Steph's Outcast

I have suddenly become the most sexually focused woman on the beach.

Some of that's unfair, of course. A lot of the tribe left behind are young mothers or extremely pregnant, so I'm guessing they're not feeling the need to fuck every five minutes. Me, though? I can't even put on my skirt without thinking about how hot and eager Juth's mouth is when he slides the leather up to lick me. I can't touch my newly healed ankle without thinking about his hands on my skin. I can't sew leather or cook food or even pull my hair up in a braid without thinking about Juth. Juth and his hands, Juth and his mouth, Juth and his shortened tail that somehow looks perfect despite the fact that it’s different.

Juth and the way he looks so damned thrilled when he makes me come.

Juth and the pleased noises he makes when he's eating me out, like I'm his favorite dish.

It's all very distracting.

Like right now. I'm supposed to be picking through the wreckage on the beach. Since the creatures have started returning to the waters, they've made an absolute mess of the sands. The spots where the creatures were buried are easy to find, because the sand is sunken there, the large body of the shell-beast having displaced all of the sand off to the side. It means that the beach is full of pits and valleys, but with every creature that leaves, it also means there's a chance to recover some of our gear. Juth is off hunting in the mountains, so I have Pak today.

Maybe it's weird, but I'm starting to feel like a mom. I dress Pak in the morning, make sure he's fed, and today he's wearing a little topknot in his wild blond hair to tame it. He holds my hand as we walk down the beach, carrying a little messenger bag I made him of leather. It crosses over his chest and he puts all kinds of things into it as we walk, most of them useless. We did the same thing yesterday, and his bag was entirely full of shells and debris and odd bits in the sand. Pak loves colors, so I made him a little tunic out of a variety of scraps in all different shades, and he loves it. He touches it constantly and his little tail shakes with happiness just under the hem of it every time someone compliments him on how handsome he looks.

Pak is an easy kid to love. He's always happy, chattering and smiling at anyone and everyone. I've promised to make him a set of paints so he can paint our hut once we have one again, and he talks about it all the time.

In fact, he's talking about paints right now while I daydream about his dad and his incredible mouth. Yeesh. Maybe I'm not that great a mom yet after all.

"Eggs right there!" Pak announces, hopping at my side. He sing-songs brightly, "Watch your step, watch your step!"

"I'm watching," I promise, even though I wasn't. My naughty daydreams were distracting me, and we skirt wide around the bright red hole in the sand with the eggs at the bottom. Nothing's hatched yet, and I have to admit, I'm not looking forward to that moment. I am more than ready for the beach to return to a quiet, calm normal.

A quiet, calm normal will give me more opportunities to jump Juth, after all. I smile at the thought as Pak races ahead to pick something up off the beach. Even though he has to wear clothes and shoes, Juth likes hunting in the mountains. He says it's a different sort of challenge than what he's used to, but he likes it. He likes setting traps and seeing if there's anything in them. He likes hunting with a spear and following trails through the snow. Both Liz and Raahosh complimented him on his skills, which made him quietly pleased. He doesn't like to “need” anyone's approval, but when it happens, he likes it.

"Look, Steff! A treasure!" Pak cries, racing up to me.

I drop to my knees, grinning. Everything's a “treasure” that Pak finds. This particular treasure is a broken bone fork, both of the tines snapped off at varying lengths. "Very nice," I tell him, and he preens with pleasure, his little tail moving with excitement. "We'll save that one to show your papa later. He'll be very impressed."

Pak tucks the find reverently into his jingling bag, and I sift through the sands, looking for other utensils that can be washed and used. Everything we make is of bone, though, and it isn't the sturdiest of materials.

"Hey," a voice calls. "Steph, can you help us with this?"

I get to my feet, scanning the beach. Devi waves a short distance away, close to the water. She gestures behind her, at a massive shell-beast that looks as if it's paused on its way into the waters and decided to stop on the shore at the tide's edge. I frown at the sight. Most of the time, the creatures are an impressive sight to see when they go back to the water. They rise up out of the sand like something out of a monster movie, spraying grit everywhere, and surge forward. As they do, the tentacles fling sand back over the hole they've just left to cover the eggs, and then they move in a straight line, heading for the water. Once they sink in, they move quickly, and then they're gone in a flash. The sight's been a regular one for the last week or so, as more and more of the creatures lay their eggs on the warm sands and then depart, but I've never seen one just sit at the water's edge and stay there.