#marakeen

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She greeted. 

“Good morning, Mar.” Redimus approached to rub noses with his mate. “You could have woken me up for your tea, love.” 

“I thought you needed some rest. You’ve been working too hard these past months.” 

“Maybe, but you should be in bed. The healer said…”

“… I shouldn’t push myself too hard.” Marakeen huffed and took a sip of tea. “I’m gravid, not broken, you know.” 

Redimus chuckled. “Come on, you can’t deny that going all the way upstairs back to our bedroom in your estate is a pain.” 

“Not really. Getting caught in and swimming out of an underwater current is far more exhausting.” Marakeen pointed out. 

She winced and quickly placed her upper left hand on her baby bump.

“Are you alright?” Redimus asked. 

“Just a very strong and painful kick.” Marakeen laughed. “You know how the pup gets when he hears your voice.” 

Smiling, Redimus knelt in front of his wife and stroked her belly as their unborn child delivered another kick. “Just a few more weeks till we meet, little one.”

“More than enough time to finish the last touches to the nursery.”

“I can carry you there, love.” 

“Really, Red, I can go up there myself.” 

“Alright, alright.” Redimus got back on his feet. “Any cravings for breakfast today?” 

“Do we still have some of the meat Besteel sent?” 

Redimus chuckled. “I’ll check, love.” 

He peeked into their pantry. Unlike most sea Dorcean homes, it contained proteins and ingredients more commonly found and used by the forest tribes—courtesy of his brother ever since Marakeen’s cravings started. Redimus couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign their baby might have more traits from his side. 

“I’m afraid we’ve run out of waterbear, but we still have rollybugs and some sevenue cake.” 

Marakeen’s eyes lit up at the mention of the sevenue cake. “Sounds nice!” 

Redimus picked a big rollybug and some leftover tkila, heated them over the stove, and brought them to the table. He couldn’t help but chuckle as Marakeen dug into the rollybug’s meat, remembering how she wouldn’t even look at them a year ago. 

“I never knew they were so juicy!” Marakeen said, licking some leftover juice from her lips. 

“They’re even juicier if you steam them.” Redimus took a big bite of his daok. “The Shom’ur and On’du tribes know more ways to cook them.” 

“On’du… Aren’t they the ones that hunt the venomous flying creature from the desert?”

“Yes. The silensting. Its distilled venom is one of the major ingredients in skelemend.” 

He noticed Marakeen shuddering. “No wonder it tastes so awful.” 

After breakfast, they went to the nursery on the second floor, right beneath their bedroom. So far, the walls had been adorned with paintings—a few were still in the sketch phase, yet to be covered in paint. Different toys, presents from Marakeen’s parents, Redimus’ old crew, Besteel, Rovender, and even Eva, decorated the many shelves on the wall. And right in the middle was an egg-shaped, wooden bassinet carved from makabe wood—the same used for Dorcean sailboats. 

Redimus had always been a perfectionist for art, just like Mother. They’d both liked to capture the beauty of detail in their drawings, much unlike Besteel and Father’s more rough, practical, quick sketches. He was pouring his two hearts into the wall paintings. He wanted his son or daughter to dream with the stories on the walls, the mammusk migrations, the coral reefs full of life, both his and Marakeen’s peoples. 

As he worked on the walls, he’d occasionally glance back at Marakeen as she worked on the baby’s blankie. Rather than using her shed fur, like forest Dorceans did, she used a thick, white thread made from garrek to knit.

“We should start thinking about the name.” Marakeen pointed out.

“Anything in mind?” Redimus inquired. 

“I do, actually. Do you remember the hu-man myth about shapeshifting sea mammals that turned into women?” 

Redimus chuckled. Marakeen simply loved hu-man myths, especially those that involved the sea. Admittedly, he found most of them interesting, but the one she was referring to was admittedly… bizarre. 

“Come on, Mar, do you really want to name the baby after a myth where the hu-mans practically fornicate with an animal?” 

“You’re sounding like Besteel.” Marakeen huffed. 

Redimus decided not to keep arguing about it. “I admit it sounds better than Sairen.” 

“Dork.” Marakeen eyed the latest painting, depicting a flying creature and a few hunters chasing after it. “That one’s colorful. What is it about?” 

“It’s a story my mother told me about how she and my father met. A wild glidewing flew off with the An’rak chieftain’s tent during the Forest Games. Its recovery became an open challenge; while many went out, only Mother, Father, and Volron made it first to the nest. While Father and Volron were arguing over how to retrieve the tent, Mother snuck past the glidewing and ran off with the tent.” Redimus stiffed back a laugh. “I remember she’d tease Father about it sometimes.”

“It sounds like he did play a part, at least.” Marakeen did giggle. “I think I’ve heard of the Forest Games. They’re an inter-tribal competition, right?”

“That’s right. It’s of the only two times that the Forest tribes come together; there’s music, food, stories, and competitions.” Redimus added some finishing touches to his mother’s figure. “Our parents took Besteel and I when we were cubs, and when we grew up, Besteel would participate.” 

“Let me guess, he won at everything.”