Diclaimer: Glee does not belong to me…
Summary: Her Grandma had told her it was love. Her five-year old self had agreed; her sixteen-year old self wasn't sure that the thought of feeding Rachel to the Manaks fit into the equation.
AN: Meant to be a one-shot. But now, guess it's a five-shot… if that is even a word.
Russell was livid. He sat in the hut of the tribe head and wise-woman, his mother who currently was seemingly unaware of the state he and his wife were in, happily munching on the mysterious fruit mango that one of their tribe runners had got from the tropics.
"You want some?" she offered him and when he gave a curt shake of his head she extended the offer to his wife who did the same.
"Oh! Loosen up, won't you? I have to say-" she says turning to the pleased runner who stood a few feet behind where Russell and Judy sat, "-these are heaven, but wouldn't it be funny if something so sweet turned out to be poisonous?"
Even though her concern bothered her a little, she couldn't take her lips off the fruit that was probably made for the gods themselves.
The runner looked startled at this and his lower jaw opened and closed in his contemplation.
The heads' helper however dismissed her nonexistent worry assuring that they had heard that the fruit wasn't poisonous. "Besides," she added, "We fed one of the dogs and they seem to be perfectly fine" sh gestured to the hound that sat at attention at the entrance.
"So that was why the beast is so subdued!" she gave a hearty laugh, "It probably wants more. Russell, Judy you are missing the chance to taste something so blissful… Why do you look so worried? I assure you I'll be fine. The only way I'll die from eating this is from ecstasy."
Russell gave a grunt, looking affronted.
"Mother, Quinn is missing!" his face was red from the way he spat the words out, "I have told you this and you do not seem so worried!"
The old lady gave another booming laugh at which Russell gave a barely audible growl of frustration.
"Relax, my son. She's Quinn. You were the same when she was a kid," she peeled another mango and took a great bite, her eyes twinkled as she continued. "She's probably exploring the forest and hunting her own deer. You know that you had forbidden her to participate in that deer hunting ritual."
"But she's five-" he sputtered, "the deers would probably make a meal out of her!"
The mighty woman snorted.
"That would hardly be the case. She's one in a kind, my grand-daughter. I can see the Gods have blessed her with great power. It doesn't matter that she's a girl or five- for that matter- she probably is better than that current tribe favorite… hmm" she pondered, "what was that twelve year child's name again?"
The helper furrowed her brows. "The tall one who they want to be the holder of the white spear?"
The lines on the old lady's face became more pronounced as she smiled bemusedly, "Yes the one who lumbers around with a lost look every morning."
"Finn." Russell answered. "Mother, how can you forget his name? He is after all promised to my daughter."
"A mistake, I might say" the old lady muttered and at Russell's questioning look she shook her head.
"At least we hope that he gets the skills from his mighty father. That one is a lot of trouble, he is."
Russell shook his head as he realized that they had gone off track again. "Mother, please send the warriors in search of my daughter! It's almost nightfall and I fear the wolves might get her!"
That sobered the woman up a little and with a wave of her hand she passed the message to the warrior currently in their presence. He gave a bow and left the hut, the cloth covering the entrance fluttering in the cold breeze.
"Do you wish to remain here in the meantime and help me finish my mangoes?"
Russell rolled his eyes and shook his head no.
"We will wait for them outside"
He and his wife excused themselves and left the tent, their distress evident in their movements.
The old lady gave a sigh. And then an unexpected snort.
"What, wise-lady? Is anything the matter?" the helper came forth ever inquisitive.
She looked at the middle aged woman and said, "Lets hope little Quinn wants to be found. Maybe the promise of mangoes would lure her out."
"Lure her out of where?"
The smile was blindingly dodgy. "The forest of course, What else would I mean?"
Quinn huffed. It was getting dark and she was losing her patience. The deers had long gone fled away from her. She was sure she had injured one, though. She couldn't care less. Currently she was hiding behind one of the fur trees, her eyes firmly fixed on a little hut that was located in the centre of the clearing.
She was waiting. For that moment when she would hear that voice again.
She huffed again, pretty angry against herself for coming here for the seventh time this week. But she felt her anger was more because she hadn't heard the voice; it was almost nightfall and soon dark would fall over. If she had to reach home safely, she needed to leave now.
But for the life of her, she couldn't seem to gather the resolve to just stand up and walk back the way she had come. A tiny voice inside her head told her she just needed to wait a little while longer and then she would hear that soulful, voice again, and it would again shake her to her core, make her feel happiness that somehow exceeded the taste of thinly-cut roasted wild boar meat. That was certainly saying something and her five year old mind was eager to feel the bliss before she got home.
But she had been waiting too long. The sun was down and it was only a matter of minutes before whole mountainside would be sheath in darkness. And again, she couldn't care less. Even when she heard her father's strict face glaring down at her. Grandma would surely have her back if she was forbidden to go out of the hut at all.
In fact, she was more worried about what happened to the person who that melodious voice belonged to. She had tried to imagine what the person looked like but she came out with a blank. The only clue was that it was a little girl. Hopefully her age. For some reason that excited her and she tingled from anticipation when she would make a friend other then Santana and Brittany, her current friends.
The little furrow in between her brows deepened when saw a man emerge from across the clearing and make his way to the door. Another man was there behind the bamboo door and they both hugged. She let out a gasp at that.
She had seen her father hug only his elder brother. Hugs were taboo when done with someone other then family, her mother had told her when she'd asked.
And the men were nothing like brothers. The one who had just entered was tall, dark and similar to some tribesmen from the north that had visited her grandma months back. And the other man was shorter and fair, like her clan. Even the way her dressed seemed similar to her tribe's.
She was reeling. These people were outcasts. The ones that other children her age always whispered about. She'd not given any ear to them at that point, but she wished she had now. What would these men do to her if they found out? Were they like that cannibals she had heard tales about? And worse had they kept a little child there against her will?
They both disappeared into the hut, and it was some time before the man again exited the hut and entered the forest again. She grew wary and pushed herself off the snow covered ground. She hadn't realized it but her animal leather that covered her torso was wet where she had sat on the ground. She was at crossroads. Escape or fulfill her curiosity about the voice?
The night air suddenly creeped her out. Her attention had been focused on the hut and the mysterious voice for far too long. She fought against the urge to run and picked up her bow. Knocking an arrow, she slowly emerged from behind the tree and her determined eyes eyed the hut.
"What are you doing here?" a voice startled her and she gasped and she was turned around to look up into the strong dark features of the man she'd seen entering the hut.
Rachel is the mysterious singer, yes. She's gonna turn up next chapter…
So until then, review.
Yours, Chirrap.
