she needed to help herself, but because she wanted to shame her mate.
She despite him so much, and to give him the honor of having a son for his hearth was not an option.
After realizing she was pregnant, she accepted her fate but still prayed every day for her totem to make it a girl.
"Woman!"
The old woman turned around quickly, surprised by the loud grunt.
"Stop this daydreaming and get back to your chores." He gestured angrily.
"Yes, Drek." The woman lowered her head again, left her amulet and continued with the weaving.
Drek kept watching her, making sure she wouldn't stop her task and she felt his eyes burning her back.
She wished he would go, and started imagining the leader calling him, her eyes seeing him leaving the hearth instead of the weaved basket.
"Get me some water." He demanded and smirked as she stood up quickly, nearly falling down from another wave of nausea.
She poured some water to a cup and handed it to him obediently, then turned around to get back to her basket. But he grasped her hand and twisted it behind her back, pulling her closer to him.
She yelped in surprise and a trifle of pain.
"You should walk faster when I ask you something, you insolent woman." He gestured and raised his hand to cuff her.
As much as she wanted to stand against him, the fear from his muscular fist clutched her and she constricted her body.
Drek's eyes lit as he saw her shrink and he gave her a blow.
She fell heavily on the ground, protecting her abdomen from hitting the hard floor.
Seeing her eyes filled with fear he struck her again, and felt himself aroused by the control he had on her.
Without hesitation he made the signal, and watched her as she made herself assume the position.
He knew she hated it, and that made him more prod. He took off his breechcloth, grabbed her behind and mounted her.
She bit her lower lip as he penetrated, he deliberately held her shoulder tight, exactly where he hit her a second before, and she knew she will have a big purple bruise tomorrow.
She tried to ignore his heavy groans by thinking of a small, tiny, beautiful girl cuddling in her chest.
When he finally reached his climax, it seemed like forever, he drew back and cuffed her again.
"Now get back to your task."
She obediently got up and went back to the mound of grass. She watched her mate from the corner of her eyes as he put the breechcloth back and strode out of hearth.
In the back of the cave, she noticed her sibling watching her. A warm feeling washed over her and she thanked her totem for making Creb stay with her at the hearth.
He hobbled slowly, leaning heavily on his staff, toward the hearth and she got up again to put the water skin on the fire again. He was probably cold from sitting in the small notch where he meditated.
She drew ginger and sweet grass out of her medicine bag. Sweet grass because it was his favorite, and ginger to warm his body.
While the water was boiling, she made herself a simple test to make sure the baby was not harmed.
The old, cripple man acknowledged her with a slight nod and sat on a mat near the fire. She handed him the tea and sat next to him.
"The meal will be ready soon." She signed, just as a statement.
They sat there in quiet for a while, enjoying each other's presence.
"How is the baby doing?" the old magician noticed her checking herself and wondered if the beating didn't do any damage to the embryo.
"The baby is fine now, this woman doesn't know what will happen the next time."
It was a surprising confession and Creb saw the sad look in her eyes. In that moment he hated Drek, hated him like he never hated before.
He wished he could do something for his siblings, he had an idea, but wasn't sure if it was good to talk with a female about this matters.
Making a decision he grunted "Iza."
He moved his good hand "This woman's totem, the saiga antelope, had made himself shown to me."
He didn't quite know how to continue. "This woman is a good clan woman, the spirits are pleased."
With that, he stood up, using his staff, and hobbled back to the corner to meditate.
Iza was overwhelmed by his surprising monolog, she knew he said it to make her feel better, and she did feel better now.
If The Mog-ur said the spirits were pleased, then she had nothing to fear of. Not even Drek.
When the night downed, she went to the furs she shared with Drek with a good feeling. Only one thought was in her mind before she fell asleep.
"The spirits are pleased."
The next morning Creb woke up from the shaking and rumbling of the earth. Women were screaming, children running everywhere and a rain of stones and gravel.
`Could the spirits misled me? Or maybe I did not understood the signs?'
He was so sure that something good is going to happen, how can a earthquake be a good thing?
When the dust was down, covering everything with a thick layer, he noticed Iza standing near the fire, her mouth gaped.
In the fur she just got up from, was a large boulder.
Then, a piercing keen was heard.
"My mate is dead, my mate is dead!" she signaled, just as a proper clan woman should mourn, but her heart was not in it, Creb saw it right away.
He didn't know the plans of the sprits, but now he knew. The spirits were indeed pleased.