Intended Ch. 10

"AHHH!" she screamed, incredible pain radiating from her nipples.

He had forced her to tie up her own breasts, wrapping them tightly before doing the same to her nipples. But worst of all was what he had done afterward. Binding her limbs, preventing her escape, he produced two thin slivers of bone, about the length of her thumb. Laughing as she screamed, he forced them through her nipples, tying long, slender thongs on either end, allowing him to pull on her bleeding tips from a standing position. He always seemed to sense whenever the pain began to dull to a throbbing ache, for soon thereafter he would tug the thongs firmly, eliciting fresh wails of torment.

Never had he been quite this cruel. Feeling a powerful peak building in her loins while he whipped her flesh raw, Veba cringed, ashamed by her body's betrayal. She hated him for what he did to her and yet she loved his brutality, the ferocity of his passions. She greatly feared him and yet she craved his attention. Somehow, she knew she was special to him, and although it made no sense at all, it sent a rush surging through her veins, making her feel powerful even as she lay helpless, completely at his mercy. She did not know if he was capable of it, but sometimes she even wondered if, in his own depraved way, he loved her.

"No, stop...please...yes, yes...oh please, oh please..." she begged.

The Spiritwalker grinned, watching her writhing helplessly, moaning and pleading, her red, slippery groin quivering and pulsing under his lash. Lowering himself onto his knees, with a single, punishing thrust he slammed his stiff tool deep into her soaked entrance. Grunting in pleasure, he pounded into her harder and harder, chuckling as she whimpered in protest.

He growled, focused only on his own pleasure. Veba knew at that moment she had become the receptacle, merely a warm, wet hole to be filled and abused. His disregard for her pleasure was degrading, humiliating, and yet she found it incredibly arousing; soon another crest began to build from deep within her boiling sex.

"Uh, uh, no, yes... Uhhh!" she wailed, her bound body convulsing, straining to break free.

The shaman's eyes rolled into the back of his head when at last he peaked, set off by the woman's thundering release, her thudding walls milking his organ. Spasms rocked his body as he spurted his burning liquid into the depths of her bruised orifice.

The Spiritwalker lay on top of her immobile form for a few moments, gasping for breath, his sweat stinging her torn nipples. Then he got up, pausing to twist the slivers impaling them while she screamed afresh. He walked over to the sleeping platform and picked up an unknown object. Turning around, he faced the bound woman lying on the ground, ripples of pain rolling through her with every heartbeat.

Holding his hands behind his back, he knelt at her side. "And now, the best part of all."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Veba asked, eyes darting, lips trembling. She did not like the feeling of this. There was something sinister in his eyes. She had seen this look before, but it was always shrouded, below the surface. For the first time she could see him clearly, open and unrestrained, and she was terrified.

"I told you before that there are rewards for obeying me, and consequences for disobedience. You failed me, my dear, or did you think I had forgotten?"

She began to struggle against her bonds, finding herself unable to move. "Please!" she begged. "Please! I did my best! Please! I will do anything..."

"You have done more than enough, Veba," he responded darkly, unmoved by her pleas, "and your best is clearly not good enough. I, on the other hand, am a man who keeps his promises."

The Spiritwalker drew his hand forward, revealing the knife he held in his fist. Scraping the tip of the gleaming blade back and forth along the soft skin of one of her massive breasts, he stared hungrily at her damaged nipples, admiring his work. "I have never met a female so vain about her assets," he commented, grasping one of the splinters slicing through them with the fingers of his other hand. He stretched the nipple painfully, so far it began to bleed again as the tender skin started to tear. Ignoring Veba's ever more frantic cries for mercy, he cocked his head, capturing her terrified eyes in his. "I wonder what you will do without them?" he inquired with a maniacal smile, lifting the knife.

"AHHH! AHHH! AHHHHHH!"

"Veba! Veba!" Rushing to her side, Letan shook the young woman by the shoulders while she screamed continuously with unseeing eyes.

"By the Spirits!" Atya cried out in a panic, straining to be heard above the ear-splitting screeches. "What is wrong with her?"

"Go get the Spiritwalker!" the Toolmaker shouted. "Hurry!"

As Veba's friend raced into the damp darkness of early morning in search of the old healer, Letan tried again and again to break the shrieking woman free from her nightmare.

"Veba! Wake up!" he begged, voice strangling from fear and worry. "It is all right. You are safe. It is only a dream. Veba, please, wake up..."

Keta sat in her dwelling after an early morning meal, rubbing her throbbing temples.

"The Spiritwalker can give you something for that, you know," Tejed commented, putting down the empty bowl.

"I think she has her hands full at the moment," she answered shortly. "Besides, I believe I am capable of preparing a cup of willow bark tea."

In anticipation of his mate's needs, Mifir handed her a steaming cup of the analgesic beverage he had already prepared.

"Thank you, Mifir," she said gratefully, squeezing his hand.

"Keta, if there is anything I can do to help..." Tejed began.

"Thank you, my friend. You can be certain that I will soon be requesting your assistance." She paused. "In fact, if the remaining search parties do not return shortly, I may ask you to send your men to retrieve them. Now that Sala has been found, I must refocus our efforts on a new goal."

"Locating the Spiritwalker?"

Keta nodded tersely.

Silence fell over the trio, each of them at a loss of what to say. The idea that a spiritual leader could be capable of such cruelty was so beyond their understanding they struggled to accept it, most especially Keta. If he was indeed guilty, she thought, what did it say about her judgment, being blind to his true nature all these years?

The arrival of the old spiritual leader offered the Clan Leader a temporary reprieve from her internal conflict.

"Spiritwalker, please, sit. How is Veba?" she asked.

The tiny woman settled cross-legged on the cushion. "I wish I knew."

"What do you mean?"

"It is difficult to explain. She responds to loud noises, and when I tied up the flap to her dwelling to let in fresh air, she covered her eyes when the sunlight struck her face, so she is able to both see and hear. If you bring it to her lips, she will accept food and drink. Her reaction to touch is unpredictable. What soothes her one moment results in a violent reaction the next."

"Can she communicate?"

"Not as far as I can tell. In some ways she seems aware, but it is almost as if she is not fully awake. For the most part she either curls her body in on itself, whimpering, or sits staring at nothing, rocking back and forth, mumbling incoherently. You can stand right in front of her, talk directly to her, yet her eyes pass right through you as if you are not there."

"Have you encountered such behavior before?"

"When I was a young acolyte training at Red Deer Clan there was small boy who suffered from recurrent nightmares. He would become...lost, unresponsive, trapped within his mind. After a short time he would rouse, speaking of dark things lurking in the shadows, waiting to devour him.

"Nothing we did seemed to help. Out of desperation we considered taking him on the sacred journey, but in the end decided it was simply too dangerous a risk for such a young mind."

"So what happened?" Tejed wanted to know.

The old woman shrugged her shoulders. "About a moon cycle later the nightmares ceased."

"They did not return?" Keta asked.

The spiritual leader shook her head.

"Do you think something similar is happening to Veba?"

"Perhaps. But as I mentioned the child always broke out of his dazes rather quickly; so far the young woman shows no indication of doing the same. It is still early, however, so I am hopeful." The Spiritwalker stood up with a grunt and hobbled toward the entrance. "I have stayed too long. I need to check on Sala, change her dressings."

"You have been caring for my people from the moment you arrived, Spiritwalker. Is there anything I can do to relieve some of the burden?"

"Thank you, Keta, but your people have already been a great help. I have spoken to some of Sala's friends and will be instructing them this morning on the care of her injuries and management of her pain. Others are ensuring that Veba has companions at all times. They are in good hands." She smiled, her eyes exposing her fatigue. "I will attempt to catch up on my sleep later this day."

The Leader of Fox Clan rose to his feet, large and towering as the old woman beside him was short and small. "I think I will come with you, Spiritwalker," Tejed announced, taking her by the arm. "I need to stretch my legs, and would like to pay Sala my respects."

The midday meal eaten, Belak lifted his pack to his shoulder and reluctantly began the long hike back to Wolf Camp. After two difficult days they had seen no signs of either Sala or Jakal.

As the search party scoured the landscape that morning, they vigorously debated whether or not to return to the settlement. The Lead Trader did not wish to give up so soon, but the others believed that news from home might improve their chances of finding the missing members of their Clan. Perhaps by now the couple had even found their way back, they argued. Belak could see in their eyes that not everyone was convinced Sala had disappeared against her will, not after she had run away less than two moon cycles ago.

The day grew long, the heat of the late summer sun driving the men into the shade of the forest whose border they traversed. However, the canopy offered little relief, for there was no wind to cool their perspiring bodies. The woods were eerily quiet, the crunch of dead leaves under their feet and their own heavy breaths the only sounds filling their ears. All manner of creatures, it seemed, had chosen rest, waiting for the merciful cool of twilight.

Dosat, one of the Hunters, walked with Belak at the head of the group. Suddenly he stopped.

"Shhh," he cautioned, gesturing for the others to remain still.

"What is it?" Belak whispered after they had stood in silence for a time.

"I hear something, nearby. Over there." He pointed.

"What of it?" one of the other men asked.

"Have any of you heard anything other than us since we entered this forest?"

"I suppose not. It is too hot for most creatures to move this time of day."

Belak looked at the Hunter. "Do you think we should investigate?"

He nodded. "It is not much out of our way. Just because we are going home does not mean we cannot continue to search."

Following Dosat, they crept stealthily amongst the trees. As they drew closer it became ever more obvious that whoever lie ahead was not as concerned as they with remaining hidden, for soon all of them could hear the heavy footfalls of someone lumbering through the undergrowth.

All at once they saw him. The men looked at each other in incredulous silence. Without saying a word, Dosat signaled to the others to separate, surrounding their target.

Once everyone was in position Belak stepped out of his hiding place. "Stop, Spiritwalker," he warned. "Do not move any further."

As the rest of the search party revealed themselves, the Lead Trader stared in shock at the shaman's grotesquely swollen face, his head wrapped with long lengths of animal skin stained dark with splotches of dried blood. His body was filthy and covered in scratches. What happened to him?

The Spiritwalker sighed with relief. "Thank the Spirits!" he cried, dropping wearily to his knees, tears streaking his dirty face. The men around him stood gaping, stunned at the sight before them. "I was beginning to lose hope of ever being found."

"Where is Sala?" Belak demanded, getting right to the point.

The shaman's forehead wrinkled as if he did not understand the question. "Sala? I do not know."

Grabbing him by the tunic, the young Trader pulled the man to his feet, pressing the tip of his spear under his chin. "Do not test me. I am in no mood for your games. Where is Jakal's mate?"

"Belak!" Dosat exclaimed.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

"I do not know!" the Spiritwalker repeated, body trembling. "By the Spirits, Belak, please believe me! I need your help, not your threats!"

The young man's eyes grew dark. "You need a spear through the..."

"Belak, stop!" Dosat shouted, grabbing his companion's arm. "Killing him will not help us find Sala." He turned to their spiritual leader. "You said you needed our help. Explain quickly, Spiritwalker; I do not know how much longer I can hold him back."

"I...I do not remember how I got out here."

"What do you mean?" the Hunter asked.

"I...I have large gaps in my memory. I remember being at the Camp. I...I think I was planning to go...somewhere. The next thing I remember is waking up at the lake, lying under a patch of thorny bushes. I was injured and in great pain, my face covered in blood. I do not know how I was wounded or why I was there, but I found my pack nearby. The contents were scattered about, the food bag chewed and empty. I can only assume I was attacked by an animal.

"I tried to find my way home but got lost and ended up here. I feel as though I should know the way but I cannot remember how to get there. H-how long I have been gone?"

"You know precisely how long it has been," Belak snorted. He looked at his companions. "We should go to the lake, take him with us."

The men began to argue, their voices growing louder and louder until no one could be heard at all.

"Stop this!" Dosat boomed. When silence fell over the group he continued. "Belak, we are only a short distance from home. Before long the sun will drop from the sky. We will never make it to the lake before dark, and I do not know about the rest of you, but I do not think it wise to travel with the Spiritwalker. If he is telling us the truth, he needs to be treated back at the Camp..."

"He is not telling the truth."

The Hunter raised his voice. "And if he is indeed deceiving us, all the more reason to take him home, where he can be questioned and kept under guard."

"Fine. But I want his arms bound."

The others gasped.

Holding his arms out in front of his body, the shaman reassured the startled men. "It is all right, my friends. I do not wish to inflame passions needlessly."

Belak yanked the man's hands behind his back, tightly tying his wrists together. The Spiritwalker turned his head over his shoulder and addressed him. "I submit myself to your mercy, young Trader. Your anger and mistrust frightens me, not because I fear you will harm me, but because you clearly believe I deserve it. What could I have done to earn such loathing? And why would the Spirits steal my knowledge of it?"

The young man glowered at his captive. "Move," he ordered, pushing him forward with his arm. He could already see the effect the shaman's deception was having on his companions and refused to engage him further, lest he twist his words to his own advantage.

Sweat running down their sticky bodies, the party continued on their journey homeward in silence, too uncomfortable to speak, each man deep in his own thoughts. At last, after a final sweltering burst of heat, the air began to cool as the sun slowly slipped from the sky.

Soon thereafter the Camp came into view, tiny and isolated. Belak leaned forward and whispered softly in the Spiritwalker's ear.

"You may be able to fool the others, but I know this is some kind of trick. If any harm came upon Sala by your hand, I promise that you will suffer in kind."