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Saro had been among the Bedoans for only a short time now, but he was enjoying himself so far. He felt like he was learning a lot, not only their language, but in general about their customs and their way of life. It was interesting to see just how differently they lived from every where else he had visited. Every where had its own way of operating, but the Bedoans were just so completely different. He was happy for the chance to learn of their ways, and happy to get away from Greece for awhile and the memories that seemed to plague him where ever he went. Even a random encounter in Colchis that should have had nothing to do with him, ended up involving him. The man that he wished more than anything to forget but could not.
He pushed those thoughts away, snapping back to reality as he looked around. He was waiting now, for Hasani’s wife Tanishe. The two of them were to set out and collect some herbs that she needed for her role as healer. It would be just the two of them, which suited Saro well enough. He felt he knew Tanishe enough to be comfortable around her, and he would gladly do the work she needed and keep her safe should anything happen while they were out.
He didn’t see her yet, and so his mind went wandering again, circling around the events of his short stay in Greece before he had travelled here to learn of the Bedoan people and isolate himself from anything that might remind him once more of the man he loved. Well… almost anything. His hand absent-mindedly reached up to touch the blue, grey and black fabric feather that was tied in his hair, a token that he had carried with him for the past six years. His eyes then fell on the bracelet on his wrist. A beaded bracelet, once that he himself didn’t care much for, except for the fact that it had been his. The first thing Saro had purchased for him, a token of the love shared between them. And Adrestus had left it, ditched at his friend’s house like it meant absolutely nothing to him. It angered Saro to think of it, the fact that the other man had just cut ties with him, left Saro alone and still in love with him, clinging to a love that no longer existed for Adrestus, yet was very real to Saro. And clearly, he held no care, he couldn’t even be bothered to hold on to a bracelet.
He took a deep breath and dropped his hand back to his side. He was supposed to be here in Bedoa to forget about Adrestus, to clear his mind and focus on things other than love lost. And he planned on doing just that. And so he stood there, waiting for Tanishe as he kept his mind from thoughts of the one man he had loved, focusing instead on practicing the words that Tanishe had been teaching him in her language.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Saro had been among the Bedoans for only a short time now, but he was enjoying himself so far. He felt like he was learning a lot, not only their language, but in general about their customs and their way of life. It was interesting to see just how differently they lived from every where else he had visited. Every where had its own way of operating, but the Bedoans were just so completely different. He was happy for the chance to learn of their ways, and happy to get away from Greece for awhile and the memories that seemed to plague him where ever he went. Even a random encounter in Colchis that should have had nothing to do with him, ended up involving him. The man that he wished more than anything to forget but could not.
He pushed those thoughts away, snapping back to reality as he looked around. He was waiting now, for Hasani’s wife Tanishe. The two of them were to set out and collect some herbs that she needed for her role as healer. It would be just the two of them, which suited Saro well enough. He felt he knew Tanishe enough to be comfortable around her, and he would gladly do the work she needed and keep her safe should anything happen while they were out.
He didn’t see her yet, and so his mind went wandering again, circling around the events of his short stay in Greece before he had travelled here to learn of the Bedoan people and isolate himself from anything that might remind him once more of the man he loved. Well… almost anything. His hand absent-mindedly reached up to touch the blue, grey and black fabric feather that was tied in his hair, a token that he had carried with him for the past six years. His eyes then fell on the bracelet on his wrist. A beaded bracelet, once that he himself didn’t care much for, except for the fact that it had been his. The first thing Saro had purchased for him, a token of the love shared between them. And Adrestus had left it, ditched at his friend’s house like it meant absolutely nothing to him. It angered Saro to think of it, the fact that the other man had just cut ties with him, left Saro alone and still in love with him, clinging to a love that no longer existed for Adrestus, yet was very real to Saro. And clearly, he held no care, he couldn’t even be bothered to hold on to a bracelet.
He took a deep breath and dropped his hand back to his side. He was supposed to be here in Bedoa to forget about Adrestus, to clear his mind and focus on things other than love lost. And he planned on doing just that. And so he stood there, waiting for Tanishe as he kept his mind from thoughts of the one man he had loved, focusing instead on practicing the words that Tanishe had been teaching him in her language.
Saro had been among the Bedoans for only a short time now, but he was enjoying himself so far. He felt like he was learning a lot, not only their language, but in general about their customs and their way of life. It was interesting to see just how differently they lived from every where else he had visited. Every where had its own way of operating, but the Bedoans were just so completely different. He was happy for the chance to learn of their ways, and happy to get away from Greece for awhile and the memories that seemed to plague him where ever he went. Even a random encounter in Colchis that should have had nothing to do with him, ended up involving him. The man that he wished more than anything to forget but could not.
He pushed those thoughts away, snapping back to reality as he looked around. He was waiting now, for Hasani’s wife Tanishe. The two of them were to set out and collect some herbs that she needed for her role as healer. It would be just the two of them, which suited Saro well enough. He felt he knew Tanishe enough to be comfortable around her, and he would gladly do the work she needed and keep her safe should anything happen while they were out.
He didn’t see her yet, and so his mind went wandering again, circling around the events of his short stay in Greece before he had travelled here to learn of the Bedoan people and isolate himself from anything that might remind him once more of the man he loved. Well… almost anything. His hand absent-mindedly reached up to touch the blue, grey and black fabric feather that was tied in his hair, a token that he had carried with him for the past six years. His eyes then fell on the bracelet on his wrist. A beaded bracelet, once that he himself didn’t care much for, except for the fact that it had been his. The first thing Saro had purchased for him, a token of the love shared between them. And Adrestus had left it, ditched at his friend’s house like it meant absolutely nothing to him. It angered Saro to think of it, the fact that the other man had just cut ties with him, left Saro alone and still in love with him, clinging to a love that no longer existed for Adrestus, yet was very real to Saro. And clearly, he held no care, he couldn’t even be bothered to hold on to a bracelet.
He took a deep breath and dropped his hand back to his side. He was supposed to be here in Bedoa to forget about Adrestus, to clear his mind and focus on things other than love lost. And he planned on doing just that. And so he stood there, waiting for Tanishe as he kept his mind from thoughts of the one man he had loved, focusing instead on practicing the words that Tanishe had been teaching him in her language.
She loved sifting about the surrounding landscape for plants. It was difficult in the harsher climates that they inhabited right now, but definitely not impossible. Not in the healing hawe today, Tanishe had woken up early enough to prepare a meal for both her and Hasani, and then she’d immediately set out preparing food for both herself and Saro. The meal was nothing special - bread and dried fruit and a cask of water each, shoving all that in one bag the she planned not to carry for very long, while donning another, smaller, leather bag. In this one were all manner of tiny pouches, all empty, all begging to be filled.
The thin silver bangles on her arms clinked as she rustled around the tent, gathering the last of her supplies. The very last thing she did was tie her cascade of hair, comprised of tiny braids so that from even a short distance away, that she had luxuriant hair like the women of Egypt. With her hair swept up in a knot atop her head and a headscarf further wrapped around this that could be used to shield her face if necessary, she applied copious amounts of kohl to protect from the intense desert sun. These things done, she was ready, looking dramatic and excited as she left the tent.
“Saro,” she greeted in a sing song voice and unshouldered the strap of the heavier bag from her slender shoulder. “Here you go, my little donkey. You can carry the food.” Lifting the flap of the bag, she showed him the contents. “That’s your bread, and I put some fruit in here and I made sure to put extra dates in yours.” Patting him on his arm, she gave that another squeeze and then lithely danced away. Did she need to squeeze his bicep? No. Did she do it anyway? Of course! There was a rumor that had started among the tribe that to touch the pale man was to bring good luck. To squeeze the strength of his arm was to court extremely good favor, which they would need today.
“Let us go herb hunting, my friend!” she said, her voice still full of excitement, despite the blazing heat. “This way.” The encampment was well and truly in the desert, but even here, it wasn’t a sea of endless sand. This was a dry, scrubby grassland where animals roamed. There were hardy thistle, sprigs of herbs, and all manner of flowers she intended to grind into dust for medicine. Humming to herself, she meandered without care or concern. After all, it was Saro’s job to watch out for danger and hers to scan the ground, which was precisely what she did, not looking up at all and trusting him completely as she squatted down, inspecting this plant and that, stuffing them into the tiny pouches inside her bag. All the while, she sang.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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She loved sifting about the surrounding landscape for plants. It was difficult in the harsher climates that they inhabited right now, but definitely not impossible. Not in the healing hawe today, Tanishe had woken up early enough to prepare a meal for both her and Hasani, and then she’d immediately set out preparing food for both herself and Saro. The meal was nothing special - bread and dried fruit and a cask of water each, shoving all that in one bag the she planned not to carry for very long, while donning another, smaller, leather bag. In this one were all manner of tiny pouches, all empty, all begging to be filled.
The thin silver bangles on her arms clinked as she rustled around the tent, gathering the last of her supplies. The very last thing she did was tie her cascade of hair, comprised of tiny braids so that from even a short distance away, that she had luxuriant hair like the women of Egypt. With her hair swept up in a knot atop her head and a headscarf further wrapped around this that could be used to shield her face if necessary, she applied copious amounts of kohl to protect from the intense desert sun. These things done, she was ready, looking dramatic and excited as she left the tent.
“Saro,” she greeted in a sing song voice and unshouldered the strap of the heavier bag from her slender shoulder. “Here you go, my little donkey. You can carry the food.” Lifting the flap of the bag, she showed him the contents. “That’s your bread, and I put some fruit in here and I made sure to put extra dates in yours.” Patting him on his arm, she gave that another squeeze and then lithely danced away. Did she need to squeeze his bicep? No. Did she do it anyway? Of course! There was a rumor that had started among the tribe that to touch the pale man was to bring good luck. To squeeze the strength of his arm was to court extremely good favor, which they would need today.
“Let us go herb hunting, my friend!” she said, her voice still full of excitement, despite the blazing heat. “This way.” The encampment was well and truly in the desert, but even here, it wasn’t a sea of endless sand. This was a dry, scrubby grassland where animals roamed. There were hardy thistle, sprigs of herbs, and all manner of flowers she intended to grind into dust for medicine. Humming to herself, she meandered without care or concern. After all, it was Saro’s job to watch out for danger and hers to scan the ground, which was precisely what she did, not looking up at all and trusting him completely as she squatted down, inspecting this plant and that, stuffing them into the tiny pouches inside her bag. All the while, she sang.
She loved sifting about the surrounding landscape for plants. It was difficult in the harsher climates that they inhabited right now, but definitely not impossible. Not in the healing hawe today, Tanishe had woken up early enough to prepare a meal for both her and Hasani, and then she’d immediately set out preparing food for both herself and Saro. The meal was nothing special - bread and dried fruit and a cask of water each, shoving all that in one bag the she planned not to carry for very long, while donning another, smaller, leather bag. In this one were all manner of tiny pouches, all empty, all begging to be filled.
The thin silver bangles on her arms clinked as she rustled around the tent, gathering the last of her supplies. The very last thing she did was tie her cascade of hair, comprised of tiny braids so that from even a short distance away, that she had luxuriant hair like the women of Egypt. With her hair swept up in a knot atop her head and a headscarf further wrapped around this that could be used to shield her face if necessary, she applied copious amounts of kohl to protect from the intense desert sun. These things done, she was ready, looking dramatic and excited as she left the tent.
“Saro,” she greeted in a sing song voice and unshouldered the strap of the heavier bag from her slender shoulder. “Here you go, my little donkey. You can carry the food.” Lifting the flap of the bag, she showed him the contents. “That’s your bread, and I put some fruit in here and I made sure to put extra dates in yours.” Patting him on his arm, she gave that another squeeze and then lithely danced away. Did she need to squeeze his bicep? No. Did she do it anyway? Of course! There was a rumor that had started among the tribe that to touch the pale man was to bring good luck. To squeeze the strength of his arm was to court extremely good favor, which they would need today.
“Let us go herb hunting, my friend!” she said, her voice still full of excitement, despite the blazing heat. “This way.” The encampment was well and truly in the desert, but even here, it wasn’t a sea of endless sand. This was a dry, scrubby grassland where animals roamed. There were hardy thistle, sprigs of herbs, and all manner of flowers she intended to grind into dust for medicine. Humming to herself, she meandered without care or concern. After all, it was Saro’s job to watch out for danger and hers to scan the ground, which was precisely what she did, not looking up at all and trusting him completely as she squatted down, inspecting this plant and that, stuffing them into the tiny pouches inside her bag. All the while, she sang.
Saro was grateful for the distraction in the form of Tanishe. He needed to keep his mind off the thoughts that had been plaguing him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but they seemed to be bothering him more lately than they normally did. At least now, he wouldn’t be able to be distracted. He would need to focus on the task at hand, especially since he had been warned about the dangers of the desert. He had no idea what he was doing really and thought perhaps the Bedoans had far too much faith in him to send him off with Tanishe and limited knowledge of the dangers that lurked in the desert.
His Bedoan was coming along well, and he understood at least most of the words that Tanishe spoke to him. He took the bag she handed him, slinging it over his shoulder, unsurprised that he would be expected to carry it. They seemed to have even further defined gender roles here, men had their jobs and women had theirs, there was hardly any blurred lines between them. And so, he had accepted his role in things with no question, carrying the heavier bag as the two of them set out where ever they were going.
He was a little confused as she squeezed his arm, it seemed to be some sort of a thing among her people. Women and men had been reaching out to briefly touch him for awhile now, and he didn’t verbally question it, thinking it was some sort of custom they had, but internally he was wondering why they did it. They didn’t seem to do it to anyone but him, at least not that he had picked up on.
“Good morning Tanishe.” He greeted, his accent marring the words a little, but she should still understand what he said.
He followed her as she started leading the way, away from the camp and the safety of the others. All he had on him for their protection was his dagger, which he had been allowed to carry around with him since his arrival. He hoped they didn’t run into anything dangerous, and he was sure that Tanishe knew what she was doing. Surely she would know the areas to avoid where they might be attacked by something unsavory.
He followed her, watching her curiously as she picked and chose specific plants, putting them in her little pouch. He supposed after her people had lived in these lands for how ever many years, the knowledge of herbs had been passed down after trial and error.
“Can you tell me a little about the herbs you’re picking?” He asked curiously, wondering if she would care to explain their uses as the two of them travelled, he was curious. He couldn’t see himself putting any of them to use on his own, but if he ever came across them while out without her, he could note the important ones and bring some back for her in that case.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Saro was grateful for the distraction in the form of Tanishe. He needed to keep his mind off the thoughts that had been plaguing him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but they seemed to be bothering him more lately than they normally did. At least now, he wouldn’t be able to be distracted. He would need to focus on the task at hand, especially since he had been warned about the dangers of the desert. He had no idea what he was doing really and thought perhaps the Bedoans had far too much faith in him to send him off with Tanishe and limited knowledge of the dangers that lurked in the desert.
His Bedoan was coming along well, and he understood at least most of the words that Tanishe spoke to him. He took the bag she handed him, slinging it over his shoulder, unsurprised that he would be expected to carry it. They seemed to have even further defined gender roles here, men had their jobs and women had theirs, there was hardly any blurred lines between them. And so, he had accepted his role in things with no question, carrying the heavier bag as the two of them set out where ever they were going.
He was a little confused as she squeezed his arm, it seemed to be some sort of a thing among her people. Women and men had been reaching out to briefly touch him for awhile now, and he didn’t verbally question it, thinking it was some sort of custom they had, but internally he was wondering why they did it. They didn’t seem to do it to anyone but him, at least not that he had picked up on.
“Good morning Tanishe.” He greeted, his accent marring the words a little, but she should still understand what he said.
He followed her as she started leading the way, away from the camp and the safety of the others. All he had on him for their protection was his dagger, which he had been allowed to carry around with him since his arrival. He hoped they didn’t run into anything dangerous, and he was sure that Tanishe knew what she was doing. Surely she would know the areas to avoid where they might be attacked by something unsavory.
He followed her, watching her curiously as she picked and chose specific plants, putting them in her little pouch. He supposed after her people had lived in these lands for how ever many years, the knowledge of herbs had been passed down after trial and error.
“Can you tell me a little about the herbs you’re picking?” He asked curiously, wondering if she would care to explain their uses as the two of them travelled, he was curious. He couldn’t see himself putting any of them to use on his own, but if he ever came across them while out without her, he could note the important ones and bring some back for her in that case.
Saro was grateful for the distraction in the form of Tanishe. He needed to keep his mind off the thoughts that had been plaguing him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but they seemed to be bothering him more lately than they normally did. At least now, he wouldn’t be able to be distracted. He would need to focus on the task at hand, especially since he had been warned about the dangers of the desert. He had no idea what he was doing really and thought perhaps the Bedoans had far too much faith in him to send him off with Tanishe and limited knowledge of the dangers that lurked in the desert.
His Bedoan was coming along well, and he understood at least most of the words that Tanishe spoke to him. He took the bag she handed him, slinging it over his shoulder, unsurprised that he would be expected to carry it. They seemed to have even further defined gender roles here, men had their jobs and women had theirs, there was hardly any blurred lines between them. And so, he had accepted his role in things with no question, carrying the heavier bag as the two of them set out where ever they were going.
He was a little confused as she squeezed his arm, it seemed to be some sort of a thing among her people. Women and men had been reaching out to briefly touch him for awhile now, and he didn’t verbally question it, thinking it was some sort of custom they had, but internally he was wondering why they did it. They didn’t seem to do it to anyone but him, at least not that he had picked up on.
“Good morning Tanishe.” He greeted, his accent marring the words a little, but she should still understand what he said.
He followed her as she started leading the way, away from the camp and the safety of the others. All he had on him for their protection was his dagger, which he had been allowed to carry around with him since his arrival. He hoped they didn’t run into anything dangerous, and he was sure that Tanishe knew what she was doing. Surely she would know the areas to avoid where they might be attacked by something unsavory.
He followed her, watching her curiously as she picked and chose specific plants, putting them in her little pouch. He supposed after her people had lived in these lands for how ever many years, the knowledge of herbs had been passed down after trial and error.
“Can you tell me a little about the herbs you’re picking?” He asked curiously, wondering if she would care to explain their uses as the two of them travelled, he was curious. He couldn’t see himself putting any of them to use on his own, but if he ever came across them while out without her, he could note the important ones and bring some back for her in that case.
Because rainfall was so sporadic in the desert, the sky remained free of the tarnish of clouds. On days like today, Tanishe often thought of the world as a giant cooking bowl. The dry, sandy ground she walked on held tall, scrubby bushes that she imagined might look like little onions floating in brown stew to a bird flying overhead, and that the gorgeous blue sky was the lid of the fired clay bowl, brilliant and shining, enclosing them within the heat of the boiling pot of water. The distant mountains at the edges of the world curled up exactly like the edges of worn pottery and she just knew they were encased in rock with some sort of water above them. That idea wasn’t totally fixed in her mind. It did change sometimes, but the thought floated around her head now as she hummed to herself.
All around them, growing about to her hip, were vibrant green bushes. Most had sprigs of yellow flowers amidst their tiny needle leaves. Tanishe smiled over her shoulder when she felt Saro come nearer. In his thick accent, he asked what she was picking. “See here, kipenzi?” she used the bedoan word for ‘pet’ on him for the first time and it seemed like a nice fit. He did look like a kipenzi. She’d make him a nice bracelet or necklace, since she thought he probably wouldn’t wear a collar. “This is rooibos.”
She broke off a branch and handed it to him. The plants swayed around them, whispering secrets into the air that neither of them could understand. “Scent it,” she made wafting motions with her hands to signal to him that he was to put it to his nose and breathe in deeply. “That woody scent? Very nice tea.” She took the branch back and made quick work of hacking off an impressive amount of that bush and stuffing it unceremoniously into his bag. “We will bring women with us,” she said, shading her eyes and looking out at the vast numbers of the bushes. “This is valuable. Medicinal tea is what we use it for. It won’t cure, but it eases symptoms. Come! I see more.”
She left his side then and wandered further in, dropping down to collect mint plants. In ideal conditions, these could grow fairly tall, but this was dry and she was a little surprised to find them here. Still, she dug them up carefully and broke off a few leaves. Rolling them between her fingers, she held them up to Saro. “Taste. I think you will know this one?”
And on it went. She would either take a sampling of this plant or that, or tell Saro that they would bring some of her tribe women with them to come collect bushels of whatever it was she wanted. “This is going very well,” she said happily, swiping the back of her hand across the sheen of her forehead. Off in the distance, she saw the long, lanky form of a cheetah. It was looking at them and standing stock still, only it’s long, fluffy tail flicking back and forth occasionally. Tanishe paid it no mind. It was only very, very rarely that a cheetah would attack humans and she wasn’t alone. She had Saro. They were fine.
“Your tongue is coming along nicely!” Tanishe said to him, meaning his use of their language with his tongue.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Because rainfall was so sporadic in the desert, the sky remained free of the tarnish of clouds. On days like today, Tanishe often thought of the world as a giant cooking bowl. The dry, sandy ground she walked on held tall, scrubby bushes that she imagined might look like little onions floating in brown stew to a bird flying overhead, and that the gorgeous blue sky was the lid of the fired clay bowl, brilliant and shining, enclosing them within the heat of the boiling pot of water. The distant mountains at the edges of the world curled up exactly like the edges of worn pottery and she just knew they were encased in rock with some sort of water above them. That idea wasn’t totally fixed in her mind. It did change sometimes, but the thought floated around her head now as she hummed to herself.
All around them, growing about to her hip, were vibrant green bushes. Most had sprigs of yellow flowers amidst their tiny needle leaves. Tanishe smiled over her shoulder when she felt Saro come nearer. In his thick accent, he asked what she was picking. “See here, kipenzi?” she used the bedoan word for ‘pet’ on him for the first time and it seemed like a nice fit. He did look like a kipenzi. She’d make him a nice bracelet or necklace, since she thought he probably wouldn’t wear a collar. “This is rooibos.”
She broke off a branch and handed it to him. The plants swayed around them, whispering secrets into the air that neither of them could understand. “Scent it,” she made wafting motions with her hands to signal to him that he was to put it to his nose and breathe in deeply. “That woody scent? Very nice tea.” She took the branch back and made quick work of hacking off an impressive amount of that bush and stuffing it unceremoniously into his bag. “We will bring women with us,” she said, shading her eyes and looking out at the vast numbers of the bushes. “This is valuable. Medicinal tea is what we use it for. It won’t cure, but it eases symptoms. Come! I see more.”
She left his side then and wandered further in, dropping down to collect mint plants. In ideal conditions, these could grow fairly tall, but this was dry and she was a little surprised to find them here. Still, she dug them up carefully and broke off a few leaves. Rolling them between her fingers, she held them up to Saro. “Taste. I think you will know this one?”
And on it went. She would either take a sampling of this plant or that, or tell Saro that they would bring some of her tribe women with them to come collect bushels of whatever it was she wanted. “This is going very well,” she said happily, swiping the back of her hand across the sheen of her forehead. Off in the distance, she saw the long, lanky form of a cheetah. It was looking at them and standing stock still, only it’s long, fluffy tail flicking back and forth occasionally. Tanishe paid it no mind. It was only very, very rarely that a cheetah would attack humans and she wasn’t alone. She had Saro. They were fine.
“Your tongue is coming along nicely!” Tanishe said to him, meaning his use of their language with his tongue.
Because rainfall was so sporadic in the desert, the sky remained free of the tarnish of clouds. On days like today, Tanishe often thought of the world as a giant cooking bowl. The dry, sandy ground she walked on held tall, scrubby bushes that she imagined might look like little onions floating in brown stew to a bird flying overhead, and that the gorgeous blue sky was the lid of the fired clay bowl, brilliant and shining, enclosing them within the heat of the boiling pot of water. The distant mountains at the edges of the world curled up exactly like the edges of worn pottery and she just knew they were encased in rock with some sort of water above them. That idea wasn’t totally fixed in her mind. It did change sometimes, but the thought floated around her head now as she hummed to herself.
All around them, growing about to her hip, were vibrant green bushes. Most had sprigs of yellow flowers amidst their tiny needle leaves. Tanishe smiled over her shoulder when she felt Saro come nearer. In his thick accent, he asked what she was picking. “See here, kipenzi?” she used the bedoan word for ‘pet’ on him for the first time and it seemed like a nice fit. He did look like a kipenzi. She’d make him a nice bracelet or necklace, since she thought he probably wouldn’t wear a collar. “This is rooibos.”
She broke off a branch and handed it to him. The plants swayed around them, whispering secrets into the air that neither of them could understand. “Scent it,” she made wafting motions with her hands to signal to him that he was to put it to his nose and breathe in deeply. “That woody scent? Very nice tea.” She took the branch back and made quick work of hacking off an impressive amount of that bush and stuffing it unceremoniously into his bag. “We will bring women with us,” she said, shading her eyes and looking out at the vast numbers of the bushes. “This is valuable. Medicinal tea is what we use it for. It won’t cure, but it eases symptoms. Come! I see more.”
She left his side then and wandered further in, dropping down to collect mint plants. In ideal conditions, these could grow fairly tall, but this was dry and she was a little surprised to find them here. Still, she dug them up carefully and broke off a few leaves. Rolling them between her fingers, she held them up to Saro. “Taste. I think you will know this one?”
And on it went. She would either take a sampling of this plant or that, or tell Saro that they would bring some of her tribe women with them to come collect bushels of whatever it was she wanted. “This is going very well,” she said happily, swiping the back of her hand across the sheen of her forehead. Off in the distance, she saw the long, lanky form of a cheetah. It was looking at them and standing stock still, only it’s long, fluffy tail flicking back and forth occasionally. Tanishe paid it no mind. It was only very, very rarely that a cheetah would attack humans and she wasn’t alone. She had Saro. They were fine.
“Your tongue is coming along nicely!” Tanishe said to him, meaning his use of their language with his tongue.
Saro wasn’t sure what she just called him, though he doubted it was a bad name, he made note of the word to ask Hasani about it later. For now he tried his best to pay attention to what she was picking, making note of what she called it and the use she explained. He took the branch she handed to him, bringing it up to his nose so he could inhale the scent. He would take her word for it that it made good tea, he himself was more partial to drinking wine.
He watched as she began collecting it, shoving the plant into the bag he carried. He didn’t protest, knowing very well that in exchange for their hospitality, he would be expected to be put to work. He was used to work, growing up on a ship meant that he had helped sail and haul supplies since he was old enough to do so, though he wasn’t a large man, his lean frame was muscled, and he held no issues with putting in his fair share of work. He followed her, smelling and tasting and memorizing what ever it was she handed him without question, trusting that she knew what she was doing. He supposed that if she hadn’t, she would probably not be the one doing that job.
He spotted the cheetah when she did, though he was a little more cautious about it than she seemed to be. The big cat kept its eyes locked on her, though the beast did not yet move, and Saro felt a gut instinct that told him that this was a situation they needed to avoid. But she seemed unphased by the animal’s eyes on her, and so Saro ignored his gut and simply fell silent as he kept an eye on it, suddenly distracted from the casual conversation that Tanishe provided.
It wasn’t until it was too late that Saro realized there wasn’t just one cheetah, but there was another that had been slowly creeping around them, circling them to get around behind the two.
“Tanishe!” He shouted as he turned to see the second cheetah sprinting toward her. The beast lept at her and Saro didn’t have time to think. He dashed forward as fast as he could, just managing to throw himself between her and the beast. Instead of landing on its original target, the cat knocked Saro to the ground, claws ripping through his clothes and into his skin as the animal attempted to go at his neck with its teeth.
Despite the searing pain from the collision and the claws, he managed to throw one arm up, blocking the Cheetah from getting to his neck, instead its teeth sunk into his arm and he let out a cry of agony. Luckily for him it didn’t bite too deeply, pulling away from his arm it took another attempt at his neck.
In his haze of pain and panic, he could only think of one thing, the second cheetah, the original one they had spotted, and he prayed to any god that would listen that it would not go after Tanishe while he struggled with this one.
He managed to get just enough room to grab at the dagger at his waist, slipping it from it’s spot, he took a wild stabbing swing at the cat, feeling the blade sink into the beast, it let out a growl and swiped at his face, it’s claws grazing across his cheek, he felt blood begin to flow from his face. He didn’t have time to take stock of his wounds though, this animal moved fast and relentlessly, and Saro pulled his dagger out, plunging it into the beast once more in a more calculated swing, he managed to hit it in the neck, and the beast pushed itself off him, shaking itself out, the dagger flew from it’s place embedded in the animal, and landed on the ground, the cat took off towards it’s brethren, both of them retreating further away. Saro lay there on his back on the ground, bleeding profusely, the pain in his ribs and from his various bite marks and claw marks making him see stars as he tried to catch his breath. The encounter felt as if it had taken a lifetime, when in reality it had been mere minutes.
He couldn’t find the strength to get up, and the arm he had used to protect his neck from the initial bite felt numb. He wondered if this was how he would die, and he felt a deep sadness at that thought. Not about dying, he knew that everyone died eventually, but dying so far from the seas that he loved hurt him more than any of the wounds currently leaking blood all over the ground did.
He knew that he needed to get up, to get Tanishe away from the animals and back to the safety of camp, but his limbs weren't listening to his brain, and despite his desperate need to get moving, he couldn't even attempt to get up, not yet. He needed to muster his strength, knew that the longer they remained there, the more danger they were in. He didn't remember Tanishe having a weapon to try and fight the animals, and he doubted they would give up easily if they were desperate enough to attack them in the first place.
With a loud groan he managed to slowly move himself, rolling over onto his side, it felt like it took him an hour just to do that. He put one hand down on the ground, luckily it was the arm that had not been bitten, and he used it to slowly push himself up to a sitting position, head spinning. He had to take a moment to let everything stop spinning, the pain in his ribs getting worse every time he moved even the slightest bit.
"We need... to get back... to camp." He said, though he had no idea if Tanishe heard him, or if he'd even spoke the words out loud. His mind was a haze of cloud and the sharp stinging pain of his wounds.
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Saro wasn’t sure what she just called him, though he doubted it was a bad name, he made note of the word to ask Hasani about it later. For now he tried his best to pay attention to what she was picking, making note of what she called it and the use she explained. He took the branch she handed to him, bringing it up to his nose so he could inhale the scent. He would take her word for it that it made good tea, he himself was more partial to drinking wine.
He watched as she began collecting it, shoving the plant into the bag he carried. He didn’t protest, knowing very well that in exchange for their hospitality, he would be expected to be put to work. He was used to work, growing up on a ship meant that he had helped sail and haul supplies since he was old enough to do so, though he wasn’t a large man, his lean frame was muscled, and he held no issues with putting in his fair share of work. He followed her, smelling and tasting and memorizing what ever it was she handed him without question, trusting that she knew what she was doing. He supposed that if she hadn’t, she would probably not be the one doing that job.
He spotted the cheetah when she did, though he was a little more cautious about it than she seemed to be. The big cat kept its eyes locked on her, though the beast did not yet move, and Saro felt a gut instinct that told him that this was a situation they needed to avoid. But she seemed unphased by the animal’s eyes on her, and so Saro ignored his gut and simply fell silent as he kept an eye on it, suddenly distracted from the casual conversation that Tanishe provided.
It wasn’t until it was too late that Saro realized there wasn’t just one cheetah, but there was another that had been slowly creeping around them, circling them to get around behind the two.
“Tanishe!” He shouted as he turned to see the second cheetah sprinting toward her. The beast lept at her and Saro didn’t have time to think. He dashed forward as fast as he could, just managing to throw himself between her and the beast. Instead of landing on its original target, the cat knocked Saro to the ground, claws ripping through his clothes and into his skin as the animal attempted to go at his neck with its teeth.
Despite the searing pain from the collision and the claws, he managed to throw one arm up, blocking the Cheetah from getting to his neck, instead its teeth sunk into his arm and he let out a cry of agony. Luckily for him it didn’t bite too deeply, pulling away from his arm it took another attempt at his neck.
In his haze of pain and panic, he could only think of one thing, the second cheetah, the original one they had spotted, and he prayed to any god that would listen that it would not go after Tanishe while he struggled with this one.
He managed to get just enough room to grab at the dagger at his waist, slipping it from it’s spot, he took a wild stabbing swing at the cat, feeling the blade sink into the beast, it let out a growl and swiped at his face, it’s claws grazing across his cheek, he felt blood begin to flow from his face. He didn’t have time to take stock of his wounds though, this animal moved fast and relentlessly, and Saro pulled his dagger out, plunging it into the beast once more in a more calculated swing, he managed to hit it in the neck, and the beast pushed itself off him, shaking itself out, the dagger flew from it’s place embedded in the animal, and landed on the ground, the cat took off towards it’s brethren, both of them retreating further away. Saro lay there on his back on the ground, bleeding profusely, the pain in his ribs and from his various bite marks and claw marks making him see stars as he tried to catch his breath. The encounter felt as if it had taken a lifetime, when in reality it had been mere minutes.
He couldn’t find the strength to get up, and the arm he had used to protect his neck from the initial bite felt numb. He wondered if this was how he would die, and he felt a deep sadness at that thought. Not about dying, he knew that everyone died eventually, but dying so far from the seas that he loved hurt him more than any of the wounds currently leaking blood all over the ground did.
He knew that he needed to get up, to get Tanishe away from the animals and back to the safety of camp, but his limbs weren't listening to his brain, and despite his desperate need to get moving, he couldn't even attempt to get up, not yet. He needed to muster his strength, knew that the longer they remained there, the more danger they were in. He didn't remember Tanishe having a weapon to try and fight the animals, and he doubted they would give up easily if they were desperate enough to attack them in the first place.
With a loud groan he managed to slowly move himself, rolling over onto his side, it felt like it took him an hour just to do that. He put one hand down on the ground, luckily it was the arm that had not been bitten, and he used it to slowly push himself up to a sitting position, head spinning. He had to take a moment to let everything stop spinning, the pain in his ribs getting worse every time he moved even the slightest bit.
"We need... to get back... to camp." He said, though he had no idea if Tanishe heard him, or if he'd even spoke the words out loud. His mind was a haze of cloud and the sharp stinging pain of his wounds.
Saro wasn’t sure what she just called him, though he doubted it was a bad name, he made note of the word to ask Hasani about it later. For now he tried his best to pay attention to what she was picking, making note of what she called it and the use she explained. He took the branch she handed to him, bringing it up to his nose so he could inhale the scent. He would take her word for it that it made good tea, he himself was more partial to drinking wine.
He watched as she began collecting it, shoving the plant into the bag he carried. He didn’t protest, knowing very well that in exchange for their hospitality, he would be expected to be put to work. He was used to work, growing up on a ship meant that he had helped sail and haul supplies since he was old enough to do so, though he wasn’t a large man, his lean frame was muscled, and he held no issues with putting in his fair share of work. He followed her, smelling and tasting and memorizing what ever it was she handed him without question, trusting that she knew what she was doing. He supposed that if she hadn’t, she would probably not be the one doing that job.
He spotted the cheetah when she did, though he was a little more cautious about it than she seemed to be. The big cat kept its eyes locked on her, though the beast did not yet move, and Saro felt a gut instinct that told him that this was a situation they needed to avoid. But she seemed unphased by the animal’s eyes on her, and so Saro ignored his gut and simply fell silent as he kept an eye on it, suddenly distracted from the casual conversation that Tanishe provided.
It wasn’t until it was too late that Saro realized there wasn’t just one cheetah, but there was another that had been slowly creeping around them, circling them to get around behind the two.
“Tanishe!” He shouted as he turned to see the second cheetah sprinting toward her. The beast lept at her and Saro didn’t have time to think. He dashed forward as fast as he could, just managing to throw himself between her and the beast. Instead of landing on its original target, the cat knocked Saro to the ground, claws ripping through his clothes and into his skin as the animal attempted to go at his neck with its teeth.
Despite the searing pain from the collision and the claws, he managed to throw one arm up, blocking the Cheetah from getting to his neck, instead its teeth sunk into his arm and he let out a cry of agony. Luckily for him it didn’t bite too deeply, pulling away from his arm it took another attempt at his neck.
In his haze of pain and panic, he could only think of one thing, the second cheetah, the original one they had spotted, and he prayed to any god that would listen that it would not go after Tanishe while he struggled with this one.
He managed to get just enough room to grab at the dagger at his waist, slipping it from it’s spot, he took a wild stabbing swing at the cat, feeling the blade sink into the beast, it let out a growl and swiped at his face, it’s claws grazing across his cheek, he felt blood begin to flow from his face. He didn’t have time to take stock of his wounds though, this animal moved fast and relentlessly, and Saro pulled his dagger out, plunging it into the beast once more in a more calculated swing, he managed to hit it in the neck, and the beast pushed itself off him, shaking itself out, the dagger flew from it’s place embedded in the animal, and landed on the ground, the cat took off towards it’s brethren, both of them retreating further away. Saro lay there on his back on the ground, bleeding profusely, the pain in his ribs and from his various bite marks and claw marks making him see stars as he tried to catch his breath. The encounter felt as if it had taken a lifetime, when in reality it had been mere minutes.
He couldn’t find the strength to get up, and the arm he had used to protect his neck from the initial bite felt numb. He wondered if this was how he would die, and he felt a deep sadness at that thought. Not about dying, he knew that everyone died eventually, but dying so far from the seas that he loved hurt him more than any of the wounds currently leaking blood all over the ground did.
He knew that he needed to get up, to get Tanishe away from the animals and back to the safety of camp, but his limbs weren't listening to his brain, and despite his desperate need to get moving, he couldn't even attempt to get up, not yet. He needed to muster his strength, knew that the longer they remained there, the more danger they were in. He didn't remember Tanishe having a weapon to try and fight the animals, and he doubted they would give up easily if they were desperate enough to attack them in the first place.
With a loud groan he managed to slowly move himself, rolling over onto his side, it felt like it took him an hour just to do that. He put one hand down on the ground, luckily it was the arm that had not been bitten, and he used it to slowly push himself up to a sitting position, head spinning. He had to take a moment to let everything stop spinning, the pain in his ribs getting worse every time he moved even the slightest bit.
"We need... to get back... to camp." He said, though he had no idea if Tanishe heard him, or if he'd even spoke the words out loud. His mind was a haze of cloud and the sharp stinging pain of his wounds.
Never in her life had she encountered a cheetah attacking two humans. It just didn’t happen and so she continued on, eyes on the ground, slowly picking over this plant and that, murmuring and humming to herself as she went. Her name on Saro’s tongue was so out of place that for a second, she didn’t understand that their world was being flipped upside down in that very moment. She did not see the cheetah spring until it was already on top of Saro. In a moment of insanity, she flung her own body at the cat, but it paid her exactly zero attention, and all she managed to do was grab ahold of its coarse fur in her fists to pull on its skin. The cheetah, wholly unconcerned about the human at its side, was focused entirely on the one it was trying to kill.
She couldn’t leave him to the cheetah, but nor could she just stand there and watch him be eaten, either, and so she screamed the only name she could think of. “HASANI!” Would her normally soft voice carry across the open flatland? Perhaps. There was nothing to beat this animal off with but her shoulder bag and she attempted that as well, though to the same effect as grabbing the animal’s hide. It wholly ignored her. All at once the animal gave a horrid growl, then another, leaped off Saro, and ran.
Tanishe looked down at the wrecked, bloody mess that was Saro and immediately crouched down, sopping at the worst of his wounds. Then, Saro was moving. “Stop it,” Tanishe commanded, but, as usual, a patient in shock wasn’t listening. She kept glancing around to make sure that the cheetah’s weren’t coming back, and at the moment, they weren’t, but Saro was in bad shape. Every part of him, it looked like, was bleeding and it was only because of the ancestors’ intervention that he and she were alive in the first place. He rolled onto his side, and she placed herself in such a way to keep him from falling over again. There was no stopping Saro from sitting up, it turned out and she moved around him, tearing the hem of her dress into long strips.
“Brave, idiot man,” she breathed to herself as she crouched beside him, stopping only when he wiggled too much, and using her shoulder to brace against him in an attempt to get him to sit still as she put her arms around him to get the bright strips of cloth around his body.
"We need... to get back... to camp." It was a phrase he kept saying, over and over, and she had ceased to answer him because he wasn’t seeming to take in her answers. Instead, Tanishe kept wrapping his torso in as tight a tourniquet as she could make to staunch the bleeding. Her kaftan was ruined completely by now. The fabric was up to her knees now as she kept tearing strips, bandaging his arms, his body, patting at the bloody claw marks that would likely scar badly across his face. She didn’t like the puncture wounds. Not one bit.
He wasn’t in too much danger from the trauma wounds themselves. She was rightly concerned about the infection to follow. “Oh Saro,” she pressed her lips to his temple and brought his arm up to survey again. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me…” This turn of events was so unlikely, just so highly unlikely, but that was the tragedy of it. Bringing one of the warriors with her would have been too much, under usual circumstances. Saro would have been fine if not for this freak accident. Tanishe pet Saro’s long, tangled hair, and started to chant prayers over him in a low, slow song, as she watched around them for Hasani or the warriors to hear her, or the cheetahs to come finish them off.
What she didn’t want him to do was to walk, but that may not be an option. She wanted him to wait here as long as they could, but that wasn’t terribly long. They weren’t too far from the edge of the tribe, either. She could see the tops of the tents in the distance and she waited, cradling Saro to her chest, hoping against hope that someone had heard her.
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Never in her life had she encountered a cheetah attacking two humans. It just didn’t happen and so she continued on, eyes on the ground, slowly picking over this plant and that, murmuring and humming to herself as she went. Her name on Saro’s tongue was so out of place that for a second, she didn’t understand that their world was being flipped upside down in that very moment. She did not see the cheetah spring until it was already on top of Saro. In a moment of insanity, she flung her own body at the cat, but it paid her exactly zero attention, and all she managed to do was grab ahold of its coarse fur in her fists to pull on its skin. The cheetah, wholly unconcerned about the human at its side, was focused entirely on the one it was trying to kill.
She couldn’t leave him to the cheetah, but nor could she just stand there and watch him be eaten, either, and so she screamed the only name she could think of. “HASANI!” Would her normally soft voice carry across the open flatland? Perhaps. There was nothing to beat this animal off with but her shoulder bag and she attempted that as well, though to the same effect as grabbing the animal’s hide. It wholly ignored her. All at once the animal gave a horrid growl, then another, leaped off Saro, and ran.
Tanishe looked down at the wrecked, bloody mess that was Saro and immediately crouched down, sopping at the worst of his wounds. Then, Saro was moving. “Stop it,” Tanishe commanded, but, as usual, a patient in shock wasn’t listening. She kept glancing around to make sure that the cheetah’s weren’t coming back, and at the moment, they weren’t, but Saro was in bad shape. Every part of him, it looked like, was bleeding and it was only because of the ancestors’ intervention that he and she were alive in the first place. He rolled onto his side, and she placed herself in such a way to keep him from falling over again. There was no stopping Saro from sitting up, it turned out and she moved around him, tearing the hem of her dress into long strips.
“Brave, idiot man,” she breathed to herself as she crouched beside him, stopping only when he wiggled too much, and using her shoulder to brace against him in an attempt to get him to sit still as she put her arms around him to get the bright strips of cloth around his body.
"We need... to get back... to camp." It was a phrase he kept saying, over and over, and she had ceased to answer him because he wasn’t seeming to take in her answers. Instead, Tanishe kept wrapping his torso in as tight a tourniquet as she could make to staunch the bleeding. Her kaftan was ruined completely by now. The fabric was up to her knees now as she kept tearing strips, bandaging his arms, his body, patting at the bloody claw marks that would likely scar badly across his face. She didn’t like the puncture wounds. Not one bit.
He wasn’t in too much danger from the trauma wounds themselves. She was rightly concerned about the infection to follow. “Oh Saro,” she pressed her lips to his temple and brought his arm up to survey again. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me…” This turn of events was so unlikely, just so highly unlikely, but that was the tragedy of it. Bringing one of the warriors with her would have been too much, under usual circumstances. Saro would have been fine if not for this freak accident. Tanishe pet Saro’s long, tangled hair, and started to chant prayers over him in a low, slow song, as she watched around them for Hasani or the warriors to hear her, or the cheetahs to come finish them off.
What she didn’t want him to do was to walk, but that may not be an option. She wanted him to wait here as long as they could, but that wasn’t terribly long. They weren’t too far from the edge of the tribe, either. She could see the tops of the tents in the distance and she waited, cradling Saro to her chest, hoping against hope that someone had heard her.
Never in her life had she encountered a cheetah attacking two humans. It just didn’t happen and so she continued on, eyes on the ground, slowly picking over this plant and that, murmuring and humming to herself as she went. Her name on Saro’s tongue was so out of place that for a second, she didn’t understand that their world was being flipped upside down in that very moment. She did not see the cheetah spring until it was already on top of Saro. In a moment of insanity, she flung her own body at the cat, but it paid her exactly zero attention, and all she managed to do was grab ahold of its coarse fur in her fists to pull on its skin. The cheetah, wholly unconcerned about the human at its side, was focused entirely on the one it was trying to kill.
She couldn’t leave him to the cheetah, but nor could she just stand there and watch him be eaten, either, and so she screamed the only name she could think of. “HASANI!” Would her normally soft voice carry across the open flatland? Perhaps. There was nothing to beat this animal off with but her shoulder bag and she attempted that as well, though to the same effect as grabbing the animal’s hide. It wholly ignored her. All at once the animal gave a horrid growl, then another, leaped off Saro, and ran.
Tanishe looked down at the wrecked, bloody mess that was Saro and immediately crouched down, sopping at the worst of his wounds. Then, Saro was moving. “Stop it,” Tanishe commanded, but, as usual, a patient in shock wasn’t listening. She kept glancing around to make sure that the cheetah’s weren’t coming back, and at the moment, they weren’t, but Saro was in bad shape. Every part of him, it looked like, was bleeding and it was only because of the ancestors’ intervention that he and she were alive in the first place. He rolled onto his side, and she placed herself in such a way to keep him from falling over again. There was no stopping Saro from sitting up, it turned out and she moved around him, tearing the hem of her dress into long strips.
“Brave, idiot man,” she breathed to herself as she crouched beside him, stopping only when he wiggled too much, and using her shoulder to brace against him in an attempt to get him to sit still as she put her arms around him to get the bright strips of cloth around his body.
"We need... to get back... to camp." It was a phrase he kept saying, over and over, and she had ceased to answer him because he wasn’t seeming to take in her answers. Instead, Tanishe kept wrapping his torso in as tight a tourniquet as she could make to staunch the bleeding. Her kaftan was ruined completely by now. The fabric was up to her knees now as she kept tearing strips, bandaging his arms, his body, patting at the bloody claw marks that would likely scar badly across his face. She didn’t like the puncture wounds. Not one bit.
He wasn’t in too much danger from the trauma wounds themselves. She was rightly concerned about the infection to follow. “Oh Saro,” she pressed her lips to his temple and brought his arm up to survey again. “I shouldn’t have brought you with me…” This turn of events was so unlikely, just so highly unlikely, but that was the tragedy of it. Bringing one of the warriors with her would have been too much, under usual circumstances. Saro would have been fine if not for this freak accident. Tanishe pet Saro’s long, tangled hair, and started to chant prayers over him in a low, slow song, as she watched around them for Hasani or the warriors to hear her, or the cheetahs to come finish them off.
What she didn’t want him to do was to walk, but that may not be an option. She wanted him to wait here as long as they could, but that wasn’t terribly long. They weren’t too far from the edge of the tribe, either. She could see the tops of the tents in the distance and she waited, cradling Saro to her chest, hoping against hope that someone had heard her.
The pull of that voice he loved so much was unlike any other the leier had felt. Even his name on her lips ont he throes of pleasure did not have such a draw to his very bones as that horrified scream of hers from across the sands. Having been standing with a few of his hunters, their assessments of the surrounding area on his ears. He briefly heard the mention of a few cheetahs on the sands but paid it no real mind. Cheetahs did not usually attack humans. There had truly been no cause for concern.
But Tanishe's shriek had Hasani's entire world twisting beneath him in a way that brought him immediately into that intense, overwhelming killing calm. A calm that had only gripped him a few times in his life but had such a draw in that moment that he could not ignore it. The hunters beside him couldn't ignore it, either, noting the way that Hasani's head whipped to the side and the immediate change of expression. "You mentioned cheetahs, Baku," Hasani said a little breathlessly.
They had planned on going hunting. Hasani didn't even have to run to get his spear or his blade. His knuckles were already turning white with the force in which the leier held the spear. Taking in a single deep breath, Hasani was sprinting across the sands with two or three warriors hot on his trail. Hasani could see the slight forms of two people on the sands and his feet could not carry him quickly enough in their direction. He didn't realize how quickly he was outrunning them until they were so far behind him that a quick glance at them showed them so far back he confused himself.
The adrenaline was running high and all he truly cared about was making it to his wife's side. Whatever happened to them out here was bad enough for her to scream for help. Running up on the two of them, Hasani was struck by the amount of blood on the sand and on both Tanishe and Saro. He honestly couldn't tell which one, if not both, were hurt. "What happened?" he asked sharply, wildly, his dark eyes filled with worry and rage. He could guess, and the hunters quickly caught up to them. Hasani immediately barked orders at the three of them, "Run back. Get a stretcher for Saro," Hasani ordered, gripping his spear tightly. "You, track those beasts down," he snapped before turning to his wife. "Are you alright, Tanishe? How bad is it?" he asked delicately about Saro, trying to keep his rage under control.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The pull of that voice he loved so much was unlike any other the leier had felt. Even his name on her lips ont he throes of pleasure did not have such a draw to his very bones as that horrified scream of hers from across the sands. Having been standing with a few of his hunters, their assessments of the surrounding area on his ears. He briefly heard the mention of a few cheetahs on the sands but paid it no real mind. Cheetahs did not usually attack humans. There had truly been no cause for concern.
But Tanishe's shriek had Hasani's entire world twisting beneath him in a way that brought him immediately into that intense, overwhelming killing calm. A calm that had only gripped him a few times in his life but had such a draw in that moment that he could not ignore it. The hunters beside him couldn't ignore it, either, noting the way that Hasani's head whipped to the side and the immediate change of expression. "You mentioned cheetahs, Baku," Hasani said a little breathlessly.
They had planned on going hunting. Hasani didn't even have to run to get his spear or his blade. His knuckles were already turning white with the force in which the leier held the spear. Taking in a single deep breath, Hasani was sprinting across the sands with two or three warriors hot on his trail. Hasani could see the slight forms of two people on the sands and his feet could not carry him quickly enough in their direction. He didn't realize how quickly he was outrunning them until they were so far behind him that a quick glance at them showed them so far back he confused himself.
The adrenaline was running high and all he truly cared about was making it to his wife's side. Whatever happened to them out here was bad enough for her to scream for help. Running up on the two of them, Hasani was struck by the amount of blood on the sand and on both Tanishe and Saro. He honestly couldn't tell which one, if not both, were hurt. "What happened?" he asked sharply, wildly, his dark eyes filled with worry and rage. He could guess, and the hunters quickly caught up to them. Hasani immediately barked orders at the three of them, "Run back. Get a stretcher for Saro," Hasani ordered, gripping his spear tightly. "You, track those beasts down," he snapped before turning to his wife. "Are you alright, Tanishe? How bad is it?" he asked delicately about Saro, trying to keep his rage under control.
The pull of that voice he loved so much was unlike any other the leier had felt. Even his name on her lips ont he throes of pleasure did not have such a draw to his very bones as that horrified scream of hers from across the sands. Having been standing with a few of his hunters, their assessments of the surrounding area on his ears. He briefly heard the mention of a few cheetahs on the sands but paid it no real mind. Cheetahs did not usually attack humans. There had truly been no cause for concern.
But Tanishe's shriek had Hasani's entire world twisting beneath him in a way that brought him immediately into that intense, overwhelming killing calm. A calm that had only gripped him a few times in his life but had such a draw in that moment that he could not ignore it. The hunters beside him couldn't ignore it, either, noting the way that Hasani's head whipped to the side and the immediate change of expression. "You mentioned cheetahs, Baku," Hasani said a little breathlessly.
They had planned on going hunting. Hasani didn't even have to run to get his spear or his blade. His knuckles were already turning white with the force in which the leier held the spear. Taking in a single deep breath, Hasani was sprinting across the sands with two or three warriors hot on his trail. Hasani could see the slight forms of two people on the sands and his feet could not carry him quickly enough in their direction. He didn't realize how quickly he was outrunning them until they were so far behind him that a quick glance at them showed them so far back he confused himself.
The adrenaline was running high and all he truly cared about was making it to his wife's side. Whatever happened to them out here was bad enough for her to scream for help. Running up on the two of them, Hasani was struck by the amount of blood on the sand and on both Tanishe and Saro. He honestly couldn't tell which one, if not both, were hurt. "What happened?" he asked sharply, wildly, his dark eyes filled with worry and rage. He could guess, and the hunters quickly caught up to them. Hasani immediately barked orders at the three of them, "Run back. Get a stretcher for Saro," Hasani ordered, gripping his spear tightly. "You, track those beasts down," he snapped before turning to his wife. "Are you alright, Tanishe? How bad is it?" he asked delicately about Saro, trying to keep his rage under control.
Saro didn’t know much about cheetahs, but he knew that he couldn’t just lay there on the ground, bleeding and waiting to see if it would come back or if Hasani had hear his wife’s screams. He needed to get to his feet and get them back to camp, he could collapse in agony later. Right now, the adrenaline and thoughts of ensuring Tanishe back to the safety of the others were keeping the pain at bay. He knew that he needed medical attention, but to waste time doing so now would give the beasts an opportunity to group together and come after them, and while he wasn’t sure he would survive his current wounds, he was absolutely certain he wouldn’t survive a second attack.
Yet he didn’t have much of a choice as she attempted to keep him down to wrap his wounds, the blood rapidly staining the strips of her clothes that now served as bandages weakened him with every passing moment, making things more and more difficult, and lowering his chances of survival. Still, despite his own precarious situation, he could think of nothing but getting Tanishe out of there. He hadn’t just risked his life and thrown himself in front of a cheetah for her so they could wait around for it to come back and finish them both off.
Saro heard her start singing, words that he didn’t understand, and he silently wondered if she was sending him off to what ever afterlife might await him. He wasn’t about to sit there and wait for it to take him, not without a fight at least. He shifted further, pulling away from her as he made an attempt to stand.
It didn’t last long, as he was back down on the ground shortly after, unable to fully stand up as his stomach turned and the world spun far too quickly for his liking.
And then he saw salvation. Or perhaps he didn’t, and perhaps his blood loss had gotten the best of him and he was seeing the imagined figures of a dying man, but he could swear he saw someone running towards them. Someone large and imposing, spear in his hand.
Hasani.
In that moment Saro felt relief, his previously tense muscles giving out under him as he laid back on the ground and closed his eyes. Tanishe would be safe, that was what was important. As much as he would love to live through this, at least if he died, he would die knowing that his efforts to save her wouldn’t be in vain. Hasani would see her to safety, and perhaps Saro himself would just take a little bit of a nap… as things started feeling heavier, the sweet call of sleep was more enticing than it had ever been before.
Saro could hear Hasani, but he sounded distant, like he had run back to camp and was shouting from there instead of talking so close to him. That worried him. The pirate hadn’t come this far just to die here in the desert. His life belonged to the sea, he was born to the sea and he would die to the sea.
He forced himself to open his eyes, swallowing dryly as he suddenly thought water would be the best thing for him. He attempted to sit up a bit, though it was a weak attempt.
“Water.” He said, the word coming out in barely more than a whisper though he had intended it to be at full volume. He knew the amount of blood that stained the sands and their clothing was not good, but he was having a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at a time, and it wasn’t as if he could put the spilled blood back in his veins, so instead he focused on the desire for water.
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Saro didn’t know much about cheetahs, but he knew that he couldn’t just lay there on the ground, bleeding and waiting to see if it would come back or if Hasani had hear his wife’s screams. He needed to get to his feet and get them back to camp, he could collapse in agony later. Right now, the adrenaline and thoughts of ensuring Tanishe back to the safety of the others were keeping the pain at bay. He knew that he needed medical attention, but to waste time doing so now would give the beasts an opportunity to group together and come after them, and while he wasn’t sure he would survive his current wounds, he was absolutely certain he wouldn’t survive a second attack.
Yet he didn’t have much of a choice as she attempted to keep him down to wrap his wounds, the blood rapidly staining the strips of her clothes that now served as bandages weakened him with every passing moment, making things more and more difficult, and lowering his chances of survival. Still, despite his own precarious situation, he could think of nothing but getting Tanishe out of there. He hadn’t just risked his life and thrown himself in front of a cheetah for her so they could wait around for it to come back and finish them both off.
Saro heard her start singing, words that he didn’t understand, and he silently wondered if she was sending him off to what ever afterlife might await him. He wasn’t about to sit there and wait for it to take him, not without a fight at least. He shifted further, pulling away from her as he made an attempt to stand.
It didn’t last long, as he was back down on the ground shortly after, unable to fully stand up as his stomach turned and the world spun far too quickly for his liking.
And then he saw salvation. Or perhaps he didn’t, and perhaps his blood loss had gotten the best of him and he was seeing the imagined figures of a dying man, but he could swear he saw someone running towards them. Someone large and imposing, spear in his hand.
Hasani.
In that moment Saro felt relief, his previously tense muscles giving out under him as he laid back on the ground and closed his eyes. Tanishe would be safe, that was what was important. As much as he would love to live through this, at least if he died, he would die knowing that his efforts to save her wouldn’t be in vain. Hasani would see her to safety, and perhaps Saro himself would just take a little bit of a nap… as things started feeling heavier, the sweet call of sleep was more enticing than it had ever been before.
Saro could hear Hasani, but he sounded distant, like he had run back to camp and was shouting from there instead of talking so close to him. That worried him. The pirate hadn’t come this far just to die here in the desert. His life belonged to the sea, he was born to the sea and he would die to the sea.
He forced himself to open his eyes, swallowing dryly as he suddenly thought water would be the best thing for him. He attempted to sit up a bit, though it was a weak attempt.
“Water.” He said, the word coming out in barely more than a whisper though he had intended it to be at full volume. He knew the amount of blood that stained the sands and their clothing was not good, but he was having a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at a time, and it wasn’t as if he could put the spilled blood back in his veins, so instead he focused on the desire for water.
Saro didn’t know much about cheetahs, but he knew that he couldn’t just lay there on the ground, bleeding and waiting to see if it would come back or if Hasani had hear his wife’s screams. He needed to get to his feet and get them back to camp, he could collapse in agony later. Right now, the adrenaline and thoughts of ensuring Tanishe back to the safety of the others were keeping the pain at bay. He knew that he needed medical attention, but to waste time doing so now would give the beasts an opportunity to group together and come after them, and while he wasn’t sure he would survive his current wounds, he was absolutely certain he wouldn’t survive a second attack.
Yet he didn’t have much of a choice as she attempted to keep him down to wrap his wounds, the blood rapidly staining the strips of her clothes that now served as bandages weakened him with every passing moment, making things more and more difficult, and lowering his chances of survival. Still, despite his own precarious situation, he could think of nothing but getting Tanishe out of there. He hadn’t just risked his life and thrown himself in front of a cheetah for her so they could wait around for it to come back and finish them both off.
Saro heard her start singing, words that he didn’t understand, and he silently wondered if she was sending him off to what ever afterlife might await him. He wasn’t about to sit there and wait for it to take him, not without a fight at least. He shifted further, pulling away from her as he made an attempt to stand.
It didn’t last long, as he was back down on the ground shortly after, unable to fully stand up as his stomach turned and the world spun far too quickly for his liking.
And then he saw salvation. Or perhaps he didn’t, and perhaps his blood loss had gotten the best of him and he was seeing the imagined figures of a dying man, but he could swear he saw someone running towards them. Someone large and imposing, spear in his hand.
Hasani.
In that moment Saro felt relief, his previously tense muscles giving out under him as he laid back on the ground and closed his eyes. Tanishe would be safe, that was what was important. As much as he would love to live through this, at least if he died, he would die knowing that his efforts to save her wouldn’t be in vain. Hasani would see her to safety, and perhaps Saro himself would just take a little bit of a nap… as things started feeling heavier, the sweet call of sleep was more enticing than it had ever been before.
Saro could hear Hasani, but he sounded distant, like he had run back to camp and was shouting from there instead of talking so close to him. That worried him. The pirate hadn’t come this far just to die here in the desert. His life belonged to the sea, he was born to the sea and he would die to the sea.
He forced himself to open his eyes, swallowing dryly as he suddenly thought water would be the best thing for him. He attempted to sit up a bit, though it was a weak attempt.
“Water.” He said, the word coming out in barely more than a whisper though he had intended it to be at full volume. He knew the amount of blood that stained the sands and their clothing was not good, but he was having a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at a time, and it wasn’t as if he could put the spilled blood back in his veins, so instead he focused on the desire for water.
Holding onto Saro and preventing him from standing was easier than it would have been under normal circumstances. Being a man, he was therefore, to Tanishe, strong. If he’d wanted to break out of her arms and spring away, he could have done it only a few minutes ago. But now, his life was draining red on the ground and his attempts to stand or get free were worthless. She hung onto him through every movement he made, her voice warbling when he made a real stab at standing, only to slump back against her chest.
“Shhh,” she shushed him, her hand against his forehead, leaving a bloody smear as she petted his thick black hair away from his face. Sweat coated his body and she held him close, calm because she couldn’t panic. Not yet. “It’s alright,” she soothed, glancing around them. If the cheetahs returned, they were finished. Where the cats had melted off to, she couldn’t say. Twisting at the waist, she looked behind them, seeing endless scrub and her satchel, lying forgotten. The most idiotic thought of needing to make sure not to forget it crossed her mind as she turned to look back towards the village, unsure if her voice had carried that far. For the moment, it was still just the two of them.
Tanishe glanced right, watching the wind rustle the tops of the huge rooibos plants. She drew in an unsteady breath, wrinkling her nose against the stench of blood on the heat of the african air. The landscape around them, deceptively peaceful, appeared washed out, nearly colorless beneath the blazing ball of white sunlight. Her eyes dropped back to Saro and she wiped her thumb across the sheen of his brow, trying to remove the blood she’d accidentally smeared there. He didn’t deserve this, she thought. He was such a sweet person, so curious, so odd. A burning began in her nose, spreading beneath her eyes, and suddenly Saro’s face softened and shimmered, swimming. She blinked, not wiping away the tears that trailed down her face as he finally stopped struggling.
His chest rose and fell without rhythm. She pressed her hand to his heart, counting the beats, ignoring the dark, alarming red of the cloth around his torso. Completely alone in the world, possibly this man’s last human connection, she decided to sing again, just in case his spirit was weak and he slipped away from her before she got the chance to do something for him. Her words were not ones that she sang to the dying, meant to carry them to the ancestors. He wasn’t from here. His ancestors would not find him if he died so far from home. Instead, she sang to him the kinds of light, lyrical songs meant for children, to soothe them from nightmares, music to chase away evil spirits, to carry him through until morning in safety.
Dirt crunched in quick succession, almost in a tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Panting breath, more tap, tap, tap, tap and the whisper of plant tendrils being disrupted made Tanishe look up. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand, leaving two bloody swipes against her cheeks like war paint. “Hasni,” she breathed, melting against Saro for just a moment. Again, she pressed her lips to his temple, promising him that he would be alright. Her husband was here. That meant everything would work out, because the ancestors favored Hasani. At least, they favored him in this way, in saving lives, rather than giving it. It was the way they favored her as well. A blessing for the living, a curse for what she truly wanted.
He was a legend made real as he dashed beneath the sunlight. It framed the contours of his muscled arms in gold, accentuating the shadows of his dark skin in the hollow of his throat and the fierceness of his expression. The flash of his dagger and the way he carried his spear, as though it was less of a weapon and more of a continuation of himself filled her with such comfort as no one else could have done. Hasni wouldn’t heal Saro, she would do that, but he would enable her to do so. His very presence gave her strength and she could feel in the way Saro’s body relaxed that he was willing to fight on. Whatever weight or worry had lifted and was no longer taxing his spirit.
"What happened?" Hasani demanded as he skidded to a halt. The edge in his voice prompted her to stay silent, rather than answer him immediately. She watched his face as he took in the blood on the two of them. His eyes darted between herself and Saro and she could almost see the puzzle pieces fall into place. The way he looked at her made her glance down, only mildly surprised to find herself almost as wet and red as her companion.
"Are you alright, Tanishe? How bad is it?" he checked and that, she would answer.
“I am unharmed,” she said softly at almost the same moment that the other three warriors ran up to them. The face of each man set in the same way her husband’s had. They’d come running expecting trouble, and they’d found the aftermath but not the source. Dust spun up, swirling around their legs in a haze and doubled as two of them broke off to obey their lier. She wished that they’d thought to bring the stretcher, rather than having to go back and suss one out, but there was no way they could have known. Impatience was not her way, not even in the face of death. She could do nothing to make the warriors run more swiftly or impress upon them the importance of haste. It would do no good to work herself up.
One the other warrior broke off to scout the area, Tanishe cradled Saro again, ignoring his plea for water for the moment. “Two cheetahs,” she said to her husband, looking down into Saro’s face. His thick black brows stood out stark and alarming against the white of his skin. She did not like the pale tinge it had taken on, nor did she like that his pink lips were pressed together in a tight line, draining color there as well. The only thing she could imagine was that if he wasn’t in a great deal of pain yet, he soon would be. At the moment, his confusion was perfectly normal and he was acting traumatized in the same way anyone did when they’d experienced extreme shock and blood loss.
“We were gathering herbs,” she started from the beginning, looking toward the village for the warriors as though that would bring them here any faster. All she could see from here were black tents shimmering in the desert heat. “I noticed a cheetah and thought nothing of it. And then one attacked from…” she paused, glancing around and waved a bloody hand. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Another one came, and Saro jumped in to save me. He wrestled it.” She sniffed, pressing the black of her bloody hand against her nose and shrugging. “I don’t know. It happened so fast. It’s bleeding-I think he stabbed it. He was so brave, husband. Poor pet.” Here, she petted him again like he was her beloved dog, a pet she’d had for years, instead of a full grown adult man she’d only known for a comparatively short time.
“He is almost a warrior, Hasani. If he lives through this, train him with a spear. He has a lion heart-oh there!” she pointed, seeing Hasani’s warriors sprinting with the stretcher between them. Comprised of sturdy, stained fabric in faded colors of yellow, red, and black, the stretcher was the only thing she wanted at this very moment for Saro. “Tell them to be careful,” she instructed, shifting her weight so that she could prop Saro to sit right against her. He would be easier to grab that way. With her chest along his back, and his head lolled back on her shoulder, she looked down at his exposed throat, frowning at the streaks of red there. He was so covered in blood that it was hard to tell where his actual injuries were and she hoped that the cat hadn’t managed to get his neck. If that was the case, she didn’t know what could be reasonably done for him; not if the gashes were deep.
By then, she gestured to Hasani, asking for his water skin, forgetting she had hers on her person. Lifting the skin to Saro’s lips, she hummed to him a song they used to call rain clouds. The tune was bouncy and while not actually cheerful, it did mimic the pinging of rain against a clay pot in the way that the notes jumped up and down. She kept up the humming as precious water dribbled down his chin, catching in the scraggly hair on his jaw. Again she was struck by how fine his hair was. So different from that of the Bedoan people. It was the same in color but hers and Hasani’s hair was thin and curled no matter what they did to it. Saro’s individual hairs were thick and she wasn’t sure that he’d ever have curls. Obviously curly hair was better, poor man. She wondered if he was constantly sweltering under the heat of his own head.
Eternity had come and gone in the time that the cheetah attacked and the stretcher arrived. As the warriors descended on her, she felt a strange sort of loss, mingled with relief as Saro was lifted onto the stretcher. For a single moment, she looked down at the sand where he’d been. The imprint of his side was not perfect, not after the footsteps and shifting of the sand, but the blood was still there, vibrant and gorgeous against the ground. It made her sick in a way it usually didn’t. Warriors were easier to cope with; they signed up for the potential violence and death that they would meet. That sort of death was a good thing if in service to a worthy cause. Saro had come with her as a precaution; no one expected him to lay down his life, least of all her.
“Quickly and gently,” she called to the warriors, not following immediately. Encumbered as they were, she was not concerned about catching up. Taking the unpleasant but necessary steps, she walked over to both satchels, bent down, and retrieved them. Whether or not Saro died, she still needed the herbs and some of these she would definitely require for him. She placed the straps of one over her shoulder, across her body, and did the same with the second on the other side so that each satchel hung down at her hips.
In a quick jog, she loped up to the warriors, pulling at the stick fabric pressing against her skin. Even with her clothing wet, she wasn’t cooled off, not in this dry heat. She’d half expected Hasani to trot with her, but her husband wasn’t at her side. With spear in hand, he was off to hunt the animal that had done this. She did not believe the cheetah would be difficult to find. Wounded as it surely must be, bleeding as profusely as its victim, she didn’t think the cheetah or its friend would have gone too far. Ideally Hasani would be bringing back both as pelts. Obviously it would take a few days to prepare the pelt properly, but they could look forward to having a new cloak, rug, or even decoration for the tent, depending on what her husband decided to use it for.
“Easy with him,” she commented, placing a steadying hand on Saro’s chest as the two warriors walked along. The swaying, jerking motions of the stretcher couldn’t be helped. If the warriors went a little too fast, Saro bounced a bit. If they went to slow, then she was afraid that he would lose too much blood before she could sew him up. It was a delicate balance between necessity and precaution. Meandering through the desert, around the tall rooibos plants proved to be its own difficulty. Tanishe ignored the swish of wind against her bare legs, unused to having her calves and knees on display. People were gathered on the edges of the tents, forming a human wall to see what was the matter.
”Clear the way!” one of the warriors bellowed. Tanishe didn’t smile but nodded her thanks to him. Her voice was high and soft, not usually one to carry well and definitely not one that rang with fierce authority. Sometimes she could muster that sort of tone, but not now. Not with hands reaching toward her, fingers grasping at clothes, sliding along her shoulders, each person assessing that she was alright. Some of the people followed, worried for the man on the stretcher. Some people took it as an ill omen and scattered. She did not look up to see who was touching her or who walked along after them. Her gaze remained on their guest and friend, watching his shining, pale face. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples. His damp hair hung limp and she wished that she could reach him through whatever haze he was in, but this was probably for the best that he was out of it.
One of the healers took her by the elbow, saying something about the satchels and Tanishe barely reacted when they were lifted off of her. Her mind turned from worrying about Saro to thinking what she would do for this patient. Getting things ready in the medical hawe was a good start. Without looking back at him, she jaunted ahead, using her hands to brace against the flaps of the purple tent as she burst through. Inside, it was as calm and dim as it usually was. No one in here knew about the attack. No one was ready.
“Lamps,” she said, snatching a shawl from a slave and using it to tie her braids back and up. Her own headscarf was missing and she wasn’t entirely sure when it had disappeared. “Several lamps. I need this bed ready. Ready the needle, I will need thread, water. Start boiling more. And linen bandages.” She spoke to no one in particular and without a word, the healers and slaves of the tent set about the tasks. A few people bumped into each other as they went to go perform the same function, but the kinks were smoothed out by the time the tent flaps separated and the first of the warriors came in.
“Here,” Tanishe said, pointing to the bed where Saro would be laying. She, along with the rest of the healers, went to the bed. Sliding her hands beneath the small of his back, she was one of many who was ready to move him. “Lift in three, two, one, lift,” she grunted. As one, they shifted him from the stretcher to the bed. Tanishe turned to take the needle into her hand, checking the thread while someone else took a knife and cut from Saro’s hip to his neck, separating his shirt and the bandages from him to expose the skin. “Water,” Tanishe ordered, her voice emotionless. Using a large wad of linen, one of the slave girls sponged at Saro’s side while two others held clay lamps filled with oil up for Tanishe to see.
She frowned down at his wounds, trying to see what was deep, what was surface, and what she couldn’t do a thing about in either case. The slashes to his face were of the least concern but the bled the most. His neck, shoulder, and hair were coated on that side. Luckily the mauling wasn’t too terrible. The tourniquet had done its job and he would need another, but she was less worried now than she had been before. Taking the needle, she bent her head and brought her face close, hooking the curved needle into the wound, hooking it into the other side of the gash on the opposite side, and pulling up. She worked the needle under the thick gut thread and pulled the skin together, forming a little knot, cutting this, and doing it again on the next section of skin. Working in this way, not making it a continuous line of thread but each stitch its own, individual portion, she performed this on each necessary injury. The only time she stopped was for the slave girl to reach in and blot the blood so that she could see again. His skin was stained red, the edges of the sutures angry and puckered. This would scar and it would be ugly for a long time.
There was nothing she could do for puncture wounds, stitching wise. They were deep and to pull the skin taut like that would hinder healing, not help it. For these, a different healer was already mixing up a stringent smelling poultice and applying it while Tanishe worked on Saro’s stitches. If people spoke, the words were terse and monosyllabic. There was no conversation. Of all the tribes to be wounded in, Saro was lucky, at least, that it was this one. Perhaps the Buuchu had healers of their own, and the Rwandi, and the rest of them, but there was no healer in all the rest of the tribes combined that could equal the team that worked on Saro at this moment. Their knowledge and skill went unparalleled and it was for perhaps this reason, and that whatever gods he followed were looking out for him, that he would likely live. If left on his own, he would either succumb to his wounds or infection, but under Tanishe’s care, by keeping him clean and under a watchful eye, he would come out of this mostly unscathed.
“There,” she said finally, sitting straight on her butt beside Saro’s cot. His bloody clothes had been cleared away and he now lay with a linen sheet covering him. A slave girl was still sponging his head and his hair, attempting to work the blood out of it. A large square of linen was tied against his cheek and already spots of red broke through. His bandages would need changed every few hours. Slaves were instructed to wash these bloody linens, to bring more. All attention was to be given to this man, this guest, this savior of the tribe’s leierin. What wonder Saro hadn’t already inspired in the Zaire tribe was bolstered now. The people who’d assumed he was an ill omen changed their minds after the warriors who’d brought him had spread around his noble deed.
Tanishe raised her hand, intending to rest it against her lips but stopped and looked. Her arms were coated in blood. She looked down her front, realizing that she’d been here long enough that her kaftan, what was left of it, was crusted and brown. Saro was asleep. He breathed evenly, having been heavily drugged by some of their medicine so that they could even perform the stitching on him. The last thing she’d wanted was for him to be awake to move and struggle. He would likely not notice her absence.
“Alert me if anything changes for the worse,” Tanishe said to a healer who came up beside Saro’s bed to look down at him.
”Yes, my leierin.”
Tanishe rose slowly to her feet. She had not been the one mauled, but the last few hours were draining nonetheless. Now that Saro was stable, she felt no need to touch him again, though she did look at the egg smooth roundness of his good shoulder in comparison to the savaged one that they’d bandaged up. He would not be the same and as much as she knew it was because she’d gone herb hunting, she couldn’t quite pin this on herself. A cheetah had attacked him. Still, when he awoke, she would make amends. But how? And would he want to leave them immediately? Would he be scared away? Would he even want to train as a warrior under her husband? She would not blame him if he chose to leave, but she would be sad to be partially responsible for it.
”Go bathe, my leierin,” the healer prompted and Tanishe glanced at her, realizing the woman was still standing there. ”I had water prepared for you a short while ago. It is waiting for you at your tent.”
Tanishe nodded, murmuring something that might have been a thank you or it could have been a simple yes. She wasn’t quite sure herself what she said. Turning, she left the hawe, almost startled to find the day had completely slipped away from her. Across the desert, off in the distance, the edges of the sky were rimmed in pink, edged by a soft purple blanket that faded into blue right above her. Somehow this felt almost like a betrayal. Like time wasn’t supposed to pass unless she was ready for it.
As soon as she took the first few steps, her mind became comfortably blank. She glanced around at the people she passed, smiling at this one, nodding to that one, bowing to this elder, passing that child. By the time she reached her tent, she was more than ready to pull off this disgusting kaftan and pass it off to a slave who would find something useful to do with it. Probably it could be washed and then cut to fit one of the girls in the village. It definitely wouldn’t do for a grown woman now, not with most of the bottom half missing.
The bath was where the healer had said it would be. A makeshift stand of blankets had been formed in a large square, ready for her to use. Over the top of the stand, a new kaftan of deep blue hung waiting for her. She moved the curtain aside, peeling off her old clothes and dropping them straight onto the ground. Standing right on the pile, she used it to keep her feet clean as she worked the linen rag over her face and arms, down her breasts and stomach, and even her legs. There was blood everywhere. Her only thoughts, as she bent over the huge bowl, working grits and flecks of red from beneath her nails, was that it was strange she now felt nothing. Holding so much emotion earlier had left her raw and empty now. She almost felt like an earthen vessel who’d had holes poked in it and all the water had leaked out.
By the time she was done, she no longer stared into a bowl of clear water. It was murky and dark, reflecting stars and hiding the clouds of red swirling beneath the surface. Tanishe looked up at the incoming night, feeling too drained to cook, but knowing she would need to for Hasani to have something to eat after hunting. She took in a deep breath, preparing to take on the next task of preparing food for herself and her husband, but stopped dead at the sight of a cooking fire outside of her tent. A slave sat there, prodding the coals, and looked up, smiling at her. The slave waved her over, pointing out the meat that was now ready.
Tanishe felt her throat constrict, took a moment to breathe for a few seconds, and only walked over when she was no longer in danger of crying. “Thank you,” she said, dipping down to sit on one of the cushions that had been brought out. It did not bother her that slaves went into her tent to get her dress, go through the food, pick out which cushion she would sit on. It almost felt like having a sister wife again and at that moment, she did cry. The slave said nothing and pretended not to notice. After a few seconds, the girl left and Tanishe ate in silence, thankful to be alone. She did not often mourn the past, but at the moment, she was unable to contain any emotion she felt. It was distressing to be so out of sorts, especially when she stopped to consider that she wasn’t the one lying bandaged in the medical hawe. She had no right to be distraught. Saro would live. She was uninjured. He was a hero. There was no reason to be so emotional.
When Hasani came, she did her level best to appear as serene as usual but that night, as they lay trying to sleep, she pressed right up against him and didn’t move away. At no point in the night did she drift off to her own side of the bed pallet. All she wanted was his embrace, the feel of his skin on hers, and the warm protection of his presence. What if it had been Hasani with her? Even with his spear, he wasn’t immune to being snuck upon. What if she’d lost him? These thoughts were foreign to her, these worries. She did not usually entertain such bizarre ‘what if’s’. They were pointless. But she thought of them tonight, with her cheek pressed against her husband’s shoulder.
It was impossible to tell how long she lay awake but she must have slept because the light of morning surprised her with its sudden appearance. She sat up, pulling the blanket to her bare chest and hugging her knees to her so that she could rest her chin on top of them. No one had come last night to inform her of any change. Saro was still alright; or at least, alive. Tanishe assessed herself, unwilling to go to the hawe if she was still out of control internally, and found that she felt, nothing. She was void of swirling thoughts, but not in the same empty nothingness from last night. That had been an abyss, a darkness brought on by being too full, like stuffing too much into a space and blocking all light. This simply felt like she was fresh and ready to meet the day. Not happy, not sad. Open.
“Good morning, husband,” she said lightly and uncoiled herself to lean over and give him a kiss on his cheek. “I am going to check on Saro. I will make you breakfast when I get back.” She let the blanket drop and pulled on her deep blue kaftan from last night. The only real care she took was to find her own headscarf and tie it in place, securing her cascade of braids away from her face. The usual bangles and earrings she wore remained in her box. She didn’t want them on if she was going to get messy again.
Now that she was up and alert, she was anxious to check his bandages and to see what the night had done to his puncture wounds. What she didn’t want to see was a bunch of yellow, angry puss. Infection was the chief worry at the moment and she wanted to see if he was going to pull through. Last night, she’d been so tired, she hadn’t properly thought through all the horrendous ways he could die besides blood loss. That she could control. Infection? Less so.
As soon as her sandals were on her feet, she was moving through the camp, the hem of her kaftan fluttering about her ankles, the sleeves extending to her mid forearm. She was dressed like this was a normal day but she would not know if that was so until she pushed back the tent flap to see her patient, her friend. The walk felt longer than it truly was and by the time she was coming inside the dim tent, she felt better. No one had intercepted her on the way to warn her of a raging fever. The tent did not smell of illness any more so than usual.
Tanishe knelt beside Saro’s bed and gently pulled back the sheet, folding it over once and laying this top layer over his pelvis. Her eyes swept his form, assessing the bandages. Several bore bright stains of red, indicating that they’d been changed already this morning. She lifted the ones that covered his puncture wounds. The acrid smell of fresh poultice wafted to her nose and she used her fingertips to push a little bit of it aside, looking at the edges of the wound. The punctures were rimmed with pink, but not angry red. Satisfied, she let the bandage go and smiled at Saro.
“Good morning,” she said softly, putting her hands in her lap as she looked him over. She sat on the side where his face was still marred by a square of linen to cover the scratches. “How are you feeling?” Probably he would still be groggy from the medicine, if he could hear her at all. Letting him sleep would be best, but she wanted him awake, wanted to see exactly how he was feeling, if he needed more medicine to numb the pain. They could give him some, of course, but too much was toxic and would send him into such a deep sleep that he would stop breathing and die. She’d have to check with the healer who’d been watching over him the whole night to see how much of the flower nectar that he’d been given. For now, she wanted to hear, in his own words, how he was doing.
“You were very brave,” she continued, still not reaching out to touch him like she had yesterday. The painful, powerful moment was over, and she didn’t feel that he needed that sort of comfort. “I thank you, Saro.”
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Holding onto Saro and preventing him from standing was easier than it would have been under normal circumstances. Being a man, he was therefore, to Tanishe, strong. If he’d wanted to break out of her arms and spring away, he could have done it only a few minutes ago. But now, his life was draining red on the ground and his attempts to stand or get free were worthless. She hung onto him through every movement he made, her voice warbling when he made a real stab at standing, only to slump back against her chest.
“Shhh,” she shushed him, her hand against his forehead, leaving a bloody smear as she petted his thick black hair away from his face. Sweat coated his body and she held him close, calm because she couldn’t panic. Not yet. “It’s alright,” she soothed, glancing around them. If the cheetahs returned, they were finished. Where the cats had melted off to, she couldn’t say. Twisting at the waist, she looked behind them, seeing endless scrub and her satchel, lying forgotten. The most idiotic thought of needing to make sure not to forget it crossed her mind as she turned to look back towards the village, unsure if her voice had carried that far. For the moment, it was still just the two of them.
Tanishe glanced right, watching the wind rustle the tops of the huge rooibos plants. She drew in an unsteady breath, wrinkling her nose against the stench of blood on the heat of the african air. The landscape around them, deceptively peaceful, appeared washed out, nearly colorless beneath the blazing ball of white sunlight. Her eyes dropped back to Saro and she wiped her thumb across the sheen of his brow, trying to remove the blood she’d accidentally smeared there. He didn’t deserve this, she thought. He was such a sweet person, so curious, so odd. A burning began in her nose, spreading beneath her eyes, and suddenly Saro’s face softened and shimmered, swimming. She blinked, not wiping away the tears that trailed down her face as he finally stopped struggling.
His chest rose and fell without rhythm. She pressed her hand to his heart, counting the beats, ignoring the dark, alarming red of the cloth around his torso. Completely alone in the world, possibly this man’s last human connection, she decided to sing again, just in case his spirit was weak and he slipped away from her before she got the chance to do something for him. Her words were not ones that she sang to the dying, meant to carry them to the ancestors. He wasn’t from here. His ancestors would not find him if he died so far from home. Instead, she sang to him the kinds of light, lyrical songs meant for children, to soothe them from nightmares, music to chase away evil spirits, to carry him through until morning in safety.
Dirt crunched in quick succession, almost in a tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Panting breath, more tap, tap, tap, tap and the whisper of plant tendrils being disrupted made Tanishe look up. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand, leaving two bloody swipes against her cheeks like war paint. “Hasni,” she breathed, melting against Saro for just a moment. Again, she pressed her lips to his temple, promising him that he would be alright. Her husband was here. That meant everything would work out, because the ancestors favored Hasani. At least, they favored him in this way, in saving lives, rather than giving it. It was the way they favored her as well. A blessing for the living, a curse for what she truly wanted.
He was a legend made real as he dashed beneath the sunlight. It framed the contours of his muscled arms in gold, accentuating the shadows of his dark skin in the hollow of his throat and the fierceness of his expression. The flash of his dagger and the way he carried his spear, as though it was less of a weapon and more of a continuation of himself filled her with such comfort as no one else could have done. Hasni wouldn’t heal Saro, she would do that, but he would enable her to do so. His very presence gave her strength and she could feel in the way Saro’s body relaxed that he was willing to fight on. Whatever weight or worry had lifted and was no longer taxing his spirit.
"What happened?" Hasani demanded as he skidded to a halt. The edge in his voice prompted her to stay silent, rather than answer him immediately. She watched his face as he took in the blood on the two of them. His eyes darted between herself and Saro and she could almost see the puzzle pieces fall into place. The way he looked at her made her glance down, only mildly surprised to find herself almost as wet and red as her companion.
"Are you alright, Tanishe? How bad is it?" he checked and that, she would answer.
“I am unharmed,” she said softly at almost the same moment that the other three warriors ran up to them. The face of each man set in the same way her husband’s had. They’d come running expecting trouble, and they’d found the aftermath but not the source. Dust spun up, swirling around their legs in a haze and doubled as two of them broke off to obey their lier. She wished that they’d thought to bring the stretcher, rather than having to go back and suss one out, but there was no way they could have known. Impatience was not her way, not even in the face of death. She could do nothing to make the warriors run more swiftly or impress upon them the importance of haste. It would do no good to work herself up.
One the other warrior broke off to scout the area, Tanishe cradled Saro again, ignoring his plea for water for the moment. “Two cheetahs,” she said to her husband, looking down into Saro’s face. His thick black brows stood out stark and alarming against the white of his skin. She did not like the pale tinge it had taken on, nor did she like that his pink lips were pressed together in a tight line, draining color there as well. The only thing she could imagine was that if he wasn’t in a great deal of pain yet, he soon would be. At the moment, his confusion was perfectly normal and he was acting traumatized in the same way anyone did when they’d experienced extreme shock and blood loss.
“We were gathering herbs,” she started from the beginning, looking toward the village for the warriors as though that would bring them here any faster. All she could see from here were black tents shimmering in the desert heat. “I noticed a cheetah and thought nothing of it. And then one attacked from…” she paused, glancing around and waved a bloody hand. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Another one came, and Saro jumped in to save me. He wrestled it.” She sniffed, pressing the black of her bloody hand against her nose and shrugging. “I don’t know. It happened so fast. It’s bleeding-I think he stabbed it. He was so brave, husband. Poor pet.” Here, she petted him again like he was her beloved dog, a pet she’d had for years, instead of a full grown adult man she’d only known for a comparatively short time.
“He is almost a warrior, Hasani. If he lives through this, train him with a spear. He has a lion heart-oh there!” she pointed, seeing Hasani’s warriors sprinting with the stretcher between them. Comprised of sturdy, stained fabric in faded colors of yellow, red, and black, the stretcher was the only thing she wanted at this very moment for Saro. “Tell them to be careful,” she instructed, shifting her weight so that she could prop Saro to sit right against her. He would be easier to grab that way. With her chest along his back, and his head lolled back on her shoulder, she looked down at his exposed throat, frowning at the streaks of red there. He was so covered in blood that it was hard to tell where his actual injuries were and she hoped that the cat hadn’t managed to get his neck. If that was the case, she didn’t know what could be reasonably done for him; not if the gashes were deep.
By then, she gestured to Hasani, asking for his water skin, forgetting she had hers on her person. Lifting the skin to Saro’s lips, she hummed to him a song they used to call rain clouds. The tune was bouncy and while not actually cheerful, it did mimic the pinging of rain against a clay pot in the way that the notes jumped up and down. She kept up the humming as precious water dribbled down his chin, catching in the scraggly hair on his jaw. Again she was struck by how fine his hair was. So different from that of the Bedoan people. It was the same in color but hers and Hasani’s hair was thin and curled no matter what they did to it. Saro’s individual hairs were thick and she wasn’t sure that he’d ever have curls. Obviously curly hair was better, poor man. She wondered if he was constantly sweltering under the heat of his own head.
Eternity had come and gone in the time that the cheetah attacked and the stretcher arrived. As the warriors descended on her, she felt a strange sort of loss, mingled with relief as Saro was lifted onto the stretcher. For a single moment, she looked down at the sand where he’d been. The imprint of his side was not perfect, not after the footsteps and shifting of the sand, but the blood was still there, vibrant and gorgeous against the ground. It made her sick in a way it usually didn’t. Warriors were easier to cope with; they signed up for the potential violence and death that they would meet. That sort of death was a good thing if in service to a worthy cause. Saro had come with her as a precaution; no one expected him to lay down his life, least of all her.
“Quickly and gently,” she called to the warriors, not following immediately. Encumbered as they were, she was not concerned about catching up. Taking the unpleasant but necessary steps, she walked over to both satchels, bent down, and retrieved them. Whether or not Saro died, she still needed the herbs and some of these she would definitely require for him. She placed the straps of one over her shoulder, across her body, and did the same with the second on the other side so that each satchel hung down at her hips.
In a quick jog, she loped up to the warriors, pulling at the stick fabric pressing against her skin. Even with her clothing wet, she wasn’t cooled off, not in this dry heat. She’d half expected Hasani to trot with her, but her husband wasn’t at her side. With spear in hand, he was off to hunt the animal that had done this. She did not believe the cheetah would be difficult to find. Wounded as it surely must be, bleeding as profusely as its victim, she didn’t think the cheetah or its friend would have gone too far. Ideally Hasani would be bringing back both as pelts. Obviously it would take a few days to prepare the pelt properly, but they could look forward to having a new cloak, rug, or even decoration for the tent, depending on what her husband decided to use it for.
“Easy with him,” she commented, placing a steadying hand on Saro’s chest as the two warriors walked along. The swaying, jerking motions of the stretcher couldn’t be helped. If the warriors went a little too fast, Saro bounced a bit. If they went to slow, then she was afraid that he would lose too much blood before she could sew him up. It was a delicate balance between necessity and precaution. Meandering through the desert, around the tall rooibos plants proved to be its own difficulty. Tanishe ignored the swish of wind against her bare legs, unused to having her calves and knees on display. People were gathered on the edges of the tents, forming a human wall to see what was the matter.
”Clear the way!” one of the warriors bellowed. Tanishe didn’t smile but nodded her thanks to him. Her voice was high and soft, not usually one to carry well and definitely not one that rang with fierce authority. Sometimes she could muster that sort of tone, but not now. Not with hands reaching toward her, fingers grasping at clothes, sliding along her shoulders, each person assessing that she was alright. Some of the people followed, worried for the man on the stretcher. Some people took it as an ill omen and scattered. She did not look up to see who was touching her or who walked along after them. Her gaze remained on their guest and friend, watching his shining, pale face. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples. His damp hair hung limp and she wished that she could reach him through whatever haze he was in, but this was probably for the best that he was out of it.
One of the healers took her by the elbow, saying something about the satchels and Tanishe barely reacted when they were lifted off of her. Her mind turned from worrying about Saro to thinking what she would do for this patient. Getting things ready in the medical hawe was a good start. Without looking back at him, she jaunted ahead, using her hands to brace against the flaps of the purple tent as she burst through. Inside, it was as calm and dim as it usually was. No one in here knew about the attack. No one was ready.
“Lamps,” she said, snatching a shawl from a slave and using it to tie her braids back and up. Her own headscarf was missing and she wasn’t entirely sure when it had disappeared. “Several lamps. I need this bed ready. Ready the needle, I will need thread, water. Start boiling more. And linen bandages.” She spoke to no one in particular and without a word, the healers and slaves of the tent set about the tasks. A few people bumped into each other as they went to go perform the same function, but the kinks were smoothed out by the time the tent flaps separated and the first of the warriors came in.
“Here,” Tanishe said, pointing to the bed where Saro would be laying. She, along with the rest of the healers, went to the bed. Sliding her hands beneath the small of his back, she was one of many who was ready to move him. “Lift in three, two, one, lift,” she grunted. As one, they shifted him from the stretcher to the bed. Tanishe turned to take the needle into her hand, checking the thread while someone else took a knife and cut from Saro’s hip to his neck, separating his shirt and the bandages from him to expose the skin. “Water,” Tanishe ordered, her voice emotionless. Using a large wad of linen, one of the slave girls sponged at Saro’s side while two others held clay lamps filled with oil up for Tanishe to see.
She frowned down at his wounds, trying to see what was deep, what was surface, and what she couldn’t do a thing about in either case. The slashes to his face were of the least concern but the bled the most. His neck, shoulder, and hair were coated on that side. Luckily the mauling wasn’t too terrible. The tourniquet had done its job and he would need another, but she was less worried now than she had been before. Taking the needle, she bent her head and brought her face close, hooking the curved needle into the wound, hooking it into the other side of the gash on the opposite side, and pulling up. She worked the needle under the thick gut thread and pulled the skin together, forming a little knot, cutting this, and doing it again on the next section of skin. Working in this way, not making it a continuous line of thread but each stitch its own, individual portion, she performed this on each necessary injury. The only time she stopped was for the slave girl to reach in and blot the blood so that she could see again. His skin was stained red, the edges of the sutures angry and puckered. This would scar and it would be ugly for a long time.
There was nothing she could do for puncture wounds, stitching wise. They were deep and to pull the skin taut like that would hinder healing, not help it. For these, a different healer was already mixing up a stringent smelling poultice and applying it while Tanishe worked on Saro’s stitches. If people spoke, the words were terse and monosyllabic. There was no conversation. Of all the tribes to be wounded in, Saro was lucky, at least, that it was this one. Perhaps the Buuchu had healers of their own, and the Rwandi, and the rest of them, but there was no healer in all the rest of the tribes combined that could equal the team that worked on Saro at this moment. Their knowledge and skill went unparalleled and it was for perhaps this reason, and that whatever gods he followed were looking out for him, that he would likely live. If left on his own, he would either succumb to his wounds or infection, but under Tanishe’s care, by keeping him clean and under a watchful eye, he would come out of this mostly unscathed.
“There,” she said finally, sitting straight on her butt beside Saro’s cot. His bloody clothes had been cleared away and he now lay with a linen sheet covering him. A slave girl was still sponging his head and his hair, attempting to work the blood out of it. A large square of linen was tied against his cheek and already spots of red broke through. His bandages would need changed every few hours. Slaves were instructed to wash these bloody linens, to bring more. All attention was to be given to this man, this guest, this savior of the tribe’s leierin. What wonder Saro hadn’t already inspired in the Zaire tribe was bolstered now. The people who’d assumed he was an ill omen changed their minds after the warriors who’d brought him had spread around his noble deed.
Tanishe raised her hand, intending to rest it against her lips but stopped and looked. Her arms were coated in blood. She looked down her front, realizing that she’d been here long enough that her kaftan, what was left of it, was crusted and brown. Saro was asleep. He breathed evenly, having been heavily drugged by some of their medicine so that they could even perform the stitching on him. The last thing she’d wanted was for him to be awake to move and struggle. He would likely not notice her absence.
“Alert me if anything changes for the worse,” Tanishe said to a healer who came up beside Saro’s bed to look down at him.
”Yes, my leierin.”
Tanishe rose slowly to her feet. She had not been the one mauled, but the last few hours were draining nonetheless. Now that Saro was stable, she felt no need to touch him again, though she did look at the egg smooth roundness of his good shoulder in comparison to the savaged one that they’d bandaged up. He would not be the same and as much as she knew it was because she’d gone herb hunting, she couldn’t quite pin this on herself. A cheetah had attacked him. Still, when he awoke, she would make amends. But how? And would he want to leave them immediately? Would he be scared away? Would he even want to train as a warrior under her husband? She would not blame him if he chose to leave, but she would be sad to be partially responsible for it.
”Go bathe, my leierin,” the healer prompted and Tanishe glanced at her, realizing the woman was still standing there. ”I had water prepared for you a short while ago. It is waiting for you at your tent.”
Tanishe nodded, murmuring something that might have been a thank you or it could have been a simple yes. She wasn’t quite sure herself what she said. Turning, she left the hawe, almost startled to find the day had completely slipped away from her. Across the desert, off in the distance, the edges of the sky were rimmed in pink, edged by a soft purple blanket that faded into blue right above her. Somehow this felt almost like a betrayal. Like time wasn’t supposed to pass unless she was ready for it.
As soon as she took the first few steps, her mind became comfortably blank. She glanced around at the people she passed, smiling at this one, nodding to that one, bowing to this elder, passing that child. By the time she reached her tent, she was more than ready to pull off this disgusting kaftan and pass it off to a slave who would find something useful to do with it. Probably it could be washed and then cut to fit one of the girls in the village. It definitely wouldn’t do for a grown woman now, not with most of the bottom half missing.
The bath was where the healer had said it would be. A makeshift stand of blankets had been formed in a large square, ready for her to use. Over the top of the stand, a new kaftan of deep blue hung waiting for her. She moved the curtain aside, peeling off her old clothes and dropping them straight onto the ground. Standing right on the pile, she used it to keep her feet clean as she worked the linen rag over her face and arms, down her breasts and stomach, and even her legs. There was blood everywhere. Her only thoughts, as she bent over the huge bowl, working grits and flecks of red from beneath her nails, was that it was strange she now felt nothing. Holding so much emotion earlier had left her raw and empty now. She almost felt like an earthen vessel who’d had holes poked in it and all the water had leaked out.
By the time she was done, she no longer stared into a bowl of clear water. It was murky and dark, reflecting stars and hiding the clouds of red swirling beneath the surface. Tanishe looked up at the incoming night, feeling too drained to cook, but knowing she would need to for Hasani to have something to eat after hunting. She took in a deep breath, preparing to take on the next task of preparing food for herself and her husband, but stopped dead at the sight of a cooking fire outside of her tent. A slave sat there, prodding the coals, and looked up, smiling at her. The slave waved her over, pointing out the meat that was now ready.
Tanishe felt her throat constrict, took a moment to breathe for a few seconds, and only walked over when she was no longer in danger of crying. “Thank you,” she said, dipping down to sit on one of the cushions that had been brought out. It did not bother her that slaves went into her tent to get her dress, go through the food, pick out which cushion she would sit on. It almost felt like having a sister wife again and at that moment, she did cry. The slave said nothing and pretended not to notice. After a few seconds, the girl left and Tanishe ate in silence, thankful to be alone. She did not often mourn the past, but at the moment, she was unable to contain any emotion she felt. It was distressing to be so out of sorts, especially when she stopped to consider that she wasn’t the one lying bandaged in the medical hawe. She had no right to be distraught. Saro would live. She was uninjured. He was a hero. There was no reason to be so emotional.
When Hasani came, she did her level best to appear as serene as usual but that night, as they lay trying to sleep, she pressed right up against him and didn’t move away. At no point in the night did she drift off to her own side of the bed pallet. All she wanted was his embrace, the feel of his skin on hers, and the warm protection of his presence. What if it had been Hasani with her? Even with his spear, he wasn’t immune to being snuck upon. What if she’d lost him? These thoughts were foreign to her, these worries. She did not usually entertain such bizarre ‘what if’s’. They were pointless. But she thought of them tonight, with her cheek pressed against her husband’s shoulder.
It was impossible to tell how long she lay awake but she must have slept because the light of morning surprised her with its sudden appearance. She sat up, pulling the blanket to her bare chest and hugging her knees to her so that she could rest her chin on top of them. No one had come last night to inform her of any change. Saro was still alright; or at least, alive. Tanishe assessed herself, unwilling to go to the hawe if she was still out of control internally, and found that she felt, nothing. She was void of swirling thoughts, but not in the same empty nothingness from last night. That had been an abyss, a darkness brought on by being too full, like stuffing too much into a space and blocking all light. This simply felt like she was fresh and ready to meet the day. Not happy, not sad. Open.
“Good morning, husband,” she said lightly and uncoiled herself to lean over and give him a kiss on his cheek. “I am going to check on Saro. I will make you breakfast when I get back.” She let the blanket drop and pulled on her deep blue kaftan from last night. The only real care she took was to find her own headscarf and tie it in place, securing her cascade of braids away from her face. The usual bangles and earrings she wore remained in her box. She didn’t want them on if she was going to get messy again.
Now that she was up and alert, she was anxious to check his bandages and to see what the night had done to his puncture wounds. What she didn’t want to see was a bunch of yellow, angry puss. Infection was the chief worry at the moment and she wanted to see if he was going to pull through. Last night, she’d been so tired, she hadn’t properly thought through all the horrendous ways he could die besides blood loss. That she could control. Infection? Less so.
As soon as her sandals were on her feet, she was moving through the camp, the hem of her kaftan fluttering about her ankles, the sleeves extending to her mid forearm. She was dressed like this was a normal day but she would not know if that was so until she pushed back the tent flap to see her patient, her friend. The walk felt longer than it truly was and by the time she was coming inside the dim tent, she felt better. No one had intercepted her on the way to warn her of a raging fever. The tent did not smell of illness any more so than usual.
Tanishe knelt beside Saro’s bed and gently pulled back the sheet, folding it over once and laying this top layer over his pelvis. Her eyes swept his form, assessing the bandages. Several bore bright stains of red, indicating that they’d been changed already this morning. She lifted the ones that covered his puncture wounds. The acrid smell of fresh poultice wafted to her nose and she used her fingertips to push a little bit of it aside, looking at the edges of the wound. The punctures were rimmed with pink, but not angry red. Satisfied, she let the bandage go and smiled at Saro.
“Good morning,” she said softly, putting her hands in her lap as she looked him over. She sat on the side where his face was still marred by a square of linen to cover the scratches. “How are you feeling?” Probably he would still be groggy from the medicine, if he could hear her at all. Letting him sleep would be best, but she wanted him awake, wanted to see exactly how he was feeling, if he needed more medicine to numb the pain. They could give him some, of course, but too much was toxic and would send him into such a deep sleep that he would stop breathing and die. She’d have to check with the healer who’d been watching over him the whole night to see how much of the flower nectar that he’d been given. For now, she wanted to hear, in his own words, how he was doing.
“You were very brave,” she continued, still not reaching out to touch him like she had yesterday. The painful, powerful moment was over, and she didn’t feel that he needed that sort of comfort. “I thank you, Saro.”
Holding onto Saro and preventing him from standing was easier than it would have been under normal circumstances. Being a man, he was therefore, to Tanishe, strong. If he’d wanted to break out of her arms and spring away, he could have done it only a few minutes ago. But now, his life was draining red on the ground and his attempts to stand or get free were worthless. She hung onto him through every movement he made, her voice warbling when he made a real stab at standing, only to slump back against her chest.
“Shhh,” she shushed him, her hand against his forehead, leaving a bloody smear as she petted his thick black hair away from his face. Sweat coated his body and she held him close, calm because she couldn’t panic. Not yet. “It’s alright,” she soothed, glancing around them. If the cheetahs returned, they were finished. Where the cats had melted off to, she couldn’t say. Twisting at the waist, she looked behind them, seeing endless scrub and her satchel, lying forgotten. The most idiotic thought of needing to make sure not to forget it crossed her mind as she turned to look back towards the village, unsure if her voice had carried that far. For the moment, it was still just the two of them.
Tanishe glanced right, watching the wind rustle the tops of the huge rooibos plants. She drew in an unsteady breath, wrinkling her nose against the stench of blood on the heat of the african air. The landscape around them, deceptively peaceful, appeared washed out, nearly colorless beneath the blazing ball of white sunlight. Her eyes dropped back to Saro and she wiped her thumb across the sheen of his brow, trying to remove the blood she’d accidentally smeared there. He didn’t deserve this, she thought. He was such a sweet person, so curious, so odd. A burning began in her nose, spreading beneath her eyes, and suddenly Saro’s face softened and shimmered, swimming. She blinked, not wiping away the tears that trailed down her face as he finally stopped struggling.
His chest rose and fell without rhythm. She pressed her hand to his heart, counting the beats, ignoring the dark, alarming red of the cloth around his torso. Completely alone in the world, possibly this man’s last human connection, she decided to sing again, just in case his spirit was weak and he slipped away from her before she got the chance to do something for him. Her words were not ones that she sang to the dying, meant to carry them to the ancestors. He wasn’t from here. His ancestors would not find him if he died so far from home. Instead, she sang to him the kinds of light, lyrical songs meant for children, to soothe them from nightmares, music to chase away evil spirits, to carry him through until morning in safety.
Dirt crunched in quick succession, almost in a tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Panting breath, more tap, tap, tap, tap and the whisper of plant tendrils being disrupted made Tanishe look up. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand, leaving two bloody swipes against her cheeks like war paint. “Hasni,” she breathed, melting against Saro for just a moment. Again, she pressed her lips to his temple, promising him that he would be alright. Her husband was here. That meant everything would work out, because the ancestors favored Hasani. At least, they favored him in this way, in saving lives, rather than giving it. It was the way they favored her as well. A blessing for the living, a curse for what she truly wanted.
He was a legend made real as he dashed beneath the sunlight. It framed the contours of his muscled arms in gold, accentuating the shadows of his dark skin in the hollow of his throat and the fierceness of his expression. The flash of his dagger and the way he carried his spear, as though it was less of a weapon and more of a continuation of himself filled her with such comfort as no one else could have done. Hasni wouldn’t heal Saro, she would do that, but he would enable her to do so. His very presence gave her strength and she could feel in the way Saro’s body relaxed that he was willing to fight on. Whatever weight or worry had lifted and was no longer taxing his spirit.
"What happened?" Hasani demanded as he skidded to a halt. The edge in his voice prompted her to stay silent, rather than answer him immediately. She watched his face as he took in the blood on the two of them. His eyes darted between herself and Saro and she could almost see the puzzle pieces fall into place. The way he looked at her made her glance down, only mildly surprised to find herself almost as wet and red as her companion.
"Are you alright, Tanishe? How bad is it?" he checked and that, she would answer.
“I am unharmed,” she said softly at almost the same moment that the other three warriors ran up to them. The face of each man set in the same way her husband’s had. They’d come running expecting trouble, and they’d found the aftermath but not the source. Dust spun up, swirling around their legs in a haze and doubled as two of them broke off to obey their lier. She wished that they’d thought to bring the stretcher, rather than having to go back and suss one out, but there was no way they could have known. Impatience was not her way, not even in the face of death. She could do nothing to make the warriors run more swiftly or impress upon them the importance of haste. It would do no good to work herself up.
One the other warrior broke off to scout the area, Tanishe cradled Saro again, ignoring his plea for water for the moment. “Two cheetahs,” she said to her husband, looking down into Saro’s face. His thick black brows stood out stark and alarming against the white of his skin. She did not like the pale tinge it had taken on, nor did she like that his pink lips were pressed together in a tight line, draining color there as well. The only thing she could imagine was that if he wasn’t in a great deal of pain yet, he soon would be. At the moment, his confusion was perfectly normal and he was acting traumatized in the same way anyone did when they’d experienced extreme shock and blood loss.
“We were gathering herbs,” she started from the beginning, looking toward the village for the warriors as though that would bring them here any faster. All she could see from here were black tents shimmering in the desert heat. “I noticed a cheetah and thought nothing of it. And then one attacked from…” she paused, glancing around and waved a bloody hand. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Another one came, and Saro jumped in to save me. He wrestled it.” She sniffed, pressing the black of her bloody hand against her nose and shrugging. “I don’t know. It happened so fast. It’s bleeding-I think he stabbed it. He was so brave, husband. Poor pet.” Here, she petted him again like he was her beloved dog, a pet she’d had for years, instead of a full grown adult man she’d only known for a comparatively short time.
“He is almost a warrior, Hasani. If he lives through this, train him with a spear. He has a lion heart-oh there!” she pointed, seeing Hasani’s warriors sprinting with the stretcher between them. Comprised of sturdy, stained fabric in faded colors of yellow, red, and black, the stretcher was the only thing she wanted at this very moment for Saro. “Tell them to be careful,” she instructed, shifting her weight so that she could prop Saro to sit right against her. He would be easier to grab that way. With her chest along his back, and his head lolled back on her shoulder, she looked down at his exposed throat, frowning at the streaks of red there. He was so covered in blood that it was hard to tell where his actual injuries were and she hoped that the cat hadn’t managed to get his neck. If that was the case, she didn’t know what could be reasonably done for him; not if the gashes were deep.
By then, she gestured to Hasani, asking for his water skin, forgetting she had hers on her person. Lifting the skin to Saro’s lips, she hummed to him a song they used to call rain clouds. The tune was bouncy and while not actually cheerful, it did mimic the pinging of rain against a clay pot in the way that the notes jumped up and down. She kept up the humming as precious water dribbled down his chin, catching in the scraggly hair on his jaw. Again she was struck by how fine his hair was. So different from that of the Bedoan people. It was the same in color but hers and Hasani’s hair was thin and curled no matter what they did to it. Saro’s individual hairs were thick and she wasn’t sure that he’d ever have curls. Obviously curly hair was better, poor man. She wondered if he was constantly sweltering under the heat of his own head.
Eternity had come and gone in the time that the cheetah attacked and the stretcher arrived. As the warriors descended on her, she felt a strange sort of loss, mingled with relief as Saro was lifted onto the stretcher. For a single moment, she looked down at the sand where he’d been. The imprint of his side was not perfect, not after the footsteps and shifting of the sand, but the blood was still there, vibrant and gorgeous against the ground. It made her sick in a way it usually didn’t. Warriors were easier to cope with; they signed up for the potential violence and death that they would meet. That sort of death was a good thing if in service to a worthy cause. Saro had come with her as a precaution; no one expected him to lay down his life, least of all her.
“Quickly and gently,” she called to the warriors, not following immediately. Encumbered as they were, she was not concerned about catching up. Taking the unpleasant but necessary steps, she walked over to both satchels, bent down, and retrieved them. Whether or not Saro died, she still needed the herbs and some of these she would definitely require for him. She placed the straps of one over her shoulder, across her body, and did the same with the second on the other side so that each satchel hung down at her hips.
In a quick jog, she loped up to the warriors, pulling at the stick fabric pressing against her skin. Even with her clothing wet, she wasn’t cooled off, not in this dry heat. She’d half expected Hasani to trot with her, but her husband wasn’t at her side. With spear in hand, he was off to hunt the animal that had done this. She did not believe the cheetah would be difficult to find. Wounded as it surely must be, bleeding as profusely as its victim, she didn’t think the cheetah or its friend would have gone too far. Ideally Hasani would be bringing back both as pelts. Obviously it would take a few days to prepare the pelt properly, but they could look forward to having a new cloak, rug, or even decoration for the tent, depending on what her husband decided to use it for.
“Easy with him,” she commented, placing a steadying hand on Saro’s chest as the two warriors walked along. The swaying, jerking motions of the stretcher couldn’t be helped. If the warriors went a little too fast, Saro bounced a bit. If they went to slow, then she was afraid that he would lose too much blood before she could sew him up. It was a delicate balance between necessity and precaution. Meandering through the desert, around the tall rooibos plants proved to be its own difficulty. Tanishe ignored the swish of wind against her bare legs, unused to having her calves and knees on display. People were gathered on the edges of the tents, forming a human wall to see what was the matter.
”Clear the way!” one of the warriors bellowed. Tanishe didn’t smile but nodded her thanks to him. Her voice was high and soft, not usually one to carry well and definitely not one that rang with fierce authority. Sometimes she could muster that sort of tone, but not now. Not with hands reaching toward her, fingers grasping at clothes, sliding along her shoulders, each person assessing that she was alright. Some of the people followed, worried for the man on the stretcher. Some people took it as an ill omen and scattered. She did not look up to see who was touching her or who walked along after them. Her gaze remained on their guest and friend, watching his shining, pale face. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples. His damp hair hung limp and she wished that she could reach him through whatever haze he was in, but this was probably for the best that he was out of it.
One of the healers took her by the elbow, saying something about the satchels and Tanishe barely reacted when they were lifted off of her. Her mind turned from worrying about Saro to thinking what she would do for this patient. Getting things ready in the medical hawe was a good start. Without looking back at him, she jaunted ahead, using her hands to brace against the flaps of the purple tent as she burst through. Inside, it was as calm and dim as it usually was. No one in here knew about the attack. No one was ready.
“Lamps,” she said, snatching a shawl from a slave and using it to tie her braids back and up. Her own headscarf was missing and she wasn’t entirely sure when it had disappeared. “Several lamps. I need this bed ready. Ready the needle, I will need thread, water. Start boiling more. And linen bandages.” She spoke to no one in particular and without a word, the healers and slaves of the tent set about the tasks. A few people bumped into each other as they went to go perform the same function, but the kinks were smoothed out by the time the tent flaps separated and the first of the warriors came in.
“Here,” Tanishe said, pointing to the bed where Saro would be laying. She, along with the rest of the healers, went to the bed. Sliding her hands beneath the small of his back, she was one of many who was ready to move him. “Lift in three, two, one, lift,” she grunted. As one, they shifted him from the stretcher to the bed. Tanishe turned to take the needle into her hand, checking the thread while someone else took a knife and cut from Saro’s hip to his neck, separating his shirt and the bandages from him to expose the skin. “Water,” Tanishe ordered, her voice emotionless. Using a large wad of linen, one of the slave girls sponged at Saro’s side while two others held clay lamps filled with oil up for Tanishe to see.
She frowned down at his wounds, trying to see what was deep, what was surface, and what she couldn’t do a thing about in either case. The slashes to his face were of the least concern but the bled the most. His neck, shoulder, and hair were coated on that side. Luckily the mauling wasn’t too terrible. The tourniquet had done its job and he would need another, but she was less worried now than she had been before. Taking the needle, she bent her head and brought her face close, hooking the curved needle into the wound, hooking it into the other side of the gash on the opposite side, and pulling up. She worked the needle under the thick gut thread and pulled the skin together, forming a little knot, cutting this, and doing it again on the next section of skin. Working in this way, not making it a continuous line of thread but each stitch its own, individual portion, she performed this on each necessary injury. The only time she stopped was for the slave girl to reach in and blot the blood so that she could see again. His skin was stained red, the edges of the sutures angry and puckered. This would scar and it would be ugly for a long time.
There was nothing she could do for puncture wounds, stitching wise. They were deep and to pull the skin taut like that would hinder healing, not help it. For these, a different healer was already mixing up a stringent smelling poultice and applying it while Tanishe worked on Saro’s stitches. If people spoke, the words were terse and monosyllabic. There was no conversation. Of all the tribes to be wounded in, Saro was lucky, at least, that it was this one. Perhaps the Buuchu had healers of their own, and the Rwandi, and the rest of them, but there was no healer in all the rest of the tribes combined that could equal the team that worked on Saro at this moment. Their knowledge and skill went unparalleled and it was for perhaps this reason, and that whatever gods he followed were looking out for him, that he would likely live. If left on his own, he would either succumb to his wounds or infection, but under Tanishe’s care, by keeping him clean and under a watchful eye, he would come out of this mostly unscathed.
“There,” she said finally, sitting straight on her butt beside Saro’s cot. His bloody clothes had been cleared away and he now lay with a linen sheet covering him. A slave girl was still sponging his head and his hair, attempting to work the blood out of it. A large square of linen was tied against his cheek and already spots of red broke through. His bandages would need changed every few hours. Slaves were instructed to wash these bloody linens, to bring more. All attention was to be given to this man, this guest, this savior of the tribe’s leierin. What wonder Saro hadn’t already inspired in the Zaire tribe was bolstered now. The people who’d assumed he was an ill omen changed their minds after the warriors who’d brought him had spread around his noble deed.
Tanishe raised her hand, intending to rest it against her lips but stopped and looked. Her arms were coated in blood. She looked down her front, realizing that she’d been here long enough that her kaftan, what was left of it, was crusted and brown. Saro was asleep. He breathed evenly, having been heavily drugged by some of their medicine so that they could even perform the stitching on him. The last thing she’d wanted was for him to be awake to move and struggle. He would likely not notice her absence.
“Alert me if anything changes for the worse,” Tanishe said to a healer who came up beside Saro’s bed to look down at him.
”Yes, my leierin.”
Tanishe rose slowly to her feet. She had not been the one mauled, but the last few hours were draining nonetheless. Now that Saro was stable, she felt no need to touch him again, though she did look at the egg smooth roundness of his good shoulder in comparison to the savaged one that they’d bandaged up. He would not be the same and as much as she knew it was because she’d gone herb hunting, she couldn’t quite pin this on herself. A cheetah had attacked him. Still, when he awoke, she would make amends. But how? And would he want to leave them immediately? Would he be scared away? Would he even want to train as a warrior under her husband? She would not blame him if he chose to leave, but she would be sad to be partially responsible for it.
”Go bathe, my leierin,” the healer prompted and Tanishe glanced at her, realizing the woman was still standing there. ”I had water prepared for you a short while ago. It is waiting for you at your tent.”
Tanishe nodded, murmuring something that might have been a thank you or it could have been a simple yes. She wasn’t quite sure herself what she said. Turning, she left the hawe, almost startled to find the day had completely slipped away from her. Across the desert, off in the distance, the edges of the sky were rimmed in pink, edged by a soft purple blanket that faded into blue right above her. Somehow this felt almost like a betrayal. Like time wasn’t supposed to pass unless she was ready for it.
As soon as she took the first few steps, her mind became comfortably blank. She glanced around at the people she passed, smiling at this one, nodding to that one, bowing to this elder, passing that child. By the time she reached her tent, she was more than ready to pull off this disgusting kaftan and pass it off to a slave who would find something useful to do with it. Probably it could be washed and then cut to fit one of the girls in the village. It definitely wouldn’t do for a grown woman now, not with most of the bottom half missing.
The bath was where the healer had said it would be. A makeshift stand of blankets had been formed in a large square, ready for her to use. Over the top of the stand, a new kaftan of deep blue hung waiting for her. She moved the curtain aside, peeling off her old clothes and dropping them straight onto the ground. Standing right on the pile, she used it to keep her feet clean as she worked the linen rag over her face and arms, down her breasts and stomach, and even her legs. There was blood everywhere. Her only thoughts, as she bent over the huge bowl, working grits and flecks of red from beneath her nails, was that it was strange she now felt nothing. Holding so much emotion earlier had left her raw and empty now. She almost felt like an earthen vessel who’d had holes poked in it and all the water had leaked out.
By the time she was done, she no longer stared into a bowl of clear water. It was murky and dark, reflecting stars and hiding the clouds of red swirling beneath the surface. Tanishe looked up at the incoming night, feeling too drained to cook, but knowing she would need to for Hasani to have something to eat after hunting. She took in a deep breath, preparing to take on the next task of preparing food for herself and her husband, but stopped dead at the sight of a cooking fire outside of her tent. A slave sat there, prodding the coals, and looked up, smiling at her. The slave waved her over, pointing out the meat that was now ready.
Tanishe felt her throat constrict, took a moment to breathe for a few seconds, and only walked over when she was no longer in danger of crying. “Thank you,” she said, dipping down to sit on one of the cushions that had been brought out. It did not bother her that slaves went into her tent to get her dress, go through the food, pick out which cushion she would sit on. It almost felt like having a sister wife again and at that moment, she did cry. The slave said nothing and pretended not to notice. After a few seconds, the girl left and Tanishe ate in silence, thankful to be alone. She did not often mourn the past, but at the moment, she was unable to contain any emotion she felt. It was distressing to be so out of sorts, especially when she stopped to consider that she wasn’t the one lying bandaged in the medical hawe. She had no right to be distraught. Saro would live. She was uninjured. He was a hero. There was no reason to be so emotional.
When Hasani came, she did her level best to appear as serene as usual but that night, as they lay trying to sleep, she pressed right up against him and didn’t move away. At no point in the night did she drift off to her own side of the bed pallet. All she wanted was his embrace, the feel of his skin on hers, and the warm protection of his presence. What if it had been Hasani with her? Even with his spear, he wasn’t immune to being snuck upon. What if she’d lost him? These thoughts were foreign to her, these worries. She did not usually entertain such bizarre ‘what if’s’. They were pointless. But she thought of them tonight, with her cheek pressed against her husband’s shoulder.
It was impossible to tell how long she lay awake but she must have slept because the light of morning surprised her with its sudden appearance. She sat up, pulling the blanket to her bare chest and hugging her knees to her so that she could rest her chin on top of them. No one had come last night to inform her of any change. Saro was still alright; or at least, alive. Tanishe assessed herself, unwilling to go to the hawe if she was still out of control internally, and found that she felt, nothing. She was void of swirling thoughts, but not in the same empty nothingness from last night. That had been an abyss, a darkness brought on by being too full, like stuffing too much into a space and blocking all light. This simply felt like she was fresh and ready to meet the day. Not happy, not sad. Open.
“Good morning, husband,” she said lightly and uncoiled herself to lean over and give him a kiss on his cheek. “I am going to check on Saro. I will make you breakfast when I get back.” She let the blanket drop and pulled on her deep blue kaftan from last night. The only real care she took was to find her own headscarf and tie it in place, securing her cascade of braids away from her face. The usual bangles and earrings she wore remained in her box. She didn’t want them on if she was going to get messy again.
Now that she was up and alert, she was anxious to check his bandages and to see what the night had done to his puncture wounds. What she didn’t want to see was a bunch of yellow, angry puss. Infection was the chief worry at the moment and she wanted to see if he was going to pull through. Last night, she’d been so tired, she hadn’t properly thought through all the horrendous ways he could die besides blood loss. That she could control. Infection? Less so.
As soon as her sandals were on her feet, she was moving through the camp, the hem of her kaftan fluttering about her ankles, the sleeves extending to her mid forearm. She was dressed like this was a normal day but she would not know if that was so until she pushed back the tent flap to see her patient, her friend. The walk felt longer than it truly was and by the time she was coming inside the dim tent, she felt better. No one had intercepted her on the way to warn her of a raging fever. The tent did not smell of illness any more so than usual.
Tanishe knelt beside Saro’s bed and gently pulled back the sheet, folding it over once and laying this top layer over his pelvis. Her eyes swept his form, assessing the bandages. Several bore bright stains of red, indicating that they’d been changed already this morning. She lifted the ones that covered his puncture wounds. The acrid smell of fresh poultice wafted to her nose and she used her fingertips to push a little bit of it aside, looking at the edges of the wound. The punctures were rimmed with pink, but not angry red. Satisfied, she let the bandage go and smiled at Saro.
“Good morning,” she said softly, putting her hands in her lap as she looked him over. She sat on the side where his face was still marred by a square of linen to cover the scratches. “How are you feeling?” Probably he would still be groggy from the medicine, if he could hear her at all. Letting him sleep would be best, but she wanted him awake, wanted to see exactly how he was feeling, if he needed more medicine to numb the pain. They could give him some, of course, but too much was toxic and would send him into such a deep sleep that he would stop breathing and die. She’d have to check with the healer who’d been watching over him the whole night to see how much of the flower nectar that he’d been given. For now, she wanted to hear, in his own words, how he was doing.
“You were very brave,” she continued, still not reaching out to touch him like she had yesterday. The painful, powerful moment was over, and she didn’t feel that he needed that sort of comfort. “I thank you, Saro.”
Saro started feeling himself fading, though he did his best to fight it as well. He knew what fading away completely might mean, and he was far from ready to just give in to the pull towards the darkness. He thought that as long as he continued to fight, he would be alright, he had to be alright. His story couldn’t end here, this was not where he was supposed to die. He knew he was likely to die young, it was a hazard of the life he had been born into, but on this dry ground here, so far from the ocean that he loved, this is not where he would go. He swallowed heavily, attempting to speak again, but his mouth was so dry and he felt like he couldn’t move his mouth, that the words just would not come from his lips. His breathing was becoming a bit harder, and the darkness pressed at the corners of his already blurry vision even harder than it had been. He fought it back, attempting to keep the darkness back so he could remain conscious. He wouldn’t make it through if he let himself go to sleep, if the darkness too everything over, he wouldn’t open his eyes again. He was sure of it. He needed to fight.
And so that was what he did, internally struggling to keep himself awake, trying to focus on Tanishe who held him, and the sound of her voice as she sang to him. He couldn’t remember ever hearing her sing before. She didn’t have the best singing voice he had ever heard, but the sound was a bit soothing anyways. It sort of calmed the fight in him a bit, making it almost too easy to let himself get lost and close his eyes.
He wasn’t sure if she was singing to soothe him, or perhaps she was singing because she knew the darkness would take him to eternal sleep and she wanted him to drift off with some soft words.
No.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
He vaguely heard her say Hasani’s name, or at least he thought he had heard her say her husbands name. Right now he wasn’t entirely sure if this was actually happening. His body still in shock, he couldn’t feel the pain of his wounds, and he was vaguely amused by the idea that perhaps this was all a terrible dream. He was sure that he would wake up shortly and Tanishe would be asking him for help in her medical tent or Hasani would be asking him to haul some things for someone, or perhaps Mwenye would be outside his tent once more, being strange as he always was. For some reason, his blood deprived brain thought the whole thing was hilarious. Had he been a bit stronger, he was sure that he would be laughing out loud at the moment, which was something that would seem absolutely crazy to those around him. It was probably a good thing he was not strong enough to make himself seem insane.
By the time that Hasani had arrived, Saro’s eyes had closed completely, the strength that it had taken to keep them open had faded, and he felt tired. Part of him thought that he should just let himself sleep, sure that a bit of rest right now and he would be fine, he would be up and about after a quick nap and he could get back to it. Plants. Tanishe needed plants, how else was she going to help people? He would just take a quick nap and then they would get back to collecting the plants, that made complete sense to him, and he was sure that Tanishe would understand. He had woken rather early, and the heat of the sun was enough to tire a man out when working like they had been as they wandered to find the things that she needed.
He vaguely heard voices, seeming to float on the outer edges of his consciousness. He could hear Tanishe speaking, and Hasani answering, and other people that he didn’t recognize. Had he met them? He thought it was awful rude of himself to not have introduced himself yet. He was sure they knew who he was, he was the palest person in the tribe, and everyone at this point was bound to know who the foreign man was, but that wasn’t an excuse for being impolite. He attempted to open his eyes, able to sort of squint a little, but he wasn’t able to do much more than that, and he for sure wasn’t able to speak let alone attempt to introduce himself. It didn’t seem to matter, for the other men he had not met were quickly jogging off anyways.
Some where deep down, Saro knew things were bad, knew that his brain was playing tricks on him, making his thought process loopy, but that logical part of him seemed to be smothered by the blood loss and the dizziness and confusion that had taken over his brain. He tried to take a deep breath, in an attempt to clear the haziness from his thoughts, but found that his lungs wouldn’t co-operate, and he felt a bit of panic, but even that sort of felt like it was on the edge of everything. Like someone else was feeling it and he could just sense it instead of feeling the emotion himself. He both knew the gravity of the situation but also couldn’t quite grasp the severity of it. It was definitely a strange state of mind, and if he survived this and remembered it, he knew it would be something that he would never forget.
Saro had all but forgotten his earlier request for the water, though he could feel his mouth was dry, it didn’t really bother him any more. He had no idea if that was a good thing or not as he still continued to struggle through the haze. It was like sailing through a thick fog, something he had done many times in his life, it hit suddenly and lasted for what felt like ever. You couldn’t see clearly through it and it made your breathing feel heavy. They had always had to sail slowly through the fog, lest they hit another ship, or some rocks that they could not see. Life had always seemed to slow to a crawl when the fog hit, and it seemed to be the same now. His thoughts were rushed but some how slow at the same time, and he couldn’t really focus on any one thing or remember what was even going on.
So, when Tanishe lifted the water skin to his lips and the liquid poured into his mouth and over his tongue, he was caught a bit off guard. Luckily he still had just enough strength to properly swallow the liquid instead of choking on it or something. He wasn’t sure if Tanishe had even thought of that, or if she had just decided that he needed water in that moment. The liquid felt almost like it woke him up a bit, and he managed to open his eyes for the moment, just in time to see the warriors returning with a stretcher. Was that for him? He wasn’t sure why, he was absolutely sure that he would be able to walk on his own. Perhaps it wasn’t for him, was someone else injured? If they were, then everyone should turn their attention on that person, he was fine.
Except he was far from fine, he realized, as he was lifted onto the stretcher and suddenly every wound in his body, every scratch and broken bone blazed with the burning sensation of a thousand fires. If he had been stronger, he would have cried out in pain, instead the sensation sent him into a blackout, and he momentarily lost consciousness fully, exactly what he had been trying to fight, for fear that he might not wake back up if he drifted off. He had thought to shout no, to ask that the people with him kept him awake, kept him from fading off, but nothing came out. He didn’t even move, and just before the dreams hit him, he could remember thinking that he was for sure going to die.
He was transported to another world, a world that he knew so well, a world that he loved more than anything. Sailing once more upon the sea, Saro was standing at the front of his ship, standing on the bowsprit, he balanced perfectly, expertly even in the rocking of the ocean waves. He felt more at home upon the water than he ever had on land. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his other senses take over. The smell of the salt water on the wind had his chest swelling with happiness, some claimed it was a disgusting smell, but he loved it. It was the scent of home, the scent of family, the scent of love and happiness. The wind whipped his dark hair back behind him as they sailed, bringing him a slight chill as the spray of the water dusted him in a light misting of salt and moisture. The sound of the wood of the ship cutting through the waves roared in his ears, the wind around him mingling with the noise to enhance it. The distant call of ocean birds could be heard, they circled the ship in the hopes it would provide some food source.
Other than the birds, he could hear the calls of the crew, orders being shouted as the ship required tweaks to keep sailing forward at full speed. Their journey across the open water to be sped up as the winds changed and the crew adapted to the whims of whatever caused the winds to change course. Laughter and angry shouts both mixed as the crew bantered behind him, voices that sounded like home, as much as the smell of the salt water did. For the most part, he had grown up from a baby to a man with a lot of the crew, they had been lucky in not losing many of the original crew over the years. Though the losses they did suffer were mourned, it was exactly what was expected as a pirate, or even sailor in general.
His brown eyes opened once more, and he looked out over the water. The sky was nearly cloudless, at least for the moment, and though the heat of the sun could not be felt through the wind and the spray of the water up over the bow of the ship, the light dancing upon the water provided a beautiful and slightly blinding sight. A sight that he would not trade for a single thing in the world. This was where he was comfortable, where he was most at peace. Even during the times when they would rob and sink someone elses ship, covered in blood and dirt and god knows what else, he was absolutely and utterly at joy on the sea.
He was born upon her waves, and that was where he would some day die.
Suddenly and with a jolt, the ocean disappeared, the ship beneath his feet that had been there just a moment ago disappeared, the solid feeling suddenly leaving made him nauseous, and he was momentarily brought back to reality, though he was vaguely unaware of what was going on. He was being lifted, onto a bed, or at least he thought it was a bed. His eyes opened for a moment and he saw Tanishe above him, covered in blood and looking worn and worried. He meant to ask her if she was okay, see if she needed help, but before he could say a thing his consciousness faded to blackness once more and the world faded around him. He tried to remember to make sure she was okay before his mind faded completely, but before he could do anything of the sort, reality fell back into dream.
This time, he was standing on a dock, a familiar dock. The ones in Athenia. He looked around, what was he doing here? Something caught his attention and his gaze moved back in front of him. There he stood. Adrestus. The other male held the familiar smile on his face, one of love and excitement at seeing his lover. He had seen that smile so many times before, in various places as the two of them met when they were in the same place. They would get together as often as possible, to make love and spend the whole time in each other’s arms, hidden away in their own little meeting spots, the two of them lost to the rest of the world as they let their love burn bright.
He was a bit confused though, as the two of them would not normally meet in such a public place, especially not in Adrestus’ home. They had been together in Athenia sure, but well out of the eyes of anyone else, never on the docks like this. But Saro realized that the place was eerily empty, something that he had never experienced before. There was something strange about it, but the swashbuckler did not question it in the moment.
The two of them were alone, not a single other soul was any where to be seen. He took a step forward, and as he went to move, Adrestus was running towards him and Saro matched his pace. The two practically collided in the middle, and his arms went around his lover, feeling the familiar feel of his body pressed in a close embrace with him as their lips met. The kiss caused an explosion of fire to rip through Saro’s body, but not the usual kind he remembered when they had kissed in the past. This time, instead of a pleasantly burning passion, the kiss had caused immense pain and he pulled away from the love of his life. His brown eyes studied the man, and Adrestus looked at him, completely and utterly confused at Saro’s reactions.
The pirate shook his head, he must have just been imagining it. He stepped forward once more, reconnecting their lips, but the moment they met in the kiss, the pain shot through his body again. Saro fell to his knees out of sheer pain, holding his chest, as that’s where the worst of the pain seemed to radiate from. He looked up, to see if Adrestus would be going for help, surely he would see something was wrong and he would go find someone that could help him, but instead of seeing worry, or seeing him running off shouting for help, his lover began to point and laugh at him. His beautiful features twisted into something evil, something that found his agony absolutely hilarious. He opened his mouth to ask why, why would Adrestus do this to him? But before he could, the world shifted and Saro instead found himself shackled in a cold and dark stone room.
He couldn’t see much in the dim light, but he could hear water dripping slowly some where nearby, and hear the cries of others who seemed to be elsewhere in the same situation as he was. None of the voices were ones he recognized, and he couldn’t see anything beyond what seemed to be some sort of cage bars to his left side. He then realized he was sitting on the cold stone floor, and his hands were tied together with a strong rope. Had he been caught stealing? Had the ship been sunk and the survivors taken captive? What was going on?
He couldn’t seem to remember the events leading up to this. He remembered being with Adrestus, the pain when they kissed, that horrid laughter the other emitted, but that was it. None of that explained why he was locked up, where he was or even who had him captive. Had Adrestus turned him in? He did not think the man would do such a thing, then again he hadn’t expected him to laugh at his pain either.
Saro attempted to stand, but he found himself unable to, no matter how hard he tried. His legs wouldn’t cooperate, and he felt himself beginning to panic a little. Had he been hurt so bad that he wasn’t able to move? If he focused, he could feel various points of throbbing pain, but nothing seemed severe enough to cause him to be unable to stand. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, he needed to think his way through this. There had to be something going on, and he just needed to keep himself from panicking too much and he would be able to figure it out.
Before he could think too far on it though, everything went black and his mind went mostly blank, and Saro’s body and mind finally got some of the rest it truly needed.
He had no idea how long he slept for, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been days or even weeks, but eventually he felt his mind slowly pulling itself out of the darkness, starting to become aware of some of the things around him. He couldn’t help but be curious as to how much time had truly passed, though he knew that that should probably be the thing he was least concerned with at the moment. He was certain that what ever had knocked him out for an extended period of time should be a bigger concern than how long it had managed to knock him out for.
The first thing he felt was a stinging sensation on his face, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it felt hot and painful upon his cheek, like someone was pressing three pieces of hot metal lightly against the skin there. He wanted to reach up and feel it, to determine what was causing the pain, but he couldn’t move his arm just yet. Or at least he hoped that it was yet, and it wasn’t permanent. Perhaps he just needed to give his body a bit longer to wake up, and then he could sit up and feel what was going on with his face. He had a passing thought that he hoped what ever was on his face, or had been on his face wouldn’t leave a scar. Saro was sort of a vain person, and he knew that his good looks were a lot of his charm.
But as time passed, he felt a sharp stinging on his shoulder as well, running from the bottom of his shoulder blade all the way to the front, that one hurt more than his cheek did. It felt like cuts, deeper ones. He swallowed heavily, feeling the thirst start to kick in as well. He wondered if he would be able to find water easily. His mind still hadn’t fully caught up, and he couldn’t even remember where he was or what had happened to cause these injuries.
The next thing he felt was on his left side this time, where as the other two injuries had been on his right, this one felt like... a bit mark? The oddly circular feeling pain on the left side of his torso made him think he had been attacked by some sort of animal. Or a really really strange human.
The last thing he felt was a large set of gashes down his left leg, they felt as if they ran from his upper thigh and down to his shin. He vaguely wondered if such injuries would prevent him from walking properly. He sent up a small prayer to any and all Gods who might exist and listen to him that this would not permanently effect his leg. He sort of needed to be mobile for what he did. If he could not rejoin his crew upon landing on the shores of Egypt, if he could not properly return to his ship and the sea, he had nothing left to live for.
As much as he wished to test his leg, to see if he would in fact be able to move it or if it was too badly injured, he felt like if he hadn’t been able to move his hand, the odds of him being able to move his entire leg were rather slim. He attempted to move his hand once more, and he felt it sort of twitch, but didn’t quite lift like he had planned on.
Progress.
He took as deep of a breath as he could and assessed himself again. His ribs hurt, causing a stabbing feeling where he assumed they were broken. He’d felt that pain once before when he was a young boy, and he had taken on a man much larger than him in a fight. Luckily his father had stepped in before the man could kill Saro, but he had broken a couple of his ribs with the first blow. It felt very familiar like that. That was fine, those would heal on their own and stop hurting, or at least they had the first time. Perhaps this time they wouldn’t, but at least he could ask Tanishe. If anyone would know, it was the woman he considered one of his friends.
He felt a few other various cuts, bruises and punctures, but the first ones he had noticed seemed to be the worst of them. He flinched just a bit as the pain started to increase the more awake he became. He vaguely her a voice talking to him, a voice he recognized. Tanishe.
He tried to listen, to decipher the words she was saying. His Bedoan was good enough for him to know the words, but they weren’t quite fully registering with the pirate. He was trying to sort out what happened to him. His dreams from being out cold were vaguely in the back of his mind, though he couldn’t remember the details of those either. He felt like he didn’t quite have the energy to move his limbs yet, or even open his eyes, but his brain seemed to be working, and so he took the moment to try and remember what it was that had landed him here in such condition.
He could remember Tanishe coming to get him. They were going some where, doing something. But what? His brain didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him, like it was willing him to just forget what had happened, and stop trying to pull the memories forth. But Saro was the type to remember, even if the situations weren’t good ones. He was fighting himself mentally, trying to pull the memories fully forth, to remember what it was that had landed him here laying in this bed with Tanishe at his side.
He lay there, seemingly still asleep as he attempted to remember. It was like fighting through thick trees, or trying to walk through deep sand. He could see the end goal, but reaching it was proving to be much harder than it should be. He had to get there, he had to remember. He put all of his remaining mental strength behind forcing those memories forward.
Herbs. They were going out collecting plants for Tanishe to use in her medical practice. Tanishe was taking him along mostly to carry the heavy things for her. A thing that he did not mind considering he was young and strong and Tanishe and Hasani had taken him in. The least he could do to repay them was to offer them work in exchange for their hospitality. Now he was getting somewhere.
Okay, so they had set off to gather. He could sort of remember the two of them walking, they had been talking, he’d asked her about the herbs, about what they were and what they were used for. A chance to learn some new Bedoan words, as well as a chance to learn some things about healing that perhaps would serve him well down the line. One never knew when these tidbits of knowledge would help, and healing wasn’t something that was done very well on a pirate ship. Typically major injuries meant death, or amputation if a limb could be removed.
Okay, what happened next, Saro. Think.
Then it came back to him, and he could have sworn that the memory hit as hard as the large cat had. He remembered the weight of the animal as he put himself in between it and Tanishe. His injuries suddenly hurt worse as he relived the memory of the beast that had made them. The memories seemed to play in slow motion as he momentarily lived through them again. Watching the animal leap, it’s target the smaller of the two. He remembered the split second when he had unconsciously made the decision to jump between the two of them. No. Not decision, there had been no thought behind it.
The instinct to jump between them and take the attack from the creature instead of letting Tanishe be the one to be attacked. It hadn’t taken any thought, not that he would have had time to think it over anyways. It had been automatic. Protect Tanishe. Put himself in harms way so that she could escape. Except she didn’t escape. She had stayed with him, despite the danger of the creature returning to finish them off. He wouldn’t have been any use in a second attack, that much was obvious.
The feeling was enough to cause his hand to shoot up and hold his cheek, the pain throbbing there. His brown eyes shot open and he was looking straight up at the top of the medical tent. This time instead of assisting Tanishe with someone who was laying in one of the beds sick or injured, he was the one in the bed. It was a strange feeling, and it was not some where that he thought he would find himself during his stay in Bedoa. He never could have guessed that something like this would have happened. It seemed like Tanishe didn’t either though, he remembered the look of surprise on her face when the attack had happened. He supposed that cheetah attacks must not have been common then. He wasn’t sure, this was his first run in with the animals.
And he had to admit, he was not a fan of theirs.
Now that he was fully awake, the pain was increasing with every passing second, but despite the utter agony from his still slightly bleeding wounds, he managed to turn his head and look at Tanishe, his hand still touching his cheek lightly, he attempted to give her his best version of his normally charming smile before he spoke the first words since he had blacked out early the day before. His words were in Bedoan, he spoke a bit shakily and slowly, though his words were audible.
“Am I still handsome?” He said, managing a small laugh before he winced due to the pain in his ribs caused by the laughing. He knew that the pain was going to keep getting worse, and he hoped like hell that Tanishe had something to help with it, because there was no way he was going to be able to deal with it as it was now, let alone if it kept getting worse. He wasn’t sure he had the words to ask for anything just yet though, and so instead he attempted to sit up, not fully, but at least a little bit so he wasn’t laying completely down.
A few of the slaves hurried over and helped him sit up, propping him up easier by stacking furs behind him so he could lean back on them instead of trying to rely on his injured body to hold himself up. He relaxed back into the furs, the pain was still severe but he felt a tiny bit better now that he was at least sitting slightly. He felt like he had been laying on his back for how ever long he had been there, and he was sure that he hadn’t moved since he had arrived. At least the stiffness in his muscles and joints made him feel that way. Though, that could have also been from the cheetah attack and what he assumed was shock and blood loss after that.
“Is there water?” He asked, his voice picking up a little strength now that he was fully waking up, but so was the pain and he winced as the throbbing seemed to increase. His head hurt as well, the ache increasing as the pain every where else did too. He wasn’t sure which one was causing the other to hurt worse, but he was sure that neither of the things were helping the other. Perhaps it was time to ask for something that might at least relieve a little bit of the aching and pains he was feeling at the moment.
“And, maybe something for the pain?” He asked. He hate to admit that he needed it, as a man he had this drive to pretend like he could handle it, and he had planned on it at first, but things were hurting so much worse than he had planned on them hurting, and there was only so much he could take. At a certain point, even the manliest of men would need to admit that they couldn’t handle it. He doubted there were many who could feel this sort of pain and just push their way through it without at least a little assistance.
His knowledge on any sort of plants or anything medicinal was very limited, but he hoped that there was something that could ease this pain. Of all the various plants, and oils and powders and what ever else he had seen in Tanishe’s stores when he had helped her in her tent, there was bound to be something that could help him. There had to be, right? Of all the things that herbs, plants and what ever else could do, relief from pain had to be one of those things.
Please let it be one of those things.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Saro started feeling himself fading, though he did his best to fight it as well. He knew what fading away completely might mean, and he was far from ready to just give in to the pull towards the darkness. He thought that as long as he continued to fight, he would be alright, he had to be alright. His story couldn’t end here, this was not where he was supposed to die. He knew he was likely to die young, it was a hazard of the life he had been born into, but on this dry ground here, so far from the ocean that he loved, this is not where he would go. He swallowed heavily, attempting to speak again, but his mouth was so dry and he felt like he couldn’t move his mouth, that the words just would not come from his lips. His breathing was becoming a bit harder, and the darkness pressed at the corners of his already blurry vision even harder than it had been. He fought it back, attempting to keep the darkness back so he could remain conscious. He wouldn’t make it through if he let himself go to sleep, if the darkness too everything over, he wouldn’t open his eyes again. He was sure of it. He needed to fight.
And so that was what he did, internally struggling to keep himself awake, trying to focus on Tanishe who held him, and the sound of her voice as she sang to him. He couldn’t remember ever hearing her sing before. She didn’t have the best singing voice he had ever heard, but the sound was a bit soothing anyways. It sort of calmed the fight in him a bit, making it almost too easy to let himself get lost and close his eyes.
He wasn’t sure if she was singing to soothe him, or perhaps she was singing because she knew the darkness would take him to eternal sleep and she wanted him to drift off with some soft words.
No.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
He vaguely heard her say Hasani’s name, or at least he thought he had heard her say her husbands name. Right now he wasn’t entirely sure if this was actually happening. His body still in shock, he couldn’t feel the pain of his wounds, and he was vaguely amused by the idea that perhaps this was all a terrible dream. He was sure that he would wake up shortly and Tanishe would be asking him for help in her medical tent or Hasani would be asking him to haul some things for someone, or perhaps Mwenye would be outside his tent once more, being strange as he always was. For some reason, his blood deprived brain thought the whole thing was hilarious. Had he been a bit stronger, he was sure that he would be laughing out loud at the moment, which was something that would seem absolutely crazy to those around him. It was probably a good thing he was not strong enough to make himself seem insane.
By the time that Hasani had arrived, Saro’s eyes had closed completely, the strength that it had taken to keep them open had faded, and he felt tired. Part of him thought that he should just let himself sleep, sure that a bit of rest right now and he would be fine, he would be up and about after a quick nap and he could get back to it. Plants. Tanishe needed plants, how else was she going to help people? He would just take a quick nap and then they would get back to collecting the plants, that made complete sense to him, and he was sure that Tanishe would understand. He had woken rather early, and the heat of the sun was enough to tire a man out when working like they had been as they wandered to find the things that she needed.
He vaguely heard voices, seeming to float on the outer edges of his consciousness. He could hear Tanishe speaking, and Hasani answering, and other people that he didn’t recognize. Had he met them? He thought it was awful rude of himself to not have introduced himself yet. He was sure they knew who he was, he was the palest person in the tribe, and everyone at this point was bound to know who the foreign man was, but that wasn’t an excuse for being impolite. He attempted to open his eyes, able to sort of squint a little, but he wasn’t able to do much more than that, and he for sure wasn’t able to speak let alone attempt to introduce himself. It didn’t seem to matter, for the other men he had not met were quickly jogging off anyways.
Some where deep down, Saro knew things were bad, knew that his brain was playing tricks on him, making his thought process loopy, but that logical part of him seemed to be smothered by the blood loss and the dizziness and confusion that had taken over his brain. He tried to take a deep breath, in an attempt to clear the haziness from his thoughts, but found that his lungs wouldn’t co-operate, and he felt a bit of panic, but even that sort of felt like it was on the edge of everything. Like someone else was feeling it and he could just sense it instead of feeling the emotion himself. He both knew the gravity of the situation but also couldn’t quite grasp the severity of it. It was definitely a strange state of mind, and if he survived this and remembered it, he knew it would be something that he would never forget.
Saro had all but forgotten his earlier request for the water, though he could feel his mouth was dry, it didn’t really bother him any more. He had no idea if that was a good thing or not as he still continued to struggle through the haze. It was like sailing through a thick fog, something he had done many times in his life, it hit suddenly and lasted for what felt like ever. You couldn’t see clearly through it and it made your breathing feel heavy. They had always had to sail slowly through the fog, lest they hit another ship, or some rocks that they could not see. Life had always seemed to slow to a crawl when the fog hit, and it seemed to be the same now. His thoughts were rushed but some how slow at the same time, and he couldn’t really focus on any one thing or remember what was even going on.
So, when Tanishe lifted the water skin to his lips and the liquid poured into his mouth and over his tongue, he was caught a bit off guard. Luckily he still had just enough strength to properly swallow the liquid instead of choking on it or something. He wasn’t sure if Tanishe had even thought of that, or if she had just decided that he needed water in that moment. The liquid felt almost like it woke him up a bit, and he managed to open his eyes for the moment, just in time to see the warriors returning with a stretcher. Was that for him? He wasn’t sure why, he was absolutely sure that he would be able to walk on his own. Perhaps it wasn’t for him, was someone else injured? If they were, then everyone should turn their attention on that person, he was fine.
Except he was far from fine, he realized, as he was lifted onto the stretcher and suddenly every wound in his body, every scratch and broken bone blazed with the burning sensation of a thousand fires. If he had been stronger, he would have cried out in pain, instead the sensation sent him into a blackout, and he momentarily lost consciousness fully, exactly what he had been trying to fight, for fear that he might not wake back up if he drifted off. He had thought to shout no, to ask that the people with him kept him awake, kept him from fading off, but nothing came out. He didn’t even move, and just before the dreams hit him, he could remember thinking that he was for sure going to die.
He was transported to another world, a world that he knew so well, a world that he loved more than anything. Sailing once more upon the sea, Saro was standing at the front of his ship, standing on the bowsprit, he balanced perfectly, expertly even in the rocking of the ocean waves. He felt more at home upon the water than he ever had on land. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his other senses take over. The smell of the salt water on the wind had his chest swelling with happiness, some claimed it was a disgusting smell, but he loved it. It was the scent of home, the scent of family, the scent of love and happiness. The wind whipped his dark hair back behind him as they sailed, bringing him a slight chill as the spray of the water dusted him in a light misting of salt and moisture. The sound of the wood of the ship cutting through the waves roared in his ears, the wind around him mingling with the noise to enhance it. The distant call of ocean birds could be heard, they circled the ship in the hopes it would provide some food source.
Other than the birds, he could hear the calls of the crew, orders being shouted as the ship required tweaks to keep sailing forward at full speed. Their journey across the open water to be sped up as the winds changed and the crew adapted to the whims of whatever caused the winds to change course. Laughter and angry shouts both mixed as the crew bantered behind him, voices that sounded like home, as much as the smell of the salt water did. For the most part, he had grown up from a baby to a man with a lot of the crew, they had been lucky in not losing many of the original crew over the years. Though the losses they did suffer were mourned, it was exactly what was expected as a pirate, or even sailor in general.
His brown eyes opened once more, and he looked out over the water. The sky was nearly cloudless, at least for the moment, and though the heat of the sun could not be felt through the wind and the spray of the water up over the bow of the ship, the light dancing upon the water provided a beautiful and slightly blinding sight. A sight that he would not trade for a single thing in the world. This was where he was comfortable, where he was most at peace. Even during the times when they would rob and sink someone elses ship, covered in blood and dirt and god knows what else, he was absolutely and utterly at joy on the sea.
He was born upon her waves, and that was where he would some day die.
Suddenly and with a jolt, the ocean disappeared, the ship beneath his feet that had been there just a moment ago disappeared, the solid feeling suddenly leaving made him nauseous, and he was momentarily brought back to reality, though he was vaguely unaware of what was going on. He was being lifted, onto a bed, or at least he thought it was a bed. His eyes opened for a moment and he saw Tanishe above him, covered in blood and looking worn and worried. He meant to ask her if she was okay, see if she needed help, but before he could say a thing his consciousness faded to blackness once more and the world faded around him. He tried to remember to make sure she was okay before his mind faded completely, but before he could do anything of the sort, reality fell back into dream.
This time, he was standing on a dock, a familiar dock. The ones in Athenia. He looked around, what was he doing here? Something caught his attention and his gaze moved back in front of him. There he stood. Adrestus. The other male held the familiar smile on his face, one of love and excitement at seeing his lover. He had seen that smile so many times before, in various places as the two of them met when they were in the same place. They would get together as often as possible, to make love and spend the whole time in each other’s arms, hidden away in their own little meeting spots, the two of them lost to the rest of the world as they let their love burn bright.
He was a bit confused though, as the two of them would not normally meet in such a public place, especially not in Adrestus’ home. They had been together in Athenia sure, but well out of the eyes of anyone else, never on the docks like this. But Saro realized that the place was eerily empty, something that he had never experienced before. There was something strange about it, but the swashbuckler did not question it in the moment.
The two of them were alone, not a single other soul was any where to be seen. He took a step forward, and as he went to move, Adrestus was running towards him and Saro matched his pace. The two practically collided in the middle, and his arms went around his lover, feeling the familiar feel of his body pressed in a close embrace with him as their lips met. The kiss caused an explosion of fire to rip through Saro’s body, but not the usual kind he remembered when they had kissed in the past. This time, instead of a pleasantly burning passion, the kiss had caused immense pain and he pulled away from the love of his life. His brown eyes studied the man, and Adrestus looked at him, completely and utterly confused at Saro’s reactions.
The pirate shook his head, he must have just been imagining it. He stepped forward once more, reconnecting their lips, but the moment they met in the kiss, the pain shot through his body again. Saro fell to his knees out of sheer pain, holding his chest, as that’s where the worst of the pain seemed to radiate from. He looked up, to see if Adrestus would be going for help, surely he would see something was wrong and he would go find someone that could help him, but instead of seeing worry, or seeing him running off shouting for help, his lover began to point and laugh at him. His beautiful features twisted into something evil, something that found his agony absolutely hilarious. He opened his mouth to ask why, why would Adrestus do this to him? But before he could, the world shifted and Saro instead found himself shackled in a cold and dark stone room.
He couldn’t see much in the dim light, but he could hear water dripping slowly some where nearby, and hear the cries of others who seemed to be elsewhere in the same situation as he was. None of the voices were ones he recognized, and he couldn’t see anything beyond what seemed to be some sort of cage bars to his left side. He then realized he was sitting on the cold stone floor, and his hands were tied together with a strong rope. Had he been caught stealing? Had the ship been sunk and the survivors taken captive? What was going on?
He couldn’t seem to remember the events leading up to this. He remembered being with Adrestus, the pain when they kissed, that horrid laughter the other emitted, but that was it. None of that explained why he was locked up, where he was or even who had him captive. Had Adrestus turned him in? He did not think the man would do such a thing, then again he hadn’t expected him to laugh at his pain either.
Saro attempted to stand, but he found himself unable to, no matter how hard he tried. His legs wouldn’t cooperate, and he felt himself beginning to panic a little. Had he been hurt so bad that he wasn’t able to move? If he focused, he could feel various points of throbbing pain, but nothing seemed severe enough to cause him to be unable to stand. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, he needed to think his way through this. There had to be something going on, and he just needed to keep himself from panicking too much and he would be able to figure it out.
Before he could think too far on it though, everything went black and his mind went mostly blank, and Saro’s body and mind finally got some of the rest it truly needed.
He had no idea how long he slept for, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been days or even weeks, but eventually he felt his mind slowly pulling itself out of the darkness, starting to become aware of some of the things around him. He couldn’t help but be curious as to how much time had truly passed, though he knew that that should probably be the thing he was least concerned with at the moment. He was certain that what ever had knocked him out for an extended period of time should be a bigger concern than how long it had managed to knock him out for.
The first thing he felt was a stinging sensation on his face, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it felt hot and painful upon his cheek, like someone was pressing three pieces of hot metal lightly against the skin there. He wanted to reach up and feel it, to determine what was causing the pain, but he couldn’t move his arm just yet. Or at least he hoped that it was yet, and it wasn’t permanent. Perhaps he just needed to give his body a bit longer to wake up, and then he could sit up and feel what was going on with his face. He had a passing thought that he hoped what ever was on his face, or had been on his face wouldn’t leave a scar. Saro was sort of a vain person, and he knew that his good looks were a lot of his charm.
But as time passed, he felt a sharp stinging on his shoulder as well, running from the bottom of his shoulder blade all the way to the front, that one hurt more than his cheek did. It felt like cuts, deeper ones. He swallowed heavily, feeling the thirst start to kick in as well. He wondered if he would be able to find water easily. His mind still hadn’t fully caught up, and he couldn’t even remember where he was or what had happened to cause these injuries.
The next thing he felt was on his left side this time, where as the other two injuries had been on his right, this one felt like... a bit mark? The oddly circular feeling pain on the left side of his torso made him think he had been attacked by some sort of animal. Or a really really strange human.
The last thing he felt was a large set of gashes down his left leg, they felt as if they ran from his upper thigh and down to his shin. He vaguely wondered if such injuries would prevent him from walking properly. He sent up a small prayer to any and all Gods who might exist and listen to him that this would not permanently effect his leg. He sort of needed to be mobile for what he did. If he could not rejoin his crew upon landing on the shores of Egypt, if he could not properly return to his ship and the sea, he had nothing left to live for.
As much as he wished to test his leg, to see if he would in fact be able to move it or if it was too badly injured, he felt like if he hadn’t been able to move his hand, the odds of him being able to move his entire leg were rather slim. He attempted to move his hand once more, and he felt it sort of twitch, but didn’t quite lift like he had planned on.
Progress.
He took as deep of a breath as he could and assessed himself again. His ribs hurt, causing a stabbing feeling where he assumed they were broken. He’d felt that pain once before when he was a young boy, and he had taken on a man much larger than him in a fight. Luckily his father had stepped in before the man could kill Saro, but he had broken a couple of his ribs with the first blow. It felt very familiar like that. That was fine, those would heal on their own and stop hurting, or at least they had the first time. Perhaps this time they wouldn’t, but at least he could ask Tanishe. If anyone would know, it was the woman he considered one of his friends.
He felt a few other various cuts, bruises and punctures, but the first ones he had noticed seemed to be the worst of them. He flinched just a bit as the pain started to increase the more awake he became. He vaguely her a voice talking to him, a voice he recognized. Tanishe.
He tried to listen, to decipher the words she was saying. His Bedoan was good enough for him to know the words, but they weren’t quite fully registering with the pirate. He was trying to sort out what happened to him. His dreams from being out cold were vaguely in the back of his mind, though he couldn’t remember the details of those either. He felt like he didn’t quite have the energy to move his limbs yet, or even open his eyes, but his brain seemed to be working, and so he took the moment to try and remember what it was that had landed him here in such condition.
He could remember Tanishe coming to get him. They were going some where, doing something. But what? His brain didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him, like it was willing him to just forget what had happened, and stop trying to pull the memories forth. But Saro was the type to remember, even if the situations weren’t good ones. He was fighting himself mentally, trying to pull the memories fully forth, to remember what it was that had landed him here laying in this bed with Tanishe at his side.
He lay there, seemingly still asleep as he attempted to remember. It was like fighting through thick trees, or trying to walk through deep sand. He could see the end goal, but reaching it was proving to be much harder than it should be. He had to get there, he had to remember. He put all of his remaining mental strength behind forcing those memories forward.
Herbs. They were going out collecting plants for Tanishe to use in her medical practice. Tanishe was taking him along mostly to carry the heavy things for her. A thing that he did not mind considering he was young and strong and Tanishe and Hasani had taken him in. The least he could do to repay them was to offer them work in exchange for their hospitality. Now he was getting somewhere.
Okay, so they had set off to gather. He could sort of remember the two of them walking, they had been talking, he’d asked her about the herbs, about what they were and what they were used for. A chance to learn some new Bedoan words, as well as a chance to learn some things about healing that perhaps would serve him well down the line. One never knew when these tidbits of knowledge would help, and healing wasn’t something that was done very well on a pirate ship. Typically major injuries meant death, or amputation if a limb could be removed.
Okay, what happened next, Saro. Think.
Then it came back to him, and he could have sworn that the memory hit as hard as the large cat had. He remembered the weight of the animal as he put himself in between it and Tanishe. His injuries suddenly hurt worse as he relived the memory of the beast that had made them. The memories seemed to play in slow motion as he momentarily lived through them again. Watching the animal leap, it’s target the smaller of the two. He remembered the split second when he had unconsciously made the decision to jump between the two of them. No. Not decision, there had been no thought behind it.
The instinct to jump between them and take the attack from the creature instead of letting Tanishe be the one to be attacked. It hadn’t taken any thought, not that he would have had time to think it over anyways. It had been automatic. Protect Tanishe. Put himself in harms way so that she could escape. Except she didn’t escape. She had stayed with him, despite the danger of the creature returning to finish them off. He wouldn’t have been any use in a second attack, that much was obvious.
The feeling was enough to cause his hand to shoot up and hold his cheek, the pain throbbing there. His brown eyes shot open and he was looking straight up at the top of the medical tent. This time instead of assisting Tanishe with someone who was laying in one of the beds sick or injured, he was the one in the bed. It was a strange feeling, and it was not some where that he thought he would find himself during his stay in Bedoa. He never could have guessed that something like this would have happened. It seemed like Tanishe didn’t either though, he remembered the look of surprise on her face when the attack had happened. He supposed that cheetah attacks must not have been common then. He wasn’t sure, this was his first run in with the animals.
And he had to admit, he was not a fan of theirs.
Now that he was fully awake, the pain was increasing with every passing second, but despite the utter agony from his still slightly bleeding wounds, he managed to turn his head and look at Tanishe, his hand still touching his cheek lightly, he attempted to give her his best version of his normally charming smile before he spoke the first words since he had blacked out early the day before. His words were in Bedoan, he spoke a bit shakily and slowly, though his words were audible.
“Am I still handsome?” He said, managing a small laugh before he winced due to the pain in his ribs caused by the laughing. He knew that the pain was going to keep getting worse, and he hoped like hell that Tanishe had something to help with it, because there was no way he was going to be able to deal with it as it was now, let alone if it kept getting worse. He wasn’t sure he had the words to ask for anything just yet though, and so instead he attempted to sit up, not fully, but at least a little bit so he wasn’t laying completely down.
A few of the slaves hurried over and helped him sit up, propping him up easier by stacking furs behind him so he could lean back on them instead of trying to rely on his injured body to hold himself up. He relaxed back into the furs, the pain was still severe but he felt a tiny bit better now that he was at least sitting slightly. He felt like he had been laying on his back for how ever long he had been there, and he was sure that he hadn’t moved since he had arrived. At least the stiffness in his muscles and joints made him feel that way. Though, that could have also been from the cheetah attack and what he assumed was shock and blood loss after that.
“Is there water?” He asked, his voice picking up a little strength now that he was fully waking up, but so was the pain and he winced as the throbbing seemed to increase. His head hurt as well, the ache increasing as the pain every where else did too. He wasn’t sure which one was causing the other to hurt worse, but he was sure that neither of the things were helping the other. Perhaps it was time to ask for something that might at least relieve a little bit of the aching and pains he was feeling at the moment.
“And, maybe something for the pain?” He asked. He hate to admit that he needed it, as a man he had this drive to pretend like he could handle it, and he had planned on it at first, but things were hurting so much worse than he had planned on them hurting, and there was only so much he could take. At a certain point, even the manliest of men would need to admit that they couldn’t handle it. He doubted there were many who could feel this sort of pain and just push their way through it without at least a little assistance.
His knowledge on any sort of plants or anything medicinal was very limited, but he hoped that there was something that could ease this pain. Of all the various plants, and oils and powders and what ever else he had seen in Tanishe’s stores when he had helped her in her tent, there was bound to be something that could help him. There had to be, right? Of all the things that herbs, plants and what ever else could do, relief from pain had to be one of those things.
Please let it be one of those things.
Saro started feeling himself fading, though he did his best to fight it as well. He knew what fading away completely might mean, and he was far from ready to just give in to the pull towards the darkness. He thought that as long as he continued to fight, he would be alright, he had to be alright. His story couldn’t end here, this was not where he was supposed to die. He knew he was likely to die young, it was a hazard of the life he had been born into, but on this dry ground here, so far from the ocean that he loved, this is not where he would go. He swallowed heavily, attempting to speak again, but his mouth was so dry and he felt like he couldn’t move his mouth, that the words just would not come from his lips. His breathing was becoming a bit harder, and the darkness pressed at the corners of his already blurry vision even harder than it had been. He fought it back, attempting to keep the darkness back so he could remain conscious. He wouldn’t make it through if he let himself go to sleep, if the darkness too everything over, he wouldn’t open his eyes again. He was sure of it. He needed to fight.
And so that was what he did, internally struggling to keep himself awake, trying to focus on Tanishe who held him, and the sound of her voice as she sang to him. He couldn’t remember ever hearing her sing before. She didn’t have the best singing voice he had ever heard, but the sound was a bit soothing anyways. It sort of calmed the fight in him a bit, making it almost too easy to let himself get lost and close his eyes.
He wasn’t sure if she was singing to soothe him, or perhaps she was singing because she knew the darkness would take him to eternal sleep and she wanted him to drift off with some soft words.
No.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
He vaguely heard her say Hasani’s name, or at least he thought he had heard her say her husbands name. Right now he wasn’t entirely sure if this was actually happening. His body still in shock, he couldn’t feel the pain of his wounds, and he was vaguely amused by the idea that perhaps this was all a terrible dream. He was sure that he would wake up shortly and Tanishe would be asking him for help in her medical tent or Hasani would be asking him to haul some things for someone, or perhaps Mwenye would be outside his tent once more, being strange as he always was. For some reason, his blood deprived brain thought the whole thing was hilarious. Had he been a bit stronger, he was sure that he would be laughing out loud at the moment, which was something that would seem absolutely crazy to those around him. It was probably a good thing he was not strong enough to make himself seem insane.
By the time that Hasani had arrived, Saro’s eyes had closed completely, the strength that it had taken to keep them open had faded, and he felt tired. Part of him thought that he should just let himself sleep, sure that a bit of rest right now and he would be fine, he would be up and about after a quick nap and he could get back to it. Plants. Tanishe needed plants, how else was she going to help people? He would just take a quick nap and then they would get back to collecting the plants, that made complete sense to him, and he was sure that Tanishe would understand. He had woken rather early, and the heat of the sun was enough to tire a man out when working like they had been as they wandered to find the things that she needed.
He vaguely heard voices, seeming to float on the outer edges of his consciousness. He could hear Tanishe speaking, and Hasani answering, and other people that he didn’t recognize. Had he met them? He thought it was awful rude of himself to not have introduced himself yet. He was sure they knew who he was, he was the palest person in the tribe, and everyone at this point was bound to know who the foreign man was, but that wasn’t an excuse for being impolite. He attempted to open his eyes, able to sort of squint a little, but he wasn’t able to do much more than that, and he for sure wasn’t able to speak let alone attempt to introduce himself. It didn’t seem to matter, for the other men he had not met were quickly jogging off anyways.
Some where deep down, Saro knew things were bad, knew that his brain was playing tricks on him, making his thought process loopy, but that logical part of him seemed to be smothered by the blood loss and the dizziness and confusion that had taken over his brain. He tried to take a deep breath, in an attempt to clear the haziness from his thoughts, but found that his lungs wouldn’t co-operate, and he felt a bit of panic, but even that sort of felt like it was on the edge of everything. Like someone else was feeling it and he could just sense it instead of feeling the emotion himself. He both knew the gravity of the situation but also couldn’t quite grasp the severity of it. It was definitely a strange state of mind, and if he survived this and remembered it, he knew it would be something that he would never forget.
Saro had all but forgotten his earlier request for the water, though he could feel his mouth was dry, it didn’t really bother him any more. He had no idea if that was a good thing or not as he still continued to struggle through the haze. It was like sailing through a thick fog, something he had done many times in his life, it hit suddenly and lasted for what felt like ever. You couldn’t see clearly through it and it made your breathing feel heavy. They had always had to sail slowly through the fog, lest they hit another ship, or some rocks that they could not see. Life had always seemed to slow to a crawl when the fog hit, and it seemed to be the same now. His thoughts were rushed but some how slow at the same time, and he couldn’t really focus on any one thing or remember what was even going on.
So, when Tanishe lifted the water skin to his lips and the liquid poured into his mouth and over his tongue, he was caught a bit off guard. Luckily he still had just enough strength to properly swallow the liquid instead of choking on it or something. He wasn’t sure if Tanishe had even thought of that, or if she had just decided that he needed water in that moment. The liquid felt almost like it woke him up a bit, and he managed to open his eyes for the moment, just in time to see the warriors returning with a stretcher. Was that for him? He wasn’t sure why, he was absolutely sure that he would be able to walk on his own. Perhaps it wasn’t for him, was someone else injured? If they were, then everyone should turn their attention on that person, he was fine.
Except he was far from fine, he realized, as he was lifted onto the stretcher and suddenly every wound in his body, every scratch and broken bone blazed with the burning sensation of a thousand fires. If he had been stronger, he would have cried out in pain, instead the sensation sent him into a blackout, and he momentarily lost consciousness fully, exactly what he had been trying to fight, for fear that he might not wake back up if he drifted off. He had thought to shout no, to ask that the people with him kept him awake, kept him from fading off, but nothing came out. He didn’t even move, and just before the dreams hit him, he could remember thinking that he was for sure going to die.
He was transported to another world, a world that he knew so well, a world that he loved more than anything. Sailing once more upon the sea, Saro was standing at the front of his ship, standing on the bowsprit, he balanced perfectly, expertly even in the rocking of the ocean waves. He felt more at home upon the water than he ever had on land. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his other senses take over. The smell of the salt water on the wind had his chest swelling with happiness, some claimed it was a disgusting smell, but he loved it. It was the scent of home, the scent of family, the scent of love and happiness. The wind whipped his dark hair back behind him as they sailed, bringing him a slight chill as the spray of the water dusted him in a light misting of salt and moisture. The sound of the wood of the ship cutting through the waves roared in his ears, the wind around him mingling with the noise to enhance it. The distant call of ocean birds could be heard, they circled the ship in the hopes it would provide some food source.
Other than the birds, he could hear the calls of the crew, orders being shouted as the ship required tweaks to keep sailing forward at full speed. Their journey across the open water to be sped up as the winds changed and the crew adapted to the whims of whatever caused the winds to change course. Laughter and angry shouts both mixed as the crew bantered behind him, voices that sounded like home, as much as the smell of the salt water did. For the most part, he had grown up from a baby to a man with a lot of the crew, they had been lucky in not losing many of the original crew over the years. Though the losses they did suffer were mourned, it was exactly what was expected as a pirate, or even sailor in general.
His brown eyes opened once more, and he looked out over the water. The sky was nearly cloudless, at least for the moment, and though the heat of the sun could not be felt through the wind and the spray of the water up over the bow of the ship, the light dancing upon the water provided a beautiful and slightly blinding sight. A sight that he would not trade for a single thing in the world. This was where he was comfortable, where he was most at peace. Even during the times when they would rob and sink someone elses ship, covered in blood and dirt and god knows what else, he was absolutely and utterly at joy on the sea.
He was born upon her waves, and that was where he would some day die.
Suddenly and with a jolt, the ocean disappeared, the ship beneath his feet that had been there just a moment ago disappeared, the solid feeling suddenly leaving made him nauseous, and he was momentarily brought back to reality, though he was vaguely unaware of what was going on. He was being lifted, onto a bed, or at least he thought it was a bed. His eyes opened for a moment and he saw Tanishe above him, covered in blood and looking worn and worried. He meant to ask her if she was okay, see if she needed help, but before he could say a thing his consciousness faded to blackness once more and the world faded around him. He tried to remember to make sure she was okay before his mind faded completely, but before he could do anything of the sort, reality fell back into dream.
This time, he was standing on a dock, a familiar dock. The ones in Athenia. He looked around, what was he doing here? Something caught his attention and his gaze moved back in front of him. There he stood. Adrestus. The other male held the familiar smile on his face, one of love and excitement at seeing his lover. He had seen that smile so many times before, in various places as the two of them met when they were in the same place. They would get together as often as possible, to make love and spend the whole time in each other’s arms, hidden away in their own little meeting spots, the two of them lost to the rest of the world as they let their love burn bright.
He was a bit confused though, as the two of them would not normally meet in such a public place, especially not in Adrestus’ home. They had been together in Athenia sure, but well out of the eyes of anyone else, never on the docks like this. But Saro realized that the place was eerily empty, something that he had never experienced before. There was something strange about it, but the swashbuckler did not question it in the moment.
The two of them were alone, not a single other soul was any where to be seen. He took a step forward, and as he went to move, Adrestus was running towards him and Saro matched his pace. The two practically collided in the middle, and his arms went around his lover, feeling the familiar feel of his body pressed in a close embrace with him as their lips met. The kiss caused an explosion of fire to rip through Saro’s body, but not the usual kind he remembered when they had kissed in the past. This time, instead of a pleasantly burning passion, the kiss had caused immense pain and he pulled away from the love of his life. His brown eyes studied the man, and Adrestus looked at him, completely and utterly confused at Saro’s reactions.
The pirate shook his head, he must have just been imagining it. He stepped forward once more, reconnecting their lips, but the moment they met in the kiss, the pain shot through his body again. Saro fell to his knees out of sheer pain, holding his chest, as that’s where the worst of the pain seemed to radiate from. He looked up, to see if Adrestus would be going for help, surely he would see something was wrong and he would go find someone that could help him, but instead of seeing worry, or seeing him running off shouting for help, his lover began to point and laugh at him. His beautiful features twisted into something evil, something that found his agony absolutely hilarious. He opened his mouth to ask why, why would Adrestus do this to him? But before he could, the world shifted and Saro instead found himself shackled in a cold and dark stone room.
He couldn’t see much in the dim light, but he could hear water dripping slowly some where nearby, and hear the cries of others who seemed to be elsewhere in the same situation as he was. None of the voices were ones he recognized, and he couldn’t see anything beyond what seemed to be some sort of cage bars to his left side. He then realized he was sitting on the cold stone floor, and his hands were tied together with a strong rope. Had he been caught stealing? Had the ship been sunk and the survivors taken captive? What was going on?
He couldn’t seem to remember the events leading up to this. He remembered being with Adrestus, the pain when they kissed, that horrid laughter the other emitted, but that was it. None of that explained why he was locked up, where he was or even who had him captive. Had Adrestus turned him in? He did not think the man would do such a thing, then again he hadn’t expected him to laugh at his pain either.
Saro attempted to stand, but he found himself unable to, no matter how hard he tried. His legs wouldn’t cooperate, and he felt himself beginning to panic a little. Had he been hurt so bad that he wasn’t able to move? If he focused, he could feel various points of throbbing pain, but nothing seemed severe enough to cause him to be unable to stand. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, he needed to think his way through this. There had to be something going on, and he just needed to keep himself from panicking too much and he would be able to figure it out.
Before he could think too far on it though, everything went black and his mind went mostly blank, and Saro’s body and mind finally got some of the rest it truly needed.
He had no idea how long he slept for, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been days or even weeks, but eventually he felt his mind slowly pulling itself out of the darkness, starting to become aware of some of the things around him. He couldn’t help but be curious as to how much time had truly passed, though he knew that that should probably be the thing he was least concerned with at the moment. He was certain that what ever had knocked him out for an extended period of time should be a bigger concern than how long it had managed to knock him out for.
The first thing he felt was a stinging sensation on his face, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it felt hot and painful upon his cheek, like someone was pressing three pieces of hot metal lightly against the skin there. He wanted to reach up and feel it, to determine what was causing the pain, but he couldn’t move his arm just yet. Or at least he hoped that it was yet, and it wasn’t permanent. Perhaps he just needed to give his body a bit longer to wake up, and then he could sit up and feel what was going on with his face. He had a passing thought that he hoped what ever was on his face, or had been on his face wouldn’t leave a scar. Saro was sort of a vain person, and he knew that his good looks were a lot of his charm.
But as time passed, he felt a sharp stinging on his shoulder as well, running from the bottom of his shoulder blade all the way to the front, that one hurt more than his cheek did. It felt like cuts, deeper ones. He swallowed heavily, feeling the thirst start to kick in as well. He wondered if he would be able to find water easily. His mind still hadn’t fully caught up, and he couldn’t even remember where he was or what had happened to cause these injuries.
The next thing he felt was on his left side this time, where as the other two injuries had been on his right, this one felt like... a bit mark? The oddly circular feeling pain on the left side of his torso made him think he had been attacked by some sort of animal. Or a really really strange human.
The last thing he felt was a large set of gashes down his left leg, they felt as if they ran from his upper thigh and down to his shin. He vaguely wondered if such injuries would prevent him from walking properly. He sent up a small prayer to any and all Gods who might exist and listen to him that this would not permanently effect his leg. He sort of needed to be mobile for what he did. If he could not rejoin his crew upon landing on the shores of Egypt, if he could not properly return to his ship and the sea, he had nothing left to live for.
As much as he wished to test his leg, to see if he would in fact be able to move it or if it was too badly injured, he felt like if he hadn’t been able to move his hand, the odds of him being able to move his entire leg were rather slim. He attempted to move his hand once more, and he felt it sort of twitch, but didn’t quite lift like he had planned on.
Progress.
He took as deep of a breath as he could and assessed himself again. His ribs hurt, causing a stabbing feeling where he assumed they were broken. He’d felt that pain once before when he was a young boy, and he had taken on a man much larger than him in a fight. Luckily his father had stepped in before the man could kill Saro, but he had broken a couple of his ribs with the first blow. It felt very familiar like that. That was fine, those would heal on their own and stop hurting, or at least they had the first time. Perhaps this time they wouldn’t, but at least he could ask Tanishe. If anyone would know, it was the woman he considered one of his friends.
He felt a few other various cuts, bruises and punctures, but the first ones he had noticed seemed to be the worst of them. He flinched just a bit as the pain started to increase the more awake he became. He vaguely her a voice talking to him, a voice he recognized. Tanishe.
He tried to listen, to decipher the words she was saying. His Bedoan was good enough for him to know the words, but they weren’t quite fully registering with the pirate. He was trying to sort out what happened to him. His dreams from being out cold were vaguely in the back of his mind, though he couldn’t remember the details of those either. He felt like he didn’t quite have the energy to move his limbs yet, or even open his eyes, but his brain seemed to be working, and so he took the moment to try and remember what it was that had landed him here in such condition.
He could remember Tanishe coming to get him. They were going some where, doing something. But what? His brain didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him, like it was willing him to just forget what had happened, and stop trying to pull the memories forth. But Saro was the type to remember, even if the situations weren’t good ones. He was fighting himself mentally, trying to pull the memories fully forth, to remember what it was that had landed him here laying in this bed with Tanishe at his side.
He lay there, seemingly still asleep as he attempted to remember. It was like fighting through thick trees, or trying to walk through deep sand. He could see the end goal, but reaching it was proving to be much harder than it should be. He had to get there, he had to remember. He put all of his remaining mental strength behind forcing those memories forward.
Herbs. They were going out collecting plants for Tanishe to use in her medical practice. Tanishe was taking him along mostly to carry the heavy things for her. A thing that he did not mind considering he was young and strong and Tanishe and Hasani had taken him in. The least he could do to repay them was to offer them work in exchange for their hospitality. Now he was getting somewhere.
Okay, so they had set off to gather. He could sort of remember the two of them walking, they had been talking, he’d asked her about the herbs, about what they were and what they were used for. A chance to learn some new Bedoan words, as well as a chance to learn some things about healing that perhaps would serve him well down the line. One never knew when these tidbits of knowledge would help, and healing wasn’t something that was done very well on a pirate ship. Typically major injuries meant death, or amputation if a limb could be removed.
Okay, what happened next, Saro. Think.
Then it came back to him, and he could have sworn that the memory hit as hard as the large cat had. He remembered the weight of the animal as he put himself in between it and Tanishe. His injuries suddenly hurt worse as he relived the memory of the beast that had made them. The memories seemed to play in slow motion as he momentarily lived through them again. Watching the animal leap, it’s target the smaller of the two. He remembered the split second when he had unconsciously made the decision to jump between the two of them. No. Not decision, there had been no thought behind it.
The instinct to jump between them and take the attack from the creature instead of letting Tanishe be the one to be attacked. It hadn’t taken any thought, not that he would have had time to think it over anyways. It had been automatic. Protect Tanishe. Put himself in harms way so that she could escape. Except she didn’t escape. She had stayed with him, despite the danger of the creature returning to finish them off. He wouldn’t have been any use in a second attack, that much was obvious.
The feeling was enough to cause his hand to shoot up and hold his cheek, the pain throbbing there. His brown eyes shot open and he was looking straight up at the top of the medical tent. This time instead of assisting Tanishe with someone who was laying in one of the beds sick or injured, he was the one in the bed. It was a strange feeling, and it was not some where that he thought he would find himself during his stay in Bedoa. He never could have guessed that something like this would have happened. It seemed like Tanishe didn’t either though, he remembered the look of surprise on her face when the attack had happened. He supposed that cheetah attacks must not have been common then. He wasn’t sure, this was his first run in with the animals.
And he had to admit, he was not a fan of theirs.
Now that he was fully awake, the pain was increasing with every passing second, but despite the utter agony from his still slightly bleeding wounds, he managed to turn his head and look at Tanishe, his hand still touching his cheek lightly, he attempted to give her his best version of his normally charming smile before he spoke the first words since he had blacked out early the day before. His words were in Bedoan, he spoke a bit shakily and slowly, though his words were audible.
“Am I still handsome?” He said, managing a small laugh before he winced due to the pain in his ribs caused by the laughing. He knew that the pain was going to keep getting worse, and he hoped like hell that Tanishe had something to help with it, because there was no way he was going to be able to deal with it as it was now, let alone if it kept getting worse. He wasn’t sure he had the words to ask for anything just yet though, and so instead he attempted to sit up, not fully, but at least a little bit so he wasn’t laying completely down.
A few of the slaves hurried over and helped him sit up, propping him up easier by stacking furs behind him so he could lean back on them instead of trying to rely on his injured body to hold himself up. He relaxed back into the furs, the pain was still severe but he felt a tiny bit better now that he was at least sitting slightly. He felt like he had been laying on his back for how ever long he had been there, and he was sure that he hadn’t moved since he had arrived. At least the stiffness in his muscles and joints made him feel that way. Though, that could have also been from the cheetah attack and what he assumed was shock and blood loss after that.
“Is there water?” He asked, his voice picking up a little strength now that he was fully waking up, but so was the pain and he winced as the throbbing seemed to increase. His head hurt as well, the ache increasing as the pain every where else did too. He wasn’t sure which one was causing the other to hurt worse, but he was sure that neither of the things were helping the other. Perhaps it was time to ask for something that might at least relieve a little bit of the aching and pains he was feeling at the moment.
“And, maybe something for the pain?” He asked. He hate to admit that he needed it, as a man he had this drive to pretend like he could handle it, and he had planned on it at first, but things were hurting so much worse than he had planned on them hurting, and there was only so much he could take. At a certain point, even the manliest of men would need to admit that they couldn’t handle it. He doubted there were many who could feel this sort of pain and just push their way through it without at least a little assistance.
His knowledge on any sort of plants or anything medicinal was very limited, but he hoped that there was something that could ease this pain. Of all the various plants, and oils and powders and what ever else he had seen in Tanishe’s stores when he had helped her in her tent, there was bound to be something that could help him. There had to be, right? Of all the things that herbs, plants and what ever else could do, relief from pain had to be one of those things.
Please let it be one of those things.
This was not something he would have ever thought would happen. A cheetah attack? And so close to the camp? That alone was enough to worry Hasani immensely. What would have happened if it had been children out here instead of Saro and his wife? What would have happened if it had just been Tanishe that stood this far into the sands, the dunes almost hiding them from view? Hasani's pace slowed as he made his approach, his heart beating wildly and nearly out of his chest. Gripping his chest, there was a fear so intense that he had never once experienced anything like it before.
Never had he been so utterly afraid for the life of his wife. Never had he ever been so utterly fearful for the life of a guest. Of a friend. Were he a weaker man, the leier may have felt sick to his stomach. Admittedly, he did nearly feel like he might be sick from fear and sadness and pure frustration. What had possessed two cheetahs to attack humans? Most of the time the two hunting tribes kept their distance from each other.
That said, with such danger out there now, little else could be done but to hunt them down. They had tasted human flesh and Hasani was very aware of what happened when predators tasted the blood of another potential prey. If the creatures were so desperate for a meal that they would attack humans on the sands, there was no doubt that they would do it again. That was not something that Hasani would deal with a second time, so the course of action would be to take care of the problem the first time.
He wouldn't risk a repeat. Not with Saro very suddenly on his death bed for lack of blood. Gripping his spear tightly, Hasani's expression turned almost cold. Calculating. Debating his direction and his course of action. There was little other choices in this matter, but he was in no rush to run off until he knew that Tanishe and Saro were both being taken in the direction of relative safety. Cheetahs would not attack the larger group, Hasani was sure. There were far too many warriors and spears to make such a feat far too terrifying and not at all an option for such a prey hunter.
With his dark gaze darting back to his wife, relief shown on his features when Tanishe stated that she was unharmed. If he were more manic about it, he truly would have searched her person himself. There was so much blood on her clothes and on her skin that it was worrying. Maddening. A mixture of human and beast that the leier was very sure he did not want to see again after this day. Swallowing slightly, he shifted a little closer to look down at Saro, fear flashing in his gaze. "I am pleased that you are unharmed, but Saro..." he trailed off slowly. This was a horrid fate for his dear friend. Their guest and visitor who both Tanishe and Hasani, plus many of the others, truly valued. This was not good. Hasani did not like this.
Fixating on his friend, he almost missed the next words that came out of her mouth, though they seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. All at once and with sudden, extreme weight. Tearing his gaze from Saro's paling features, Hasani's jaw dropped slightly. "Two cheetahs?" he asked absently, breathing deeply through his nose and then casting his gaze across the sand. Now, he wanted to get moving. He wanted the men with the stretcher to get here so that Tanishe and Saro could be escorted safely back to the camp and Hasani could move further into the sands.
He would hunt until he knew that both beasts were well and dead. There would be no other option on this day. When all was said and done, if Saro lived, there would be new training. A new normal for his friend and companion. This would not repeat a second time.
"What were two cheetahs doing so close to the camp?" he asked almost absently, not truly needing an answer to his own inner musings. He just needed to know that there were only two. Growing quickly impatient at the way that Saro seemed to look, Hasani turned on his heel and walked a few paces back toward the camp, his dark gaze narrowing with rage at how slowly these healers with the stretcher ran. "Move it!" he snarled across the sands when the four men visibly started heading across the expanse toward them. "Quickly!" he barked again, starting to pace like an animal himself. He barely listened to Tanishe again, but he still caught everything that she had said.
One of them had been stabbed by Saro. He had saved Tanishe and he would be rewarded amply for what he had done. When he was healed and able to stand again, they would throw him the biggest feast he had ever seen. They would celebrate together, smoking camel dung and drinking to their heart’s content. Saro would well and truly earn his own tent and a spot among the warriors, only to be trained properly with a spear. If Saro hadn't been looking to return to Egypt, then Hasani would have fully welcomed the man into the tribe as a full member of the Zaire. There would be no question after today.
But Saro just had to live. He could not die here, and Hasani was adamant with himself that he would not. It did not matter how much crimson red soaked the sand. There would not be a funeral today.
The men finally arrived with the stretcher and Hasani himself helped the men carefully transfer Saro onto the fabric. The leier hardly looked at his wife, too deep in his own thoughts to really give it much consideration. Only when Saro was lifted into the air did Hasani reach forward and take Tanishe's arm. He wasn't thinking about the blood that soaked his own hands now. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.
"I am going to hunt them down," he said calmly, giving her absolutely no room to argue. Letting her go, he renewed his grip on his spear and turned toward the expanse of the scorching sands. It was time to follow the warrior he had already sent out to scout ahead.
Silently, he prayed to the ancestors that there would not be a repeat scene when he caught up. He wasn't sure that he could handle more human gore today. There was something sickening about an animal attack that always had turned Hasani's stomach. Beasts did not have a conscience. They did not think about their actions in the way that humans did.
Taking only a single pause to look out toward the sands again, the leier braced himself against the anxiety and agitation that would become his sole two emotions during this hunt. Predator hunting predator, both were distance hunters. They could take their time to get what they wanted. If Hasani was forced to do so, he would keep going until he dried up and desiccated in the desert sands. This ocean of heat and gold would not stop him from reaching his goal.
He would track the beasts into the next life if he never found them. The anger was the third emotion to grip him and he took a steadying breath, glancing in the direction of the sun in order to gauge the time. How long until the world darkened, making the hunt all that more dangerous? Half a day, maybe? Could he complete his hunt in that amount of time? If he was lucky and the cheetahs had not escaped that far, then yes, absolutely. It would not be such an issue in the long run. If he was caught out in the darkness, however, without the safety of the tribe's fires, he could catch his death either by cold or ambush.
It was his job to ensure that that didn't happen. He needed to catch up with the hunter that he had already sent out ahead of him. There would be safety in numbers, especially with spears between them. Tanishe and Saro had been nearly defenseless, and Hasani was very sure that neither of them would escape the fate of having warriors follow their every move after this incident. At least until Hasani was entirely sure that the danger was gone.
Leaving his wife, the other warriors, healers, and Saro behind, Hasani started off without another word. There was nothing else to say. He had made his intentions clear and there was no stopping him now. Especially not when the death of these creatures meant the safety of the rest of the tribe. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that these could have been children. Defenseless children who could have wandered too far from the barriers of the tribe's campsite and ended up devoured by beasts.
That was the only thought he really needed to fixate on to start him moving. Not wanting to tire himself out before what could be a massive battle, Hasani kept his pace slow, surveying. He was both in a rush and not, knowing that exhausting himself before he found his targets would not bode well for him. However, there was the hope that his own prey was slowing down. If Saro really had stabbed one of the creatures, that meant that the pair would be moving slower if the healthier of the two hadn't already abandoned its companion.
Hasani found himself gripping his spear so hard that his knuckles discolored. He was sure that if he tightened his grip any more, he might snap the wood in half. His muscles strained against the effort, the anger, the frustration. The need to hunt was what kept him moving, pausing only to crouch down beside little droplets of blood and footprints of both human and beast that gave him a better sense of direction. It was when the human footprints started to appear fresher and fresher with each minute that Hasani picked his pace up into a quick jog.
Not taxing enough to exhaust him, but fast enough to bring him into view of his fellow hunter. The man had had the same thought as Hasani. Move slow. Do not exhaust yourself. Save your energy. Hasani did not need to speak a word as he caught up with the hunter, slamming his spear into the sand as he walked, using it as a walking stick to take some of the energy and force off of his own body. The second hunter glanced at Hasani, muttering a quiet greeting, but otherwise, the two did not speak to one another. Like they were the same person, they tracked the beasts together, using both instinct and their knowledge of tracking to carry them closer and closer to the first cheetah.
The blood seemed to grow more frequent and less disturbed by the sands. The cheetahs' tracks also grew fresher, which told both men that the creatures were closer than they had expected. They hadn't gotten far, and that was likely because one or both of them was injured. If both were injured, it would make the fight that much easier in the end. If they had the strength when both creatures were dead, they would drag the corpses back to the village to be dressed and use the furs. It was not often that any warrior ever got to take and keep the furs of a fellow predator.
They never usually came to such blows, scared away by the sheer size of the tribes of the desert and the way they moved about the lands. Together as one massive unit.
Lifting his gaze from the ground, Hasani tried to get a good sight of the next stretch of sand ahead of them. He could see rather keenly that the cheetah's blood had pooled not too far from them, showing that the creature had stopped for even just a moment to rest. Hasani was more than sure that it hadn't made it much farther, and a few more minutes of walking in that direction, keeping his gaze toward the sand to ensure that the two sets of animal tracks did not divert from one another, Hasani's thoughts were confirmed when the sight of one cheetah lying prone on the sand came into distant view.
Glancing to his fellow hunter, Hasani and the other man broke into a sudden run, the two of them huffing and putting by the time they made it to the creature's corpse. Saro's blade had aimed true. He had killed one of the cheetah's in his effort to protect himself and Tanishe from the attack.
That meant there was the only one left and time would not allow them to delay any longer.
The two hunters stopped long enough to get a good view of the first cheetah. It was Hasani who crouched beside the creature, turning its head to observe the knife wound to its face. For some reason, it was absolutely staggering to think that Saro had used enough force in his swing to pierce the skull of the creature. The more Hasani thought about it, the more confused and awed it seemed to make him. Hasani had figured that the man had experience fighting and using weapons, but he had not expected anyone who was not used to fighting off creatures or fighting in tribal wars to pack such a sharp punch behind his swing.
Hasani's mind trailed over and over that thought. Saro had been leaving most of his weapons in his tent, but he was unsure of what else the man had experience with. The leier thought that, should Saro live, he would ensure that he asked for far more detail. Only a trained warrior had any sort of skill in being able to fight like this... and Saro had ravaged the animal. What else could he do, Hasani wondered. What other surprises and secrets did Saro have that Hasani wanted to know about?
His mind trailed briefly to Neena before he immediately shut it down, knowing that he had absolutely no time to think about his second wife right now. The two hunters took their time in surveying the creature, wondering what other wounds were on the animal that had contributed it its death. It was clear that the second hunter, knowing that Saro had done this damage, was thinking in the exact same vein as Hasani himself. The way the man lifted his dark gaze to Hasani's face told Hasani as much. There were more questions than answers at this moment, and he was sure he would ask for more answers if Saro survived such a savage attack.
Part of him wondered, just for a moment, if it would be safe to keep Saro around. Then he recalled how much Tanishe liked the younger man. How much Hasani himself liked the man. Many of the other tribe members liked Saro too. He was helpful. He wasn't useless and he didn't argue when anyone gave him any task to do. The tribe was aware that he was not a slave, and they never gave him slave tasks. They simply asked for aid, help, or company. All of which Saro had constantly seemed content to entertain.
No. Saro would be honored. The carnage he had inflicted here would only serve to make the tribe like him more. Because he had protected one of their own. He had protected all of them, inadvertently... but he had. And Hasani was very sure that he would do it again if he was given the same choice, the same chance.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Hasani spoke for the first time for what felt like hours. "We will backtrack for the corpse. I'm sure that Saro would like to see his trophy when he wakes up," the leier noted, earning a faithful nod from his companion. Smoothing his large, bloody hand across the cheetah's flank, Hasani brought himself back to his feet and started to focus on looking for the tracks again. Far up ahead, there was a rocky outcropping that the tribe had passed on their journey to their current location.
No doubt, the second beast was likely to have pressed itself between the rocks for its own protection. Because it would not be able to fully outrun the hunters that were tracking it if the continued spots of blood across the sand were any indication of its own potential weakness. It was unlikely that Saro had killed both beasts, but he had at least injured both of them. That wasn't to say the cheetah would be weak.
On the contrary, beasts and men alike often fought harder when they were injured. Adrenaline always coursed a man's veins, making them much more likely to strike harder. Hasani and his companion would have to be careful on this last leg of their hunt. There was still a high level of danger that the two of them could find from now until the end of their task. One of both of them could end up injured or dead, though the odds were more in their own favor than anything else.
"Come on," Hasani instructed calmly, no longer the leier but the experienced hunter and warrior. The two of them were a team and they would do this as a team.
Striding carefully across the sands, Hasani's grip on his spear only tightened exponentially. He felt as if his hand was straining, aching against the pressure he was putting on himself. There was still fear in his veins, but it was not as intense. He could only truly think about finishing off the beast and returning to his home. Returning to his people, his wife, and his dying friend.
'Ancestors, please save him,' Hasani prayed silently with each step closer to the rocky desert outcropping. The blood seemed to fade, but the tracks did not. At one point, Hasani and his companion started to look almost obsessively across the sands, looking out for any instance of danger heading their way. The last thing they needed was to be ambushed when they were so close to the end of their hunt.
Their pace slowed and they took more measured steps toward the outcropping, knowing for certain that danger was lurking within the shadows of the stones. In fact, as they approached closer and closer, Hasani straightened up, hearing the ferocious snarls of their target. The female cheetah stuck her head out of a gap in the stones, snarling aloud as if in a warning. Then a few steps out into the sands, she started stalking toward Hasani and his hunting companion.
The man braced his feet on the sands, unsure of which of them the creature would lunge for first.
It went for him. That had been what the leier had been hoping. He was much more inclined to take a hit or end up injured, if only because his natural inclination was to protect those around him. Even his hunters. Even his best warriors. They were valuable to him in ways that were different from them only being useful for their skills. The tribe was his family. Each and every member of that tribe, from the smallest infant to the oldest elder had taught him something at one point or another. Everything he did, including putting himself into danger, was for them.
For their health.
For their safety.
For their continued protection and vibrancy of life.
And now he fought for Saro and Tanishe. He fought for the lives that he could protect rather than the ones he could not. He could not safe this cheetah, it had done far too much damage and the blood on its maw incriminated it as the first to attack Saro. That was Saro's blood on her mouth and Hasani would not just accept that. There would be payback. The life of the few for the lives of the many.
Raising his spear, Hasani used it to block the advancing cheetah, leaning his head back when claws dug against hardwood and teeth gripped the staff. Twisting his body slightly, Hasani kept his firm grip on the handle, twisting the entire spear in order to make the creature twist its head in order to follow its operation of attack. Then Hasani shoved the wood further back into the creature's mouth, making it gag and pushing it away a few paces.
The cheetah landed on all fours, snarling and swiping at the accompanying spear of Hasani's hunting companion. Then she turned her attention back on Hasani, lunging for a second time, only much lower. Having to roll out of the way of wild claws, Hasani hit the sand, using the end of his spear in an attempt to get himself back on his fear before the cheetah could lunge a second time.
Hasani's assessment that beasts fought harder when they were injured was correct because the creature was able to lunge for him again, this time pinning Hasani down into the sand. Continuing to use the spear as a barrier against the cheetah's teeth and front claws, Hasani let out a snarl at the feeling of her back claws digging into his side. Snarling just as angrily and furiously as the beast he was fighting, the tussle between the two of them was fierce, and even though the second hunter made continued attempts to get between them, Hasani kept telling the man to back off.
He would not see more injuries today.
Pain exploding through his side with each movement, Hasani could feel the adrenaline start to course through his veins. His brows furrowed deeply, Hasani used one hand to keep the spear steady, only flinching slightly as the cheetah gnawed on the wood, almost rabid in her want to get at the leier. With his free hand, he reached down his other side, grabbing for his short blade and pulling it sharply from its leather sheathe.
The spear bowed dangerously, bringing the cheetah closer and closer to his face with each passing second. Grunting with the effort, his injured side straining, Hasani lifted his dagger, blindly plunging it first into the cheetah's ribs before he pulled the blade and thrust it against her throat instead. The struggle did not last much longer from there, the female yowling and backing away sharply even as blood poured from her two wounds. She only got a few paces from either hunter before she collapsed into the sand, panting hard until the loss of blood became too much to handle.
Hasani lay in the sand for a while, his own breathing making him dizzy. He pressed his hand against the gouges in his side, gritting his teeth hard. The hunter rushed forward, starting to rip strips of cloth from his own clothing to help stop the bleeding. Between the two of them, they almost entirely shredded their clothing, but Hasani was soon staggering to his feet, braced against the other hunter. The man seemed inclined to work them back in the direction of the camp, but Hasani shook his head. "She was protecting something," he noted, pulling away from the hunter and using his spear to brace himself. The two of them moved toward the rocky outcropping. Hasani directed the man to get a good look, which wasn't argued.
The hunter leaned back after a few moments, pale and his eyes wide. "There are cubs, leier," he said calmly. Entirely what Hasani had feared. They couldn't leave the tiny cubs there. They would die before the end of the next die, and Hasani did not truly wish that on any creature. There were places that they could be taken, and Hasani was already thinking about their trek toward Egypt.
He knew for a fact that the royalty of Egypt coveted the feline creatures.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Hasani nodded his head. "Then we take them back to camp with us now and send other hunters out for the cheetah corpses," Hasani instructed, gritting his teeth and holding his arm out for one of the cubs. There were three and split between both of them, they were able to safely cradle the cubs to them. Then they started their trek back toward the Zaire camp. The sun was starting to set and it was unlikely that they would be back before darkness settled in, but the firelight from the camp would more than likely guide their path once they got close enough.
The trek back to the camp was uneventful. It did not take long until they were blanketed in darkness, the two of them walking close and attempting to keep the cubs warm. Hasani felt mildly bad for killing their mother, but after all the damage that had already been one, they truly hadn't had another choice. They couldn't risk more of the tribe being injured by protective mothers, especially now that they would have to stay in this location for much longer than Hasani had planned. With both Saro and Hasani himself injured, making such a trek would not be a good idea until they were at least mostly healed.
Hasani and the hunter did not speak much unless it was to give the other direction, and Hasani turned out to be correct. The firelight of the camp drew them safely back into the confines of their own people. One of the women who took care of the tribe's animals jumped up as soon as she spotted Hasani and the hunter carrying cheetah cubs. With her eyes wide and lingering on Hasani's bleeding side, the makeshift bandages long soaked and his head spinning enough to make walking more of a struggle, she carefully took Hasani's cub from him and then called immediately for one of the healers.
They didn't go far, forgoing the tent at first to do immediate damage control. The healer's fingers worked deftly, cleaning the wound and then using the firelight and the heat to neatly stitch up the claw marks in Hasani's side. Hasani hissed here and there, not pleased at all with being poked or with the hot, sterile needle. Then again, it was required if he wasn't to bleed out. One of the other women in the tribe brought him food and water, and that busied him enough to not focus on the feeling of the healer's tools.
He certainly had not been injured as badly as Saro. His wounds were not as deep and they had not bled so much so fast. It was only when he had made it back to camp that they truly started to bother him. When the healer was finished with his work and his wounds had been properly bandaged, Hasani shuffled tiredly to his tent, only intent on changing into other clothes and then going to find Tanishe and Saro.
Worry still gripped him, but he hardly got far in his changing. Tanishe was already in their tent and it was too dark for her to notice his wounds or the bandages around his own chest. His thought to just sit down for a second and catch his breath ended in him sleeping long and hard through the rest of the night, an arm around her. Only when the early morning sunlight streamed through the top of the tent and into his face did Hasani come to, feeling much more energetic, though still incredibly sore. Tanishe was already gone and he vaguely remembered her greeting him. His stomach did rumble, but he couldn't think of food at that moment. From there, he finished what he had started, dressing and reaching for a normal staff in order to brace himself against and make walking easier.
He didn't enter the medicine tent until he had instructed his hunting companion and a few other hunters to head back out to find the cheetah corpses. No doubt the vultures would start to converge and Hasani wanted the pelts as intact as humanly possible. Then his feet carried him into the tent, pausing at the entrance to see Tanishe and Saro together. Leaning heavily on the walking staff, he came up to the edge of the cot, his brows knit in concern. "You're alive and awake," he commented, glancing down toward Tanishe.
He hadn't seen her since the afternoon the day before and she was much less bloody now. But she had to have been to sleep next to him. Admittedly, he had been so out of it, that he didn't know what really happened after making it back to the camp the night before.
"I thank you as well, Saro," Hasani said after a few long moments, watching his wife first and then his friend. There was a bit of a long pause before Hasani spoke again. "Both cheetahs are dead," he instructed carefully, "You did a number on the first one and he was already dead by the time we came upon him in the sands. I killed the second one... but..." he trailed off, his brows furrowing, "We know now why they attacked. They were protecting their cubs," he said very calmly, "Who now inhabit the camp. As you made the kill on the first cheetah, the hunters are returning to the body to bring it back to the camp. You shall be given its pelt as a reward and a trophy," Hasani was nodding sagely.
"Where did you learn to fight as you did?" he asked suddenly, his brows furrowing further. "Very few men can thrust a knife through solid bone," he added as an afterthought, the slight shifting of his own body both a sign of his physical discomfort from his own wounds and his anxiety over how Saro knew how to fight so brutally. Honesty, he just needed to double-check that the man was no danger to the tribe and its people.
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This was not something he would have ever thought would happen. A cheetah attack? And so close to the camp? That alone was enough to worry Hasani immensely. What would have happened if it had been children out here instead of Saro and his wife? What would have happened if it had just been Tanishe that stood this far into the sands, the dunes almost hiding them from view? Hasani's pace slowed as he made his approach, his heart beating wildly and nearly out of his chest. Gripping his chest, there was a fear so intense that he had never once experienced anything like it before.
Never had he been so utterly afraid for the life of his wife. Never had he ever been so utterly fearful for the life of a guest. Of a friend. Were he a weaker man, the leier may have felt sick to his stomach. Admittedly, he did nearly feel like he might be sick from fear and sadness and pure frustration. What had possessed two cheetahs to attack humans? Most of the time the two hunting tribes kept their distance from each other.
That said, with such danger out there now, little else could be done but to hunt them down. They had tasted human flesh and Hasani was very aware of what happened when predators tasted the blood of another potential prey. If the creatures were so desperate for a meal that they would attack humans on the sands, there was no doubt that they would do it again. That was not something that Hasani would deal with a second time, so the course of action would be to take care of the problem the first time.
He wouldn't risk a repeat. Not with Saro very suddenly on his death bed for lack of blood. Gripping his spear tightly, Hasani's expression turned almost cold. Calculating. Debating his direction and his course of action. There was little other choices in this matter, but he was in no rush to run off until he knew that Tanishe and Saro were both being taken in the direction of relative safety. Cheetahs would not attack the larger group, Hasani was sure. There were far too many warriors and spears to make such a feat far too terrifying and not at all an option for such a prey hunter.
With his dark gaze darting back to his wife, relief shown on his features when Tanishe stated that she was unharmed. If he were more manic about it, he truly would have searched her person himself. There was so much blood on her clothes and on her skin that it was worrying. Maddening. A mixture of human and beast that the leier was very sure he did not want to see again after this day. Swallowing slightly, he shifted a little closer to look down at Saro, fear flashing in his gaze. "I am pleased that you are unharmed, but Saro..." he trailed off slowly. This was a horrid fate for his dear friend. Their guest and visitor who both Tanishe and Hasani, plus many of the others, truly valued. This was not good. Hasani did not like this.
Fixating on his friend, he almost missed the next words that came out of her mouth, though they seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. All at once and with sudden, extreme weight. Tearing his gaze from Saro's paling features, Hasani's jaw dropped slightly. "Two cheetahs?" he asked absently, breathing deeply through his nose and then casting his gaze across the sand. Now, he wanted to get moving. He wanted the men with the stretcher to get here so that Tanishe and Saro could be escorted safely back to the camp and Hasani could move further into the sands.
He would hunt until he knew that both beasts were well and dead. There would be no other option on this day. When all was said and done, if Saro lived, there would be new training. A new normal for his friend and companion. This would not repeat a second time.
"What were two cheetahs doing so close to the camp?" he asked almost absently, not truly needing an answer to his own inner musings. He just needed to know that there were only two. Growing quickly impatient at the way that Saro seemed to look, Hasani turned on his heel and walked a few paces back toward the camp, his dark gaze narrowing with rage at how slowly these healers with the stretcher ran. "Move it!" he snarled across the sands when the four men visibly started heading across the expanse toward them. "Quickly!" he barked again, starting to pace like an animal himself. He barely listened to Tanishe again, but he still caught everything that she had said.
One of them had been stabbed by Saro. He had saved Tanishe and he would be rewarded amply for what he had done. When he was healed and able to stand again, they would throw him the biggest feast he had ever seen. They would celebrate together, smoking camel dung and drinking to their heart’s content. Saro would well and truly earn his own tent and a spot among the warriors, only to be trained properly with a spear. If Saro hadn't been looking to return to Egypt, then Hasani would have fully welcomed the man into the tribe as a full member of the Zaire. There would be no question after today.
But Saro just had to live. He could not die here, and Hasani was adamant with himself that he would not. It did not matter how much crimson red soaked the sand. There would not be a funeral today.
The men finally arrived with the stretcher and Hasani himself helped the men carefully transfer Saro onto the fabric. The leier hardly looked at his wife, too deep in his own thoughts to really give it much consideration. Only when Saro was lifted into the air did Hasani reach forward and take Tanishe's arm. He wasn't thinking about the blood that soaked his own hands now. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.
"I am going to hunt them down," he said calmly, giving her absolutely no room to argue. Letting her go, he renewed his grip on his spear and turned toward the expanse of the scorching sands. It was time to follow the warrior he had already sent out to scout ahead.
Silently, he prayed to the ancestors that there would not be a repeat scene when he caught up. He wasn't sure that he could handle more human gore today. There was something sickening about an animal attack that always had turned Hasani's stomach. Beasts did not have a conscience. They did not think about their actions in the way that humans did.
Taking only a single pause to look out toward the sands again, the leier braced himself against the anxiety and agitation that would become his sole two emotions during this hunt. Predator hunting predator, both were distance hunters. They could take their time to get what they wanted. If Hasani was forced to do so, he would keep going until he dried up and desiccated in the desert sands. This ocean of heat and gold would not stop him from reaching his goal.
He would track the beasts into the next life if he never found them. The anger was the third emotion to grip him and he took a steadying breath, glancing in the direction of the sun in order to gauge the time. How long until the world darkened, making the hunt all that more dangerous? Half a day, maybe? Could he complete his hunt in that amount of time? If he was lucky and the cheetahs had not escaped that far, then yes, absolutely. It would not be such an issue in the long run. If he was caught out in the darkness, however, without the safety of the tribe's fires, he could catch his death either by cold or ambush.
It was his job to ensure that that didn't happen. He needed to catch up with the hunter that he had already sent out ahead of him. There would be safety in numbers, especially with spears between them. Tanishe and Saro had been nearly defenseless, and Hasani was very sure that neither of them would escape the fate of having warriors follow their every move after this incident. At least until Hasani was entirely sure that the danger was gone.
Leaving his wife, the other warriors, healers, and Saro behind, Hasani started off without another word. There was nothing else to say. He had made his intentions clear and there was no stopping him now. Especially not when the death of these creatures meant the safety of the rest of the tribe. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that these could have been children. Defenseless children who could have wandered too far from the barriers of the tribe's campsite and ended up devoured by beasts.
That was the only thought he really needed to fixate on to start him moving. Not wanting to tire himself out before what could be a massive battle, Hasani kept his pace slow, surveying. He was both in a rush and not, knowing that exhausting himself before he found his targets would not bode well for him. However, there was the hope that his own prey was slowing down. If Saro really had stabbed one of the creatures, that meant that the pair would be moving slower if the healthier of the two hadn't already abandoned its companion.
Hasani found himself gripping his spear so hard that his knuckles discolored. He was sure that if he tightened his grip any more, he might snap the wood in half. His muscles strained against the effort, the anger, the frustration. The need to hunt was what kept him moving, pausing only to crouch down beside little droplets of blood and footprints of both human and beast that gave him a better sense of direction. It was when the human footprints started to appear fresher and fresher with each minute that Hasani picked his pace up into a quick jog.
Not taxing enough to exhaust him, but fast enough to bring him into view of his fellow hunter. The man had had the same thought as Hasani. Move slow. Do not exhaust yourself. Save your energy. Hasani did not need to speak a word as he caught up with the hunter, slamming his spear into the sand as he walked, using it as a walking stick to take some of the energy and force off of his own body. The second hunter glanced at Hasani, muttering a quiet greeting, but otherwise, the two did not speak to one another. Like they were the same person, they tracked the beasts together, using both instinct and their knowledge of tracking to carry them closer and closer to the first cheetah.
The blood seemed to grow more frequent and less disturbed by the sands. The cheetahs' tracks also grew fresher, which told both men that the creatures were closer than they had expected. They hadn't gotten far, and that was likely because one or both of them was injured. If both were injured, it would make the fight that much easier in the end. If they had the strength when both creatures were dead, they would drag the corpses back to the village to be dressed and use the furs. It was not often that any warrior ever got to take and keep the furs of a fellow predator.
They never usually came to such blows, scared away by the sheer size of the tribes of the desert and the way they moved about the lands. Together as one massive unit.
Lifting his gaze from the ground, Hasani tried to get a good sight of the next stretch of sand ahead of them. He could see rather keenly that the cheetah's blood had pooled not too far from them, showing that the creature had stopped for even just a moment to rest. Hasani was more than sure that it hadn't made it much farther, and a few more minutes of walking in that direction, keeping his gaze toward the sand to ensure that the two sets of animal tracks did not divert from one another, Hasani's thoughts were confirmed when the sight of one cheetah lying prone on the sand came into distant view.
Glancing to his fellow hunter, Hasani and the other man broke into a sudden run, the two of them huffing and putting by the time they made it to the creature's corpse. Saro's blade had aimed true. He had killed one of the cheetah's in his effort to protect himself and Tanishe from the attack.
That meant there was the only one left and time would not allow them to delay any longer.
The two hunters stopped long enough to get a good view of the first cheetah. It was Hasani who crouched beside the creature, turning its head to observe the knife wound to its face. For some reason, it was absolutely staggering to think that Saro had used enough force in his swing to pierce the skull of the creature. The more Hasani thought about it, the more confused and awed it seemed to make him. Hasani had figured that the man had experience fighting and using weapons, but he had not expected anyone who was not used to fighting off creatures or fighting in tribal wars to pack such a sharp punch behind his swing.
Hasani's mind trailed over and over that thought. Saro had been leaving most of his weapons in his tent, but he was unsure of what else the man had experience with. The leier thought that, should Saro live, he would ensure that he asked for far more detail. Only a trained warrior had any sort of skill in being able to fight like this... and Saro had ravaged the animal. What else could he do, Hasani wondered. What other surprises and secrets did Saro have that Hasani wanted to know about?
His mind trailed briefly to Neena before he immediately shut it down, knowing that he had absolutely no time to think about his second wife right now. The two hunters took their time in surveying the creature, wondering what other wounds were on the animal that had contributed it its death. It was clear that the second hunter, knowing that Saro had done this damage, was thinking in the exact same vein as Hasani himself. The way the man lifted his dark gaze to Hasani's face told Hasani as much. There were more questions than answers at this moment, and he was sure he would ask for more answers if Saro survived such a savage attack.
Part of him wondered, just for a moment, if it would be safe to keep Saro around. Then he recalled how much Tanishe liked the younger man. How much Hasani himself liked the man. Many of the other tribe members liked Saro too. He was helpful. He wasn't useless and he didn't argue when anyone gave him any task to do. The tribe was aware that he was not a slave, and they never gave him slave tasks. They simply asked for aid, help, or company. All of which Saro had constantly seemed content to entertain.
No. Saro would be honored. The carnage he had inflicted here would only serve to make the tribe like him more. Because he had protected one of their own. He had protected all of them, inadvertently... but he had. And Hasani was very sure that he would do it again if he was given the same choice, the same chance.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Hasani spoke for the first time for what felt like hours. "We will backtrack for the corpse. I'm sure that Saro would like to see his trophy when he wakes up," the leier noted, earning a faithful nod from his companion. Smoothing his large, bloody hand across the cheetah's flank, Hasani brought himself back to his feet and started to focus on looking for the tracks again. Far up ahead, there was a rocky outcropping that the tribe had passed on their journey to their current location.
No doubt, the second beast was likely to have pressed itself between the rocks for its own protection. Because it would not be able to fully outrun the hunters that were tracking it if the continued spots of blood across the sand were any indication of its own potential weakness. It was unlikely that Saro had killed both beasts, but he had at least injured both of them. That wasn't to say the cheetah would be weak.
On the contrary, beasts and men alike often fought harder when they were injured. Adrenaline always coursed a man's veins, making them much more likely to strike harder. Hasani and his companion would have to be careful on this last leg of their hunt. There was still a high level of danger that the two of them could find from now until the end of their task. One of both of them could end up injured or dead, though the odds were more in their own favor than anything else.
"Come on," Hasani instructed calmly, no longer the leier but the experienced hunter and warrior. The two of them were a team and they would do this as a team.
Striding carefully across the sands, Hasani's grip on his spear only tightened exponentially. He felt as if his hand was straining, aching against the pressure he was putting on himself. There was still fear in his veins, but it was not as intense. He could only truly think about finishing off the beast and returning to his home. Returning to his people, his wife, and his dying friend.
'Ancestors, please save him,' Hasani prayed silently with each step closer to the rocky desert outcropping. The blood seemed to fade, but the tracks did not. At one point, Hasani and his companion started to look almost obsessively across the sands, looking out for any instance of danger heading their way. The last thing they needed was to be ambushed when they were so close to the end of their hunt.
Their pace slowed and they took more measured steps toward the outcropping, knowing for certain that danger was lurking within the shadows of the stones. In fact, as they approached closer and closer, Hasani straightened up, hearing the ferocious snarls of their target. The female cheetah stuck her head out of a gap in the stones, snarling aloud as if in a warning. Then a few steps out into the sands, she started stalking toward Hasani and his hunting companion.
The man braced his feet on the sands, unsure of which of them the creature would lunge for first.
It went for him. That had been what the leier had been hoping. He was much more inclined to take a hit or end up injured, if only because his natural inclination was to protect those around him. Even his hunters. Even his best warriors. They were valuable to him in ways that were different from them only being useful for their skills. The tribe was his family. Each and every member of that tribe, from the smallest infant to the oldest elder had taught him something at one point or another. Everything he did, including putting himself into danger, was for them.
For their health.
For their safety.
For their continued protection and vibrancy of life.
And now he fought for Saro and Tanishe. He fought for the lives that he could protect rather than the ones he could not. He could not safe this cheetah, it had done far too much damage and the blood on its maw incriminated it as the first to attack Saro. That was Saro's blood on her mouth and Hasani would not just accept that. There would be payback. The life of the few for the lives of the many.
Raising his spear, Hasani used it to block the advancing cheetah, leaning his head back when claws dug against hardwood and teeth gripped the staff. Twisting his body slightly, Hasani kept his firm grip on the handle, twisting the entire spear in order to make the creature twist its head in order to follow its operation of attack. Then Hasani shoved the wood further back into the creature's mouth, making it gag and pushing it away a few paces.
The cheetah landed on all fours, snarling and swiping at the accompanying spear of Hasani's hunting companion. Then she turned her attention back on Hasani, lunging for a second time, only much lower. Having to roll out of the way of wild claws, Hasani hit the sand, using the end of his spear in an attempt to get himself back on his fear before the cheetah could lunge a second time.
Hasani's assessment that beasts fought harder when they were injured was correct because the creature was able to lunge for him again, this time pinning Hasani down into the sand. Continuing to use the spear as a barrier against the cheetah's teeth and front claws, Hasani let out a snarl at the feeling of her back claws digging into his side. Snarling just as angrily and furiously as the beast he was fighting, the tussle between the two of them was fierce, and even though the second hunter made continued attempts to get between them, Hasani kept telling the man to back off.
He would not see more injuries today.
Pain exploding through his side with each movement, Hasani could feel the adrenaline start to course through his veins. His brows furrowed deeply, Hasani used one hand to keep the spear steady, only flinching slightly as the cheetah gnawed on the wood, almost rabid in her want to get at the leier. With his free hand, he reached down his other side, grabbing for his short blade and pulling it sharply from its leather sheathe.
The spear bowed dangerously, bringing the cheetah closer and closer to his face with each passing second. Grunting with the effort, his injured side straining, Hasani lifted his dagger, blindly plunging it first into the cheetah's ribs before he pulled the blade and thrust it against her throat instead. The struggle did not last much longer from there, the female yowling and backing away sharply even as blood poured from her two wounds. She only got a few paces from either hunter before she collapsed into the sand, panting hard until the loss of blood became too much to handle.
Hasani lay in the sand for a while, his own breathing making him dizzy. He pressed his hand against the gouges in his side, gritting his teeth hard. The hunter rushed forward, starting to rip strips of cloth from his own clothing to help stop the bleeding. Between the two of them, they almost entirely shredded their clothing, but Hasani was soon staggering to his feet, braced against the other hunter. The man seemed inclined to work them back in the direction of the camp, but Hasani shook his head. "She was protecting something," he noted, pulling away from the hunter and using his spear to brace himself. The two of them moved toward the rocky outcropping. Hasani directed the man to get a good look, which wasn't argued.
The hunter leaned back after a few moments, pale and his eyes wide. "There are cubs, leier," he said calmly. Entirely what Hasani had feared. They couldn't leave the tiny cubs there. They would die before the end of the next die, and Hasani did not truly wish that on any creature. There were places that they could be taken, and Hasani was already thinking about their trek toward Egypt.
He knew for a fact that the royalty of Egypt coveted the feline creatures.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Hasani nodded his head. "Then we take them back to camp with us now and send other hunters out for the cheetah corpses," Hasani instructed, gritting his teeth and holding his arm out for one of the cubs. There were three and split between both of them, they were able to safely cradle the cubs to them. Then they started their trek back toward the Zaire camp. The sun was starting to set and it was unlikely that they would be back before darkness settled in, but the firelight from the camp would more than likely guide their path once they got close enough.
The trek back to the camp was uneventful. It did not take long until they were blanketed in darkness, the two of them walking close and attempting to keep the cubs warm. Hasani felt mildly bad for killing their mother, but after all the damage that had already been one, they truly hadn't had another choice. They couldn't risk more of the tribe being injured by protective mothers, especially now that they would have to stay in this location for much longer than Hasani had planned. With both Saro and Hasani himself injured, making such a trek would not be a good idea until they were at least mostly healed.
Hasani and the hunter did not speak much unless it was to give the other direction, and Hasani turned out to be correct. The firelight of the camp drew them safely back into the confines of their own people. One of the women who took care of the tribe's animals jumped up as soon as she spotted Hasani and the hunter carrying cheetah cubs. With her eyes wide and lingering on Hasani's bleeding side, the makeshift bandages long soaked and his head spinning enough to make walking more of a struggle, she carefully took Hasani's cub from him and then called immediately for one of the healers.
They didn't go far, forgoing the tent at first to do immediate damage control. The healer's fingers worked deftly, cleaning the wound and then using the firelight and the heat to neatly stitch up the claw marks in Hasani's side. Hasani hissed here and there, not pleased at all with being poked or with the hot, sterile needle. Then again, it was required if he wasn't to bleed out. One of the other women in the tribe brought him food and water, and that busied him enough to not focus on the feeling of the healer's tools.
He certainly had not been injured as badly as Saro. His wounds were not as deep and they had not bled so much so fast. It was only when he had made it back to camp that they truly started to bother him. When the healer was finished with his work and his wounds had been properly bandaged, Hasani shuffled tiredly to his tent, only intent on changing into other clothes and then going to find Tanishe and Saro.
Worry still gripped him, but he hardly got far in his changing. Tanishe was already in their tent and it was too dark for her to notice his wounds or the bandages around his own chest. His thought to just sit down for a second and catch his breath ended in him sleeping long and hard through the rest of the night, an arm around her. Only when the early morning sunlight streamed through the top of the tent and into his face did Hasani come to, feeling much more energetic, though still incredibly sore. Tanishe was already gone and he vaguely remembered her greeting him. His stomach did rumble, but he couldn't think of food at that moment. From there, he finished what he had started, dressing and reaching for a normal staff in order to brace himself against and make walking easier.
He didn't enter the medicine tent until he had instructed his hunting companion and a few other hunters to head back out to find the cheetah corpses. No doubt the vultures would start to converge and Hasani wanted the pelts as intact as humanly possible. Then his feet carried him into the tent, pausing at the entrance to see Tanishe and Saro together. Leaning heavily on the walking staff, he came up to the edge of the cot, his brows knit in concern. "You're alive and awake," he commented, glancing down toward Tanishe.
He hadn't seen her since the afternoon the day before and she was much less bloody now. But she had to have been to sleep next to him. Admittedly, he had been so out of it, that he didn't know what really happened after making it back to the camp the night before.
"I thank you as well, Saro," Hasani said after a few long moments, watching his wife first and then his friend. There was a bit of a long pause before Hasani spoke again. "Both cheetahs are dead," he instructed carefully, "You did a number on the first one and he was already dead by the time we came upon him in the sands. I killed the second one... but..." he trailed off, his brows furrowing, "We know now why they attacked. They were protecting their cubs," he said very calmly, "Who now inhabit the camp. As you made the kill on the first cheetah, the hunters are returning to the body to bring it back to the camp. You shall be given its pelt as a reward and a trophy," Hasani was nodding sagely.
"Where did you learn to fight as you did?" he asked suddenly, his brows furrowing further. "Very few men can thrust a knife through solid bone," he added as an afterthought, the slight shifting of his own body both a sign of his physical discomfort from his own wounds and his anxiety over how Saro knew how to fight so brutally. Honesty, he just needed to double-check that the man was no danger to the tribe and its people.
This was not something he would have ever thought would happen. A cheetah attack? And so close to the camp? That alone was enough to worry Hasani immensely. What would have happened if it had been children out here instead of Saro and his wife? What would have happened if it had just been Tanishe that stood this far into the sands, the dunes almost hiding them from view? Hasani's pace slowed as he made his approach, his heart beating wildly and nearly out of his chest. Gripping his chest, there was a fear so intense that he had never once experienced anything like it before.
Never had he been so utterly afraid for the life of his wife. Never had he ever been so utterly fearful for the life of a guest. Of a friend. Were he a weaker man, the leier may have felt sick to his stomach. Admittedly, he did nearly feel like he might be sick from fear and sadness and pure frustration. What had possessed two cheetahs to attack humans? Most of the time the two hunting tribes kept their distance from each other.
That said, with such danger out there now, little else could be done but to hunt them down. They had tasted human flesh and Hasani was very aware of what happened when predators tasted the blood of another potential prey. If the creatures were so desperate for a meal that they would attack humans on the sands, there was no doubt that they would do it again. That was not something that Hasani would deal with a second time, so the course of action would be to take care of the problem the first time.
He wouldn't risk a repeat. Not with Saro very suddenly on his death bed for lack of blood. Gripping his spear tightly, Hasani's expression turned almost cold. Calculating. Debating his direction and his course of action. There was little other choices in this matter, but he was in no rush to run off until he knew that Tanishe and Saro were both being taken in the direction of relative safety. Cheetahs would not attack the larger group, Hasani was sure. There were far too many warriors and spears to make such a feat far too terrifying and not at all an option for such a prey hunter.
With his dark gaze darting back to his wife, relief shown on his features when Tanishe stated that she was unharmed. If he were more manic about it, he truly would have searched her person himself. There was so much blood on her clothes and on her skin that it was worrying. Maddening. A mixture of human and beast that the leier was very sure he did not want to see again after this day. Swallowing slightly, he shifted a little closer to look down at Saro, fear flashing in his gaze. "I am pleased that you are unharmed, but Saro..." he trailed off slowly. This was a horrid fate for his dear friend. Their guest and visitor who both Tanishe and Hasani, plus many of the others, truly valued. This was not good. Hasani did not like this.
Fixating on his friend, he almost missed the next words that came out of her mouth, though they seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. All at once and with sudden, extreme weight. Tearing his gaze from Saro's paling features, Hasani's jaw dropped slightly. "Two cheetahs?" he asked absently, breathing deeply through his nose and then casting his gaze across the sand. Now, he wanted to get moving. He wanted the men with the stretcher to get here so that Tanishe and Saro could be escorted safely back to the camp and Hasani could move further into the sands.
He would hunt until he knew that both beasts were well and dead. There would be no other option on this day. When all was said and done, if Saro lived, there would be new training. A new normal for his friend and companion. This would not repeat a second time.
"What were two cheetahs doing so close to the camp?" he asked almost absently, not truly needing an answer to his own inner musings. He just needed to know that there were only two. Growing quickly impatient at the way that Saro seemed to look, Hasani turned on his heel and walked a few paces back toward the camp, his dark gaze narrowing with rage at how slowly these healers with the stretcher ran. "Move it!" he snarled across the sands when the four men visibly started heading across the expanse toward them. "Quickly!" he barked again, starting to pace like an animal himself. He barely listened to Tanishe again, but he still caught everything that she had said.
One of them had been stabbed by Saro. He had saved Tanishe and he would be rewarded amply for what he had done. When he was healed and able to stand again, they would throw him the biggest feast he had ever seen. They would celebrate together, smoking camel dung and drinking to their heart’s content. Saro would well and truly earn his own tent and a spot among the warriors, only to be trained properly with a spear. If Saro hadn't been looking to return to Egypt, then Hasani would have fully welcomed the man into the tribe as a full member of the Zaire. There would be no question after today.
But Saro just had to live. He could not die here, and Hasani was adamant with himself that he would not. It did not matter how much crimson red soaked the sand. There would not be a funeral today.
The men finally arrived with the stretcher and Hasani himself helped the men carefully transfer Saro onto the fabric. The leier hardly looked at his wife, too deep in his own thoughts to really give it much consideration. Only when Saro was lifted into the air did Hasani reach forward and take Tanishe's arm. He wasn't thinking about the blood that soaked his own hands now. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.
"I am going to hunt them down," he said calmly, giving her absolutely no room to argue. Letting her go, he renewed his grip on his spear and turned toward the expanse of the scorching sands. It was time to follow the warrior he had already sent out to scout ahead.
Silently, he prayed to the ancestors that there would not be a repeat scene when he caught up. He wasn't sure that he could handle more human gore today. There was something sickening about an animal attack that always had turned Hasani's stomach. Beasts did not have a conscience. They did not think about their actions in the way that humans did.
Taking only a single pause to look out toward the sands again, the leier braced himself against the anxiety and agitation that would become his sole two emotions during this hunt. Predator hunting predator, both were distance hunters. They could take their time to get what they wanted. If Hasani was forced to do so, he would keep going until he dried up and desiccated in the desert sands. This ocean of heat and gold would not stop him from reaching his goal.
He would track the beasts into the next life if he never found them. The anger was the third emotion to grip him and he took a steadying breath, glancing in the direction of the sun in order to gauge the time. How long until the world darkened, making the hunt all that more dangerous? Half a day, maybe? Could he complete his hunt in that amount of time? If he was lucky and the cheetahs had not escaped that far, then yes, absolutely. It would not be such an issue in the long run. If he was caught out in the darkness, however, without the safety of the tribe's fires, he could catch his death either by cold or ambush.
It was his job to ensure that that didn't happen. He needed to catch up with the hunter that he had already sent out ahead of him. There would be safety in numbers, especially with spears between them. Tanishe and Saro had been nearly defenseless, and Hasani was very sure that neither of them would escape the fate of having warriors follow their every move after this incident. At least until Hasani was entirely sure that the danger was gone.
Leaving his wife, the other warriors, healers, and Saro behind, Hasani started off without another word. There was nothing else to say. He had made his intentions clear and there was no stopping him now. Especially not when the death of these creatures meant the safety of the rest of the tribe. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that these could have been children. Defenseless children who could have wandered too far from the barriers of the tribe's campsite and ended up devoured by beasts.
That was the only thought he really needed to fixate on to start him moving. Not wanting to tire himself out before what could be a massive battle, Hasani kept his pace slow, surveying. He was both in a rush and not, knowing that exhausting himself before he found his targets would not bode well for him. However, there was the hope that his own prey was slowing down. If Saro really had stabbed one of the creatures, that meant that the pair would be moving slower if the healthier of the two hadn't already abandoned its companion.
Hasani found himself gripping his spear so hard that his knuckles discolored. He was sure that if he tightened his grip any more, he might snap the wood in half. His muscles strained against the effort, the anger, the frustration. The need to hunt was what kept him moving, pausing only to crouch down beside little droplets of blood and footprints of both human and beast that gave him a better sense of direction. It was when the human footprints started to appear fresher and fresher with each minute that Hasani picked his pace up into a quick jog.
Not taxing enough to exhaust him, but fast enough to bring him into view of his fellow hunter. The man had had the same thought as Hasani. Move slow. Do not exhaust yourself. Save your energy. Hasani did not need to speak a word as he caught up with the hunter, slamming his spear into the sand as he walked, using it as a walking stick to take some of the energy and force off of his own body. The second hunter glanced at Hasani, muttering a quiet greeting, but otherwise, the two did not speak to one another. Like they were the same person, they tracked the beasts together, using both instinct and their knowledge of tracking to carry them closer and closer to the first cheetah.
The blood seemed to grow more frequent and less disturbed by the sands. The cheetahs' tracks also grew fresher, which told both men that the creatures were closer than they had expected. They hadn't gotten far, and that was likely because one or both of them was injured. If both were injured, it would make the fight that much easier in the end. If they had the strength when both creatures were dead, they would drag the corpses back to the village to be dressed and use the furs. It was not often that any warrior ever got to take and keep the furs of a fellow predator.
They never usually came to such blows, scared away by the sheer size of the tribes of the desert and the way they moved about the lands. Together as one massive unit.
Lifting his gaze from the ground, Hasani tried to get a good sight of the next stretch of sand ahead of them. He could see rather keenly that the cheetah's blood had pooled not too far from them, showing that the creature had stopped for even just a moment to rest. Hasani was more than sure that it hadn't made it much farther, and a few more minutes of walking in that direction, keeping his gaze toward the sand to ensure that the two sets of animal tracks did not divert from one another, Hasani's thoughts were confirmed when the sight of one cheetah lying prone on the sand came into distant view.
Glancing to his fellow hunter, Hasani and the other man broke into a sudden run, the two of them huffing and putting by the time they made it to the creature's corpse. Saro's blade had aimed true. He had killed one of the cheetah's in his effort to protect himself and Tanishe from the attack.
That meant there was the only one left and time would not allow them to delay any longer.
The two hunters stopped long enough to get a good view of the first cheetah. It was Hasani who crouched beside the creature, turning its head to observe the knife wound to its face. For some reason, it was absolutely staggering to think that Saro had used enough force in his swing to pierce the skull of the creature. The more Hasani thought about it, the more confused and awed it seemed to make him. Hasani had figured that the man had experience fighting and using weapons, but he had not expected anyone who was not used to fighting off creatures or fighting in tribal wars to pack such a sharp punch behind his swing.
Hasani's mind trailed over and over that thought. Saro had been leaving most of his weapons in his tent, but he was unsure of what else the man had experience with. The leier thought that, should Saro live, he would ensure that he asked for far more detail. Only a trained warrior had any sort of skill in being able to fight like this... and Saro had ravaged the animal. What else could he do, Hasani wondered. What other surprises and secrets did Saro have that Hasani wanted to know about?
His mind trailed briefly to Neena before he immediately shut it down, knowing that he had absolutely no time to think about his second wife right now. The two hunters took their time in surveying the creature, wondering what other wounds were on the animal that had contributed it its death. It was clear that the second hunter, knowing that Saro had done this damage, was thinking in the exact same vein as Hasani himself. The way the man lifted his dark gaze to Hasani's face told Hasani as much. There were more questions than answers at this moment, and he was sure he would ask for more answers if Saro survived such a savage attack.
Part of him wondered, just for a moment, if it would be safe to keep Saro around. Then he recalled how much Tanishe liked the younger man. How much Hasani himself liked the man. Many of the other tribe members liked Saro too. He was helpful. He wasn't useless and he didn't argue when anyone gave him any task to do. The tribe was aware that he was not a slave, and they never gave him slave tasks. They simply asked for aid, help, or company. All of which Saro had constantly seemed content to entertain.
No. Saro would be honored. The carnage he had inflicted here would only serve to make the tribe like him more. Because he had protected one of their own. He had protected all of them, inadvertently... but he had. And Hasani was very sure that he would do it again if he was given the same choice, the same chance.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Hasani spoke for the first time for what felt like hours. "We will backtrack for the corpse. I'm sure that Saro would like to see his trophy when he wakes up," the leier noted, earning a faithful nod from his companion. Smoothing his large, bloody hand across the cheetah's flank, Hasani brought himself back to his feet and started to focus on looking for the tracks again. Far up ahead, there was a rocky outcropping that the tribe had passed on their journey to their current location.
No doubt, the second beast was likely to have pressed itself between the rocks for its own protection. Because it would not be able to fully outrun the hunters that were tracking it if the continued spots of blood across the sand were any indication of its own potential weakness. It was unlikely that Saro had killed both beasts, but he had at least injured both of them. That wasn't to say the cheetah would be weak.
On the contrary, beasts and men alike often fought harder when they were injured. Adrenaline always coursed a man's veins, making them much more likely to strike harder. Hasani and his companion would have to be careful on this last leg of their hunt. There was still a high level of danger that the two of them could find from now until the end of their task. One of both of them could end up injured or dead, though the odds were more in their own favor than anything else.
"Come on," Hasani instructed calmly, no longer the leier but the experienced hunter and warrior. The two of them were a team and they would do this as a team.
Striding carefully across the sands, Hasani's grip on his spear only tightened exponentially. He felt as if his hand was straining, aching against the pressure he was putting on himself. There was still fear in his veins, but it was not as intense. He could only truly think about finishing off the beast and returning to his home. Returning to his people, his wife, and his dying friend.
'Ancestors, please save him,' Hasani prayed silently with each step closer to the rocky desert outcropping. The blood seemed to fade, but the tracks did not. At one point, Hasani and his companion started to look almost obsessively across the sands, looking out for any instance of danger heading their way. The last thing they needed was to be ambushed when they were so close to the end of their hunt.
Their pace slowed and they took more measured steps toward the outcropping, knowing for certain that danger was lurking within the shadows of the stones. In fact, as they approached closer and closer, Hasani straightened up, hearing the ferocious snarls of their target. The female cheetah stuck her head out of a gap in the stones, snarling aloud as if in a warning. Then a few steps out into the sands, she started stalking toward Hasani and his hunting companion.
The man braced his feet on the sands, unsure of which of them the creature would lunge for first.
It went for him. That had been what the leier had been hoping. He was much more inclined to take a hit or end up injured, if only because his natural inclination was to protect those around him. Even his hunters. Even his best warriors. They were valuable to him in ways that were different from them only being useful for their skills. The tribe was his family. Each and every member of that tribe, from the smallest infant to the oldest elder had taught him something at one point or another. Everything he did, including putting himself into danger, was for them.
For their health.
For their safety.
For their continued protection and vibrancy of life.
And now he fought for Saro and Tanishe. He fought for the lives that he could protect rather than the ones he could not. He could not safe this cheetah, it had done far too much damage and the blood on its maw incriminated it as the first to attack Saro. That was Saro's blood on her mouth and Hasani would not just accept that. There would be payback. The life of the few for the lives of the many.
Raising his spear, Hasani used it to block the advancing cheetah, leaning his head back when claws dug against hardwood and teeth gripped the staff. Twisting his body slightly, Hasani kept his firm grip on the handle, twisting the entire spear in order to make the creature twist its head in order to follow its operation of attack. Then Hasani shoved the wood further back into the creature's mouth, making it gag and pushing it away a few paces.
The cheetah landed on all fours, snarling and swiping at the accompanying spear of Hasani's hunting companion. Then she turned her attention back on Hasani, lunging for a second time, only much lower. Having to roll out of the way of wild claws, Hasani hit the sand, using the end of his spear in an attempt to get himself back on his fear before the cheetah could lunge a second time.
Hasani's assessment that beasts fought harder when they were injured was correct because the creature was able to lunge for him again, this time pinning Hasani down into the sand. Continuing to use the spear as a barrier against the cheetah's teeth and front claws, Hasani let out a snarl at the feeling of her back claws digging into his side. Snarling just as angrily and furiously as the beast he was fighting, the tussle between the two of them was fierce, and even though the second hunter made continued attempts to get between them, Hasani kept telling the man to back off.
He would not see more injuries today.
Pain exploding through his side with each movement, Hasani could feel the adrenaline start to course through his veins. His brows furrowed deeply, Hasani used one hand to keep the spear steady, only flinching slightly as the cheetah gnawed on the wood, almost rabid in her want to get at the leier. With his free hand, he reached down his other side, grabbing for his short blade and pulling it sharply from its leather sheathe.
The spear bowed dangerously, bringing the cheetah closer and closer to his face with each passing second. Grunting with the effort, his injured side straining, Hasani lifted his dagger, blindly plunging it first into the cheetah's ribs before he pulled the blade and thrust it against her throat instead. The struggle did not last much longer from there, the female yowling and backing away sharply even as blood poured from her two wounds. She only got a few paces from either hunter before she collapsed into the sand, panting hard until the loss of blood became too much to handle.
Hasani lay in the sand for a while, his own breathing making him dizzy. He pressed his hand against the gouges in his side, gritting his teeth hard. The hunter rushed forward, starting to rip strips of cloth from his own clothing to help stop the bleeding. Between the two of them, they almost entirely shredded their clothing, but Hasani was soon staggering to his feet, braced against the other hunter. The man seemed inclined to work them back in the direction of the camp, but Hasani shook his head. "She was protecting something," he noted, pulling away from the hunter and using his spear to brace himself. The two of them moved toward the rocky outcropping. Hasani directed the man to get a good look, which wasn't argued.
The hunter leaned back after a few moments, pale and his eyes wide. "There are cubs, leier," he said calmly. Entirely what Hasani had feared. They couldn't leave the tiny cubs there. They would die before the end of the next die, and Hasani did not truly wish that on any creature. There were places that they could be taken, and Hasani was already thinking about their trek toward Egypt.
He knew for a fact that the royalty of Egypt coveted the feline creatures.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Hasani nodded his head. "Then we take them back to camp with us now and send other hunters out for the cheetah corpses," Hasani instructed, gritting his teeth and holding his arm out for one of the cubs. There were three and split between both of them, they were able to safely cradle the cubs to them. Then they started their trek back toward the Zaire camp. The sun was starting to set and it was unlikely that they would be back before darkness settled in, but the firelight from the camp would more than likely guide their path once they got close enough.
The trek back to the camp was uneventful. It did not take long until they were blanketed in darkness, the two of them walking close and attempting to keep the cubs warm. Hasani felt mildly bad for killing their mother, but after all the damage that had already been one, they truly hadn't had another choice. They couldn't risk more of the tribe being injured by protective mothers, especially now that they would have to stay in this location for much longer than Hasani had planned. With both Saro and Hasani himself injured, making such a trek would not be a good idea until they were at least mostly healed.
Hasani and the hunter did not speak much unless it was to give the other direction, and Hasani turned out to be correct. The firelight of the camp drew them safely back into the confines of their own people. One of the women who took care of the tribe's animals jumped up as soon as she spotted Hasani and the hunter carrying cheetah cubs. With her eyes wide and lingering on Hasani's bleeding side, the makeshift bandages long soaked and his head spinning enough to make walking more of a struggle, she carefully took Hasani's cub from him and then called immediately for one of the healers.
They didn't go far, forgoing the tent at first to do immediate damage control. The healer's fingers worked deftly, cleaning the wound and then using the firelight and the heat to neatly stitch up the claw marks in Hasani's side. Hasani hissed here and there, not pleased at all with being poked or with the hot, sterile needle. Then again, it was required if he wasn't to bleed out. One of the other women in the tribe brought him food and water, and that busied him enough to not focus on the feeling of the healer's tools.
He certainly had not been injured as badly as Saro. His wounds were not as deep and they had not bled so much so fast. It was only when he had made it back to camp that they truly started to bother him. When the healer was finished with his work and his wounds had been properly bandaged, Hasani shuffled tiredly to his tent, only intent on changing into other clothes and then going to find Tanishe and Saro.
Worry still gripped him, but he hardly got far in his changing. Tanishe was already in their tent and it was too dark for her to notice his wounds or the bandages around his own chest. His thought to just sit down for a second and catch his breath ended in him sleeping long and hard through the rest of the night, an arm around her. Only when the early morning sunlight streamed through the top of the tent and into his face did Hasani come to, feeling much more energetic, though still incredibly sore. Tanishe was already gone and he vaguely remembered her greeting him. His stomach did rumble, but he couldn't think of food at that moment. From there, he finished what he had started, dressing and reaching for a normal staff in order to brace himself against and make walking easier.
He didn't enter the medicine tent until he had instructed his hunting companion and a few other hunters to head back out to find the cheetah corpses. No doubt the vultures would start to converge and Hasani wanted the pelts as intact as humanly possible. Then his feet carried him into the tent, pausing at the entrance to see Tanishe and Saro together. Leaning heavily on the walking staff, he came up to the edge of the cot, his brows knit in concern. "You're alive and awake," he commented, glancing down toward Tanishe.
He hadn't seen her since the afternoon the day before and she was much less bloody now. But she had to have been to sleep next to him. Admittedly, he had been so out of it, that he didn't know what really happened after making it back to the camp the night before.
"I thank you as well, Saro," Hasani said after a few long moments, watching his wife first and then his friend. There was a bit of a long pause before Hasani spoke again. "Both cheetahs are dead," he instructed carefully, "You did a number on the first one and he was already dead by the time we came upon him in the sands. I killed the second one... but..." he trailed off, his brows furrowing, "We know now why they attacked. They were protecting their cubs," he said very calmly, "Who now inhabit the camp. As you made the kill on the first cheetah, the hunters are returning to the body to bring it back to the camp. You shall be given its pelt as a reward and a trophy," Hasani was nodding sagely.
"Where did you learn to fight as you did?" he asked suddenly, his brows furrowing further. "Very few men can thrust a knife through solid bone," he added as an afterthought, the slight shifting of his own body both a sign of his physical discomfort from his own wounds and his anxiety over how Saro knew how to fight so brutally. Honesty, he just needed to double-check that the man was no danger to the tribe and its people.
Tanishe looked down at Saro and actually smiled when he winced, then attempted to smile and asked if he was still handsome. She moved closer to the bed. “Still handsome?” she checked, relieved that he had a sense of humor. That was an excellent sign. Poor Saro could never be considered terribly attractive with him being as pale as bones, but he was nice in his own way, she supposed. He winced again and that was when Tanishe bent down, sifting his coverings away so that she could see the gore beneath his bandages.
She knew he was in pain but his comfort was the least of her concerns at the moment. With a carefully neutral face, she peered at the ragged wounds left by cheetah claws, trying to see whether there was likely to be infection or not. Saro attempted to sit up and while she would have preferred him to remain lying down, she didn’t stop the slaves from aiding him. It allowed her to sit on the bed beside him and get a better look at his chest, anyway, even though she didn’t like the pressure this was giving the wounds. Still, if he could take it, she decided that he must not be that bad off.
"Is there water?" Saro’s voice reminded her of wind whistling through the brittle twigs of desert brush. Tanishe nodded, gesturing to one of the slaves. The girl brought Saro a clay cup of tepid water and then Tanishe instructed her to brew tea as well. It would be potent, for sure, but give his body nutrients to help fight the internal poisons that likely raged inside him. Her fingers moved tentatively along his skin, beside the deep gouges, pushing aside the poultices that had already been rubbed there, looking at the angry red rimming each wound. She hadn’t dealt with someone as pale as Saro before but she knew what she was looking at anyway. This was definitely infected. How badly? Hard to tell.
"And, maybe something for the pain?"
“Yes,” Tanishe said under her breath, thinking fast. She gave him a smile and tapped the end of his nose. “Pay attention to your wounds,” she advised. “Pain tells us much, but I will dull yours for the time being. Your skin tells me more than your pain.” Standing up, she strode across the tent to begin preparing the brew that would help him sleep. It would turn him a bit loopy as well, but that was better than vibrating in agony.
The brew did not take too long and soon she was back at Saro’s side, first ensuring that he’d taken the tea she’d tasked the servant girl with providing, and then making sure he drank this new tea to ease the pain. None of it would taste nice, but then, medicine never did. “If you need to relieve yourself, let one of us know. We would rather help you with that than clean you up afterward.”
A shadow loomed over her and she turned to find her husband looking down at them. “Hasani,” she smiled, always happy to see him. Then her attention shifted back to Saro as she removed his bandages and cleaned his face and chest with a damp cloth, only to put on more poultice and rewrap him with clean linens while Hasani spoke with him.
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Tanishe looked down at Saro and actually smiled when he winced, then attempted to smile and asked if he was still handsome. She moved closer to the bed. “Still handsome?” she checked, relieved that he had a sense of humor. That was an excellent sign. Poor Saro could never be considered terribly attractive with him being as pale as bones, but he was nice in his own way, she supposed. He winced again and that was when Tanishe bent down, sifting his coverings away so that she could see the gore beneath his bandages.
She knew he was in pain but his comfort was the least of her concerns at the moment. With a carefully neutral face, she peered at the ragged wounds left by cheetah claws, trying to see whether there was likely to be infection or not. Saro attempted to sit up and while she would have preferred him to remain lying down, she didn’t stop the slaves from aiding him. It allowed her to sit on the bed beside him and get a better look at his chest, anyway, even though she didn’t like the pressure this was giving the wounds. Still, if he could take it, she decided that he must not be that bad off.
"Is there water?" Saro’s voice reminded her of wind whistling through the brittle twigs of desert brush. Tanishe nodded, gesturing to one of the slaves. The girl brought Saro a clay cup of tepid water and then Tanishe instructed her to brew tea as well. It would be potent, for sure, but give his body nutrients to help fight the internal poisons that likely raged inside him. Her fingers moved tentatively along his skin, beside the deep gouges, pushing aside the poultices that had already been rubbed there, looking at the angry red rimming each wound. She hadn’t dealt with someone as pale as Saro before but she knew what she was looking at anyway. This was definitely infected. How badly? Hard to tell.
"And, maybe something for the pain?"
“Yes,” Tanishe said under her breath, thinking fast. She gave him a smile and tapped the end of his nose. “Pay attention to your wounds,” she advised. “Pain tells us much, but I will dull yours for the time being. Your skin tells me more than your pain.” Standing up, she strode across the tent to begin preparing the brew that would help him sleep. It would turn him a bit loopy as well, but that was better than vibrating in agony.
The brew did not take too long and soon she was back at Saro’s side, first ensuring that he’d taken the tea she’d tasked the servant girl with providing, and then making sure he drank this new tea to ease the pain. None of it would taste nice, but then, medicine never did. “If you need to relieve yourself, let one of us know. We would rather help you with that than clean you up afterward.”
A shadow loomed over her and she turned to find her husband looking down at them. “Hasani,” she smiled, always happy to see him. Then her attention shifted back to Saro as she removed his bandages and cleaned his face and chest with a damp cloth, only to put on more poultice and rewrap him with clean linens while Hasani spoke with him.
Tanishe looked down at Saro and actually smiled when he winced, then attempted to smile and asked if he was still handsome. She moved closer to the bed. “Still handsome?” she checked, relieved that he had a sense of humor. That was an excellent sign. Poor Saro could never be considered terribly attractive with him being as pale as bones, but he was nice in his own way, she supposed. He winced again and that was when Tanishe bent down, sifting his coverings away so that she could see the gore beneath his bandages.
She knew he was in pain but his comfort was the least of her concerns at the moment. With a carefully neutral face, she peered at the ragged wounds left by cheetah claws, trying to see whether there was likely to be infection or not. Saro attempted to sit up and while she would have preferred him to remain lying down, she didn’t stop the slaves from aiding him. It allowed her to sit on the bed beside him and get a better look at his chest, anyway, even though she didn’t like the pressure this was giving the wounds. Still, if he could take it, she decided that he must not be that bad off.
"Is there water?" Saro’s voice reminded her of wind whistling through the brittle twigs of desert brush. Tanishe nodded, gesturing to one of the slaves. The girl brought Saro a clay cup of tepid water and then Tanishe instructed her to brew tea as well. It would be potent, for sure, but give his body nutrients to help fight the internal poisons that likely raged inside him. Her fingers moved tentatively along his skin, beside the deep gouges, pushing aside the poultices that had already been rubbed there, looking at the angry red rimming each wound. She hadn’t dealt with someone as pale as Saro before but she knew what she was looking at anyway. This was definitely infected. How badly? Hard to tell.
"And, maybe something for the pain?"
“Yes,” Tanishe said under her breath, thinking fast. She gave him a smile and tapped the end of his nose. “Pay attention to your wounds,” she advised. “Pain tells us much, but I will dull yours for the time being. Your skin tells me more than your pain.” Standing up, she strode across the tent to begin preparing the brew that would help him sleep. It would turn him a bit loopy as well, but that was better than vibrating in agony.
The brew did not take too long and soon she was back at Saro’s side, first ensuring that he’d taken the tea she’d tasked the servant girl with providing, and then making sure he drank this new tea to ease the pain. None of it would taste nice, but then, medicine never did. “If you need to relieve yourself, let one of us know. We would rather help you with that than clean you up afterward.”
A shadow loomed over her and she turned to find her husband looking down at them. “Hasani,” she smiled, always happy to see him. Then her attention shifted back to Saro as she removed his bandages and cleaned his face and chest with a damp cloth, only to put on more poultice and rewrap him with clean linens while Hasani spoke with him.
“Good. I can’t say I am particularly fond of the beasts any longer.” He said, attempting to make a bit of a joke, to keep their spirits up. He wanted them to think he was okay, whether he actually was or not, he had no idea, but there was no reason to make them think anything other than he was doing fine. If he was going to end up dying, he would go out being himself, and not whining and crying about the pain or looking for special treatment.
Saro had been dreading a question like that, unsure if his new hosts would treat him so kindly if they knew what he did for a living. He didn’t exactly make his money in an honest way, and he had killed people before who may not have been exactly deserving. Would they think he was potentially dangerous to them if they knew what he had done in the past and would likely continue to do once he was back on the seas?
“I have had my reasons in my past to fight.” He said, hoping that Hasani would let him leave it there. He would explain if the man pushed further, but he was hoping he wouldn’t do so. Saro meant no harm to them or anyone in Bedoa, he had been honest about his intentions for being there. If he had wished harm, he certainly wouldn’t have shown up on the docks by himself in a small rowboat.
He let Tanishe check his wounds, she would know a lot more about staving off infection than he would. An old sailors trick was salt water, but he had no idea if that was actually viable or not. She seemed to know her way around herbs and salves, and he hoped that she had enough considering their gathering had been cut very short.
Saro thanked the slave for the water, and quickly downed it all in one go, not realizing just how thirsty he had been when he had requested the drink. The next beverage that was brought to him was a lot less appetizing, but he took the offered cup and drank it without complaint. Tanishe wouldn’t give him something if it was not meant to help him heal, he trusted her.
When Tanishe left to go and brew him something to help with his pain, his attention turned back to Hasani who was bandaged as well.
“What happened? Are you alright? Are the others?” He asked. He didn’t want anyone else to have been hurt or worse because of him, he would feel guilty for a long time if that happened.
When Tanishe returned with the new brew, he thanked her and took the third cup, making a bit of a face at the smell, he took a drink and nearly gagged, but managed to keep it together. He downed it as fast as he could so that he could get it done and over with.
“I actually, have to relieve myself.” He said, a blush coming to his face at the fact that he had to declare it.
“If I can get some help up, I’m sure I can walk on my own.” He said, not wanting to seem weak. He just needed assistance out of the bed, he was sure of it.
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“Good. I can’t say I am particularly fond of the beasts any longer.” He said, attempting to make a bit of a joke, to keep their spirits up. He wanted them to think he was okay, whether he actually was or not, he had no idea, but there was no reason to make them think anything other than he was doing fine. If he was going to end up dying, he would go out being himself, and not whining and crying about the pain or looking for special treatment.
Saro had been dreading a question like that, unsure if his new hosts would treat him so kindly if they knew what he did for a living. He didn’t exactly make his money in an honest way, and he had killed people before who may not have been exactly deserving. Would they think he was potentially dangerous to them if they knew what he had done in the past and would likely continue to do once he was back on the seas?
“I have had my reasons in my past to fight.” He said, hoping that Hasani would let him leave it there. He would explain if the man pushed further, but he was hoping he wouldn’t do so. Saro meant no harm to them or anyone in Bedoa, he had been honest about his intentions for being there. If he had wished harm, he certainly wouldn’t have shown up on the docks by himself in a small rowboat.
He let Tanishe check his wounds, she would know a lot more about staving off infection than he would. An old sailors trick was salt water, but he had no idea if that was actually viable or not. She seemed to know her way around herbs and salves, and he hoped that she had enough considering their gathering had been cut very short.
Saro thanked the slave for the water, and quickly downed it all in one go, not realizing just how thirsty he had been when he had requested the drink. The next beverage that was brought to him was a lot less appetizing, but he took the offered cup and drank it without complaint. Tanishe wouldn’t give him something if it was not meant to help him heal, he trusted her.
When Tanishe left to go and brew him something to help with his pain, his attention turned back to Hasani who was bandaged as well.
“What happened? Are you alright? Are the others?” He asked. He didn’t want anyone else to have been hurt or worse because of him, he would feel guilty for a long time if that happened.
When Tanishe returned with the new brew, he thanked her and took the third cup, making a bit of a face at the smell, he took a drink and nearly gagged, but managed to keep it together. He downed it as fast as he could so that he could get it done and over with.
“I actually, have to relieve myself.” He said, a blush coming to his face at the fact that he had to declare it.
“If I can get some help up, I’m sure I can walk on my own.” He said, not wanting to seem weak. He just needed assistance out of the bed, he was sure of it.
“Good. I can’t say I am particularly fond of the beasts any longer.” He said, attempting to make a bit of a joke, to keep their spirits up. He wanted them to think he was okay, whether he actually was or not, he had no idea, but there was no reason to make them think anything other than he was doing fine. If he was going to end up dying, he would go out being himself, and not whining and crying about the pain or looking for special treatment.
Saro had been dreading a question like that, unsure if his new hosts would treat him so kindly if they knew what he did for a living. He didn’t exactly make his money in an honest way, and he had killed people before who may not have been exactly deserving. Would they think he was potentially dangerous to them if they knew what he had done in the past and would likely continue to do once he was back on the seas?
“I have had my reasons in my past to fight.” He said, hoping that Hasani would let him leave it there. He would explain if the man pushed further, but he was hoping he wouldn’t do so. Saro meant no harm to them or anyone in Bedoa, he had been honest about his intentions for being there. If he had wished harm, he certainly wouldn’t have shown up on the docks by himself in a small rowboat.
He let Tanishe check his wounds, she would know a lot more about staving off infection than he would. An old sailors trick was salt water, but he had no idea if that was actually viable or not. She seemed to know her way around herbs and salves, and he hoped that she had enough considering their gathering had been cut very short.
Saro thanked the slave for the water, and quickly downed it all in one go, not realizing just how thirsty he had been when he had requested the drink. The next beverage that was brought to him was a lot less appetizing, but he took the offered cup and drank it without complaint. Tanishe wouldn’t give him something if it was not meant to help him heal, he trusted her.
When Tanishe left to go and brew him something to help with his pain, his attention turned back to Hasani who was bandaged as well.
“What happened? Are you alright? Are the others?” He asked. He didn’t want anyone else to have been hurt or worse because of him, he would feel guilty for a long time if that happened.
When Tanishe returned with the new brew, he thanked her and took the third cup, making a bit of a face at the smell, he took a drink and nearly gagged, but managed to keep it together. He downed it as fast as he could so that he could get it done and over with.
“I actually, have to relieve myself.” He said, a blush coming to his face at the fact that he had to declare it.
“If I can get some help up, I’m sure I can walk on my own.” He said, not wanting to seem weak. He just needed assistance out of the bed, he was sure of it.
Hasani was contented to take Saro's simple answer. Honestly, that was all that he did need to hear, becuse the man had already proved himself to the tribe. Fighting off a wild cat for the sake of protecting one of the tribe's women, who just so happened to be the leierin, was not something that would be taken lightly. Already, the tribe was awash with talk about the friendly visitor to the Zaire tribe who had protected their own. If Saro was to walk out of the medicine hawe, he was likely to be bombarded with thankful men, women, elders, and children of the tribe. Honestly, it was going to be harder and harder for Saro to leave now, Hasani realized, because his people would cling to Saro as if he were a hero.
But that was just how the tribes worked. They valued people, especially the people that helped them, the people that protected them, and the people that showed them kindness despite their not being part of the tribe at all. Then again, Hasani was sure that he could change that with only a few words, and he was already thinking about it, standing there and watching Saro on his cot, Tanishe cleaning his wounds and giving him a tea that would help ease his aches and pains. Hasani thought to ask Tanishe for some of his own, the stinging in his side likely to cause him trouble for some time from then on. Weeks, likely, with as much walking as the tribe did.
"We're alright," Hasani said at first, "I'm a little worse for wear, but the rest of the cheetahs are dead. The... adult ones, at least," Hasani echoed carefully, giving a bit of a shy smile as his next words fell off of his lips, "We have camped near their den. With the parents dead, I've brought the cubs into the tribe. We can raise them while we move toward Egypt. The Pharaoh is a particular lover of the creatures," Hasani said lightly, meaning they could trade them away for things that the tribe would find even more useful than big cats. Though, large cats like the cheetah were easily trained and the Zaire could have trained them for hunting themselves, but it had been a very long time since they held any wild animals other than livestock in their ranks, and Hasani was not sure how much meat they could spare while walking the sands.
"I'm the only one who was hurt, besides you," Hasani admitted then, turning his gaze to his working wife with a soft smile on his features. He reached out to Tani for a moment, brushing his fingers affectionately against the back of her neck. When Saro said that he had to relieve himself, Hasani patted Tanishe's shoulder. "I'll help him. I'm not so infirm that I can't help a man stand so he can relieve himself," he instructed lightly, giving Saro a friendly wink. There were a few other things that Hasani wanted to pose to him anyway, and this would give them the time to do so.
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Hasani was contented to take Saro's simple answer. Honestly, that was all that he did need to hear, becuse the man had already proved himself to the tribe. Fighting off a wild cat for the sake of protecting one of the tribe's women, who just so happened to be the leierin, was not something that would be taken lightly. Already, the tribe was awash with talk about the friendly visitor to the Zaire tribe who had protected their own. If Saro was to walk out of the medicine hawe, he was likely to be bombarded with thankful men, women, elders, and children of the tribe. Honestly, it was going to be harder and harder for Saro to leave now, Hasani realized, because his people would cling to Saro as if he were a hero.
But that was just how the tribes worked. They valued people, especially the people that helped them, the people that protected them, and the people that showed them kindness despite their not being part of the tribe at all. Then again, Hasani was sure that he could change that with only a few words, and he was already thinking about it, standing there and watching Saro on his cot, Tanishe cleaning his wounds and giving him a tea that would help ease his aches and pains. Hasani thought to ask Tanishe for some of his own, the stinging in his side likely to cause him trouble for some time from then on. Weeks, likely, with as much walking as the tribe did.
"We're alright," Hasani said at first, "I'm a little worse for wear, but the rest of the cheetahs are dead. The... adult ones, at least," Hasani echoed carefully, giving a bit of a shy smile as his next words fell off of his lips, "We have camped near their den. With the parents dead, I've brought the cubs into the tribe. We can raise them while we move toward Egypt. The Pharaoh is a particular lover of the creatures," Hasani said lightly, meaning they could trade them away for things that the tribe would find even more useful than big cats. Though, large cats like the cheetah were easily trained and the Zaire could have trained them for hunting themselves, but it had been a very long time since they held any wild animals other than livestock in their ranks, and Hasani was not sure how much meat they could spare while walking the sands.
"I'm the only one who was hurt, besides you," Hasani admitted then, turning his gaze to his working wife with a soft smile on his features. He reached out to Tani for a moment, brushing his fingers affectionately against the back of her neck. When Saro said that he had to relieve himself, Hasani patted Tanishe's shoulder. "I'll help him. I'm not so infirm that I can't help a man stand so he can relieve himself," he instructed lightly, giving Saro a friendly wink. There were a few other things that Hasani wanted to pose to him anyway, and this would give them the time to do so.
Hasani was contented to take Saro's simple answer. Honestly, that was all that he did need to hear, becuse the man had already proved himself to the tribe. Fighting off a wild cat for the sake of protecting one of the tribe's women, who just so happened to be the leierin, was not something that would be taken lightly. Already, the tribe was awash with talk about the friendly visitor to the Zaire tribe who had protected their own. If Saro was to walk out of the medicine hawe, he was likely to be bombarded with thankful men, women, elders, and children of the tribe. Honestly, it was going to be harder and harder for Saro to leave now, Hasani realized, because his people would cling to Saro as if he were a hero.
But that was just how the tribes worked. They valued people, especially the people that helped them, the people that protected them, and the people that showed them kindness despite their not being part of the tribe at all. Then again, Hasani was sure that he could change that with only a few words, and he was already thinking about it, standing there and watching Saro on his cot, Tanishe cleaning his wounds and giving him a tea that would help ease his aches and pains. Hasani thought to ask Tanishe for some of his own, the stinging in his side likely to cause him trouble for some time from then on. Weeks, likely, with as much walking as the tribe did.
"We're alright," Hasani said at first, "I'm a little worse for wear, but the rest of the cheetahs are dead. The... adult ones, at least," Hasani echoed carefully, giving a bit of a shy smile as his next words fell off of his lips, "We have camped near their den. With the parents dead, I've brought the cubs into the tribe. We can raise them while we move toward Egypt. The Pharaoh is a particular lover of the creatures," Hasani said lightly, meaning they could trade them away for things that the tribe would find even more useful than big cats. Though, large cats like the cheetah were easily trained and the Zaire could have trained them for hunting themselves, but it had been a very long time since they held any wild animals other than livestock in their ranks, and Hasani was not sure how much meat they could spare while walking the sands.
"I'm the only one who was hurt, besides you," Hasani admitted then, turning his gaze to his working wife with a soft smile on his features. He reached out to Tani for a moment, brushing his fingers affectionately against the back of her neck. When Saro said that he had to relieve himself, Hasani patted Tanishe's shoulder. "I'll help him. I'm not so infirm that I can't help a man stand so he can relieve himself," he instructed lightly, giving Saro a friendly wink. There were a few other things that Hasani wanted to pose to him anyway, and this would give them the time to do so.
She leaned into her husband’s touch, listening to the two men talk back and forth about the cheetahs and what was to be done with the cubs while she busied herself. What she found interesting was how the pink in Saro’s cheeks overtook almost his whole face. His skin shifted so radically that she blinked at him and touched his cheek, as though she’d feel a marked difference between him and herself. There wasn’t one. His embarrassment was just as it would be from one of her own kin. “Hmmm,” she hummed to herself and moved away, waving one of the other healers.
“I'll help him. I'm not so infirm that I can't help a man stand so he can relieve himself,” Hasani offered, to which Tanishe arched a brow. She hardly ever went against his wishes, but she’d do it now.
“No, my leier. One of the healers will help him. It is your turn for me to tend your wounds.” This was her way of attempting not to embarrass Hasani. The real reason is that by bearing the weight of someone else, Hasani risked his own wounds splitting back open. He or others might see it as a sign of weakness. But if she was merely examining him for infection or bandage changes, then that was a different matter entirely.
“Please. Listen to your leierin and if not her, your healer. She is also wise” To soften this order, she smiled softly to him, but this belied her firm resolve. Waving over one of the healers, she stepped aside so that the woman could help Saro and then gestured to her husband. “Sit, husband. I suspect it is time for your tea and I wish to see to your bandages as well.” For Hasani, she waved him to the next cot, rather than the one Saro would need upon his return. The task was simpler for Hasani than it was for Saro. There were fewer wounds, for one. For another, she knew Hasani’s body a lot better and was more used to working on any injury he suffered.
For Hasani, his treatment would be much the same, though he’d be spared the loopy tea. Once both men were tended to, Tanishe went on with her own business, trusting Saro to rest as he was supposed to and for Hasani to see to his Leier duties, but also to take it easy.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She leaned into her husband’s touch, listening to the two men talk back and forth about the cheetahs and what was to be done with the cubs while she busied herself. What she found interesting was how the pink in Saro’s cheeks overtook almost his whole face. His skin shifted so radically that she blinked at him and touched his cheek, as though she’d feel a marked difference between him and herself. There wasn’t one. His embarrassment was just as it would be from one of her own kin. “Hmmm,” she hummed to herself and moved away, waving one of the other healers.
“I'll help him. I'm not so infirm that I can't help a man stand so he can relieve himself,” Hasani offered, to which Tanishe arched a brow. She hardly ever went against his wishes, but she’d do it now.
“No, my leier. One of the healers will help him. It is your turn for me to tend your wounds.” This was her way of attempting not to embarrass Hasani. The real reason is that by bearing the weight of someone else, Hasani risked his own wounds splitting back open. He or others might see it as a sign of weakness. But if she was merely examining him for infection or bandage changes, then that was a different matter entirely.
“Please. Listen to your leierin and if not her, your healer. She is also wise” To soften this order, she smiled softly to him, but this belied her firm resolve. Waving over one of the healers, she stepped aside so that the woman could help Saro and then gestured to her husband. “Sit, husband. I suspect it is time for your tea and I wish to see to your bandages as well.” For Hasani, she waved him to the next cot, rather than the one Saro would need upon his return. The task was simpler for Hasani than it was for Saro. There were fewer wounds, for one. For another, she knew Hasani’s body a lot better and was more used to working on any injury he suffered.
For Hasani, his treatment would be much the same, though he’d be spared the loopy tea. Once both men were tended to, Tanishe went on with her own business, trusting Saro to rest as he was supposed to and for Hasani to see to his Leier duties, but also to take it easy.
She leaned into her husband’s touch, listening to the two men talk back and forth about the cheetahs and what was to be done with the cubs while she busied herself. What she found interesting was how the pink in Saro’s cheeks overtook almost his whole face. His skin shifted so radically that she blinked at him and touched his cheek, as though she’d feel a marked difference between him and herself. There wasn’t one. His embarrassment was just as it would be from one of her own kin. “Hmmm,” she hummed to herself and moved away, waving one of the other healers.
“I'll help him. I'm not so infirm that I can't help a man stand so he can relieve himself,” Hasani offered, to which Tanishe arched a brow. She hardly ever went against his wishes, but she’d do it now.
“No, my leier. One of the healers will help him. It is your turn for me to tend your wounds.” This was her way of attempting not to embarrass Hasani. The real reason is that by bearing the weight of someone else, Hasani risked his own wounds splitting back open. He or others might see it as a sign of weakness. But if she was merely examining him for infection or bandage changes, then that was a different matter entirely.
“Please. Listen to your leierin and if not her, your healer. She is also wise” To soften this order, she smiled softly to him, but this belied her firm resolve. Waving over one of the healers, she stepped aside so that the woman could help Saro and then gestured to her husband. “Sit, husband. I suspect it is time for your tea and I wish to see to your bandages as well.” For Hasani, she waved him to the next cot, rather than the one Saro would need upon his return. The task was simpler for Hasani than it was for Saro. There were fewer wounds, for one. For another, she knew Hasani’s body a lot better and was more used to working on any injury he suffered.
For Hasani, his treatment would be much the same, though he’d be spared the loopy tea. Once both men were tended to, Tanishe went on with her own business, trusting Saro to rest as he was supposed to and for Hasani to see to his Leier duties, but also to take it easy.