Tonight, he called me good girl, and never before did I realize how much I wanted, no, needed to hear those words coming from him.
But first, let me start at the beginning, and explain why he called me such a beautiful thing.
Today, when we stopped for the day, we did not set up camp as we usually would. Instead, he fed the animals, though he did not give them water, and then he handed me a large fur while keeping one for himself. He ordered us both to strip out of our clothing until we stood naked against the bitter chill of the northern air. I had no idea what he had planned, but I followed him down into the valley until he found a stretch of flat ground that suited whatever purpose he had in mind.
We laid our furs upon the ground, and he had me stand facing the setting sun. Though he calls it something different than the sun, if I understand him correctly, it is a torch, or perhaps a flame carried by some spirit of his people’s beliefs. When that torch is finally laid down, the three moons begin their ascent. So there we stood, shivering so violently that our teeth chattered, while Scar chanted and watched the heavens until all three moons had reached their zenith. Only then were we permitted to crawl beneath our furs and use our own body heat to warm one another.
He explained that the greatest danger upon the tundra was not the predators that prowled the land, but the elements themselves. The cold could kill even the strongest warrior, and no amount of stubbornness or pride would save us if we failed to understand that. This lesson was meant to teach us to work in unison, to learn how to rely upon one another, and to understand that our survival might depend upon how well we moved together rather than against each other.
And yes, oh yes, we shared our body heat in the most wonderful and wicked way imaginable. It was I who initiated it, and it was spectacularly amazing! Though Scar owns me, and holds such power over me, I discovered that I could still feel powerful in my own right. I was the one bringing him pleasure, and there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that I could do so. For once, I was not thinking about what I had lost or what was expected of me. I was simply there with him, wanting him, and delighting in the knowledge that he wanted me, too.
Eventually, we settled beneath the furs, curling into one another as the cold stretched across the tundra around us. It was then, when we were quiet and preparing to sleep, that he spoke those two simple words.
Good girl.
Oh, how I melted.
I cannot explain what happened inside me, not even now as I lie here thinking upon it. The words were so simple, yet coming from him, they touched something deep within me that I had not even known was there. I have faced him with anger, challenged him with my stubbornness, and fought against the changes he has brought into my life. I have spent so much time trying to prove that I could withstand him that I never stopped to consider how much it might mean to hear him tell me I had done well.
But now I know.
I wanted to hear those words again. I wanted to know that I had pleased him, that he was proud of me, that the effort I had made to listen and learn had mattered to him. And the realization came with such force that I could scarcely contain it. It was not simply a matter of wanting his approval to avoid his displeasure. I wanted to earn his praise because it was his to give, and because it mattered to me in a way I could no longer deny.
I want to learn from him. I want to understand what he expects of me, and I want to become a kajira who brings him pleasure and pride. I want to listen when he teaches me, to learn from his experience, and to show him that I am capable of being the woman he believes I can become.
Somewhere along this long journey north, between the daily lessons, the camps we have raised and dismantled, and the hardships we have faced together, I have begun to look at him differently. I have begun to trust him in ways I never thought possible, and to care about his thoughts and feelings as much as I once cared only about my own.
I love him.
Not because I have forgotten the woman I was before him, nor because the fierce spirit within me has suddenly disappeared. I am still Melete. I am still a huntress, still stubborn, and still capable of standing on my own two feet. But I am also his kajira, and for the first time, I find that I want to embrace what that means between us. I want to be pleasing to him. I want to make him proud. I want to hear him call me good girl again, and I want to know that when those words leave his lips, they come from a place of genuine pride in the woman who lies beside him.
Tonight, beneath those furs on the cold northern tundra, I discovered something about myself that I can no longer pretend not to know. I have fallen deeply in love with my Master, and I no longer wish to spend my days fighting against what my heart has already chosen.
Tomorrow I shall find the courage to show him more of what I have discovered tonight, though knowing him, he already knew even before I did the change in me.
For now, I shall hold these precious words close to my heart though, curl a little closer to him, and fall asleep beside the man who has somehow become my home.
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I had long suspected that she, my exotic huntress; being a creature of a much milder climate, would not be receptive to the cold winds which sweep across the polar ice with an unrivaled fury. I planned to expose her to such lessons often here and now upon the sunny and mild fringe of of land where the Tundra meet the Northern Forest. She needed exposure to and experience in dealing with the cold now, well before we reached the ice, and the wind, and the long darkness of the Arctic fields.
Over the next few hands as we journeyed together through the valley which lay wide before us, I would take her out for such lessons among the stones which lay scattered in mounds of upheaval thrust skyward. Some nights we passed huddled together as I pressed her into a narrow crevice of stone and sheltered her with my body as we wrapped ourselves within the furs, and folded each other within our limbs. On long hunts, and in bad conditions, supplies can run short. Warmth must be cherished.
When I first bathed her with my own hands in the falling snow as daylight broke over the horizon, I knew she would never again take soft warm rain for granted. We stood nude before one another in the pale light of a damp gray dawn as a light snow of large flakes had fallen upon us to cling to our skin and melt away. In this manner we bathed each other, using the gift of water from the sky given to us by those Spirits which watched over the needs of the Tundra. Flowing water here, can be scarce.
I had closely studied Melete long before I had collared her. I had watched unknown from the shadows as she had hunted, and and killed, skinned and butchered, preserved and used things. She was smart and alert to opportunities, she was efficient and conservative; she wasted little time and even fewer resources. This is much of why I chose to claim her, she is many things, but frivolous is not among them. This characteristic of her mindset I do not oppose, she is not wasteful.