This is a portion of the text from a novel I am working on. CLICK HERE FOR
Disclaimer: All characters within this text are fictional. SAJV FICTION
Copyright 2002 -Michelle Estelle
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Chapter Five
CONTEST
"Contest!" shouts a tall man from the back.
"Contest!" echoes through the lips of all the men.
"A Leader most be chosen, The Despoiler shall not find us helpless." Tarynx-Haalor speaks wisely to the others.
"Prize?" murmurs the men.
"Axaille", states Haalor. The Swift-Runner's Axaille escaped because of the Darkling, so the prize shall be a large Axaille. The crowd nods in agreement.
"Ashonda", calls Haalor, "Eldest of the Swift-Runner, Choose a symbol to begin the contest. Hurry, we have but a few hours of day left."
The tall woman reappears. her limbs tan and strong, but in her dark eyes, the pooling of tears reveals the love for her lost father. A tear falls trickling and glistening down her youthful breast She lifts the ivory horn to her supple red lips. The men assemble for the contest.
"As it was in the beginning, when the first of our people tasted of the red meat of the Axaille, and found its strength and grace. I call to you, Men of the Hunt, When I release the symbol, the contest shall begin. The symbol I have chosen is my father's wedding cloth, to show that a leader must be tender as well as strong." Ashonda lifts the cloth in her hand, but her eyes flash at Haalor. Acknowledging her wish that he take her father's place. As the cloth falls, the men rush to the forest.
"They run and chase like small children." Haalor thinks to himself and shrugs that they have learned so little. He chooses to skillfully conceal himself and wait for the others to chase the Axaille away in fear. It isn't long before the noise and commotion force one of the graceful creatures to leap from the underbrush.
It is a clear and easy shot for someone as skilled with a spear as Haalor. Normally, he would gut the beast first, but in the Contest, speed is everything. He hoists the creature across his shoulders, and hurries back to the village.
The Elders and women rush to greet him. They are pleased at the hand fate has dealt them. Haalor releases the Axaille to the ground and shouts "Behold! The prize has been attained!"
Ashonda emerges from the crowd and gingerly hands the ivory horn to Haalor. As he grasps it, she bends on one knee and proclaims, "You, Tarynx-Haalor, have been chosen best and wisest of the hunt. From now on, you will be known as Swift-Runner."
The new Swift-Runner blows on the ivory horn, calling the others back. The Contest is over. A leader has been chosen.
The men return weary, but not empty-handed. There are several small bulls, and even a tabor. The Swift-Runner greets the returning party.
"Tonight, we shall feast and drink. We shall sing of the glories of our departed friend. His spirit shall dance within our souls as we begin this new time."
Soon, the bonfires burn brightly, and the village is filled with the smells of roasting meat. The men encircle the large fire. Merrily, the reflections of the flames prance in the eyes of each as they chortle and speak of past hunts.
Ashonda brings a wineskin to Haalor. He stands and raises the skin to the heavens.
"We drink to you, old friend, who has led us so well. May you always feel the bite of the wind and the rush of the kill.. I know someday, we shall meet again."
Haalor raises the skin to his lips and drains it heartily, then tosses it into the fire, so that the smoke may reach the heavens.
Next, the women bring the meat before Haalor to view, judge, and deem the worthiness of the day's hunt. It is once again Ashonda who brings the roast leg of Axaille to Haalor.
"This leg of my prize, impart to me it's speed and grace to use to lead my people", proclaims Haalor. As he consumes it with much furor, he notices the gentle curves of Ashonda, the shadows from the fire embracing her full bare breasts. He feels a strange dizziness, but considers it part of the ceremony of power.
The wine flows freely. One of the men attempts to carry Ashonda off to his hut. She struggles, breaks free, and kicks him, but he has already passed out from the wine and exhaustion. Spittle falls into his face, and the woman carefully scratches his face, not deeply, with her knife.
"There will be no scar, little man, but maybe you will remember that I am not any woman."
She returns to the fire, and notices that Haalor too, is feeling the effects of the evening. On one knee, she bends whispering into his ear, "Come, you shall sleep tonight in my father's bed. What was his is yours." Her long beautiful fingers extend, reaching out to his. She knows now that here is the true prize.
"This is yours now." states the woman, as she opens her arms to gesture around the hut. "Come, sit. The bed is soft, and the furs are warm."
To the Swift-Runner, the room is a blur, spinning from the wine and music. Carefully, he sits on the edge of the bed.
"Now, isn't that better." Whispers Ashonda, as she begins to rub oil into his feet. "Relax. The day is gone, and the night is here." Her hands move gently, systematically, caressing his inner calves and thighs with the warm, sweet oil. The Swift-Runner lets out a soft moan as her hands slip underneath the skin he wears. Working tenderly, she releases the garment, and buries her face sweetly kissing, then licking and tasting. Haalor can take no more. He grabs Ashonda and penetrates her soft willing body.
His dreams are filled with her. For him she is a goddess, dancing naked to the tribal drums, but only for him. He wakes to find himself swollen tightly, within her. The fury comes upon him once more, as he takes the startled sleeping Ashonda.