A Way Out for Oyan and Moonyi

***This is a chapter of a Non-human story which also appears in that category as "Love as the Darker Binding Ch. 11. I put it here as well since it's really more of a lesbian thing between them.

The only non-human aspect is that a powerful demon named Abi makes a brief appearance near the beginning to help one of these two meet the other. He does what he does for his own reasons and of course there's a bit of a bargain to it.

What happens in this chapter is more about a couple of poor girls who find each other because each one of them just knows that she has to do something different if she's going to go on living at all and she's willing to take a chance in a place where your life doesn't offer much chance for improvement.

Oyan was inspired by a photo of a Munsi girl. In her part of the world it gets way past only hot in the dry season. She was standing mostly naked, or what passes for dressed at that time of year. To me, she looked as though she was watching her family's cattle - with an assault rifle.

Mokonyi came to me from a photo of a Surma girl on one of the days when everyone in the village paints themselves in amazing patterns.

These two will play fairly large parts in the rest of the story. This is just how they met. They're also not exclusively into girls, but I liked the characters as they developed in my head and where it went.

I apologize for turning off anonymous feedback. I've just grown tired of having to remove ads placed after my stories as comments.0_o

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Late afternoon/early evening, Southwestern Ethiopia – not far from the border of South Sudan.

She stood looking down the long slope with a bit of a thousand yard stare, her eyes taking in the pasture-lands where she and her husband had kept their cattle. Back then of course, they'd both believed in doing what was right, living one's life the right way, honoring Tumwi and remembering one's departed ancestors, and then with a little luck, one's life would perhaps turn out well.

She sighed.

It hadn't really worked out that way.

Someone had come raiding for cattle in the middle of the night the previous year and her husband had done his best, but by the dawn, Oyan had found herself about seven head of cattle down and one husband short.

Well, a living husband anyway.

Her relations gathered around her and she allowed herself to be distracted only so much. As heartbroken and upset as she'd been, she set things in motion for her husband's funerary rights, but then she beseeched her brother and together, they began to herd her remaining cattle away toward where there was a trader to buy them.

She bargained hard, sold about half of them off, and bought an AK-47, choosing one which was in 'as new' condition and included a web sling and she bought a long knife of the sort that the men of her village would buy. After insisting on it and after being taught how to shoot, clean and care for it, she slung the weapon over her shoulder and walked back, herding the rest of her cattle to her brother's land for at least a time.

That night, the raiders came back, but there were a few changes from the previous night.

Oyan wondered if anyone could really be that desperate or stupid. Did they think that the members of a household which had suffered at their hands would be sleeping the next night?

That they'd come back told Oyan that they weren't from her own village, which was a relief for more than the obvious reasons.

It meant that she wouldn't have to worry about killing them.

She removed her clothing, opting for silence and ease of movement. The ones which she could get close to in the pitch darkness spent the remainder of the night on their faces trying in vain to hold in their slowly spilling guts. They cried out sometimes, and as more of their voices could be heard, Oyan smiled now and then as she hunted for as many as there were.

The ones which could not be gotten close to easily were shot.

The morning light revealed seven dead men from a tribe which had been their traditional enemies for several centuries.

Since then, some people from her own tribe had spoken to her in accusatory tones, saying that her actions could have precipitated a tribal war.

She sent them away and told them not to speak to her until they'd lost enough themselves to be able to see her side of things.

Her mind came back to the present and Oyan looked up to see a large man walking toward her. She'd had dreams of meeting this one.

He looked white in a way that also said that it wasn't all that there was about him. He smiled and set down a flat of twenty-four water bottles.

"I can offer some coffee," she suggested and was relieved if not delighted to see that he understood her. The strange part came when he began to speak to her and she found that she could understand him quite easily.

She indicated that he should sit and she set about making him some of her best and while that was going on, they began to speak together as though they'd already known each other, though they'd never met. They spoke of many things as they waited for the coffee to be ready. Oyan asked many questions and the demon answered them all.

Oyan liked to look at him because he was different and she saw that he was not prideful.

That was a quality that she'd grown very weary of. Her husband hadn't had much of it and what he'd had, he'd told her, was quiet and inside, and it related to his wife and their home and cattle. She'd never understood why the rest of the men couldn't have been that way.

"I am almost at the point where I seek help for my family," he smiled, bowing deeply, "and I seek watchers and guardians, Oyan, fighters too. I sense that you do not wish for a man much anymore. I can offer the work and the place. We would travel to a degree, and if you do want for a man at some time, I think that I know the one or ones to make you smile again – when you are in the mood for it, of course."

Her face broke into a grin then as she nodded. She'd never seen a man who looked like him, skin tone aside. He was made in a way that drew a woman's eye quite naturally. It helped that he stood well over six feet, closer to seven, really.

And though there weren't a lot of African features in that face, it was the sort which was good to see and the way that his face fell to easy laughter helped quite a lot too.

"What do you wish for?"

She held out the steaming metal cup of coffee to him and she nodded when she saw that he had it, "I was at a Surma village last year. It was almost at this time, I know it.

They do things a little differently from us, but that is alright," she smiled, "What is the good of us all being the same?

They go to the river often and wash every day as anyone would, but twice in the span of a year, they paint themselves there; once for the planting and once for the reaping. Their stick-fighting happens for their men at both times also and at this time, the men also fight without sticks to determine who is strongest and can therefore be the chief for the next year."

She smiled and he admired her beauty in that instant, knowing that she didn't do it as much these days as she once had. "From the youngest to the oldest, the people of that tribe gather and it is such a good thing to see," she said.

She looked down and fell silent for a moment. Then she looked up at him.

"I was not able to come very close, but there was one woman there that I saw. By the copper rings on her arms, she is not the poorest one there. She is like me in that she does not stretch her lips or her ears, yet I know that I am sure when I say that she was the most beautiful woman that I ever saw in my life. She has many of the little scars that both of our kinds seek to have in our skin. I do not really carry many, but she does; on both arms from her shoulders down and she carries more on her belly under her lovely breasts.

I want her."

He looked up from the steaming beverage, wanting to be clear, "In what way, Oyan? If I am to help, I need to know."

She nodded, "I understand.

I wish for the chance to win her heart. She is worth it and more to me. I do not know of these things exactly, but I think that in men, the chance to want something with one's own kind is a matter which comes from within one's body. Not in all cases, but I think most. I have also seen that it is almost natural for some men to want both kinds at once if they see beauty there.

I think that in women, this comes from the mind and the heart much more. I only need to get her to look at things more in my way."

She looked down again for a moment and he heard her quiet humility, "I only hope that I have enough beauty left to me for her to like me."

She shrugged as she looked up and across the valley for a moment. "I fell for my man not long after I met him. Even so, I chose as carefully as I could. My man was large – almost as large and strong as you seem to be, but what I feared most happened anyway.

I loved my husband with all that I had, but he was killed. Since then, I do not see most men in the same way as I once did. Often, for people like mine and those like us, I see fools among the younger ones. It makes sense in a way because in some things such as the stick-fighting of the Surma people, it is a way for a young man to be able to meet women if he has proven himself. I just see it differently now from the way that I once did."

"I can see the one that you speak of in my mind," he smiled, "and she is very beautiful – as lovely to my eyes as you, Oyan."

"You can?" she asked, smiling then, "I thank you for your kind words to me also. How can you see her when we sit here in the sunshine together?"

He nodded, "Oyan, I am not all man. There is more to me. Perhaps I should let you see so that you know."

She nodded eagerly and he allowed her to see what he was, hoping that it wouldn't be too much. She saw all of him at that instant – without clothing to get in the way. She found his hooves and his horns to be rather impressive, but she really liked his tail, once she'd seen past the long and thick maleness that he had. Before anyone could see - if there had been someone in a position to observe - he changed back.

"You are very nice to this woman's eyes, Some people have gods who look like you," Oyan smiled as she nodded, "What is her name, the one that I would seek?"

"She is called Mokonyi," Abi said, "She had a man, but lost him to the same cause which took yours from you. Soon, she will stand looking for ones to help her with the planting. She has other things to be unhappy over.

Her man was very strong for such a young one. She saw him first the year before last. That year, he almost won the yearly fighting to lead the tribe and they chose each other, but waited in their marrying for the next year. Last year, he won. She became the new chief's wife.

Now," he shrugged, "she loses her place with his death. The fighting is really a way for unmarried young people to meet and decide. She is about to learn that while she is still young, she is not considered unmarried. It causes her other issues.

As a widowed woman, she is a household in the way that her people look at these things. It entitles her to a small field in which to plant and grow crops. But she is alone and will have to do the work of it by herself. For her, this makes being a widow even harder to bear. She had a larger one last year which came because of her husband. The land is given to women, not men. The working of it was hard. She has not thought that she will no longer need to work that one. It will fall to the wife of the new chief.

All that she sees are things which do not please her, work that she does not have enough hands to do, someone else's cattle to care for and worst of all, no man to hold at night."

"I must be there before then," Oyan said, "and I may need some help in stick-fighting."

He tilted his head at that and asked her why.

Oyan explained, "It is a game among them, a thing for men," she said, "but all of the women go to watch and cheer. I do not wish to have the need of it, but I know that she will be there to watch as well.

I want Mokonyi to see me, so I will fight if I must so that she does."

"I can give you the abilities," he nodded, "You can fight that way now and no one will best you, but you must be able to strike hard like a man and also receive punishment as they do. Do not let them strike your stomach."

He set the cup down, thanking her and she stood before him, looking up and smiling, "Give me the way to win her heart to mine, to win at this sport of theirs if I must so that she sees me, and to show fearlessness when their enemies attack their cattle, and I will work for you – and bring her as well, for I see that she is one that you want for this like me."

Abi smiled, "I will watch to see if you need my help, but Oyan, please hear me.

You are very fine to look at, and I mean for both kinds, not only to the eyes of men. I think that you are right about the way that women are more prone to love others of their kind – if they are presented with the right reasons. I will help if I see that I must, but you should take a little faith and comfort from what I say to you.

I do not think that you will need to fight anyone for her heart. She sees and knows the cage which holds her almost as clearly as you saw your own. If I am not needed, I wish for it to happen that way, but I will help if I must.

If she comes to this by herself through your words and by your touch, it makes a better family for us all, you and her especially."

He held out his hand and she grasped his forearm. When he felt what her heart sent, he smiled wider and held up his other hand and the AK-47 that he held with it.

"A gift for her," he said, "The pouch on the sling holds gold for you Oyan, to give you back what your weapon cost."

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Oyan walked down the long slope to the river. It was late morning and most of the children that she could see were playing or clowning. She could already see the one that she was looking for standing ankle-deep in the shallows out in the middle and from this distance giving the impression of a woman with long blonde hair. It could have been the light and Oyan didn't understand it, but she smiled all the same.

As she walked nearer, she began to attract attention, mostly in the form of young boys because she was not of the tribe here. The composition of the group changed almost continuously of course and by the time that she began to get a little near the river, the majority were hopeful young men.

"Who are you?" one of them asked.

It was the question asked most often, though Oyan hadn't answered to this point since there was nothing to be gained by her reply. Someone else would surely ask the same thing inside of a hundred steps, so ...

She turned once to the most irritating one and asked the obvious question.

"Why are you not working?

At this time of day, young men have tasks to do or they are beaten because they are still too much like boys to think that the work feeds the village."

It shut him up for a little while and then he was back, pacing her stride and almost getting in her way as he asked her again and again.

Finally, she stopped and answered, trying to ignore the scowling glare of the beauty standing there in the river staring at her.

Oyan looked the man right in the eye and said, "Shut your mouth, idiot. You do the same as any young man and try to guide me with your eyes toward the bushes for what you think of as a little loving.

Fucking me is not what I hold in my mind as loving.

I have been there and all that it gives a girl is a swollen belly and more things which must be done and taken care of. To answer your question and I hope to silence you for a little while, I am a Mun woman – Munsi we are to you.

I am a dead man's wife. Men came to steal our cattle. My man stood them off alone and they killed him in the dark."

"You should have married a stronger man," a different man said.

Oyan made no initial reply, though her lightning-quick motions went a long way toward getting their attention. Her assault rifle was off her shoulder and in her arms, cocked and with the safety off as she pointed it at the man's feet.

Her eyes looked cold and shone with a deadly light.

"Can your stupid mouth stop my bullet? My man was stronger than you for certain, ... boy," she said dismissively, "But bullets in the dark do not care, do they? Are you so strong that you can stop this death?

No matter how fast you speak your empty thoughts, you will not even slow down the bullet which comes for you. I heard the same talk from the same brave sort of men where I lived. I will ask you the same thing that I asked them.

Since you are so brave and strong, will you come and watch my herd in the night? If you are still alive and I still have my cattle after a week, I might let you fuck me then."

There was no reply.

She nodded as she stepped forward once more, "There is the true worth of your words.

I did what everyone told me not to do. I sold some of my cattle. I bought this gun.

Now, no one steals from me."

Her words seemed to impress the young men in the wrong way and it pleased her to see it. She glared at the man who had suggested that she needed a stronger husband, "Without a husband anymore, I did what he tried to do for me, what you do not even have the stones to lie to me about."

She jabbed her finger at her own breastbone for emphasis, "I hunted after dark that night!

I found them discussing how to take more from me – who had done them nothing!

I killed and I took my vengeance!"

She looked up and saw that many women were listening to her. Their languages were not that far apart, so she said the next part a little slowly. "And do you know what three things that I learned from it all?"

She held up a finger and pointed to the men around her, "In any tribe, the loudest warriors are most often not the best or the brightest ones. They are only the loudest."

A second finger came up. "A man does not always speak truth – especially if he is drinking, but a rifle does not drink and a rifle never lies."

"Lastly," She held up her weapon with one hand and gestured to it with the other, "There is not one part or thing on this which actually needs a man. From this, I have learned that I am the same as a rifle.

If you hold that in your heart, then killing a man is an easy thing to do, if he has killed yours."

She looked ahead and stepped into the water.

"How deep is it between you and I, Mokonyi?" she asked the woman in the shallows. By now, she was close enough to see the reason for the impression of the long blonde hair earlier.

Mokonyi's face and a little of her chest were painted in enough white streaks to appear to be covered. She wore a bright plastic interconnecting-style necklace. Many women all over this part of Africa wore these things, and hers was a bright mauve color. She also wore about twenty-five long and thin necklaces which suited being worn that way. They were all plastic too.

But in painting herself and her friends, someone had come up with the idea of the white face and brought forth the long strands of saved packing material; long, uniformly thin strips of something akin to fake doeskin in a dull yellow color and hung it from Mokonyi's head as though it was a wig, though it was not much more than the suggestion of one. At the moment, she stood with a sleeping infant on her hip, the child's face painted in white streaks and characters.

Mokonyi's eyes lifted and her glare continued, "It is up to your hip – unless you find the hole in the middle that is over your head. How do you know my name?"

Oyan smiled as she stepped out, "Not hard to learn the name of the beauty who was the chief's wife while he lived. I am Oyan and I have come to meet you."