Footsteps of a Stranger
Chapter Four
"You can't be serious," Arthur said. He looked at Francis like he had turned into a frog.
"I am dead serious," Francis replied. He rolled another log to the other side of the fire pit Arthur was digging.
"You can't like him. You're using him to learn how to live off the land. In exchange, you are taking him to civilization, where homosexual tendencies are illegal." Arthur chided.
"It's not illegal to love someone, Arthur," Francis rolled his eyes.
"It is back home. Where we are all going."
Francis sighed. "You're impossible."
"Arthur? Francis?" Alfred called.
Matthew was on his heels, but once he was sure it was Francis, he maneuvered around Alfred to go say hi. Alfred went to Arthur and handed him the deer-skin bag full of food. "We brought you this."
Arthur examined the bag before grabbing it. "What did you make this out of?"
"Deer hide. We use animals for almost everything here," Alfred replied.
"What do you mean 'everything?'" Arthur sat on one of the logs Francis had rolled over.
"All life is sacred," Matthew knelt by the firepit and picked up a few twigs. It was going to be dark soon and the night brought a chill as winter approached. "When we kill an animal, we don't let anything to to waste. Their skin is used for clothes, blankets and bags like that one."
"We eat the meat of course," Alfred gathered larger pieces of wood for Matthew. "Then we use the bones and antlers for tools and jewlery."
"What about the organs?" Francis asked with slight disgust.
Matthew glanced at Alfred and grinned. "Why don't you look in the bag?"
Arthur blinked and opened the string-tie. He lifted a bundle of jerky and set it beside him, then he grabbed a pouch full of some dark liquid. "Is this it?"
"Yup, that's a bladder," Alfred set his sticks beside Matthew who had a small flame going on the twigs.
"Wait, what?" Arthur shoved the bag toward Alfred.
Alfred laughed and Matthew giggled behind his hand. "It's clean!"
"It's a bladder," Arthur shot back.
"We were the exact same way. It startled us beyond belief," Alfred said. He sat beside Arthur and opened the pouch. "It's just a way of life. Easier to carry than a canteen, in my opinion."
"And it doesn't leave that metal taste behind," Matthew fed a few sticks to the fire before sitting on the log opposite Arthur and Alfred. Francis took the spot beside him.
Arthur reluctantly took the pouch back after Alfred took a swig of whatever was inside it. "And its safe?"
"Our people have been doing it for years. Not one of them, as far as I know, have died from drinking from a bladder," Alfred replied.
Arthur met Francis's eyes across the growing fire and raised the pouch. "Cheers," he took a sip. When he lowered the pouch, he smacked his lips. "What is it?"
"Plum juice and some other stuff. It's good, huh?" Alfred grinned and took another sip before passing the pouch to Francis.
"Is it good?" Francis took a sniff.
"Its sweet. Almost like wine," Arthur replied.
Liking now that sounded, Francis took his drink. "Not as strange as I expected."
"I'm glad you like it," Matthew smiled adorably and accepted the pouch from Francis. "Alfred, will you pass around the food?"
"Oh, right." Alfred grabbed his sack and distributed jerky, berries and corn to the others.
Francis and Arthur ate heartedly. Apparently, the food they had back at their own camp really was awful. Matthew even gave Francis the rest of his jerky while Alfred offered Arthur another ear of corn.
Stomachs full, the four sat in compatible silence. The weather was still somewhat warm, but cool enough for their little fire. Birds twittered in the trees and small animals ran through bushes and over fallen leaves. It was peaceful.
Matthew had steadily moved closer to Francis, and with their thighs touching, he looked from face to face. "What do you two usually do around campfires?"
Arthur and Francis exchanged glances. They really didn't do anything. "Well," Arthur began. "We tell stories."
"Like what?" Alfred asked. He and Matthew had never been allowed by their father's campfires, so they were curious as to what grown white men talked about.
"Usually about women," Francis said.
Matthew gave him a furrowed brow look and seemed to inch away.
"Not everyone talks about women," Francis quickly added, somewhat upset that Matthew had moved away from him.
"Some talk about drinking, or their kids, or lands they have traveled to," Arthur added.
"That's interesting," Matthew said. He was once again close to Francis's side.
"What do your people do?" Francis asked.
"We sing a lot. And dance. Most of the songs and dances are prayers to the gods," Matthew said. He fed another stick to the fire.
"Gods? As in, more than one?" Arthur asked.
"It was weird to us, too," Alfred said. "We were taught about God and Jesus until we were eight, then we come here and they have gods for almost everything."
"Like what?" Francis asked.
"Well, there's a god for fire, the rivers, the plants and animals, the sun, the moon," Matthew explained.
"Who do you pray to?" Arthur said.
"Who ever-"
"Whomever, Alfred," Arthur interrupted.
Matthew snickered and Alfred shoved Arthur's shoulder. "Whom-ever we want. We usually have a ceremony on a certain day to ask the gods to bless us with a good harvest or plenty of fish in the river."
Francis nodded, seeming to understand. "Can you sing one of the songs?"
Alfred and Matthew shared a look over the fire. The songs were only sung when it was time for them, never a day early or late. They didn't know what would happen if they sang at an inappropriate time. Would the gods be upset with them? Maybe singing the song twice would cancel it out so instead of blessing the winter, they would accidentally curse it and everyone would die.
"Is something the matter?" Arthur said.
"We just don't know what kind of song to sing," Alfred admitted.
"Is there one you sing on a wedding day? Or the day of birth?" Francis inquired.
"I don't see why we can't sing the Birth Song," Matthew said.
Alfred shrugged. "If you guys are really that curious."
Arthur placed a hand over Alfred's and smiled. "It would be amazing to hear you sing."
Blushing lightly, Alfred tried to ignore how Arthur had only said him and not him and Matthew. He didn't get very far with that.
"We just need a beat," Matthew said. He dropped his hands in his lap and began patting his knees, making a steady rhythm. Francis joined him once he got the pattern.
"Arthur, you copy me," Alfred clapped his hands to Matthew's and Francis's beat. He clapped at opposite times and sometimes together with Matthew patting his knee. Arthur was a bit more shaky, but eventually found the rhythm.
Once the beat was steady, Matthew sang first. It was low in his throat, then started to raise in pitch before going somewhere inbetween. The words were in the native language and Francis nor Arthur understood them, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
Alfred joined him and Matthew faded off. Arthur felt shivers down his back and arms. He momentarily lost the beat, but quickly picked it up again at Francis's smirk.
Matthew then picked up Alfred's note and they completed the song a few moments later. Matthew stilled his hands in his lap while Alfred lowered his.
There was silence around the campfire and Matthew fidgeted with the braids that skimmed his thighs. Finally, Francis clapped lightly. A second later and Arthur joined.
"That was beautiful," Francis praised. He repeated it again in French and touched Matthew's hand.
Matthew visibly blushed. "Thank you."
"Are all your songs like that?" Arthur asked.
"No, some can be quite sad," Alfred replied.
"Especially the child death song. It's terrible. We've only had to sing it a few times though," Matthew said.
They got really quiet there. It was never a good time to mention death, especially a child.
Francis stood. "Enough with all this sad," he said loudly, as if his voice could chase away the somber mood. "Matthew, may I show you something?"
Matthew grinned and took the hand Francis offered. "Yes, you may."
Francis lead him to the treeline and Matthew threw a grin at Alfred over his shoulder. Francis did like him.
"I hope I'm not being too forward," Francis said gently. They were still holding hands as they walked.
"Not at all," Matthew smiled. "What did you want to show me?"
"This spot up ahead. I'm not sure if you know if it's here or not, but I found it quite neat."
"Alfred and I live here, it'll be hard to find something I don't know about."
Francis just smiled. "I can sure try."
They walked a bit longer. Their hands swung gently between them. Finally, Francis stopped. He pointed to a cluster of rocks. A soft swirl of steam rose from the middle. "Just up there."
Matthew furrowed his brow. "I don't think I've ever been here before."
Francis grinned. "Really? I was hoping you could tell me what it was."
They climbed the cluster of rocks. Matthew thought about everything he knew of the land around them. The only thing he could think of that was like this place was… He blushed darkly.
"I know what this is."
"Well?" Francis looked down at a pool of water the rocks formed. It looked quite deep and was warm just standing beside it.
"It's, uhm," Matthew shuffled his feet. "This is the hot spring newlywed couples come to."
Francis opened his mouth to compliment how wonderful the setting was when he realized what Matthew meant. Newlyweds came here for their first coupling. Francis snapped his mouth closed and took a hesitant step back.
"I'm sorry, I did not know," he said. His voice sounded thick. He cleared his throat. "We can leave, if you want.
"No!" Matthew said almost too quickly. A blush sparked up in his cheeks. "I mean, I do not think I'll ever see this place again. No one would want to marry a half-breed like me." Francis frowned at that. "We should stay, no one would be coming tonight," Matthew finished.
"If you are sure," Francis said slowly.
Matthew nodded and sat as gracefully as he could on a rock. He unlaced his shoes, Alfred and the others made fun of him for wearing them at times, but he couldn't stand the thought of stepping in the remains of an animal with his bare feet. Though everyone wore shoes when the ground became too cold to walk on.
Francis sat across from him and yanked his tall boots off. He set them neatly beside the rock and tugged his socks off. He stood and unclasped his belt.
As he shucked his trousers down, he felt Matthew's eyes on him. Smirking a little, he continued to strip. He even took off his underpants. He could almost feel the heat of Matthew's blush. Francis stepped into the spring and settled down on a rock.
"Are you going to join me?" he asked coyly.
Face red, Matthew unlaced the side of his deer-hide pants. His people did not wear undergarments, didn't even make them, so he was stark naked in no time.
He slid into the pool, across from Francis, and sat on an outcropping of rock. The water was warm and pleasant on his skin. He felt his muscles relax and his mind begin to float.
"Matthew," Francis said softly.
Lifting his eyes, Matthew felt Francis's eyes and suddenly became very self-conscious. He was dark compared to Francis's milky white skin. His hair was darker and he had freckles across his nose and cheeks from the sun. Francis's face was flawless despite some rather charming stubble. Francis looked like how Matthew always wanted to look. It made him want to cover himself from Francis's piercing gaze.
"Yes?" Matthew managed to breath out.
Francis leaned across the small space between them. He touched Matthew's cheek, his hand warm. Matthew wasn't sure if Francis was warm from the water or if he was just naturally that warm. Either way, Matthew trembled under the touch.
"I don't know what the rules are here," Francis started. "But, how do you feel about a man," he paused, unsure how to phrase what he was thinking. "About a man loving another man?"
Matthew's heart pounded in his ears. What kind of question was that? Was Francis asking him out of personal preference or because Matthew was just that obvious? Yet Francis hadn't removed his hand from his cheek and was he coming closer?
He swallowed. "I have never seen a couple who were both men," he started. "And I have never heard anyone speak of it."
"How do you feel about it?" Francis definitely was closer.
Matthew shook his head. "I...I don't know."
A smile quirked at Francis's mouth. Then that mouth was against Matthew's. He couldn't breath he couldn't think. Francis's hand was on his cheek, in his hair, down his neck.
Matthew felt himself trembling. He wanted to reach out and touch Francis as well, but his hand wouldn't obey his mind. He was able to move his lips against Francis's, however, and found that it occupied his mind quite a bit.
Francis's hand trailed down his chest, hovered over his navel, fingers ghosted down the soft, blond trail of hair to-
Matthew threw himself back. His shoulder blades hit the rock behind him. He wanted to cry out, but his mouth wasn't listening him.
"I'm sorry," Francis said. He was flustered. His hair quite a mess from the gentle steam from the spring. "Are you hurt?"
"I have to go," Matthew managed to say.
"What?" Francis looked hurt. "I'm sorry if I startled you-"
"I have to go," Matthew repeated. He climbed out of the pool, keeping his back firmly to Francis.
"Matthew," Francis stood as well. He didn't know what to do. He thought Matthew was fine with the kiss, but this was most definitely not fine.
Matthew had his pants on when he finally faced Francis. His face was red and confusion swam in his purple-blue eyes. "I need to talk with Alfred," he said. Then, tugging on his shoes, he left Francis in the hot spring.
¤ Author's Note: I don't want to offend anyone with how Alfred and Matthew explained their tribe. There were many Native American tribes in the New World, so to prevent inaccurate facts, Alfred and Matthew have a fictitious tribe that will have similar aspects to many other tribes.¤
