The sun was setting, night was approaching.
Through the small holes in the cave ceiling, Hawke watched the sky change; first orange, then purple, then a blue so dark it almost looked black. The natural light filtering through the cracks gradually diminished, with shadows lengthening and merging until the cave plunged into twilight that only the extinguished fire could not dispel.
The temperature began to drop suddenly.
It wasn't an intense cold; nothing like winter or frost. But it was enough to feel the difference. Enough to make the skin crawl. Enough for Hawke to unconsciously rub his arms, trying to generate heat through friction.
Tairo sat near the extinguished fire while Grandma tended to the cut on his arm. She chewed something with her gums; leaves, it seemed, green and crushed, forming a paste in her mouth. She chewed slowly, her jaw working sideways, her eyes half-closed in concentration. Then she tilted her head and spat directly onto the wound.
So disgusting.
The green paste oozed down the cut, thick, full of the old woman's saliva. It ran down Tairo's arm, dripping onto the floor. But Tairo didn't even blink. He stood there quietly, without showing any reaction on his face, while Grandma spread the paste with her dirty fingers, pushing it into the wound, which, upon closer inspection, wasn't as deep as she thought it was. Then she covered everything with large leaves, tied with plant fibers around his arm.
"There." Grandma patted him on the shoulder, satisfied. "It'll heal. It won't rot or fall off."
"Thank you, Grandma," Tairo said skeptically; he really doubted whether it wouldn't fall off after coming into contact with her saliva.
Tairo stood up, stretching his arms above his head. The movement stretched his thin muscles and made his joints crack. He walked over to where Duggi and Kuggi were already lying, the two huddled together like dogs seeking warmth. Duggi had his back against Kuggi's chest. Kuggi had one arm over the other's shoulder. They were comfortable, snuggled up, breathing at the slow pace of those who are almost asleep.
Tairo slipped between them without ceremony. He adjusted his body, quickly found a comfortable fit, and relaxed.
Then he noticed someone was missing; he looked at Hawke.
"Hey." His voice echoed in the semi-dark cave. "You'll freeze to death if you stay there alone. Come here."
He nodded, inviting Him.
Hawke looked at the pile of men. The three bodies intertwined, arms and legs touching, faces close. Duggi was already snoring softly. Kuggi was murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep. Tairo awaited the answer; his eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"No. I'm fine here."
"No, you're not." Tairo's voice came out patiently, like someone explaining something obvious to a child. "You'll freeze when night really comes. The cold of the night is worse than the cold of dusk. I've seen with my own eyes men frozen by the night when there wasn't a fire."
"I can handle it."
"You can't take it anymore." Tairo slammed his fist on the ground beside him. "Come on."
"I'M FINE."
The response came out more aggressive than Hawke intended. The echo bounced off the stone walls and back.
Tairo raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. His eyes widened slightly, surprised by the exaggerated reaction to him.
"Okay, okay." The voice came out calm, without resentment. "Your choice. But don't complain later, well, I guess you couldn't complain anyway when your mouth freezes."
He turned to the side, settled more comfortably between Duggi and Kuggi, and closed his eyes.
Hawke stayed where he was. Leaning against the cold stone wall of the cave, as far away as possible from the pile of sleeping men. The rock on his back was icy, transferring the cold directly to his skin, making his tense muscles even more tense.
'Why does this bother me so much?'
It didn't make sense. It was just… body heat. Survival. In a primitive world, without blankets, without heaters, without insulating walls, sleeping huddled together was the difference between waking up and not waking up. It made perfect sense.
But something in him completely rejected the idea.
Masculinity? Is that it?
Where does this come from?
He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember where he had come from, what world, what society. But he knew there was something wrong with the idea of sleeping pressed against other men. Something that didn't fit with… with what?
Social norms?
Taboos?
Shame?
Of which society? Of my world. Whatever it is.
Cavemen clearly didn't have that concern. For them it was as natural as anything else. It was something necessary. There was no shame in touching, leaning against, sharing warmth. It was just… what was done in situations and times like these.
'But I'm not from here.'
Kuggi was snoring softly now, a rhythmic sound that filled the silence. Duggi murmured something in his sleep, loose, meaningless words. Tairo shifted, finding a better position, his injured arm placed over his body so as not to press against the others.
After ceasing the meaningless murmurs he had been uttering, Duggi opened one eye.
"Hey, Grandma." His voice came out thick, pasty with sleep.
Grandma, who was organizing some animal skins in the corner, turned her head.
"What? Speak up, come on, spill it!"
Duggi sat up slightly, propped up on one elbow. His expression was… calculating. Like someone about to ask for something they know might be denied, but would try anyway.
"Now that there are few men…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Can we sleep with the women?"
Yuka, who was helping Grandma spread the skins on the floor, stopped. Her hands froze mid-movement. Her head turned slowly, her large eyes fixed on Duggi with a slight expression of surprise and fear.
Kaira looked too. Not with surprise; with curiosity. Like someone observing an experiment.
Grandma narrowed her eyes.
"But of course not."
"But Grandma!" Duggi gestured, his voice rising. "In the big suns, we were many. Men here, women there. Now, we are few. The cold eats the small groups first."