private areas, and some tribes didn’t even bother with that. He reached
down and felt his own cloth covering his manhood then tried to imagine what it
would feel like to have his entire body confined by animal skins.
What
a waste!
Like the
stories from when he was younger.
The Panther
People.
They had
disrespected the mother, killing the stately creatures for their skins,
abandoning the rest of the carcasses, all so they could adorn themselves in
their shiny, black furs.
Disgusting.
But the
Mother had her revenge on the tribe, the result an abomination, a fiction to
scare respect of the Mother into the children of the tribe.
Or was
it a fiction? These people were clearly wasteful, adorning themselves in
unnecessary skins just like the Panther People.
As he
sat watching these strange people eat around the fire, he wondered what the
Mother thought of their coverings. Would She disapprove? Would She demand punishment?
If She did, he hoped She would spare the woman. Tuk couldn’t tear his eyes off
her, her appearance unlike anything he had ever seen. It was so exotic, he
wasn’t certain it was beauty or novelty that attracted him. TikTik was
beautiful, of that there was no doubt. In her entire tribe she was considered
the most beautiful of them all, and Bruk, her betrothed, the most handsome in
his.
Tuk was
far from the top.
In fact,
if there were a list, he would be at the bottom, he was certain.
His pain
overwhelmed him again and he felt his eyes burn with the memory of Pol. Pol
should be here with him now, sharing in this fascinating experience. These pale
people were so different, he knew the stories he would tell of this encounter
would never be believed. In fact, he was so certain they would never be
believed, he debated whether or not he should even bother mentioning it when he
returned home.
He
couldn’t bear to not be believed. His word was all he had, his looks, strength,
and skill as a hunter not virtues anyone except his mother recognized, and even
she, he knew, was only humoring him.
He
blinked away the tears and glared instead at the man who was clearly the
woman’s mate. As the fire lit her impossibly pale face and her light, reddish
hair, he felt his chest tighten with excitement, his loins stir against their
leather encasement.
A woman
of light!
It was as
if she were the sun itself, the radiance of the Mother trapped inside this
creature, its light escaping every pore, creating the white skin and light hair
so strange to him.
She was
a creation of the Mother, delivered to him in his moment of need, to fill the
void left by the loss of his friend, and to be his companion, at his side, for
life evermore, TikTik forever out of his reach.
But
there was only one problem.
The nine
men between him and her.
Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil
Present Day
Laura sat, rocking side to side, her arms folded, her beloved James
tucked in behind her, his arms wrapped around hers as he matched her to and fro
motion. Fabricio was playing the Portuguese guitar, its teardrop shape and
twelve strings producing a uniquely beautiful sound. He and a few of the crew
sang traditional Brazilian folk songs, the Portuguese lyrics completely foreign
to her, but the beauty and warmth they represented not.
She was
feeling a little warm, the couple of glasses of wine starting to kick in, her
eyes were beginning to droop. Reading was already dropping his chin onto his
chest then waking up instantly from the surprise as he tried to stay awake.
Milton had already gone to bed on the boat, his back sore and not up for
sleeping in a tent tonight.
She
worried about him, wondering if he had taken on too much by coming on this
trip. She hadn’t worried about him at the World Cup. There they were in
civilization. If something happened he could get to a hospital with ease, and
be flown back to the States in a few hours should it be necessary.
But
here, in the middle of the jungle?
If
something were