14

Serik

Without young, mates, or sleighs, our hunting party traverses the tundra in half the time as our usual migration. We reach the northernmost tip of the land at nightfall. On arrival, we begin the exhausting task of digging sleeping quarters in the frozen ground. If I dig too deep, I could awaken in the ocean under the ice sheet. Too shallow and I could awaken to a hungry polar bear digging me up for their breakfast.

Making the journey three moon cycles earlier reduces our travel time, too. We ride the reindeer further north than in years past. Their smaller hooves require thicker ice to hold our weight. They can't separate from their herds, or they will lose themselves on the tundra and die in isolation. Hunting at the cusp of niibin season is a gift. Why haven't we done this before?

Because of pesky human tours like the herd of vehicles in the distance.

Also, our hunts depend on the narwhal migration. Sydney says the migrations depend on the ocean's temperatures and the water's too warm. I say the ice floating on top says she's wrong, but I won't risk Sergei's wrath by arguing with his mate. I'll save my hot temper for my own fiery mate.

With each lonely scoop of snow, I miss her more.

Both of us feel the urge to argue for no better reason than to let off steam. If I want a fight, all I have to do is tell her the creamy binder in the Akutaq she loves to eat at first light is mostly whale blubber. My tenderhearted mate loves mammals and can't think about eating them…as she eats them. An adorable mess of contradictions. My mate challenges me. To provide for her, I must catch a narwhal—two if I am to share equitably with my hunting partner. No Chuchunya can wrestle a whale or narwhal alone—not even Sergei, who chooses the biggest creatures to hunt.

Before Denis died, Artyom hunted with Sergei in a silent agreement amongst the hunters. They made the two largest kills and shared them with Denis. Denis wasn't a hunter in the same way Kaitlyn isn't a hunter. Even when he took Patricika as a pleasure mate, Sergei and Artyom harvested their blubber and muktuk. Will they hunt for Adam because Timor refused to bring him along? I had hoped to partner with Artyom to further affirm our alliance, but I'll be damned if I hunt for Adam.

He tricked me with his hollow bargain to trade mates.

My anger threatens to melt the snow around me as I sleep fitfully in my hole. The morning light comes too soon, along with the playful splashing of Artyom and the younger Chuchunya. Stupid Svoloches will frighten away our prey with their noise and stink. I explode from my chamber with a huff of annoyance. Time to ready myself for the hunt. My rope cuts into my skin as I cinch it around my chest. I wedge my two knives between the abrasive sinew and my heart before grabbing my longer coil of rope to hoist over my shoulder.

"Morning, Serik," Kiril calls, waving his arm over his head. He and Timor have set up a tripod over a small fire. They boil water for fish soup and bandages in case of injury.

"Morning, Kiril, Leader," I say as I join them. I swat snow from my fur as I stomp to test the ice. The hardpack's much softer than it should be this moon cycle. My feet sink with each step. Our fire is further away from the coast than normal, too. We should be able to camp on the edge this time of the sun cycle. "Is Sergei not awake yet?"

"A bear attacked his den last night. He's the first to earn a trophy during this hunt," Timor says with a twinkle in his eye. No wonder he tried to match his daughters with Sergei. Is there anyone in this clan who isn't in love with him? What does he have that I don't? A few pounds and straight fangs. Big deal!

Some males have all the luck…except I must have made the fates smile once because they gave me Kaitlyn.

When Sergei brings home the polar bear pelt and meat, Sydney will be jealous because she wasn't here to help. If I bring home a polar bear pelt and meat, Kaitlyn will squeal with joy. She has no interest in hunting and will let me provide her, like a docile female. I'll have to butcher the meat out of her sight, but she lets me feed her, clothe her, and rest with her under piles of furs. If only a bear had attacked me in my sleep! It's not the Chuchunya way to hunt polar bears since they are dangerous and as few in number as us, but if attacked, we can kill them.

"Serik, do you have a partner?" Kiril asks in his timid voice as he hands me a bowl of tea.

I sigh because I suspect I'm stuck with Kiril again. He's small, quick, and clever, but those traits aren't useful when wrestling narwhal. Each year I plan to ditch him and select a stronger partner and every year, we're stuck together. It could be worse. I could be partnered with Gleb or another young, impulsive Chuchunya or the worst—Vera. Last year, Artyom nearly drowned his mate by allowing her to hunt whales—proving he's the stupidest Chuchunya in our clan.

"Would you like to partner again—"

"Oh yes, our strategy never misses," he gloats, turning to Timor. "Serik and I have never had a blank year or accident."

If Kaitlyn were here, I'd tell one of my many stories of how I hauled Kiril's water-logged ass from the ocean after a beast beat him up. We've never had an accident as far as Timor knows, because I rescue Kiril and hide the evidence like the svoloch I am. Kiril is grateful for our consistent trappings. We are the first to start hunting, the last to leave the water, and the victors of the smallest narwhal. Not this year. This year we need two narwhals, so I can spoil Kaitlyn.

"Did you eat before I woke?" I ask Kiril because I can't sit here listening to his glotat vie for Timor's approval. If he's so smart, he should see his way to taking Timor's place isn't with flowery words. He must best Sergei by providing supplies or mating one of Timor's pathetic daughters.

"Yes, I awoke first and lit—"

"Then let's go," I snap, tossing my bowl into the boiling pot for dishes. "We can cut our ice sheet while those Svoloches play in the shallows. With their noise, the pod will never swim close to the shore."

"Won't that be dangerous?"

"Get up," I snap, lifting him from under the arms. Thank the fates, he's already tied in his rope. "Swimming is dangerous. Hunting is dangerous. Hell, standing outside in the frigid wind is dangerous. Be an adult."

"Serik," Timor says with a growl. "We have all day to hunt. There's no harm in waiting."

There is if you are Kiril's partner. How many years have we caught our beast at sunset?

"Those of us with new mates will need extra muktuk to nourish pregnancies and kits," I lie. Well, almost lie. I won't have kits anytime soon but someone else will.

What goes on inside my dyla weturanya is none of his business…and Kaitlyn will forgive me as long as nobody pushes the issue. Would my mate go along with a farce to get a larger share of the supplies? Schemes hatch in my brain as Timor's face lights up. The old leader is desperate for kits…even if I'm their sire.

"Who am I to stand in the way of a father providing for his family?" he asks with a beaming smile.

Kiril looks like I just announced I wish to drown him and maybe I do. His knife strokes are half the speed of mine as we saw off a chunk of the ice shelf. He watches the shore as we float into deeper water where the narwhal pod feast on Arctic Graylings. His sour mood grates on my last nerve. If he wishes for a disaster, fate will be happy to deliver one!

"Do you want heads or tails?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Kiril always picks to tie the narwhal's tail while I stab its eyes and blowhole. He's scared of the horn, the snapping jaws, or the potential for the beast to drag him to the bottom.

"Tail," he says with wild eyes. Of course, he's scared already.

"Just drag as much of the tail onto the ice as you can," I reply with an eye roll. "The swim isn't as far as it looks. If we can roll the whole body onto the ice, we won't be as tired when we tow it to shore."

"I know what to do," he snaps. "But if we see smaller seals, let's go for those."

"I have a mate—"

"Who is worth living long enough to see again," he says with a haunted look in his eyes. "With your female, our age group is half-mated. There's less competition for Sveta…I want to live to chase her."

"Sveta? Why not Tatiana? Do you believe they won't run and hide this time?" Sveta is the youngest Chuchunya in the pack, birthed by Timor and Polina after our generation's parents died in a dyla weturanya cave-in. Kiril's closer in age to their older daughter, Tatiana. However, both daughters cry and hide at the mating chases, so they're unmated at an age when other females would be on their second or third pleasure mate.

"Tatiana looks human enough to blend in with Polina's family. Her visits to them lengthened each time Timor lets her accompany her mother. I predict Tatiana will join the human world," he says gravely. "Besides, I like Sveta's sweetness and shy demeanor."

Thank you fates for delivering Kaitlyn to me…or to a place where I could take her. With Tatiana joining the human world, my other options would be Manya, who hated our first season together, and Sveta, who I can't stand. She hides her face behind her mother at meetings. I haven't heard her say a word, choosing to nod or shake her head when asked a question.

I'll take the fiery anger in Kaitlyn's eyes over Sveta's shy tears a thousand times over.

"If we impress Timor with a large kill, perhaps he would help steer his daughter into your arms," I suggest with a shrug. Kiril rocks our ice sheet with the force of his spinning toward me. "Have you asked for his help? Why not be his chosen successor, instead of winning Sveta to be his chosen successor? You've figured out Sergei is the obvious choice, but he's about to sire a kit with his dushevnayasvyaz. Sveta is younger and probably more fertile, so you could have a kit close to the same age…"

Kiril turns the pod of narwhals. We are a few meters away, so he must make a decision.

Will Clever Kiril take my bait or figure out this Svoloch will say anything to get his furry ass into the water?

"To our left is a large female by herself," he says, twirling a lock of his hair above his belly. "We wouldn't have a horn, but we would have the most muktuk."

"Horns aren't edible," I say with a devious smile he doesn't share.

We paddle our chunk of ice parallel to the current until we are within a meter of the large narwhal. The closer we get, the larger and more intimidating the beast becomes. We've never attempted to hunt one so big. I doubt Sergei and Artyom could take this female. I'm about to voice my concerns to Kiril while he dives into the water.

Tails never strike first!

The beast thrashes as Kiril wraps his arms and legs around the tail. My heart stops and starts with each time his head disappears beneath the waves to reappear seconds later. His chin hits the beast's back with each rise. Narwhal clicks and screams fill the air. It's time to earn my clan's respect and provide for Kaitlyn. I unsheathe my knives and lumber to my feet on the jostling piece of ice.

The female narwhal bucks our platform and sends me flying into the water on her far side. I'm under the animal when the bubbles clear. My knife is poised to slash into her belly and spill her guts when something bumps my elbow.

A narwhal calf taps her elongated forehead against my arm. We stare at one another in the chaos. My heart squeezes. Kaitlyn wouldn't want a motherless calf.

I sheathe my knives.

"Kiril," I shout as I grab his arms. We wrestle the thrashing mother and the tumultuous waves. The calf tangles in my legs as if helping to boost me above the water. "Kiril! Not this one! We have to let her go!"

"What the hell? I've got her! Just stab her!"

"She's a mother! I can't stab her! I can't stab her. I can't leave another kit without a mother." Tears steal the thunder from my voice.

I grab Kiril's wrists and shake my head. His lips drop from their murderous scowl and quiver with memories of our mothers, who left this world too soon. We uncoil his rope to free the narwhal. The female darts to the safety of the middle of the pod. A tiny hump follows her as the calf races to keep up.

"We'll nab the next one," I huff between gulps of air.

"Yeah, the next one," Kiril says, flopping onto his back. His chest rises and falls as he struggles to breathe the frigid air. "So, tell me, when did you grow a heart?"

"It's my mate's influence," I say, lying on the ice to rest my aching arms. "I want to become worthy of her. She's tender and loving—"

"Huh, I heard she was a bitch."

"She wears an attitude as a suit of armor. She's soft inside."

"Like that narwhal?"

"Exactly," I reply with a fangy smile.

Images of raven-haired Chuchunya kits dance in my head until I shake them loose. Kaitlyn doesn't want motherhood…or hunting trips…or the Chuchunya life. Is my love enough to keep her in the clan? My confidence falters as Artyom and Sergei paddle a chunk of ice past ours. There's competition now. We wasted our advantage hunting a mother and releasing her.

I was positive Kaitlyn wouldn't want me to let her go…now I'm not so sure…

Just like I was confident I'd have a mate to bring my prize home to…but now? I bet she swam away the second my reins loosened… The question is whether I hunt her again or leave her be…