AN: Warning: Follows the story of "Don't Let Go" and "Salt Spray." If you
don't read them, you might not understand. Always happy to try and help if
you want the cliff notes version though. Merci bien to all who reviewed in
the past, it was exceedingly helpful/encouraging.
Now, may I present for your reading entertainment: "Find Your Way Back"
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Chapter 1: Prologue
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In the northern part of what the Europeans called Namibia, a young woman sat crouched on a small boulder. Her skin was given a reddish hue by the combined early morning light and the red powder and butter mixture that the people had dusted across her toned body. Her skin was lighter than most in this continent, but the people that she was surrounded by did not care because of her past. Most could not even understand the stories she had told in her original language of the white man, and the missionary she had befriended was now teaching her the heavy, native tongue of the tribe.
The boulder on which she sat was situated near the top of a dusty hill, and around her there were many cattle grazing peacefully at the harsh grass. Behind her, tall dark mountains rose in the distance like clouds of an impending storm. The land surrounding her was beautiful and mysteriously inviting, but something else had captured her attention.
Deep amber eyes surveyed the distant horizon, and from the height she was positioned, she could see quite far. Her gaze was fixated on the ocean, the sun dancing off the tips of the waves in a peaceful game. There were small white birds floating peacefully over the wave crests near shore, and she smiled as she saw a whale break the surface some ways out, his tail beckoning to her.
It was traditional here that woman went bare-chested like the men, but it was a custom that she could not grow comfortable to following. Still, her clothing revealed more of her red-hued skin than she had ever commonly shown before in the presence of others.
She wore a woven piece of fabric as a simple shirt that was wound around her chest and a short skirt composed of softened goatskin with a slim fur trim. On her feet she wore only simple leather sandals and the beads around her ankles clinked as she moved. Her hair was coiled in braids away from her face as was the tradition, and she was wearing an intricately woven leather headpiece indicating her stature.
Here, they called her "malika," a princess, and the people's blind faith in her was somewhat unnerving and uncomfortable to her, given what she had previously known. She was not accustomed to it, and yet she was devoted to them and determined to do all that she could for her people. Around her neck lay a large smooth shell necklace, and her slim fingers grasped for it in reassurance.
The woman watched the sea and its elements with a sort of fascination and longing. The bahari, the sea as the Himbas had named it, called to her. Her people treated her well, and she was needed. There was evil here, evil that could not be cured so quickly, and without a known cause or help, it was difficult to eradicate.
The sea called to her, and yet she could not obey it. From a similar direction, something more powerful than the sea called to her as well. An emotion tugged at her heart, and reaching into a small leather pouch that she had tied securely around her waist, the young Himba woman drew out a well-loved object.
She held it up to the rising sun like a religion and watched as the sun kissed it tenderly. She dangled the chain in front of her eyes and watched the gold coin spin in front of her for several precious moments. Finally, she caught it in her other hand and caressed it in her fingers it like a silent prayer.
The dark-skinned woman pressed the coin to her lips, and with one last yearning glance towards the ocean, she turned back to her village and her people.
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Disclaimer: Applied to the whole story (I hope I can do that): I don't own "Pirates of the Caribbean" nor its ideas or characters; they belong to Disney and everyone else who produced such a wonderful movie. Also, I (obviously) don't own the Himba tribe either, although I am using all of the above for the purpose of this story.
AN: I promise, all questions will be answered. Okay class, repeat after me: the gold coin that the girl has is *not* I repeat, *not* one of the cursed treasure pieces.
It's a prologue, its short, you no hurt, savvy?
And where. . . you might be asking, is fair Captain Jack Sparrow in all this? Well . . .
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Now, may I present for your reading entertainment: "Find Your Way Back"
-
-
Chapter 1: Prologue
-
-
In the northern part of what the Europeans called Namibia, a young woman sat crouched on a small boulder. Her skin was given a reddish hue by the combined early morning light and the red powder and butter mixture that the people had dusted across her toned body. Her skin was lighter than most in this continent, but the people that she was surrounded by did not care because of her past. Most could not even understand the stories she had told in her original language of the white man, and the missionary she had befriended was now teaching her the heavy, native tongue of the tribe.
The boulder on which she sat was situated near the top of a dusty hill, and around her there were many cattle grazing peacefully at the harsh grass. Behind her, tall dark mountains rose in the distance like clouds of an impending storm. The land surrounding her was beautiful and mysteriously inviting, but something else had captured her attention.
Deep amber eyes surveyed the distant horizon, and from the height she was positioned, she could see quite far. Her gaze was fixated on the ocean, the sun dancing off the tips of the waves in a peaceful game. There were small white birds floating peacefully over the wave crests near shore, and she smiled as she saw a whale break the surface some ways out, his tail beckoning to her.
It was traditional here that woman went bare-chested like the men, but it was a custom that she could not grow comfortable to following. Still, her clothing revealed more of her red-hued skin than she had ever commonly shown before in the presence of others.
She wore a woven piece of fabric as a simple shirt that was wound around her chest and a short skirt composed of softened goatskin with a slim fur trim. On her feet she wore only simple leather sandals and the beads around her ankles clinked as she moved. Her hair was coiled in braids away from her face as was the tradition, and she was wearing an intricately woven leather headpiece indicating her stature.
Here, they called her "malika," a princess, and the people's blind faith in her was somewhat unnerving and uncomfortable to her, given what she had previously known. She was not accustomed to it, and yet she was devoted to them and determined to do all that she could for her people. Around her neck lay a large smooth shell necklace, and her slim fingers grasped for it in reassurance.
The woman watched the sea and its elements with a sort of fascination and longing. The bahari, the sea as the Himbas had named it, called to her. Her people treated her well, and she was needed. There was evil here, evil that could not be cured so quickly, and without a known cause or help, it was difficult to eradicate.
The sea called to her, and yet she could not obey it. From a similar direction, something more powerful than the sea called to her as well. An emotion tugged at her heart, and reaching into a small leather pouch that she had tied securely around her waist, the young Himba woman drew out a well-loved object.
She held it up to the rising sun like a religion and watched as the sun kissed it tenderly. She dangled the chain in front of her eyes and watched the gold coin spin in front of her for several precious moments. Finally, she caught it in her other hand and caressed it in her fingers it like a silent prayer.
The dark-skinned woman pressed the coin to her lips, and with one last yearning glance towards the ocean, she turned back to her village and her people.
-
-
-
-
-
-
Disclaimer: Applied to the whole story (I hope I can do that): I don't own "Pirates of the Caribbean" nor its ideas or characters; they belong to Disney and everyone else who produced such a wonderful movie. Also, I (obviously) don't own the Himba tribe either, although I am using all of the above for the purpose of this story.
AN: I promise, all questions will be answered. Okay class, repeat after me: the gold coin that the girl has is *not* I repeat, *not* one of the cursed treasure pieces.
It's a prologue, its short, you no hurt, savvy?
And where. . . you might be asking, is fair Captain Jack Sparrow in all this? Well . . .
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