Unnatural Instinct: Alone

21.

You've missed your period.

It's been weeks since you met Lance now. Since you met each other that terrible, wonderful day and he carried you into his cave. Into his home. Into his life. It's only been weeks and you feel like you've lived several lifetimes.

And now this.

You suppose it's possible that it's simply late. But you know deep down in your soul that it's not. Somehow, you know.

The thought enlivens you. It makes you blissfully happy in a way you never expected. You thought you'd be more fearful. But what do you have to fear when you have Lance?

And he's the world.

'What are you smiling so much for?' he asks.

'I've got some good news.'

He raises his eyebrows. 'News that I don't know.' He looks around jokingly as though he has an audience. 'That's a surprise in itself.'

'You know how I spoke to you about women's time of the month?'

He clasps his knees, face straining as he struggles to think back. 'That's when you bleed, right?'

'That's right. And do you remember what it means when I miss one?'

You watch him, trying not to smile as he focuses his eyes upon your little fire. The flames glimmer against his dark gaze. He's struggling again, forehead creasing, nose pinched up.

His face sags. 'How is that good news?'

'What do you mean?'

'You lost the baby.'

'No! It means we have a baby!'

He frowns and scratches his head. 'I thought you already had a baby.'

Laughing, you slap his thigh. 'I said, I might be pregnant.'

He shakes his head. 'You were always pregnant. I was always sure.'

'Well, now I'm sure.'

He's giving you a lopsided grin.

'You're so cute, Lance.' You pause as you calculate. 'So, it'll be a summer baby. That's good. Nice and warm. Plenty of food.'

Not that the warmth would matter too much with all Lance's pelts. You push your fingers through the fur of the nearest one. It's grey and thick. A wolf—Lance had told her. One of several pelts that were once wolves. There are also the pelts of bears and even a few big cats. Many of them were acquired from an animal he already found dead but some were from live animals he managed to kill.

He rests his heavy head down into your lap, looking pleased after your recent lovemaking. He closes his eyes as you brush your fingers through his hair, studying his naked body. Amid the muscle and callouses there are a lot of scars, even burns. His fingers always seem to look dirty, thick and strong, always working at something. The flames of your little fire make his skin glisten with sweat. They etch out the hard muscles in his abdomen. His penis is resting soggy and wrinkled against his thigh.

He's soon snoring.

The fire flickers and you look towards your stack of kindling—it's getting low. Leaning over, you kiss Lance on the forehead. 'I'm going to get some more wood.'

He grunts.

Gently, you ease his head away as you get up. You go over and find your cloak, studying it fondly before pulling it on. He made it for you, several thick furry pelts knitted together. It's so warm that sometimes you find yourself sweating in it. Grabbing up some rope, you sling it around your shoulder. You're starting to get used to this cave business. It's starting to feel much more like home than home ever did.