Going Native (Closed for La_Reina)

[swordandsandle]

The wind rarely died on the southern Great Plains. It was a fact that the Cawatcha knew well, and something they greatly appreciated. Wind could hide one's sounds, one's scent, and strengthed the body. While the Cawatcha where not the largest tribe, nor the best equipt, nor the freindliest with these strange pale me called "Americans",they knew the wind, and the plains, and that was enough for them.

Today was hunting day, the young braves of the tribe riding their sleek, strong horses across the sea of grass, searching for their prey. One of these rider, a man of the who's name translates ot Sparrowhawk from the anceint tounges ,was riding to the left side, his scraggly, black hair blowing in the wind his people loved so well. Like the others, he wore a tunic of curred bufflo hide, tanned light brown from the mercyless sun, and his onyx eyes standing out agenst his deep red skin. He leaned forward on his horse, a black stallion he had captured himself, the quiver on his back clanking with the arrows he carried. His sences peeled, he was looking over the horizion, searching for any signs of the heard.

Suddenly, the pack slowed down, horses willying as they stopped. The pack looked as one to the where their leader; a man of thirty years, pointed. Then they saw it; the grey smoke of a fire, on lands where no tribe should be camped. Without speaking, the brothers knew what they must do, and with a simple glance moved on. The Cawatcha where a people of strong bonds, and few words amongest themselves.

The pack of men stopped on a hill, overlooking the site. What they saw was a place that could not be that of the indains, but American. Their where wagons; wooden carts harnessed to oxen, for the me to ride in. Their where tents of unatural colors; pure white or blue or green, and metal implements over their pitfire. The men where pale-skinned, dressed in restricing clothing, perhaps two with a rifle over their shoulders. There where a few night-skinned amongst them, people whom where kept in bondage, mulling about with plates or washing cloths. Most where men, but Sparrowhawk did notice a woman or two. They where all the same, defilling the sacrad land that the Great White Father had promised them. But could they attack? That was yet to be seen...

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne peeked her head from the back of the wagon. She stared at the beautiful land around her and took in a deep breath. She loved the country and hated that her Master, Mr. Hudson was moving her and his possessions out to the west. They were leaving her land and worst her family. Mr. Hudson had bought her from her mother's Master, Mr. Mason, when she was 12. She hadn't liked the way the man had stared at her then and 9 years later the looks hadn't gotten any better and more than once he swore that she was half Mason.

Her skin wasn't as dark as the others. Hers was a lighter tone, a deep sun kissed earth or caramel tone. Her hair was also more easily plaited and because she had so much of it the weight kept it down, though it was thick. Lastly, she knew exactly how her mother looked. Her breasts were full and more than a man's hand full, her waist was slender, and flared out into wide hips and a thick ass. Her legs were slender and muscled from all the work she did. Mr. Hudson didn't have a wife or kids just his horses and a sense of making money. Mr. Hudson put all the work on her and didn't have any inclination of buying anymore help. He thought her one mouth was more than enough to feed. Plus he didn't want her running off and making any more mouths to feed.

Oh how she longed for a husband. Even now her eyes went to the other slaves seeing some of the men give knowing glances to the women. She envied that and wanted it desperately instead of the crude touchings of Mr. Hudson.

"Lynne! Girl get your ass over here!" Lynne jumped hearing her Master's voice and went to him. She quickly knew what he wanted and began putting soup into a bowl and adding a hefty piece of bread. As he ate she slowly cleaned up before getting him 2nds, then 3rds, and 4ths. Once he was full she was allowed to eat and there wasn't any bread left and just a little bit of soup. It was more than usual and she took it with gratitude.

The camp had just gone to sleep. Everyone was in the tents or in the wagons. She was staring off into the mountains, well looking just above them at the stars. She was thinking about being free. About ruling her own world. She glanced left than right trying to see if anyone would see her run. If she did they would come after her and worse might cut off her leg or kill her. She stared back at the mountains, her eyes longing, but her body betraying her. She couldn't risk it. She was too scared.

 

[swordandsandle]

The people of the Cawatcha lived a simple life, like most others did on the plains. Theirs was a village of 400 people, 137 men of fighting age. The tepee and sod huts where gathered in circles around a communal fire pit, and these ciricles former another larger circle, with the tribal meeting ground in the center. Here now was where the leader of the braves was presenting their find to the councial of elders; the thirteen men who had lived until their hair was all gone and skin greyed, hundreds of years of experence between them.

"There can not be more then 40 of them, wise ones," the leader stood with his spear planted in the ground, Sparrowhawk and the others filled behind him. "If we attack when the moon shines, they will not live to see it set. I beg you, allow us this chance to do you honor."

The rest of the tribe, those who could leave their dwellings, mumbled amongest themselves, as Sparrowhawk stood tall, focused, prepared to move when the words where given. He could make out some words; our land, treasure, calvary, and words of fear. Still, it was only the elders who could order an attack, and they where whispering so low that nobody could make out a single sound. The sun beat down on them as they stood their, still, the wind still blowing, for nearly an hour, until one of the elders stood up, his robe sagging, and gave a single, deep nod.

They where to take the warpath today.

Sparrowhawk returned to his tepee, a place bar and lonely without a wife. He was a simple hunter, he had done no great deeds and owned only three horses, and so could win a wife neather with money nor honor. Perhaps he would do so in the future, but for now, he had work to be done.

His spear stood sharpened agenst the wall, next to a slung hide shild depicting the hawk which was his namesake in deccent, and he took both of them with him. The black blood of the roots would be his war-paint, spread in the simple single stripe of an unhonored warrior. It was a simple raid, no need for elaporate decorations. The Cawatcha where also a people of few decorations.
----

Under the veiw of the stars and moon, 100 braves where mounted on the hill, with only a few tourchs among them. Sparrowhawk was set at the side once again, far from an honor but not an insult to be met with blood. He had an arrow in his bow, his knees slowly guiding his horse forward, staring solemly at the place they where about to destroy. For a moment, their was silence, then with a unified whoop, the charge began.

The guerd, a single man who had been dozing under his hat, awake with a fright and fired a shot at random, the bullet flying far from the band. Within half a minute, he was cushioned with three arrows, lying on the ground, dying. Sparrowhawk rode past him with the rest of the band, firing an arrow at one of the other men, peircing the hand that was about to shot his rifle. Everybody in the camp was awake by now, running about or aiming their rifles. The air filled with the screams of the wounded and the dying, the scent of blood and power, the rush of battle. This was paradise.

A shot came from the left, knocking Sparrowhawk's horse from under him. With a cry of pain, the horse tumbled to the side, Sparrowhawk leaping of his back and landing only a foot from where his mount had landed. The fighting had been starting to die down, the pale men fleeing or dead, but he could not rest; there was still somebody here.

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne felt someone behind her. She turned slightly and saw one of the older slave women looking past to where Lynne herself had just been eying. "Don't cha do it girl. That man had his eye on you since we started traveling. He ain't gon let you go." Lynne stared at the woman until she looked down at Lynne. Her smile was sad.

"Lynne! Where ya at girl?" The older woman wandered off as Lynne turned her back on freedom and went to the wagon. Mr. Hudson was drunk. Where he found that whiskey she wouldn't know, but she hated whoever gave him the jug. He grabbed her and pulled her up into the wagon. He slapped her face and demanded to know where she been. Before she could answer he slapped her again and demanded to know which one of them slave boys she was with. Lynne shook her head, but he threw her down on the makeshift bed.

"You like his little black thing in ya girl? Ya like the way he made you feel while he shoved his prick into you, hunh girl? You been making babies!"

Lynne tried to tell him no, but he wasn't listening. He fell on top of her and managed to slide himself into her as she scream. She felt intense pain and managed to grab a handful of his hair and pull back. Her other hand groped until she found the jug and hit him in the head. She stood up, but he grabbed her ankle sending her crashing to the floor.

They both stopped as they heard gunfire and screams. It seemed like only seconds before the screams stopped. Mr. Hudson shook his head before lunging at Lynne again. He knew she was going to take off. She screamed as he caught her before she could move. He had finished gagging her and tying her up. She watched as he went to the back of the wagon, lifted the flap, and left.

 

[swordandsandle]

There was only one way to describe the scene before him, and that was death. There where the colors of death; black and red. There where the scents of death; salt and smoke and sweat. There where even the sounds of death; burning and cheering and screaming and the soft thud of an bowstring releasing its arrow.

Already, some of the braves where picking over the bodies of the dead men or the tents, taking away rifles and rings and even a few barrels of firewater. Still, they where few and far between, one falling to the ground as a hidden rifle shot blew a hole through his leg. Sparrowhawk was not not one of these fools, his bow was held taunt as he searched for any sign of a survivor. All around him, though, the pale faced where etheir dead or dying, the surviving slaves being lead away by the more senior braves. The Cawatcha did not keep slaves themselves, but they did know they had worth to their brothers in American lands, and the tribe could always use more wealth.

Then he saw it, no more then a slight part in the flap of a single wagon, with a kneeling pale man beside it, anger in his eyes, staring. A moment later, Sparrowhawk's hunter's instincts moving his arm, the man was screaming in pain, blood seeping out of his leg. Sparrowhawk took another arrow, nocked it with practiced persion, and ended his suffering, the body slumping to the ground.

Yet, he sound still diden't stop. There was a cry still in that direction; muffled but still there. Quickly scanning his surronding, the fighting dying down, he slowly approched the wagon and parted the flaps, sweping his aim over the interior. What he saw, it seeming, was somewhat humerious and somewhat angering; a dark one tied to the a brace pole, leather rag stuffed into her mouth, struggling angest her bonds with gusto. A ghost of a smile came onto his face, as he unocked his arrow and slung the bow over his shoulder. He approched slowly, carefully undoing the knots that bound her to the brace, and slidding the rag out of her mouth, before tightly grabbing her shoulder and leading her out of the wagon. "You come with me," he said, matter-of-factly, as he took her across the camp,slowly, making sure she did not escape.

 

[La_Reina]

Wide eyes Lynne watched and listened as she heard the pain cries of her Master before gurgling of his death. Was it raiders?! Or Indians?! She couldn't stay here to find out. Didn't they burn all evidence? No one knew she was here? She was going to be burned to death? Lynne wasn't sure if her imagination was getting the best of her she just knew she had to move her ass fast. Struggling she kept screaming in pain, frustration, and anger trying to undo the damn knots. She hadn't even heard the Indian there until he was in front of her.

Lynne stopped moving as her heart thundered in her ears. He bent to her and she knew she was going to be scalped. She struggled and strained, but he only reached behind her and undid her knots. Lynne rubbed her wrists wondering if he was going to kill her now. He spoke and she understood him. He spoke English. Well, that stumped her and before she knew she was being led halfway across the camp.

Than she got her senses. She wasn't going to be a slave to the Indian or killed. This was her chance at freedom. She rammed her elbow backwards into his stomach and took off like a deer into the night. She jumped over the dying fire, her skirt clutched in her hands so it wouldn't catch on fire, her thighs visible to the world, but she didn't care. she was going to be free. She heard laughter behind from the Indians, but didn't look behind her to see if they were giving chance. She was just out of range of the fire light.

FierceBuck looked at Sparrowhawk with amusement. "The girl escapes you," he said in their native tongue before he and the other braves laughed. "Is she too fast for you to catch? She's fast. Maybe I, FierceBuck should get her if Sparrowhawk can not." There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he spoke.

 

[swordandsandle]

She had some fight in her, he would give her that much. The wind escaped his chest for a breif moment when she struck him, leaping just far enough so that he brushed the hem of her skirt when he reached for her. Yet, he reached to far, and lost his balance, rolling forward as he tucked his body in. When he finnaly stood back up, she had already made it past the fire, past the camp, and was running for the plains like one possessed.

Sparrowhawk coughed up the dust as he set himself straght, glaring to the side as Feircebuck spoke. His voice dripped with arrogance, and arrogance that could only come from too many easy victories, too many gift-horses. "She is a dark one, they are known to ignobly savage. I will catch her and take her back to camp myself." Spitting out the saliva, the blood pumping, he darted off, moving with solidity and grace across the plains. She could not outrun him, it was a simple as that.

The wind came in and out from him as he chaced her, gaining slowly but surely as he paced himself for the long walk to camp. It was something he loved, not pushing himself but still moving, the thrill of growing closer to his prey an inch at a time. His breath fogged in the night air, his touge moistening his lips...

Then, he caught up.

He flung one arm around the woman, binding her to his side, and flung her over his shoulder, his muscles bulging to move the unaccusomed wait. She hit his back with a solid thud, his hair pulled down slightly and arrows wiggling in his quiver, but he did not lose the wind like last time. This time, he was ready. "You come with me," he repeated one of his few english phrases, with much more force then before. Now this was more then a simple raid; it was a matter of honor.

 

[La_Reina]

(this is going to be short because I didn't have alot to really go on to move the plot along. sorry)

She was free! She just knew she was free! Her hair flew out behind her the braid coming undone in her fight with Mr. Hudson. She had pulled the skirt up high so it wouldn't tangle in her legs as she pumped them fast trying to get away. She heard a rattle and had just enough sense to slow down and try to change directions. That's when she saw him. Well it wan't him, but the glint of his arrow head. They were chasing her!

Forgetting about the potential death snake she ran straight for the tree line. If she could make it into the forest maybe she could lose him. Her arms pumped at her side. Her skirt was tangling in her legs, but she didn't dare slow down to gather the cloth. She was close so close. She was pulled to a stop and slammed against was felt like a smooth tree. She gasped at the impact losing her own breath for a moment. Than before she could recover she was looking at his bum as he confidently strode into the night seemingly not even out of breath.

Lynne huffed and saw the arrow. She grasped it and managed to pull it out of it's little arrow holster. She didn't know what it was. She raised up high intending to slam the arrow down into his perfect taut butt. She arched her back getting better leverage and was just starting to aim down.

 

[swordandsandle]

It took half a breath for Sparrowhawk's arm to shot back, snatch the arrow out of her hand, and sling it back into the quiver, the bundle running down his arm and stopping at his hand. "No," he spoke in the same stearn, flat voice. Not that he was going to blame her, it was instincutal to try to escape, but it was a simple fact that she could not. She was his prize, his prey, and he would not let his prey get away this time.

They could have been walking for one hour, two hours, three hours; the plains look the same no matter where you go. What mattered was that, in the light of the dawn, the tops of Cawatcha Tepees appered over the horizion. He felt her wiggling agenst his back, one last vain attempt to break his grip, but he could feel her tiring out; the lands of the east made made one weak like that.

"You come with me," he said one more time as a warning before they entered the camp, the woman and children and old men milling about as the braves slowly converged with their loot. There where fine fabrics, horses, gold and silver and iron, and several rifles lined up on a jerking rack. They would have much to trade when the season came, and would come out with more then would know what to do with. Espcically with the slaves; he could count half a dozen strong men and a single woman who appered to be a house slave. She would not sell as much, unless they could find the right buyer; some people prefered slaves who could not fight back, so to speak.

"I have brought her back," he marched up to Feircebuck, who was at the moment hacking the top off a barrel of firewater, his langue feeling good after the strange sound of English. "Seems that I am not so slow after all."

Feircehawk dipped his hand into the barrels, sucking the strange liquid off his fingers. "She is quite a hard one I see. The tribe will get much for her."

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne wasn't sure how he knew what her intentions were, but he was fast and strong. That arrow was out of her hand and put back before she could get a firm grip on it. She went to do it again, but he moved the quiver out of her reach. She squirmed, her legs uselessly hitting in and her fists pounding into his back. He ignored her and she could feel herself getting tired. She wanted to weep. She had her chance at freedom at lost it.

She clutched him tightly as they entered his villiage or whatever they call it. The people were looking at her and she was sure a child or two came up and touched her before running off giggling. It felt like being at one of those slave auctions she was warned about and she didn't like it one bit. She was put down with the other slaves and she was in the embrace of a few woman as that Indian man walked away to join his friend.

"Are ya hurt?" Lynne shook her head no. "Did he ... " Lynne looked up at the speaker her eyes going wide when she realized they thought he had raped her. She shook her head vigorously no.

"I'm not going to be some redskin whore or slave. I didn't have a chance with Mr. Hudson. We will be free tonight." The others looked scared. They were ingrained with the fear of being on their own and were already accepting their new places. Lynne looked sad before that fire returned to her eyes. The slaves were just there. In the middle of a bunch of them, but they weren't locked up, in a pen, tied up or anything. It was comical if it wasn't so sad.

Lynne slowly eased her way into the middle of the other slaves, than further back, and further back. She was hoping no one was paying her much attention and wouldn't notice that she was suddenly not with the others. She kept walking backwards and her back hit something hard. She felt it move and give a little snort. She turned and was face to face with a huge horse! Now that's what she needed.

"Good horsey. Sweet horsey." Lynne rubbed his nose then mane. "We're gonna go for a ride horsey." She patted his sides and the horse seemed to help her by lowering himself slightly. She couldn't get a leg up and even jumping she wasn't as nimble. "Come on horsey. We gotta get away horsey. Them men are gonna sell me to meaner men and I don't want to live in no icky dirty town with leering nasty ole men who wanna put their nasty peckers in me." Lynne was talking to the horse trying after trying after trying to get on.

Finally she managed to half lay on the horse. It shifted it's weight and she started to slide forward, but caught herself. She sat on the horse looking proud. She grabbed the reins and slapped them up and down. Nothing happen. "Come on horsey." Nothing happen. "Go!" Nothing happen. "Please. Go, Move, Git." She tried every phrase she could think of. She dug her heels into it's flank and the horse turned it's head looked her in the eye and seemed to say 'Do that again and I'll throw you off'. "Come on horse. Why won't you move?"

 

[swordandsandle]

The Cawatcha where a people who enjoyed a celebration, if there was such a thing as a people who did not. While the braves cleaned up their horses, mended their arrows, and sortted through the take, the woman and children where already preparing the fires and cutting the meat. The elders and musicians where gathering their insturments, the tribe's best clothing, and cerimonal herbs and paints with which the Great Spirts might be praised for delivering the pale men into their hands. It would be something not soon forgotten, nor soon wasted.

Sparrowhawk was part of this celebration, although a bit mouring at the lose of his horse. He had been a good mount, captured and broken on the plains just north of here. They had been forced to leave the corpse behind, as they did with all corpses. Still, it was not his only horse, and he would be remembered.

Sparrowhawk did his work, carrying loads of tent cloth to their treasure pile after bidding FeirceBuck ado for the testamony to their bravery. He had personally loosed few arrows, and had no horse to clean up, but he would receive honor for taking back a dark one, espcially since he'd had to chace her down. Come to think of it, where was that woman? He glanced at the spot where the other dark ones where milling about, doctile and dumb, and noticed she wasen't there. Then, as one of the taller slaves moved over, he saw the top of her head, moving back from the group. She wasen't too far away yet, but was she so dim as to assume they would not see her? After dropping the flowing cloth into the pile, he began his stealthy approch, gaining a few queer looks from his fellows, making sure to look normal as possably.

Perhaps it was a sign from the Spirts, or maybe he was simply fortunate, but he dark woman backed herself into a horse, leaping in fright as she did so. Everybody was so busy, however, that they did not seem to notice, or they assumed they could not expect better from a ignoble beast. Yet, she seemed to be even less intellgent then he had guessed, and climbed up the horse to try to get it to move. While she focused on trying to remain mounted, obviously untrained in riding the natural way, he came up to her side, feeling the same excitement as when he had chaced her, and snatched her legs up while she shouted in the English tounge, holding her into his chest as he stared her staght in the eye, a glint of announce coming into his voice as he said "No." She was obviously unbroken, and would need to be trained and tammed, but eventually she would be fit for sale, even if they had to cut of her brests to make it so.

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne was so focused on the stupid animal that didn't seem aware of what it was. It was supposed to move. It was supposed to do as commanded and yet it just kept ignoring her and stood there. Why wasn't this stupid horse moving? What was she doing wrong? "Stop being stupid you dumb horse!" She slapped the reins again, but nothing work. She growled at the dumb beast, but it simply stared at her before going back to eating grass.

Suddenly she was pulled from the horse going towards the ground. She yelped, but was surprised when she hit something soft; well a hardened soft surface. She looked up to see that same stupid Indian looking down her. She was surprised he was here and even more surprised that she liked how he felt around her. She felt a tingle going down her spine and she shivered as she realized her body was responding to him. She was shocked and pulled back from the savage. She glared at him as he told her no. "Get off me you savage!" She threw a punch at his chest and she grabbed her hand in surprise. It fucking hurt. She knew he looked rock hard, but to have it proven was something she hadn't expected.

"No! Is that all you can say is 'NO'!" Lynne pulled away from the savage and put her hands on her hips. She stared into his face waiting for some sign of recognition; anger, amusement, something. He just looked at her quizzically. She wasn't sure if he actually understood her. She took a step closer, her head tilted up to stare into his eyes. She was close enough that there was just a small breadth of air between them. She stood as tall as she could. She kept as much anger into her eyes as possible; being brave. "I will be free. You will not sell me to another white bastard. I hate them and I hate you! You fucking savage bastard!"

 

[swordandsandle]

Her fist tickled.

SparrowHawk smiled as she struggled agenst his grip, breaking free only as he started laughing. Certainly, he was not a master of the English langue, but no more then she knew his. "You are a dark air-headed stubborn daughter of an unbroken stallion," he muttered in his own tounge, staring her straght in the face. Sure, he coulden't understand a word she was saying, but she was obviously defing him.

The rest of his people where watching, the whole situation seeming to fade into his reality. This was a test, he was sure of it; a test of his manhood and strength. He would not waver, he would not blink, until he had won.

His hand darted forward of its own accord, twisting her arm and pulling it into his body. The blood rushed, it felt good. Her flesh was stiff, yet, soft, like wet grass. It was a feeling her could get used to. His nails dug in, the slight coolness of blood running across his fingertips. He wanted to talk to her, truely talk, tell her exactly what he wanted to, but that was impossable. All he could do was speak in the universal langue, the langue of beasts and the body. "No trade you today," his choppy English pushed through. "You come with me."

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne waited for something anything and at first it seemed like they were just going to stare at eachother. Than he said something in his language and she was sure he wasn't calling her pretty. "I don't speak jibbity boo. If you can't speak properly don't speak at all." As soon as the words were out of her mouth Lynne felt as if she was smacked. Those were the same words her Mother's Master had said to her uncle when he had first came off the ships. Was she like those racist men?

"I'm sorry," it was too late. His hand came out and grabbed her own twisting it, hurting her. She gasped at the pain long since used to her Master hurting her and knowing if she cried out she'll get even worse. She was pulled towards him and she knew he had broken her skin with his nails. Her eyes watered, but she managed to hold the tears back. "Savage," she managed to yell in his face before he spoke to her as ignorant as a child. She balked and tried to go back to her own group, but he kept pulling her and eventually the pain in her arm and his nails digging into her made her comply. "You're all fuckin monsters." And yet she knew deep down they had saved her from a night she didn't want, but to only replaced it with a fresh horrible one. She had to get free. Her mantra: have to get free.

She had no choice but to follow him and she saw the sad look in the other's eyes. They pitied her and she wanted to laugh. At least if she died she would fuckin die free. Not like those cowards waiting to be bought and sold and bought and sold. Given to the man with the most money who treated her worse than his dogs. At least those animals got fresh meat. Her people got scraps. It was honor and pride that she put renew strength into her struggles and yelled how she would not be sold. That she would be free. That she would choose her own destiny. Pretty words for a harsh reality.

 

[swordandsandle]

The tribe, once enamored by her stupidity, had gone back to their preporations, leaving only a few wounded braves and their attendents watching the little spectical Sparrowhawk was leading. The dark one had struggled, yes, but she had failed, just as she would always fail. Nature had decreed the natural order of things; the stallion mounted the mare, the dog knotted the bitch, the men ruled the woman. There was simply no way around it. While he kept staring solid, unwavering, he felt a twinge of pity when her tears started to well up, and she said something, a word he knew but had never heard.

"Sorry," he repeated, whipping the blood from her arm with his fingers. "I'm, sorry." He was a human, not a beast. She was a human as well, even if she was a dark one, and she had to be treated with at least some respect, even if it was simply as the property of the tribe.

Sparrowhawk took her over to his tepee, keeping her close to his body. "You Catawatcha now. We keep you. No slave." Every moment, he wished he could communicate better. Perhaps he could teach her, or she him. It did not matter; what he wanted was to speak. He used his free hand to grab a rope, expertly tying their two arms together. No matter what he felt, he could not trust her. His duty would be done, and she needed to be managed. "You come," he pulled her along, back into the hustle and bustle. He lead her around the camp, pointing out the fires and tepees and leaders as best he could without langue.

 

[La_Reina]

She looked up at him as he said words no Master had ever said to her. Even when they were wrong, knew they were wrong, and knew she knew they knew they were wrong. She stared up at him as he wiped at her wound. She grimaced, but didn't cry out at the sting. She nodded accepting his apology. Did this mean he wasn't going to kill her? Oh the joy. She just knew he was taking her out back to shoot or scalp or whatever they did here.

Lynne blinked at him wondering what the hell Catawatcha meant. Did that mean slave? Nope his next words said no slave, but what did Catawatcha mean? Free? Lynne stared up at him not believing; too scared to hope. It all came crashing down when he tied her to his wrist. "Catawatcha," she questioned at the rope. It meant slave. She was now the tribe's slave or his slave or some shit. All she knew was she wasn't free.

Lynne followed him around as he pointed at mundane things like the fire, tepees, and people. She yawned as he didn't say anything just pointed and she nodded. She knew that fire was bad, tepee was home, people were savages. Opps, so she couldn't get that out of her mind. They were still walking when she heard giggles. She glanced behind her to see children playing a kind of impromptu game of hide-and-seek with her. Everytime she turned towards them they either hid or if there was nothing to hide behind acted like they weren't looking at her.

Indian man pointed something out to her and she turned murmuring things that sounded like she was paying attention. The kids were getting braver and coming closer. She turned suddenly and they yelped and ran off giggling; all but one who tripped over another and was grabbing his knee sniffling like he was going to cry.

"Oh, no!" Lynne bent down slightly awkward with her wrist tied and held the kid to her. The kid snuggled up before realizing who he was hugging. He grabbed a clump of her hair and sniffed it before trying to pull it from her head. Lynne laughed and let it touch the non-silky strands. It was long like theres, but a different texture. The others soon came up to her touched her hair too. The kids laughing and touching their own before touching hers.

She felt eyes on her and looked up to see a woman glancing at her son. Lynne wasn't sure if the Indians were racist towards her and didn't want her touching their children. She stood up and lifted her chin a little ready for whatever infliction the woman was going to call her or do.

 

[swordandsandle]

The children... he wasen't going to blame them. They where simply doing what all children do when they see something new. Indeed, many of them where hanging around the other slaves, though they where not nearly as excited. He stopped to allow the woman to bend over; it was a woman's perogative to care for children. "Be still," he spoke to the child in his native tounge, although he did not seem to listen.

It was a simple matter of waiting; this was her problem. Indeed, she seemed to be enjoying the attention. So long as she remained bound, what was the harm? He allowed the chilren to approch, he rubbing their heads as they did, smiling at the intresting sight. She wasen't so differnt from them, he noticed; simply in the color of her skin. Everything else was, perfect.

The rest of the tribe, however, diden't see it the same way. Several of the woman dropped their small loads, coming over and pulling their children away before they approched. There was a malice in their eye; a stark panic that woman had whenever their children did something new. They don't know what they're doing he felt himself thinking. However, since he was tied to this woman, he coulden't go over and talk to them, and the explenatives he wanted to use weren't for small children.

"

 

[La_Reina]

The woman spoke in her native tongue which Lynne did not understand. The tone was sharp though and Lynne figured she understood. She was as welcomed here as she was with the whites. She let the woman walk away tugging her son's hand. Lynne didn't look sad or hurt, she looked defiant and rebellious. She waved bye to the little boy and he matched her signal as he was pulled away.

Lynne turned to the Barbian. "What does Catawatcha mean," she said slowly. She knew he couldn't understand a lot of what she said, but maybe he'll get the end with her saying that word in a questioning sound.

She closed her eyes and opened them before patting her chest, "Lynne. Me Lynne." Than she patted his chest. "You ..." She patted his chest one more time trying to get his name before she pointed at the other slaves indicating she just wanted to go home. Home and sleep and forget this fucked up horrible day.

 

[swordandsandle]

Spawn of night, stay away from my son! Sparrowhawk watched with distain as the woman grabbed at her child, a young boy of perhaps four years. His eye twitched involentarly, staring at her with contempt. As the woman waved goodbye to her aquantince, Sparrowhawk marched over, dragging her along a bit before grabbing the woman by the shoulder. She is no spawn of the night, ignornat woman, he spoke plainly, so as not to scare his charge, but with his personal brand of sternity. She is flesh and blood as the rest of us, and my bounty. Any insult to her is an insult to me, understood? A spark of awe entered the woman's eye as she backed away, nodding slowly.

He continued walking through the camp, the soft voice to his side asking him... something. He could only make out a single word; Catawatcha, but it was enough to know what she ment. Now, all he had to do with explain it to her. He turned down to face her, eye's shifting. "Me, us, all of us," he tried to explain it the best he could, waving to the whole camp. "Catawatcha, my people."

Then she did something strange, she pressed her hand into her own breasts. Lynn, she was Lynn. The concept was slowing growing in his mind. "You Lynn..." his voice drifted off as he nodded, her hand coming to his chest, soft and gentle. "I, Sparrowhawk. Sparrowhawk." He repeated his name slowly the second time, deviding the sylables so she could get the whole thing, smiling, watching her eyes droop. "Sleep?" he asked, the word suddenly coming to mind. "Lynn Sleep?"

 

[La_Reina]

Lynn didn't know what was discussed, but she got the gist of it. Indian man was mad and didn't like what Indian woman said. Indian woman got scared or ... what was that emotion and backed off. All was good, except Lynn had no fucking clue what was going on. Maybe it was something along the lines of 'don't make this crazy woman do anything else even more crazy like trying to escape a 3rd time or so help me you'll restrain her.' Yeah that made more sense.

Lynn was still thinking on the Catawatcha thing when she finally got his name. "Sparrowhawk!" She clapped pulling his hand towards her as she did and smiling. She now had a name for him. It was a mountain that she had climbed and very satisfying. Now she could call him if she needed him, but for what she didn't know. It just seemed like a great feat had been accomplished.

"Sleep? Yes." She nodded and expected him to lead her back to the other slaves. Instead they went to a teepee and she looked around. She glanced back out the teepee's version of a door at the others and saw some of them were already sleeping on the ground. They weren't given a room. Was it because she had tried to run off twice? She glanced at him and it slowly dawned on her.

"You are Catawatcha. You're tribe is the Catawatcha tribe. I am Catawatcha? I AM TRIBE?! I'm your tribe's slave?" Lynne's brow furrowed as she thought of herself being passed around from one buck to another. As the women commanded her to do things except she wouldn't have help or the companionship of the others. She would have to do it alone and this was her punishment for trying to gain freedom. She groaned in agony.

 

[swordandsandle]

"Yes," he sounded a bit surprised when she pressed her hands onto his, a tinge of confusion on his face. "Sparrowhawk." This wasen't something other dark ones seemed to do; was she from a different place? It seemed, however, that she would react better if he just went along and smiled; now that he had her name, he would have to treat her more as a human.

He gently lead her back to his tepee, holding the rope tight to make sure she diden't get any ideas; although if she haden't learned by now he diden't know what would teach her. He lifted the skin flap and lead her in; not to the cleanest place in the tribe, but it was his. The smell of horse wafted in from his stable-pole, and he felt a tinge of longing for his old horse. But, he had to look on the bright side; he would be able to get more horses, but a slave woman was hard to get.

He was reorginzing the wepons he had dropped off from the raid, when suddenly Lynn started speaking more. She sounded, distressed, but this time he could actully understand everything she was saying. Taking the rope and letting it drop, he statched up her hand and held it still, looking her straght in the eye as he pushed for the words to explain this. "I Catawatcha, my tribe Catawatcha. Catawatcha no slaves." THis next part sounded crude even in his own head, but he diden't care; all he needed to do was keep her calm. "Sparrowhawk take Lynn. Sparrowhawk keep, trade, give, or free. Keep Lynn, if Lynn want. Plains dangerous, no good trade."

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne couldn't get the horror out of her mind. She had been traded for one existence to another, but the same damn lifestyle. She was to work hard while others told her what to do with no benefit to herself. She was still tied to this man and she wanted to wrap her arms around her body, but was unable to fully. How could she be so close to freedom and yet so far?

She turned at his voice and tried to understand him. "No slaves in Catawatcha. So I am..." She couldn't understand. She understood he took her. She heard the Indians did that. She didn't understand what he meant by keep, trade, give, or free, but she assumed it meant he would do any of the above with her, but he wanted to keep her and lastly thought she wouldn't be a good trade. She was too headstrong. Something she was well aware of as she been told numerous times.

"So I am your wife. As your wife am I free?" Lynne thought of everything not truly paying attention to Sparrowhawk. She could run away and get lost or hurt or recaptured. She could keep fighting and Sparrowhawk will sell her. Or she could live as Sparrowhawk's wife and be the mistress of her own domain. Lynne looked Sparrowhawk with the eye of a woman looking at a man. He was tall, strong, muscular, and fast. He would provide well or she hoped.

"What if we have children? Do you want children? Is there a ritual?" These questions were important, but Lynne was already comfortable with being his wife and being free to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Sure, she'll have responsibilities, but dammit she'll be free. Finally.

 

[swordandsandle]

Sparrowhawk simply stood their as she wrapped her mind around it, or at least seemed to be. Maybe she diden't understand? He'd made his best effort to get across what was going on, but she seemed to be a simple person; did she pick up everything? He felt his hand pull forward slightly, lightly, as she took her hand close, like a bitch licking herself. Obviously, the idea diden't appeal to her.

Then it was his turn to apper confused. "Wi-fe," he broke the word down, furrowing his brow. "Wi-fe." It was English, he knew it, but the word had no meaning to it. "What is wife?" She continued on, but he honestly coulden't give her and answer, pulling her hands apart and pressing into her eyes, trying to pick up any hints; happiness, sadness, fear... there wasen't much. It seemed to be more, confusion.

"Children," that word, no meaning etheir. "No word. Tell me?"

 

[La_Reina]

Lynne kept thinking on and on. Would he desire her? Should she let him? He was her husband now? Shouldn't she feel more exuberant? Happy? So many thoughts, so many emotions; so much everything. It wasn't how she thought it would go, but at least this way she was free. She turned hearing his questions and frowned. He didn't know the words. How does she explain?

"Wife like uh," Lynne went to the tent's version of a door and pulled it back. She looked across looking at the people before she saw something adequate. There was a man and woman sitting together. She didn't know their relation, but she hoped they were married. "Wife. She wife." Lynne pointed to the woman who was now leaning against the man's side with a smile. "Him, Husband." Lynne pointed to the man before pointing to herself and then Sparrowhawk. "Wife, Husband."

She made her arms into a rocking motion like she was holding and rocking a baby. "Children. Child." She pointed to him and her and did the rocking motion again. "Child." She hoped that made sense. She wasn't sure if she could make it any clearer the language barrier was killing her.


Meanwhile...

Mr. Hudson's brother Jed was back in the west coat. He was staring down the end of a barrel and the guy on the other side had an ichy trigger finger. "You owe me $1000 big ones."

"I'm telling you as soon as my brother and his slave gets here you'll get your money. She has an anklet worth more than $1000 I'll give to ya and you can have a piece of her fine ass too." The gun cocked. "I swear. I swear. The anklet's worth at least 5x's that."

The guy narrowed his eyes. "What's a slave doing with $5000 worth of jewelry on her."

"She's dumb. Doesn't know the gold is real and the sparklies are diamonds. She got it from her momma, but we can take it from her. She's a slave."

"Yeah and where does some slave's momma get jewelry like that."

"She won it for being the fairest slave of dem' all. She shore was pretty. Got a nice bracelet which her dumb daughter wears around her ankle, and it's worth a pretty penny. You'll get. I swears."

"And her. I want them both."

"Yeah, yeah. My brother won't mind."