That was where her mind always balked. She still couldn’t take care of a baby. Her milk had dried up, so she couldn’t nurse, and without a man to bring her occasional meat she couldn’t have supported a baby anyway. So her child was lost, regardless. Yet still she longed for her! Maybe at some point she would see a baby with a scarlike mark between her toes, and know it had been hers.
They strode rapidly, staying mostly on the level paths and in open regions where possible, making no effort to conceal their presence. Of course this warned away game, but that was the point: They were not hunting or foraging for more than they needed to sustain them on the way; they were traveling. The folk of other bands would recognize that, and leave them alone. Since there were few reasons to travel, others would understand their purpose. When they entered the territory of a band in need of mates, contact would be made.
By the end of the day they were near the edge of their familiar range. They foraged for berries and grubs, then made a camp amidst a thicket where no large animal could approach without making a commotion, and slept. It wasn’t easy, sleeping in the field, but there was little choice when traveling. Certainly Sam would protect her, if anything came in the night.
In the morning they grubbed for edible roots, drank water from a stream, and resumed travel. Now they were heading into strange territory. Flo hoped that there would be a band here looking for mates.
And in the afternoon contact was made. They approached a fording place in a river, guided by the path, and there was an old woman. She stood directly in their way, and that was signal enough: female meant she was no threat to anyone, and old meant she was not looking for a mate herself.
They came to a halt before her. “What?” the woman asked. It was the general purpose query about their business here.
Sam stared at her, until Flo nudged him. Then he remembered. He tapped his chest. “Sam need woman.” He lifted one arm and flexed a muscle, showing his capacity to support a mate.
Then it was Flo’s turn. She brushed back the longer fur of her head. “Flo need man.” She stood up straight and inhaled, showing her capacity to interest a mate. Then she added. “Man go Flo band.”
The old woman looked sharply at her. “Flo go man band.”
“Man go Flo band,” Flo repeated firmly. “Small band, good hunting.” Or at least it would be good hunting, if they had the men for it, so they could be first instead of last after the prey.
The woman peered more closely at her, especially her full breasts and broad hips. Then she shrugged. She turned and walked up the slope, taking a path that surely led to the band camp. They followed at a respectful distance. Due deference was by far the best course, in foreign territory; men would be watching.
The camp was much like their own, with several caves above, and a glade cleared of brush below. The band members had turned out to see them. It was much larger than their own; there were eight grown men, nine grown women, several old folk, and too many children of all ages to count. All of them stared curiously at the visitors.
The band leader stepped forward. “Joe,” he said. He gestured to another more slender man who stood beside and a bit behind him. “Bil.”
“Sam,” Sam said. He indicated Flo. “Flo. Siblings.”
“Siblings,” Joe repeated, understanding. That meant that they were not mated to each other. Their business here was now obvious. “Where?”
Sam pointed to the west. “Days.” That meant they had traveled more than a day from that direction.
Joe nodded. He glanced at the old woman, and he and Bil rejoined the other men. The formalities of peaceful introduction had been accomplished.
The old woman described their business. “Sam need woman.” She glanced at him, and Sam flexed his muscle again. There was definite interest by several of the elder girls. “Flo need man.” Flo inhaled again, and spread her legs somewhat apart, and there was interest by all of the men, though that was deceptive because those already mated weren’t eligible. “Man go Flo band.”
The atmosphere changed. It was clear that the men had a good band here, and no man wished to leave it and be a stranger in a foreign band. “Man go no,” Bil said.
“Flo band,” Flo said. She had made her decision and intended to stick to it, though it cost her a mate.
But there was a cunning look about the old woman. Sam was oblivious, but Flo could see she was planning something. Not anything hostile, but definitely something. “Wona,” she said.
Bil nodded, evidently understanding the ploy. Bil seemed to be the smart member of this band, like Ned in her own band.
From behind the women came one who had remained in the background. This must be Wona. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman. Her fur was light and fine, her breasts large and firm, and her hips were wide. She moved lithely, showing no weakness of body anywhere. Her face was so sweet that it was almost impossible not to like her at first glance. But Flo made the effort, knowing that there was a catch somewhere.
Wona came to stand before Sam. She smiled at him and inhaled. Sam’s intake of breath was audible across the glade. He was well impressed. His penis was lifting. He had feared he would have to mate an ugly woman, and here was an absolutely lovely one being offered to him.
The old woman waited until she was sure Sam was hooked. Then she spoke again. “Dirk.”
A man hobbled forward, clutching a bamboo staff. He was not using it as a weapon but for support; he was almost too weak to walk without it. The reason was hardly obscure: he had been badly injured. His ribs were bruised on one side, and were probably broken, and there was a large fresh scar on one leg from a wound that made the use of that leg painful, as each wincing step demonstrated. It would be some time before this man was much good at hunting.
Dirk came to stand before Flo. “Dirk go band,” he said, with an apologetic grimace. He knew she would not be interested.
Now the old woman made her point. “Wona Dirk go band.”
Sam shook his head. He was not so dull as not to see that Dirk was no bargain. He did not want to stick Ro or their band with him. “Wona yes, Dirk no.”
The woman shook her head. “Band siblings. Go, go.”
She meant that if Sam wanted Wona, Ro would have to take Dirk—the one man who was willing to join a new band. Because he was no longer welcome in this one, being unable to hunt. He was a liability.
What were they to do? Wona was the embodiment of Sam’s wildest dream. Dirk was a disaster.
Yet Ro herself was not as she was presented, because of the secret of her rape and lost baby. And in time Dirk should recover and be able to hunt again. His rueful look had a certain perverse appeal; hé didn’t like being foisted off on another band like this, but had no choice. He had to do what this band wanted, or be cast out to die. He was not a bad-looking man, apart from the injury. And obviously he would be no threat to Sam’s leadership of the band.
Ro knew she was cursed anyway. She had lost her most precious quality, her innocence, and her most precious thing, her baby. Now she would lose her most precious dream: that of a handsome, strong, excellent provider. Maybe it was better to accept her lot, for the sake of the joy it would bring Sam.
She stepped forward and kissed Dirk on the mouth, embracing him and pressing her breasts against him. She was accepting him. She saw his eyes widen with amazement, and heard a murmur of surprise and pleasure pass through the other members of the band. They had expected her to reject the deal, but were pleased that she had not.
Sam, released by that second consent, leaped at Wona and swept her into his embrace. The woman accepted him, returning his embrace emphatically. She wrapped her legs around him, and they dropped to the ground, immediately mating. This was part of the ritual: by mating, they established their commitment to each other in a way that all understood. Of course it wasn’t normally done in the direct presence of the band, but at least this way it served as entertainment for the children.
Flo had to mate similarly with Dirk. Fo
rtunately she was female, and so could pretend interest, having no member whose lack of stiffness would give her away. She walked with him to his sleeping site, at the edge of a shallow cave, nominally private. She went down on the ground with him, and as his disbelief faded his penis did stiffen. He winced from his injuries as he tried to mount her, so she mounted him, fitting herself to him in the way that her prior bitter experience had made familiar. But there was one essential difference: this time she was not being raped, even if this was not her ideal of a partner. She was in control, and that enabled her to fit his entry so that it did not pain her, and to govern the motions they made together. Actually, she had little to fear from anything as small as the male member, after something as huge as the baby had passed through the channel. That almost made the act pleasant. She liked knowing that she had this power over a man, to make him respond to her, to do it her way. She liked having a man grateful for her participation, as Dirk plainly was, even if she did not get the same joy from the act itself that he did.
The completion was rapid. She felt Dirk spurt inside her, and knew that Sam was doing the same in Wona, there before the band. She lay with Dirk for a while longer, until he shrank out of her; then she disengaged, cleaned up, and helped him to get back to his feet. They returned to the glade, where Sam and Wona were waiting.
“Eat,” Joe said approvingly. The visitors were now welcome here, though soon they would be leaving for their own band.
They had a good meal of tubers and nuts from the band’s store of food, then returned to the caves to sleep. Flo knew that Sam was eager for more of Wona, and she couldn’t blame him. The weight of his feared curse had been lifted.
But it was different with Dirk. She preferred to talk with him, getting adjusted to his accent. She wanted to get to know him, hoping that he had a good personality, now that she was committed. “Dirk hurt how?” she asked.
He smiled ruefully. “Woman.”
Oh. He had fought another man over a woman. Such things happened. Normally mating was by mutual agreement, but sometimes it wasn’t. She questioned Dirk further, and learned that a pretty girl had come to the tribe, couldn’t make up her mind between two men, so agreed to take the better fighter. Dirk had been doubtful about fighting, because the other man was a friend of his, but the other had had no doubts. So Dirk had lost, as much from conscience as from lack of power. The other man had thus proved to be better. Now Dirk did not care to remain in the band and watch the girl become a woman with the other man and bear his babies.
It seemed to Flo that this spoke better for Dirk than he knew. He had been weakened by indecision, not wanting to hurt a friend, despite his interest in the woman. Flo could live with such a weakness. She had felt it when trying to leave her baby to die. Life was easier for those without doubts, but they were not necessarily the nicest people.
Then Dirk added something that thrilled her. “Flo better girl.” He was saying that she was a more attractive woman than the one he had lost.
Flo didn’t want to spoil it, but she was getting to like Dirk; he had a number of ways about him that appealed as they became evident. So she told him the truth. “Flo better no. Man Flo rape. Baby lose.”
He stared at her. Then he shook his head. “Flo better,” he said, dismissing it.
She was so pleased that she moved into him, kissing him and wrapping her legs around him, inviting him to have more sex. He did so, pleased in turn. It was slower yet better than before. Then they slept.
In the morning they set out on the trail for home. Dirk made a good effort, but his leg pained him with every step, and when the exertion made him breathe faster, his ribs pained him too. Flo could see it; he would not be able to keep any good striding pace. So she took action.
“Sam Wona go band,” she suggested. “Dirk Flo slow.” She was inviting the other two to move on at speed, while she and Dirk would proceed at whatever pace they could manage.
Sam hesitated, not wanting to leave her. But Wona encouraged him to do it. She smiled at him. “Sam Wona go.”
Sam melted. He was soft mud in the hands of this beautiful woman. Soon they were on their way, and Flo was alone with Dirk. “Flo good,” he said.
“Flo help,” she said. She put an arm around him and matched her step to his, so that their inner legs moved together. That enabled her to take some of the weight of his injured leg on her own leg, and to steady him so that he did not have to struggle for balance. He was considerably larger than she, but well balanced, so she did not actually take much of his mass. It worked well, and they were able to make much better progress.
But it was not possible to come close to matching the pace of healthy individual striders, and they remained far from the home band as night came. So they paused to forage, finding a log with a number of delicious fat grubs. But there were no suitable caves near, and no dense thicket; they would have to sleep in the open, a prospect Flo didn’t relish. It wasn’t because of the bugs that would come; they could eat those. But there could be predators in the night.
Then Dirk went to a large bramble patch and sat down beside it. His fingers were surprisingly nimble as he took the prickly vines and wove them into a kind of mat. He propped the mat above the ground with several forked sticks, then crawled under it. He had made a shelter! It wouldn’t stop rain, but any large animal that tried to poke into it would get stuck with thorns.
Flo crawled in with him. She gave him sex again, carefully, because too much motion would push them against the thorns. And they talked some more. She told him how she and her band siblings had gotten separated from their original band and had to forage for themselves. That was why they insisted on staying together; they had been through hard times and trusted each other. She told him of the other members: how Ned was smart, and Jes was ugly for a girl but loyal and hard-working, and little Bry was very reliable and little Lin was ashamed because she had an extra finger on one hand, but was otherwise very pretty. And that none of them was ever supposed to tease any other about such things.
Dirk in turn told her about the special things in his band. Then he hesitated. “Dirk Joe band no,” he said.
“Dirk Sam band,” she agreed. He was changing loyalties, because of his mating with her and his agreement to go with her. Band loyalty was important, because lives depended on the cooperation of band members.
“Dirk say bad.”
He had something bad to say? But she knew that he was not a mean person. “Bad?”
“Flo tell no.”
Something private. Secret. She had better hear it. “Flo tell no,” she agreed.
“Wona—” But he didn’t finish. He had conflicting loyalties.
“Wona beautiful,” she said.
“Wona ugly.”
A shiver ran through her. Obviously he wasn’t referring to the woman’s appearance. But he was from Wona’s band; he had to know her well. How was she ugly?
But here the vocabulary failed them. There was something intangible about Wona for which a word did not exist. But it made her ugly.
And Sam was cursed to mate with an ugly woman. Now there was nothing to be done about it. But at least Flo had been warned; she would keep watch, until she learned what it was Dirk knew about the woman.
The thorn shelter served well; no animal bothered them in the night. They slept well, sharing fur in the cool darkness.
In two more days they made it safely to the band camp. The children were glad to see them. It wasn’t that they didn’t appreciate the way that Sam guarded them, but Flo served somewhat as a mother to them, and they liked her nearness. Actually Sam wasn’t in evidence; it seemed that Wona had taken him off somewhere for more delights. The children hadn’t wanted to try to go foraging alone, so were hungry.
Well, Flo would take care of that. The day was late and she was tired, because she had been bearing some of Dirk’s weight as well as her own, but the children had to eat. She took them all out, Dirk included, to the nearest best berry patch, which had many ripe
berries because it hadn’t been picked for two days. This also served to show Dirk this key path, so he would know it hereafter. It would take him time to learn all the local paths, but it would happen, because that was part of the strength of a band. Its people knew its paths, while strangers did not.
They feasted. And while they did, the children began to get to know Dirk, warming to him as Flo had. He was cheerful despite his pains, and the quickness of his hands impressed them. He showed them how he could flip a berry up and catch it in his mouth, and soon Bry and Lin were trying it, with less success but more fun. Flo saw that Dirk liked children: another good sign.
Seasons passed, and Dirk healed. They were fortunate that the time of his weakness was in the berry season, when food was plentiful. By the time that passed, he was much stronger, and he was good with a sharpened staff. He actually threw it at small game, and connected often enough to bring in meat fairly regularly. It was clear why the other band had tolerated his weakness; when well, he was an asset to any band. But since he had wanted to leave, they had supported him by forcing the deal to get him mated out. But none of them had thought he would be accepted by as well formed a woman as Flo, he said. Her appearance there had been fortunate for Joe’s band.
Flo had not wanted to take him, but soon had become satisfied, and now was quite pleased. It was apparent to all the band siblings except Sam that Dirk was the better acquisition than Wona, who was often irritable and tended to shirk her responsibilities to the group. She got away with it because Sam could see no evil in her, and made excuses for her, or did her work himself. Flo did not remark on it, but she was coming to suspect that Joe’s band had wanted to be rid of Wona more than Dirk. How cleverly they had reversed it, demanding that Dirk be taken for the privilege of getting Wona! Certainly that ploy had fooled Sam—and Flo herself.