Dream Drive Ch. 03

"Yes," Makali said. "Everyone is waiting on the princess and her attendant."

Chaki eyed the girl. She was quite possibly the tallest woman in the band, and thin. And pretty. And she didn't care much for Chaki. "I did make you wait," Chaki said. "I'm sorry."

"She isn't sorry," Drana said. "She was kissing Jackson!" The girls gasped and burst into whispers. Makali's mouth dropped open.

Chaki slapped her forehead. "Demons and dead -"

"If you finish that oath," Shaka shouted, "Your rump won't soon forget the caning it receives! Both of you get inside and change before the rest of the band starves to death!"

Chaki and Drana shuffled into the tent. Chaki swatted Drana's arm. "You just couldn't resist!"

Drana covered her mouth and snickered. "Did you see the way Malaki was looking at you? I thought her head would fall off and roll away!"

"I don't pay much attention to that one." For a moment, Chaki hesitated, remembering her...wetness. But the tent was steeped in dark. She'd probably be fine. She pulled her dress over her head and reached for the her feast-dress.

There were only two left. She lifted one, then the other. She frowned. "Drana. Where is my dress?"

"Hmm...that one with the blue feather is mine." Drana took one of the dresses Chaki was holding and started working it on. "That other one...seems small."

Chaki held the dress up. "What is this? Mine has green and red beads on the neck. My family's colors."

"I don't know," Drana said.

"We're waiting!" Shaka called.

"Shaka, I can't find my dress!" Chaki called back.

"Make do with what you have, no one will mind!"

Chaki glanced at her friend, considering asking her to swap dresses, but Drana was built stoutly. Her dress would look even worse. Chaki swallowed her pride and pulled the dress on.

It was tight around the waist and chest, almost making breathing difficult. Her breasts were pushed up, uncomfortably so. The center flap was usually at least below the knees, but hers was at the middle of her thighs!

Drana giggled. "Yeah, it's definitely small."

"Ugh. It's like wearing a child's dress. This is practically indecent."

"It is indecent."

"Coming from you, that means a lot."

"We are late!" Shaka shouted.

They ducked back outside. Chaki prayed that the dim lighting would cover for her. If Shaka noticed the problem, she chose not to mention it. "Good. Now come along. The drums are almost -"

Even as she spoke the words, they could hear a beat begin in the distance. It was a steady, even rhythm, six drummers pounding together in the night as one. The quick, rhythmic tap floated over the camp and struck them in their chests. Shaka slapped her thigh and marched forward.

Malaki was at Chaki's side. Chaki studiously ignored her. Malaki's grin, however, would not be denied. "That dress seems awfully small."

"It is small," Chaki muttered. "My dress has been mis..." She narrowed her eyes. "Misplaced."

Malaki chuckled. "Shame," she whispered. "I suppose Boonta and Jackson both will think you some sort of immodest slut, seeing you prancing around in that thing."

"You did this?"

"Me?" Malaki fluttered her eyelashes. "Why would I do something like that?"

"You tell me."

Malaki leaned in close. "I always disliked you, Chaki," she whispered, "but I did not care to act until you casually rejected the finest man in the band. It's clear you think yourself woven from finer clay than the rest of us. It's time you be knocked from your little pedestal." She leaned back. "I hope you dance well," she said, more loudly. And then she retreated back to her own friends.

"Unbelievable," Chaki muttered.

"I heard some," Drana said to her. "That horse-faced bitch ought to be pincushioned with arrows."

It was times like these that reminded Chaki why Drana was her best friend. When push came to shove, she was loyal. "I'm sure to embarrass myself," Chaki said. "I should avoid the dance altogether. I can protest that I am still recovering. I was whipped, after all."

"I thought you said that Shaka's runes healed it."

"Not everyone knows that."

"Hmm. Clever." Drana nodded. "I'll back your story. Once we're there, make a show of holding your back in pain, and I'll escort you away."

"That should do."

"Um...Chaki?"

Chaki glanced to the side. Little Jula, born no more than 12 winters past, was suddenly at her other flank. She was a bright little girl, and very polite. Chaki had been teaching her to sew, of late, and she smiled warmly at seeing her. "Jula? What is it?"

"I...um, this is...the first dance, I will be in, in public, because Shaka said I should. But..."

"There's nothing to be worried about," Chaki said. "I've seen you practicing. You're ready."

"That's what Shaka said, too."

"And you still don't believe it?"

"It's different in front of people."

Chaki nodded. She could sympathize. "Have faith in yourself. Forget the people and feel the dance."

"Do...you mind if I follow you?" Jula asked.

Chaki stiffened. 'Following' in a public dance was simple; you stood closer to the center of the group, and watched a more experienced girl. It was a way to confirm your own moves without being obvious about it, but it was also seen as a crutch and, generally, quite frowned upon by the women of the tribe.

Just Jula asking for it was a sign of deep trust. Chaki clenched her fists. "I..."

"I'm sorry," Jula said quickly. "I shouldn't have said. Um, forget I said anything. I -"

"It's fine," Chaki said. "Stay close."

Jula's eyes lit up like little torches. "Really?!"

Chaki gestured with her palm. "Shh."

"Oh. Sorry." Jula lowered her voice. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. Just this once, and I mean it. Don't make a show of it."

Jula gave a vicious nod. "I won't!" She raised her chest and pumped her fists with a renewed gusto. Chaki couldn't help but smile.

Drana leaned her head close. "What happened to your whipped back?"

"It experienced a miraculous recovery," Chaki said.

Drana hacked a laugh. "Don't regret it."

And then they were at the ring of the feast.

Three fires were arranged in a triangle. They had been built high, then allowed to burn low. The space between and around them was matted down to dirt. The clearing protected the plains from the heat; the low, constant light allowed one to see clearly, without the wincing brightness of a full flame. The coals cast everything in a deep, orange-red shadow. It was as if the blood of the earth had been drawn up and painted across the world.

At the base of the triangle, a heavy, three-foot drum was surrounded by a ring of ten tightly-packed drummers. They each held one drumstick. They tapped in rhythm at the edge of the drum, creating a quick, high thwak-thwak-thawk that struck the ears hard.

Chaki and the rest of the girls gathered with Shaka near the drummers. There rest of the band was scattered in a larger ring that surrounded the fires. Some milled about quietly in the deeper shadow, seeking friends or family. Others were settling into quiet conversations. Further outside the ring, there was a large series of cooking fires, where soup and wasna were being prepared.

Shaka arranged them into their lines. Chaki held Jula's hand, ensuring that they would be placed together. She could feel the girl's nervous grip play in her fingers. She gave Jula a comforting squeeze.

Chaki looked out into the crowd. She squinted. This close to the fires, it was difficult to see into the darkness. Where was Jackson?

She spotted Yukatan's headdress. Perhaps he was near the elder? She saw Boonta crane his neck to try and catch her eye and quickly turned her gaze away.

The lead drummer called out in guttural tones. "Hoooo...AH! HA! HOouuuAH!"

The drumming halted. The men leaned in over their fat instrument, staring at it like hunters sizing up a bison. The shadow of the fires lined their features. The noise in the crowd settled to silence. Those still looking for spots to sit quickly found them.

Shaka stepped forward with Landri and several of the other older women. They ringed the drummers from below in a half-circle, between them and the girls, facing the majority of the tribe. Shaka tapped her thigh once.

She called out over the empty space in a long, melodic cry. It was centered at the back of her mouth; the sound was harsh, almost a shriek. After her long note, the other women joined her, forming a chorus of female voices. The pale, cold notes wandered into the night above the fire.

They stopped briefly, and when they started again, then drummers sang with them. Their husky chant formed the base of the higher-pitched shouts of the women.

The lead drummer smacked the center of his instrument. A deep boom marked the start of their drumming. They struck the drum between the outside and the inside. It was a deeper note than before, but not as deep as the very center. Chaki could feel it in her own throat, even though her mouth was closed. It was as if the spirits were speaking through the music.

After a few minutes, the women and men finished singing. The drum kept drumming, steady, even, the same pounding note. The line of older women parted, opening toward the center of the fires, past the drummers.

The girls picked up their feet. They raised their knees up high, one, then the other, shuffling forward in high-kicked steps timed to the rhythm of the drum. They moved around the heavy instrument in two lines and spread out in the center of the clearing. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye confirmed that Jula had stayed behind her.

The drumming stopped. The girls planted their feet on the ground and crossed their arms. They stood as statues in the silence. The wind of the plains made the fires glow. The blood-soaked light penetrated everything.

Facing forward, the girls were near the position of honor, close to the elder. Chaki tried to ignore Boonta's eyes. His stare felt like oil on her skin. It was a wrong sort of feeling, here, at the precipice of the dance.

The ten drummers slammed into the very center of the drum as one. The boom rolled over them. The dancers all planted their right foot forward and turned their heads left.

Chaki's eyes widened as her gaze met Jackson's. He was seated with Palla, close enough to Yukatan to still make it an honor. Palla rapidly waved a hand at her. Jackson was not as obvious with his acknowledgement, but there was a gleam in his eye - from the fire, or something else, Chaki didn't know. His face held his small, quiet smile.

The ugly feeling of oil was burned away. She felt a drumbeat in her heart, and the soil between her bare toes. She could feel the spirits in the air. She felt like she could fly.

The drum struck again. Chaki planted her opposite foot and turned right. She paused there, in synchronized with the others. Malaki didn't know it, but Jackson had very little sense of modesty. She felt no shame from his attention, only happiness.

She narrowed her eyes against the darkness.

Jackson. Jackson had toyed with her body, and turned her heart up and about. But now her head was steadied by the drums. Now she would have a little fun of her own, shrunken dress or not.

The drum began to pound in earnest. Three medium hits, and then one large strike, a slow tempo. Chaki turned her hands up above her head and swept them down. They stepped forward, and back together, as a group. She called a note into the air, and jumped. "HA!"

They danced to the drum. It was a steady, halting sort of display. One motion, stop. A second motion, stop. Twist, bend, stop.

Chaki knew the steps like she knew her skin. She altered them, slightly, just enough to give it a personal flare without throwing off the group. Whenever she could, she caught Jackson's gaze. Whenever she had a chance, she twisted toward him, flaunting herself in his direction. Whenever she stopped, she made sure her hips were in his view.

Another motion. She lifted her leg high, grasping it under the thigh and pulling. She stretched until her legs formed a vertical line; the group balanced there for a moment, holding the position. On the next heavy strike of the drum, they came down.

She stared at her target once more. His smile was gone. His mouth had fallen open. She had to work hard to suppress her grin.

The drum changed. Two medium beats, then one heavy strike. A medium tempo. They danced faster. She had less opportunity to take him in.

The drummers sang out three notes. The girls shouted back. The left and right halves of the dancers switched places.

Chaki barely skipped over Malaki's outstretched foot. She steadied herself. It would seem poor form, but it was better than tripping. Damn that cow! Private grievances were one thing, but to try that right out in front of everyone...

She glanced at Jackson, wondering if his mind had wandered. His head had followed her movement to the other side of the fires; he was still watching her intently. She found that she didn't much care about her little misstep.

The drums increased in pace, one small strike, then one heavy blow. Whack-Boom, Whack-Boom, Whack-Boom! It was a constant, fierce beat that would last a minute.

Now it was a dance. Chaki stood up on her toes, leapt, spread her legs, landed on her toes again. Half the group followed her direction; the other half went the other way. They leapt again, exchanging places once more.

And then, a skipping step. Jump on one foot, leap with the other. Hands arced in the air, then turned down at their sides. Turn about, take one step back, then leap forward once more.

She lost herself in the drum. She could feel the heat of a fire as she passed close. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breath came quickly. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She felt as though the ground had dropped away and she was dancing in the sky.

Three quick booms. Chaki stood on one leg, went up on her toes. She brought her other knee up to her chest and clasped her hands above her head. She cried into the night, a long shout in time with the drummers. "Haaaa!"

And then it was done. She settled back to the ground. Her burning calves felt relief. She took in air in great gulps.

Yukatan stood. He walked forward until the fire lit his face clearly. He raised his hands. "Surely the Mother Earth approves of her children! Let the feast begin!"

The crowd shouted its approval. Hundreds of feet stood up to head toward where the food was being served, though most would return to eat near the fires. It was a sacred space for the rest of the night, pleasing to spirits. The drummers would keep playing and singing, one half taking food and resting while the others entertained.

Chaki found herself with a frown. Yukatan's words had been neutral; she had partaken in feasts for guests, a few times, and Yukatan had always named them specifically in order to honor them. But he did not name Jackson.

"Thank you, Chaki!" Jula said. The girl clasped her hands together and bowed. "You were amazing!"

"Thank you, Jula. You were a flower in the plains, tonight. You didn't need me."

Jula glowed under the compliment. But then, a sharp anger took her features. "I was watching, so I saw what happened. Malaki tried to trip you!"

"...she did."

"You should tell Shaka! That was wrong!"

Chaki shook her head. "I will deal with Malaki. Keep this to yourself."

Jula's face said that she disagreed, but she was smart enough to know that she was in no position to argue, having just asked Chaki for a favor. She nodded. "If you say so."

As Chaki straightened, she was reminded of the tightness of her dress. The mood of the dance was scoured from her by the disapproving glances of the older women. She turned and made off through the crowd. She needed to get out of there before the embarrassment drilled a hole through her chest.

"Chaki!" Jula said. "Where are you going?"

"Change of clothes!"

###

Jackson was transfixed.

They were like feathers floating in the air. They were pushed by the wind, driven by the drum. Their coordination was almost perfect; a few of the younger ones seemed to trail by a half-step, but he hardly noticed it.

Chaki was like a goddess. Her outfit was pressed to her curves; her legs moved as if she was a part of the dance. Her eyes seemed to find his every time they slowed for a moment. He drank her in.

Jackson watched her lift her leg up, up. Her dress was far too small for that. Wow. That was...flexible.

He felt an uncomfortable pressure in his leggings and realized he was getting hard. He was aroused just watching her. Her smile landed on him again as her hips undulated in the light. It was almost as if she was messing with him.

But she was more than just a sexual object. If the drums were a fire, she was the smoke. Her hair and the long frills of her dress whipped around as she spun, sending shadows flickering across the ground. It was as if she'd been possessed by one of their spirits.

How could he touch her? How did you hold on to smoke? How did you grasp a spirit?

He had to remind himself of what happened earlier. He replayed the memory of that moment behind Shaka's tent in his head, trying to bolster his faltering sense of certainty. Had that really happened? Had it just been part of his nap, part of his dream?

And then it was over. Before Jackson realized it, Yukatan was speaking, and then the crowd was up, moving toward the food. He jumped to his feet and pushed against the wave of people.

"Jackson," Palla said. "The food's that way!"

"I'm going to find Chaki."

"She'll be back in a bit," Palla called. "Jackson! Hey! Aww, fine!"

Jackson walked around the fires. A few of the dancers were still milling about, but Chaki wasn't there. He put a hand up against the side of his face, shielding from the glare of one of the fire pits.

"Jackson Vedalt?" He turned. There was a tall, slender girl, there - quite pretty. She had a broad smile. "I've heard the color of your skin was very different. You're easy to recognize."

"Um...I guess. Hi."

"I'm sorry. You don't even know me." She gave a low chuckle. "My name is Malaki. It's a pleasure to meet the man that saved Shaka."

"Sure," Jackson said. "Actually, I was -"

Malaki moved up to him and placed a hand on his arm. "Did you see me in the dance? I hope you enjoyed it."

"Yeah," Jackson said. "It was great."

"I'm glad you thought so. Would you like to eat together? I feel very curious about you. I'd like to know you better."

"I'm actually kinda doing something."

Malaki chuckled again. "Hmm? What's more important than the feast, I wonder? Tell me."

Jackson felt something trip inside him. He narrowed his eyes. The touching of his arm, the forwardness. Laughing when he hadn't said anything funny. The fake smile plastered on her face. She was like one of those posers back in the Hub, the Followers that sent him sycophantic messages.

Normally he'd tell her to buzz the fuck off, but he decided to be diplomatic. She might be someone important. Or something. He took a half-step out of her embrace. "I appreciate the offer, Malaki, but I was looking for Chaki. Did you see where she went after the dancing?"

Malaki's smile became strained. "Well, no, I didn't. Aren't you hungry, though? I know I am. Chaki will find us later."

The scent of the food wafted over them as people started returning with bowls and horns of soup. Jackson's stomach gurgled. The dancing had definitely distracted him, but sitting there with Palla before the show, he realized he was starving to death. He hadn't eaten for the better part of a day.

Jackson rubbed his nose as if to mash the smell out of it. "Yeah, but I wanted to talk to her first."

"I'm very good acquaintances with Chaki," Malaki said. "We can meet up after we eat."