Chained By Fear: 2 Read Online Free Page A

which was painted red with a black circle around one eye and a white circle around the other. He also wore a bear-claw necklace, a brightly dyed breechcloth, and moccasins laden with green gemstones.
    When Takoda appeared, it was a signal to begin the communal blessing. In silence, the chief danced slowly within the plaza’s interior, pressing his hand against the right breast of each adult male and the right cheek of each adult female. The children received three quick taps on the tops of their heads. Before touching each villager, the chief spoke his or her name and then gazed toward the heavens, the dwelling place of the Great Spirit. When he came to Magena, he smiled more deeply than he had for any other.
    The blessing ceremony was long but pleasurable. Afterward, the villagers broke their silence with hoots and screams. The wild dancing resumed, and everyone—even the children—consumed large quantities of beer and wine. The intoxicated villagers danced frenetically, stomping their feet and twisting their bodies into impossible postures. Singing, shouting, and chanting grew in intensity until everyone leapt about in a communal hysteria.
    Around midnight, the village shaman entered the plaza, wearing a fearsome mask. His skin was painted black, and his hair was slathered with bear fat streaked with red ocher. He danced and ranted until he became covered with sweat, the bear fat gushing down the back of his neck. He wailed and fell onto the ground, his body squirming. In bizarre response to his antics, a buzzing swarm of flies swept into the plaza and swirled among the villagers. The children covered their faces and rushed about in panic.
    Suddenly the shaman’s body ceased to quiver, and he lay still as a corpse. As if in response, the flies flew into the fires, sizzling and popping like kernels of corn. Gouts of black smoke rose from the flames. When all of the insects were consumed, a dreadful silence ensued. And the shaman had run off.
    For a long time afterward, the villagers were wary, whispering among themselves about the meaning of the portent. But Takoda spoke calming words, and their good spirits returned—as did their hunger. They began to feast. While the Ropakans ate their fill, the two eldest men stood beneath the ceremonial pole and sang a mournful ballad that Magena adored. The somber lyrics described the long history of her people, including the glory of their traditions and the greatness of their ancestors.
    As morning approached, unmarried couples separated from the gathering and went to private places. During these large celebrations there was much love-making. Women went from man to man and men from woman to woman, while the married adults and children remained in the plaza.
    Magena was one of the exceptions. Though unattached, she sat alone at a long table, munching on a roasted ear of corn and drinking black tea. She had eaten a great deal, abating her earlier drunkenness. But her head still swam as she watched the others wander into the darkness. Aponi, one of her younger sisters, had gone off with a stout male warrior admired throughout the village. Aponi was fifteen, old enough to marry, if she so desired.
    Though eighteen, Magena had not yet married. This wasn’t unusual. Many chose not to wed until they were older, preferring to extend the pleasures of sexual promiscuity. But the white princess, as they called her, was not interested. Her heart lay elsewhere, though she could not say where or why.
    The son of the patriarch of the second highest-ranked clan approached Magena. His name was Kuruk, which meant “ bear” in her people’s tongue. Though he was the same age as Magena, he already was the largest man in the village, as tall as she and heavily muscled. Not even Takoda could match his physical strength.
    Kuruk had long desired her, and every time Magena refused him, he grew angrier. When he sat down next to her, she tensed. He was very drunk.
    “My pale flower,” he said with