Intended Ch. 11

Crack! Crack!

Keta sighed. "Enter," she called. "Ritol. I am glad to see you made it home safely. If you have not already heard, Jakal was able to locate Sala and bring her home."

The young man, his body travel-stained with sweat and dust, nodded, his face sober. "Yes, upon our arrival we were informed of Sala's status. But that is not the reason why I am here. I wanted to inform you that in our travels we encountered another party. They were on their way here and accompanied us back to the Camp."

"Who is it?"

"Me," a low, rich voice replied from behind the flap. The Trader stepped out of the entryway, replaced by a tall, well-built man with long black hair. Scattered streaks of grey at his temples accentuated the tattoos under his bold green eyes.

"Well, Spiritwalker, I am here. Tell me what is so important that you would summon our entire caste with no explanation."

Back held straight and tall, the Spiritwalker strode across the Camp toward the dwelling of the Wolf Clan's Light-Eyed One. Women and men alike gaped as he passed, turning their heads to follow his every step. The corners of his mouth curled upright, barely concealing his mirth. Despite the inconvenience of his colleague's summons, the attention he garnered upon visiting a sister Camp never failed to delight him. He looked forward to making the acquaintance of many during his stay.

Given the status bestowed upon them by birth, for a Light-Eye to seek a position of leadership among their people was hardly unheard of. Even so, becoming a Spiritwalker took years of study and training, and there were only so many positions available at any given time. As a result, a Spiritwalker who was also a Light-Eyed One remained a very rare occurrence.

Due to the distances between settlements, Spiritwalkers, for the most part, worked autonomously. However, they did come together, wholly or in part, on a number of occasions each year for shared discussion and meditation, and to walk the Other World.

Officially, the Spiritwalkers did not have a leader and resolved contentious matters through persuasion and consensus. Nevertheless, the reality that some members held more sway than others had not been lost on the Owl Clan's spiritual leader, and as a Light-Eye he knew he was, perhaps, the most influential member of an already-powerful caste.

Jakal sat behind Sala on the sleeping platform, combing her wet hair after bathing her with herbs and soaproot steeped in hot water. It was not the simplest endeavor, even with use of numerous watertight baskets borrowed from friends. But after his mate complained about her inability to wash her greasy locks at the stream, he decided to surprise her with something he hoped would be even better. Her sighs of delight as he massaged the fragrant, heated mixture into her scalp and through her black hair had made it worth the trouble.

While her damaged leg remained painful, the rest of her aching and tender to the touch, they were beginning to see signs of progress as her body slowly healed from its trauma. The swelling in her face and body had finally gone down. Except for where she had been stabbed in the thigh, her wounds had closed, covered over with fine scabs. Bruises were just beginning to lighten and change color.

She still had a long way to go, but day by day she was getting better.

Sala sighed with contentment. "Have I mentioned you are the most wonderful, thoughtful mate a woman could ever have?"

He grinned and paused to kiss her neck. "Once or twice."

"As soon as I am well enough, I am going to show you just how grateful I am," she promised, leaning into his kiss.

Moving up, he suckled a lobe and lightly dipped the tip of his tongue in her ear. "I look forward to it," he whispered.

Her nipples tightened as a shiver rippled through her body. "Mmm. Oh, Jakal, I want you so much. There has to be some way we can—"

Thwack! Thwack!

"Enter," Jakal called out.

Sunlight streamed in as the flap opened. Both mates started upon sight of their latest visitor.

The Light-Eyed Spiritwalker raised his hands. "Please, remain seated. I wished only to speak with you for a time, to see how you are doing," he explained, directing his comment to Sala.

"I am feeling a little better each day," she replied, trying not to stare.

"I am glad to hear it. I understand you have endured a great deal. I am sorry for your suffering."

Her cheeks grew warm. "Thank you."

"The others tell me your name is Sala. If you will permit me, Sala, I would like to examine you so that I might get a sense of the extent of your injuries."

She nodded.

"You are Jakal, correct? Jakal, it would be easier to examine your mate if she is lying down."

The Light-Eye crawled off the platform and turned to help lower his mate onto her back only to discover the Spiritwalker already doing it. He felt a twinge of...he was not sure what it was.

The shaman removed the furs covering the young woman and sucked in his breath. "By the Spirits." He cradled her cheek. "My dear, there are no words adequate to express the sorrow I feel, seeing you in this condition."

His eyes and hands traveled the length of her naked body, scrutinizing every wound, every bruise. Jakal watched the skin on Sala's chest rise with tiny bumps, her nipples stiffening in response to his touch, and he felt his own chest grow hot. The way the Spiritwalker looked at her, touched her, made him uneasy. He thought he had imagined it, the way the man's green eyes barely left his mate since the moment he entered, but now he was not so sure.

The young Light-Eye blinked and saw the spiritual leader looking at him, speaking his name.

"Jakal, I need to take a look at Sala's leg wound. Will you assist me in rolling her onto her stomach?"

"Can you not simply lift her leg?" he asked, not particularly thrilled with the prospect of the shaman ogling and handling the rest of her body.

"The leg is of primary concern, but not the only one. Your assistance is most appreciated."

Reluctantly he helped lift and turn her over.

After examining her stab wound, the Spiritwalker moved on to the top of her body, starting with her neck and shoulders. His hands were easing their way down Sala's back toward her buttocks when Jakal blurted, "The spiritual leader of Fox Clan did not examine her as closely as you, and she treated Sala's injuries."

The shaman's hands stopped moving but did not leave her back. He turned his head toward the young man. "Given the extent of your mate's injuries, my fellow Light-Eye, I suspect there were few areas of her body that my colleague did not touch." Returning his attention to the young woman, he asked in a soft voice, "When the Spiritwalker did this to you, did he harm you in...other ways as well?"

"No!" Jakal exclaimed before she had a chance to respond.

This time both Sala and the Spiritwalker looked at him in surprise.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I am examining your—"

"You are doing more than that. I am not blind."

Sala gasped.

"What precisely do you think I am doing?" the shaman asked, looking Jakal straight in the eye.

"You are touching and looking at her in an intimate way. You are a spiritual leader and what you are doing is inappropriate and shameful."

The Spiritwalker faced the young man head on. "After the ordeal your mate has been through, it is understandable you would feel apprehensive and mistrustful of those in my caste."

"It is not your caste. I feel no 'apprehension or mistrust' toward the Fox Clan's Spiritwalker, for she has done nothing to earn it."

"She is also an old woman. I am a man, like your Spiritwalker. On top of that, I am a Light-Eyed One. I would imagine that might be unsettling for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"As the only Light-Eye in your Clan, you are accustomed to being treated differently, even though you do not like it. Yes, I know. Your brother is a member of my Clan; Jesin and I have spoken of you on many occasions. There are so few of us I have made it a point to familiarize myself with my fellow Light-Eyed Ones. But even if I had not, in many ways your experience is my experience. We are all used to being treated differently.

"For you, more than most of us, being a Light-Eye makes you uncomfortable. I, on the other hand, experience no such discomfort. I represent many things which cause you conflict. Taken as a whole it is no wonder why you would assume the worst of me."

The Spiritwalker turned around and leaned toward the young woman. "I think it would be best if I leave. Thank you for your patience, Sala." He looked at Jakal again. "I am sorry if my actions have made you uncomfortable. It was not my intent. I hope at some point during my stay you might set aside your mistrust, if only for a time. It is not often I have the opportunity to be in the company of another like me."

Letan sat cross-legged on the floor, inserting the tang of a flint blade into a haft made of deer antler. A row of knives, awls and scrapers stretched out before him.

"Well, Veba," he said with a smile, looking at the woman sitting opposite his line of tools. "I am nearly caught up."

Unresponsive, her blank eyes stared at nothing.

He sighed. "Woman, I wish there was something I could do to help you rejoin this world."

Ever since they got back from the Fish Hunt, Veba's puzzling behavior during and after their coupling at the lake had not strayed far from his mind.

The Toolmaker attempted on several occasions to make it up to her with gifts and invitations to share the evening meal. His intention was not to seduce her -- not that he would turn down an offer -- he simply wished to express his respect for her and hoped she might one day forgive him.

Although the woman had insisted the event did not trouble her, the behavior she displayed upon returning home convinced him otherwise. She avoided him, her muscles tensing upon sight. She began wearing garments which hid her beautiful, voluptuous body, something she never did in the summer. When he approached her she seemed unable to look him in the eye, and without exception she ended their conversations abruptly.

When the Fox Clan's Spiritwalker sent word through the Camp that Veba needed companions to watch her as she lay in an endless sleep, without hesitation Letan volunteered. On one of his visits he arrived to find the old woman examining her, dabbing some sort of liquid all over her bare skin.

Along with the thin marks he had felt in the dark that night at the lake, he saw the sallow remnants of large bruises covering whole areas of her body. The healer then changed the dressings wrapped around her legs, revealing partially-healed scars shaped not unlike a knife's blade branded on the inside of each thigh.

Letan knew the burns had not been there when they shared pleasures; they was too fresh and angry-looking, and he had not felt them when he touched that part of her body. Despite Veba's claim that she craved pain with her pleasure, he doubted anyone could find a wound in such a delicate, sensitive place arousing.

Finding it difficult to believe her extensive injuries were self-inflicted, he wondered with whom she had been sharing her furs, but saw nothing to suggest who her lover or lovers might be. It was not until Sala disappeared and rumors of the Spiritwalker's involvement swept through the Camp that he began putting the pieces together.

"I forgot to tell you Jakal was able to find Sala," he informed the distant woman. "She is very badly hurt but alive and recovering... Many of her injuries remind me of yours. I wish you were able to talk. If...if he hurt you, our people should know, and I am sure it would help both you and her to have someone to talk to.

"Dosat and some of the other men found the Spiritwalker while they were out looking for Sala. He is also injured, not as badly as she is, but his face is pretty swollen; I do not know exactly what happened to either of them. Keta has not yet said what she plans to do with him, but if he is guilty I cannot see how she could allow him to stay here—"

"He is here?" Veba suddenly blurted, her muscles rigid.

Letan jumped, startled to hear her voice. His eyes grew wide with excitement.

"You are awake!" he exclaimed. He leaned forward, reaching out to embrace her. "Thank the Spir—"

She recoiled. "Do not touch me! Stay away from me!"

He flinched, pulling back at once. "I, I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. I would never hurt you," he apologized, crushed.

Veba stood up and began pacing around the room, head in her hands as she pulled her hair.

"Are you all right?" Letan asked cautiously, afraid of provoking another violent outburst.

The young woman jerked at the sound of his gentle voice and stopped pacing. She turned to face him. "I, I am sorry, Letan. You startled me and I...I acted on instinct."

He smiled, relieved. "Do not worry about it. I am very sorry I frightened you. I was just so excited you could see me again, talk to me."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You have not been well for several days. At first you slept without waking, and then you woke but you were not really awake. You did not seem to see or hear people. This is the first time you have spoken to anyone since you became ill."

"W-where is he?"

"The Spiritwalker?" he asked. She nodded. "Keta is keeping him under guard in his dwelling. He cannot harm you or anyone else. Our Leader says our people will gather soon to discuss what happened." He hesitated. "Veba, I saw terrible burns between your legs, and bruises and scars all over your body. Did...did the Spiritwalker do that to you?"

Her hands trembled. The young woman began pacing again, looking around the room.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, noticing she did not answer his question.

"Th-there were some herbs in a leather pouch. I k-kept them in a wooden bowl. Do you...do you know where they are?"

He shook his head, then stopped. "I am not sure why she came, but the Fox Clan's Spiritwalker arrived here not long after you fell ill. She took care of you; perhaps she knows where they are."

"My...legs are causing me pain and I really need those herbs. Would you mind asking her if she has them?"

"Of course; I will go get her now." He leapt to his feet and hurried toward the entrance, scattering the tools in his path. "Wait here. I will be right back."

While he was gone Veba picked up the implements strewn across the floor and placed them into a neat pile. Reaching for the last, she sat down, holding it in her hand.

The Spiritwalker paced around the room.

"You are going to wear a path into your floor coverings," one of the men guarding him finally remarked.

"I feel like a trapped animal," the shaman responded with frustration. "It is bad enough being accused of things I cannot remember, but in many ways this confinement is even worse. Can we not go outside, just for a little while, so I can see the sun, breathe some fresh air?"

"I would like to help you, Spiritwalker, but I am afraid Keta has forbidden it. You are to stay in here until she says otherwise."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Very well. It was worth a try."

Grabbing a cushion, he sat down on the floor opposite his companions. "Can you at least tell me about Sala and Veba? How are they doing?"

The two men exchanged a sidelong glance. "I am sorry, Spiritwalker, but—"

"Do you have any idea what is like to have people look at you with loathing, yet refuse to tell you precisely what you have done?" he burst out. "The only thing I know is that everyone believes I harmed Sala in some way."

A beam of light sliced across the room. They looked up to see the flap covering the entrance lifted as a tall, green-eyed man stepped inside.

The men guarding their spiritual leader sat gaping at him, stunned to see yet another Spiritwalker at their Camp. The Light-Eyed shaman addressed them first. "Greetings, my friends; it is good to see you on this day. I take it you were you unaware of my arrival?"

One of them spoke. "Yes, Spiritwalker. We have been with our spiritual leader since this morning."

"I see. My friends, I must speak with my colleague. Would you mind giving us some privacy?"

"Of course, Spiritwalker. We will be right outside should you need us."

"Thank you."

After they exited the dwelling the Light-Eye turned to his associate. "You look surprised to see me."

"I had no idea you were here. No one tells me anything."

"Are your wounds healing?" he asked, scanning his injured face. "The old woman mentioned they were infected when you arrived."

"Honestly, my face is killing me. I think my cheekbone is fractured. I swear she is trying to make me suffer as much as possible. She took my medicine bag, so I must wait in pain until she decides to bring me another dose. And she is certainly not using the strongest magic available to her."

The green-eyed shaman's lips twitched.

"You find my suffering amusing?"

"Not at all," he answered, sitting down across from his companion. "My apologies. I was merely appreciating the Spirits'...sense of humor in making her your caretaker. But you are right; you should not suffer needlessly. Let me see what I can do."

He tucked his black hair behind his ears as he gathered his thoughts. "The others told you me claim to have lost much of your memory."

"It is not a 'claim'; it is the truth."

"And yet you recognized me—"

"Yes! By the Spirits, how many times do we have to go over this? I remember some things, but not all."

The Spiritwalker peered at his companion. "I suspect, my friend, that you will have to answer that question, and many more like it, on numerous occasions in upcoming days."

"And have they told you what crime I am supposed to have committed?"

"Of course. And I examined Sala myself. I admit I am relying much on the testimony of others, but after examining Sala, and seeing you—"

"What is it exactly that I am supposed to have done to her?"

The younger man looked at him with surprise. "No one has told you?"

"No. How am I to defend myself when I do not even know what I am accused of doing?"

"I cannot answer that. But I am willing to tell you what I know. Sala is covered from head to toe with lacerations and deep bruises. She has a large puncture wound in the back of her thigh. It is clear someone stabbed her, probably with a spear, and beat her severely, worse than I have ever seen before.

"You proclaimed her your Intended, and she defied you, joined with one of my Light-Eyed Brethren instead. That had to have been humiliating. No doubt I would have become upset had it happened to me...although, being a Light-Eye myself, that seems an unlikely scenario."

The other shaman rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, we all know well your legendary reputation amongst the furs."

He smiled. "Can I help it if I am the only one who does not follow that archaic practice of limiting one's partners? I believe the Spirits gave us the gift of pleasure for a reason; sharing that gift with many helps bring me closer to understanding the mysteries of existence."

The Spiritwalker snorted.

He laughed. "I realize I may never convince the rest of you of that, which is fine; it is one issue I do not mind being the sole dissenter. Still, had you been more like me, perhaps you might not have been so susceptible to being consumed by your passions."

"I do not know if I am responsible for Sala's suffering," the Wolf Clan's spiritual leader said, changing the subject, "but it is difficult to comprehend how I could possibly be capable of such acts. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Perhaps I was overcome by a malevolent spirit."