Page 9 of Betrothed to the Yeti

He doesn’t accept the invitation to my pity party nor answer my question. His noncommittal grunt stabs my pride. Did he even ask how I was after the attack?

“Look, I wasn’t part of the wealthiest family in Alpha—far from it. I love Ku Huang and I did my best with the resources I had,” I shout. I punctuate my remark with a petulant stomp of my left foot. He ignores my outburst, which fans the flames. “I’m not selfish or neglectful—”

“I never said you were,” he says before stepping around me. “I have a patch of grass next to my home where the hot springs flow beneath.” He paws through the offerings on the tribute sleigh, rolling his eyes at a bag of triticale seeds worth a fortune. I gasp when he drops them on the floor to dig for a better prize.

“What are you doing?” I yell the question in a whoosh of air from my lungs. With that bag of seeds, he would grow a year’s worth of grains!

“I’m looking for something to feed you. The gifts from the villages aren’t what they used to be,” he mumbles to the pack. “I’ve started leaving the sleds and fabric for the Seer to reuse.”

“Because you throw the best food away,” I admonish. I lift the bag of seeds and cuddle it to my chest. When he startles at my nearness, I pluck a kernel from the bag and pinch it at the end of his nose. “This seed grows into a triticale plant to bake into bread, wrap meat in a Sha Shaley, or brew into beer—”

“I do enjoy beer,” he says with a flash of fangs. Is that his smile? Have I been reading him incorrectly because of his toothsome mouth and severe features?

I heavy blink to avoid rolling my eyes. If I listen closely, I can still hear the snarling wolves consuming one another outside. Angering Pabu would be a dumb move—especially when he shares his bounty with me. The bag I hold could sustain me for months…if I had a safe place to grow the plants. He seems to have a grasp of human culture but at the same time acts clueless about village life. How many interactions has he had with humans?

“Perfect,” he says, lifting a heavy ceramic dish from the bottom of the bag. “She remembered!”

At my confused countenance he continues, “I returned this dish to one of the villages for a refill. Just wait until you try this!”

The nerve of this guy. Not only is he accepting lavish tribute from starving people and throwing away anything requiring the least amount of effort, he’s making requests! Disgust pulls my lips into a sneer as he breaks the ropes holding the lid to the pot with a swipe of his claws. I jump out of the splash zone when he carelessly bats the lid onto the floor with a clatter. My eyes are fixed on the rolling ceramic. The ornate pottery has a golden rim, making it worth more than the mud hut my family rented.

The orange lid splatters stew droplets in a spiral pattern. My stomach growls in response. Cruel villagers have made my sisters, and I lick splattered stew off the snow before. We were grateful for the warmth, nourishment, and calories. Nima made a seductive show of licking the ground, which made the bullies uncomfortable. I guess Nima provided perverse entertainment before her marriage to Mr. Rinzen. Dronma and I gave the docile performance they were expecting…until they started kicking. How long before they coerced us into the next humiliating acts? It didn’t matter because the next time the taunt was called we ate off the snow again.

I wonder what my sisters are doing now…

“Aww yes,” Pabu says with a moan. He sits at the base of the sled with his back leaning against the rest of the gifts. His fingers are coated with rich, brown stew. He jams them and a few tubers into his mouth. Broth leaks from the corners of his lips and runs the length of his forearm. Not only is the fur stained down to his elbow, but also from his beard to his waist. “Don’t make that face. There is plenty for both of us.”

He nudges the bowl at me, but the childlike hope shining in his eyes is something I can’t ignore. Can I live as the wife of a Yeti? I sink into a cross-legged seat on the stone floor and slowly remove my gloves. Avoiding the lingering smells of food is key to surviving on nothing. The latent smells of a holiday meal were the enemy of my sisters and me. Our stomachs cramped at the denied food. I won’t waste this food when my body hurts.

I scoop a tuber onto my index and middle finger. The stew is slimy and tepid, but the spices on my tongue are worth the texture experience. A rude groan escapes my lips before I clamp my hand over my mouth.

“This is the Seer’s recipe,” I say around a large chunk of parsnip. “Only the Leaders and the Gods get a taste of this. No matter how hungry we were, we never dared to steal from her altar.”

“You don’t eat like this every day? And why are you still hugging that bag of seeds? They are bitter and will get stuck in your teeth—” he pauses to pull his mouth wider to reveal a gap between two molars “—had to pull this one.”

“I promise not to bite them. I wouldn’t want you to pull my tooth,” I say with a half-smile. Can I admit to wanting them as a nest egg? If he discovers I haven’t fully decided to stay, will he still feed me? Ku Huang’s lambs will sustain me after she has them, or I could barter them in my new village. I just need a safe place for her to give birth and recover.

On a planet where it’s every creature for themselves, I’ve developed an attachment to my goat. Ku Huang gave me meat, milk, warmth, and companionship when I didn’t have a friend in the world. She didn’t turn her back on me when her situation improved or try to sell me in her place when her fate took a turn for the worse.

Like my sister…

“Oh, can I have this piece? I love the green bits,” I say before pinching one in my fingers. It drips into my palm as I hold the morsel before his nose.

He nods warily.

I crunch the vegetable we call celery, despite the Elders complaining the bland stem isn’t anything like ‘real celery’ It dawns on me that none of the Elders have been to Earth, so how can they know the vivid flavor of ‘real celery?’ They are no better than Pabu, complaining when others give their last bites to feed them.

“Then I will eat around the green bits,” Pabu murmurs. He swishes the celery floating at the top to my side of the bowl. I lean over his lap to retrieve them. “You will never have to compete for the green bits as long as you share your meals with me.”

“Celery,” I whisper. His generosity is surprising. No one has ever set aside the best parts of a meal for me. I’m touched within the frozen walls around my heart. The dark pools of his eyes threaten to suck me in as I gaze at him. My elbow rests on his thigh where I climbed him to dive for food. I should move and apologize but I can’t, not when he is kinder than anyone I’ve ever shared a meal with. “We call these pieces celery.”

“It will be my pleasure to request more celery for you in the next offering,” he says with a nod of his chin.

My blush burns through the clothes layered under my wedding dress. I drop his gaze and scoop another helping of stew, so I don’t have to answer. While I don’t want to take advantage of the spirituality of Alpha, I could get used to being the wife of a perceived God. Flashes of my former life sour the mouthful rolling over my tongue—the abandoned children digging through the snow to steal crops, their mothers limping home from the brothel with vacant stares, and their fathers returning from the mines every few days with protruding bones and missing limbs.

Maybe the packet of seeds is a way to improve life for everyone…and maybe Pabu will help me… Pabu misinterprets my questioning glance, and he places a thick arm around my waist.

He nuzzles the top of my hair. The deep rumble of his voice raises goosebumps along my skin as he murmurs his intent over me like snowflakes. “I will leave you with the rest of the meal. I’m tired and wish to sleep. My door will be open for you to join me…”

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