Calm: Ice Planet Barbarians: A Slice of Life Short Story by Ruby Dixon Page B

was given to him when he survived the khui-sickness many turns of the seasons ago. He is healthy and strong, but a healer always worries.
    The dreamy expression returns to Jo-see’s face. “Just went out hunting. He promised he’d come home early for—well, never mind.” She waves a hand in the air, flustered. “I’m just gonna be quiet now.”
    I chuckle. Jo-see’s mouth races ahead of her mind, and mating to Haeden has not changed that. I glance around the cave to see who is awake at the early hour. Stay-see is near the main fire, along with Meh-gan, No-rah and Shorshie. They like to gather early in the mornings and drink hot tea and make root cakes. It is a strange, bland meal, but the humans love it. “Shall we join the others near the fire?”
    “Sure.” Jo-see bounds ahead of me, full of energy like my Esha. I am so heavy with kit that just watching her move makes me tired.
    I follow behind a few steps, heading to the fire. The humans look up and smile at me, their strange faces welcoming.
    “Come and sit, Maylak,” Shorshie says, getting up from her seat and offering it to me. “Stacy is making cake.”
    “Legit cake,” Stay-see agrees, and the smell of something sickly sweet rises from the pan she’s holding over the fire. The others lean in with interest.
    “What is lee-git cake?” I ask. I rest my hand on Shorshie’s shoulder to take a seat, and let my khui touch hers. She is healthy…and carrying another kit. She and Vektal must have resonated once more and kept it to themselves. I smile down at her, pleased for my chief and his mate. I will keep their secret.
    Shorshie chuckles. “It’s cake cake. Like dessert.”
    “With frosting,” Stay-see announces. “I’ve been experimenting with hraku and the not-potatoes, and some of the seeds we’ve been gathering. When we get more fruit from the cave that Lila found, it is gonna be on .”
    “You want frost on your cake?” I ask, confused. “They are eaten frozen?”
    No-rah giggles at my other side, moving her kit from her breast to her lap, and switching her other child to her breast. “You guys are making Maylak more confused.”
    I laugh absently, more interested in reaching out and stroking the fine, downy mane of fluff on Ah-nah’s head. The kit rests on No-rah’s lap, and the mother does not seem to mind when I touch her child. Ah-nah is strong and healthy. I casually brush my hand over No-rah, and she is well, too. Hearty. Less tired than when the twins were first born.
    “Is this the frosting?” Jo-see exclaims, picking up a bowl and dipping her finger into a soft brown mush.
    “It’s paint,” Meh-gan calls out just as Jo-see raises her finger to her mouth.
    Jo-see freezes.
    Stay-see and Meh-gan both burst into laughter.
    “You guys are jerks,” Jo-see says, and licks her finger. Her eyes widen. “Ohmigod, that is so good!”
    “Cake’s almost ready,” Stay-see says, using a long, carved tool to tap at the edges of her rounded cake. It is thicker and larger than the normal breakfast cakes, and I am curious as to what the difference is and why they are so excited.
    It is just food, after all.
    They pull it off of the fire with a collective “oooh,” and Stay-see cuts it into tiny wedges and puts them on small bone plates. She takes the frosting from Jo-see and carefully dabs a spoonful on top of each wedge. “It’s going to melt because the cake’s hot, but I figure no one cares, right?”
    “Gimme,” Meh-gan says. “Just, gimme.” They laugh, and the cake is passed around. I am given a plate, and I ponder the sloppy, goo-covered wedge of “cake.” As I watch, Meh-gan picks up her cake, takes a bite, and then closes her eyes. She sets it back down again and carefully licks her fingers. “That is the best thing I have eaten since we landed.”
    Now I am curious. I take a little nibble of the cake—and freeze. The texture is coarse and strange, and the awful sweetness of the flavor reminds me of meat that has