I'd like to thank my editor, thewordsmith2590. Her unusual preoccupation with Carmen's underpants is a tad unsettling, but she is generous with both her time and talent, for which I will be eternally grateful.
***
The sun had reached its midmorning height, fingers of light stabbing through the canopy of broad green leaves. The small group's progress had been slow and arduous; still, the injured girl and her two companions had covered many miles since dawn. She had been understandably skittish and was grateful that the strangers had maintained what she judged to be a respectful distance during most of the trek. They had stopped at regular intervals along the way, and the men had shared what they gleaned from a seemingly endless variety of exotic fruit trees and berry bushes.
She confessed to a mild fascination with the younger of the two. He looked to be only seventeen or eighteen years old, but the awkwardness of youth had long since left him. He moved with an almost predatory grace that would have been unsettling were it not for his wide and easy grins. He wore his hair much like she did, and it flowed to his shoulder blades like a bolt of black silk. In the center of his chest was carved a stylized sun almost the size of a man's hand. She felt a deep sense of gratitude toward him; two of the arrows in his quiver had put an end to the most harrowing experience of her young life. Without spilling a drop of blood, this man-child had saved her.
His older friend was a somewhat odd-looking fellow. Like his younger friend, he was naked save a single piece of leather and sandals. The leather appeared to be simply tied around the hips, with flaps to the front and back. The bronzed skin of his abdomen hung about him like a shirt two sizes too large, the sort of sagging usually reserved for the elderly or the sick. His dark brown hair seemed to defy both gravity and discipline. She guessed him at twenty-five years or so, but he was already missing four of his front teeth and had developed the habit of thrusting his tongue through the gap at moments of intense concentration. Since he also tended to knit his brow, the combined effect was so comical that it took a supreme effort to contain her mirth.
Just before midday, she felt a twinge of nervous anticipation as she spotted the village looming ahead. She wasn't sure how she felt about impinging upon the hospitality of strangers, and if everyone spoke in the same tongue as the man-child, how could she ask for help in contacting her uncle? How would she even find out where she was?
A low murmur arose as they approached, heads turning to gaze curiously at the new arrival. A toddler darted out of one of the round huts toward them, only to be scooped up by the teen. The little girl shrieked in delight and flung her arms around his neck as he idly tickled her. A middle-aged woman bearing a striking resemblance to the young man strode forward, glancing inquisitively at Carmen before turning towards the teen. He began speaking in low tones, pausing only to answer her questions. Probably his mother, Carmen thought.
The village was larger than it had appeared at first glance. A large, round building with a conical roof seemed to be the center of the community, and was easily twice the size of her uncle's villa. Just south of the large structure, a corral held a couple dozen horses and foals. To the north, a well-tended crop field contained numerous grains and vegetables in varying stages of readiness, and a small creek provided fresh water. She counted at least twenty of the round dwellings, seemingly constructed of wooden frameworks and cemented together with dried grasses and mud.
"Mara."
Startled, Carmen turned toward the feminine voice. Recognizing the boy's mother, she frowned slightly, struggling for comprehension.
"Mara," she said again, patting her ample chest. A slight smile curved her lip as a look of understanding crossed the girl's face.
"Carmen," the girl replied, in a near whisper. In addition to the woman's almost incapacitating beauty, a sense of raw power emanated from her in waves. Her liquid brown eyes showed compassion as they swept briefly over her, narrowing slightly as they noticed the bruised flesh of the girl's hip through the gap of her ruined skirt. She reached forward, clucking softly at Carmen's slight recoil. Ignoring the unintentional protest, she brushed the cloth aside and laid a gentle hand against the purple flesh. Detecting none of the heat of infection, she guided the girl into her hut, pausing only to speak to her son. The young man soon returned with jugs of hot water which he set just inside the dwelling.
The meager furnishings and complete absence of clutter inside the hut hinted at disuse. Four large crates, presumably used for storage, also served as legs for the pallet bed. Bowls of various sizes were neatly stacked under the bed. Herbs hung from the ceiling beams, most still drying, and Mara collected several. Pulling out a large clay bowl, she rubbed the dried herbs between her hands until they resembled a course powder. Retrieving the four jugs of steaming water the boy had collected, Mara emptied them into the bowl before untying the knots restraining the door flap. As she pulled the last knot loose, the rolled leather unfurled, giving the privacy needed for the task at hand.
Mara turned toward Carmen, and her heart wrenched at the apprehensive look on the girl's face. Santos had told her what the pig had done to her, and even with her considerable skill, there were some things she couldn't heal. The girl reddened slightly at the look of pity on the woman's face, her shame warming her cheeks and numbing her heart. Did everyone know? She lowered her lashes, unable to meet the woman's eyes. She forced herself to remain motionless as the woman undressed her, examining every inch of her skin for injuries.
Mara dipped a soft cloth into the scented water, her gentle hands working swiftly to clean away the dust and sweat. Carmen winced as the astringent-smelling water ran in tiny rivulets over the abrasions, stinging her tender flesh. She allowed Mara to lead her to the pallet bed, assuming the woman meant for her to rest. Tired from the day's hike and emotionally exhausted, she lay down and closed her eyes. Seconds later, she bolted upright in a blind panic as Mara's hands tried to gently part her thighs. Eyes wide and nostrils flaring in a desperate effort to draw breath, she scrambled back away from the woman, coming up hard against the wall of the hut. The air whooshed from her lungs, compounding her fear as the woman held her hands out in a placating gesture and tried to soothe her in her alien language. Soothing nonsense, but soothing, nonetheless.
She's not going to hurt you. Relax.
Mara had seen the blood streaking the girl's thighs, and the thought of one so young carrying a bastard forced upon her made her stomach churn. If Santos' description could be trusted, the pig had pleasured himself elsewhere, but she wondered at her eighteen-year-old son's grasp of female anatomy. It was a simple matter for her to kill the man's seed now by applying a salve, but the herbs required to remedy the situation after a woman started to become heavy with child were hard to find and even harder to tolerate. They could make the girl deathly ill. It was a slight chance but one the healer couldn't take.
Still murmuring softly, she slowly eased the girl to her back. Grasping one of the girl's hands in her own for reassurance, she gently parted her thighs with the other. Though Carmen turned her head away, squeezing Mara's hand, she didn't resist this time. The woman placed her free hand on the girl's stomach, trying not to startle her with such intimate contact. Moving her hand over the girl's fleecy mound, she quickly separated her lips before gently probing for signs of violation. Meeting the barrier of the girl's hymen, she deftly withdrew, squeezing the girl's hand. Carmen released a shuddering breath, tears of humiliation still drying on her cheek. She struggled weakly to get up, but was stayed by a restraining hand. Mara covered the girl's naked form with a thin blanket, more to assuage the girl's sense of modesty than for warmth. Standing, she leaned over the girl, brushing her hair from her eyes before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Eased by the maternal gesture, the girl closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.
***
Much had changed since the day she arrived. Although she still made mistakes, Carmen had learned much of their language. She spent her days tending crops and gathering herbs for Mara, who in turn presented her with linen for undergarments. When the day's heat had passed, she sat with the women around the fire in front of the large building listening to the singers and storytellers. In the few short weeks she'd been here, these people had become family to her. Carmen gained a sense of belonging and an understanding of the tribal structure and politics.
It seemed, for the most part, to be matriarchal. All major decisions were made by a tribunal of the three highest-ranking women, Mara among them. While they frequently consulted the leaders of the hunting and trading camps, the real power of the tribe lay with these three women. Like many small communities, they were rarely called upon to do more than settle petty disputes. There were no marriages, but long-term relationships were common, and a fair number of them were between women. The men were free to come and go as they pleased, for the most part, but many stayed for extended periods away from the village at the hunting or trading camps.
The hunters usually occupied themselves with the brewing of grain beer and the telling of stories, but were also charged with keeping cougars at bay and, on occasion, bringing meat to the village. Boys as young as six summers camped here, learning about the making and maintenance of tools and weaponry. By their tenth summer, they hunted small game, honing their hunting and fighting skills in the safe company of their kinsmen.
The trading camps were mobile and wagon-based. In addition to trade goods, each carried enough supplies for the traders and their warrior escorts. The traders brought back more than goods. They were vital in inter-tribe communication and returned with word of births, deaths, illnesses, and crimes.
