Chapter Eight
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Trigger Warning: Stillbirth
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The second night after we were thrown together into matrimony, an unspoken truce was formed. Ewar and I now eat our meals together, and share and sleep in the same living space, with hardly a problem arising. What we don't do is behave like husband and wife. There's no kissing, hand-holding, or any other gestures of affection. Basically, we are roommates and nothing more - and I mean that in the best possible terms.
Living with Ewar isn't terrible by any means. He cleans up after himself, chews with his mouth closed (usually), and he doesn't have any excessively annoying habits to drive me up the wall. I've dealt with worse roommates before. However, I don't think roommates are supposed to stare quite so much at the other. Sometimes when he thinks I'm not paying attention, I'll see him in my peripheral vision. His eyes will settle on my face and remain there for minutes at a time. It reminds me of how I used to watch my favorite TV shows. A particularly thrilling episode would come on and I would watch breathlessly, barely blinking, just to see what would happen next.
He always looks in the opposite direction the moment he notices that I've caught him staring.
The third morning since our truce was enacted starts the same as the others. We wake up in our separate sleeping areas, eat our bland bowl of gruel, and then set out to find something useful to do. I end up hanging out with Ehmay again. I would have sought out Alie first, but she and Jas have not yet left their Hut of Love. This begs the question, how much sex can two people have without coming up for air every so often? Give your bodies a break for crying out loud.
It just so happens to be laundry day, so Ehmay and I spend our energy scrubbing clothes in the cold as fuck river. It's exhausting work, but Ehmay does teach me one nifty trick. Beating damp clothing against the big rock jutting from the water removes stubborn stains and relieves some of your pent-up frustrations. It's even better if you imagine said rock is your snooty boss whose assholery caused you to inadvertently touch a time machine, thereby ruining your life forever.
Amazing. I didn't know doing laundry the old-fashioned way could be so therapeutic.
"Ehmay! Ehmay!"
Every head in the vicinity whips around at the frantic yelling. A fast moving figure bursts through the trees. It's Mett. He rushes over and pants like a jogger after a particularly difficult run.
"Oza... Oza has-mehur!"
Ehmay nods and hurriedly gathers up her things. Mett grabs the heaviest of our baskets without asking and insists he should be the person to carry it. As the three of us walk, he and Ehmay converse rapid fire back and forth. He also gets fidgety whenever we don't move fast enough for his taste. It's weird. I've never seen him like this before. Normally he's a laid back type of guy.
Upon entering the village, we hear loud huffing coming from Mett's home. I peek inside and see his wife Oza doubled over. She winces as spasms of pain rip through her body. Once the pain subsides, her hand rubs her midsection protectively. What is happening becomes obvious.
She is about to give birth.
Heaven help her. There's no doctors or anesthetic drugs to help minimize her pain. A stick to bite down on is probably the best medical care she can hope for.
My nerves are set on edge. I have no idea what to do. But not Ehmay. She waltzes in with the confidence of a general and takes full control of the situation. A couple of nosy bystanders are dismissed. With less people crowding the room, Ehmay performs a quick examination of Oza's protruding belly. Her mouth pinches together for a split second. She swivels around to speak to Mett. Visibly stressed, he shuffles over to his wife and kisses her forehead. Oza smiles up at him. They whisper loving words while their two young children scamper underfoot. It's such an intimate moment, I feel obligated to glance away.
The next time I look, their daughter is tugging at her mother's tunic. Oza gathers the girl and her son into a loving embrace. Reluctantly, she lets them go. Mett takes their children by the hands and leads them outside.
Including myself, only four people remain in the hut: Oza, Ehmay, and some lady with a face like a withered apple. I'm pretty sure she was alive when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Grasping her walking stick like a royal scepter, she sits on the floor while occasionally offering her two cents. As for Ehmay, she does a quick inventory of the contents of the room. Upon its completion, she addresses me.
"Harp-da, Bella. Anda dubr."
She cups her hands and mimes drinking. I interpret this as meaning she needs water and lots of it. I accept the job and head back to the river as fast as I can. Filling the basket is easy; carrying it by myself is a Herculean task. By the time I haul the water back to the hut, I'm ready to collapse. Ehmay accepts the water gratefully and sends me to sit in a spot well out of the way, so I may rest but still observe.
Ehmay supports Oza as they walk back and forth in search of relief. Judging by Oza's whimpering, very little is found. Hours pass. We take turns watching over Oza so each of us can take a break. Meals are stuffed into our mouths with little fanfare. Oza drinks but refuses to eat anything.
The contractions come harder and faster around dusk. Oza barely has time to breathe before the next one hits. It's pitch black outside when her cries develop a new urgency. Ehmay once again checks the baby's position. Whatever she felt triggers her into action. Every stitch of Oza's clothing is peeled off. Instead of having Oza lie down in bed, the young mother is directed to stand. Her arms get propped against the nearest sturdy wall. She bends slightly at the knees, in a semi-squatting position. Not long afterward, her water breaks. It's not the sudden gush you see in the movies. It's more of a steady dribble.
"Bella." Ehmay waves for me to come closer.
I assume she needs me to do another simple errand. But, nope. Ehmay seizes my hands, places them on Oza's lower back, and motions for me to massage the area thoroughly. This position gives me an unobstructed view of Oza's private parts, an honor I never wanted to claim.
Even though I can't see myself, no doubt my face just paled by several shades.
Don't get me wrong. Child birth is a wonderful, life altering event. But it's also disgusting! There's so much blood and other... stuff leaking out of the expectant mother. How can one person lose that much fluid and not end up looking like a piece of beef jerky?! I swear, I have seen things on this day which will haunt me forever. I've almost fainted three times in the past five minutes. And Ehmay thinks I can help Oza? Seriously, is she insane? Even I don't trust me.
I gulp and shake my head. "Please... please no. I can't! Would you like for me to get someone better to help you?" I point toward the door and plead with my voice. "Alie?"
Ehmay ignores what I said and again motions for me to rub Oza's back. I close my eyes and exhale. There's no way out of this. And considering how she and the other villagers have gone out of their way to keep me alive and well, who am I to refuse?
Ok, Bella. It's time to step up. Oza needs your help. It's no big deal. Women have been giving birth for thousands of years. It's natural. All you gotta do is support her in her time of need. And if everything goes according to plan, none of that "Miracle of Life" stuff will splash on you.
All right. Let's do this!
I start off by gingerly massaging along her spine. Her skin is slick with sweat. Touching a virtual stranger so intimately is awkward. But the more she groans in agony, the more I accept how I feel doesn't matter. Oza needs all the help she can get. My fingers rub harder in hopes of giving her some form of comfort. Though, what good a little massage therapy can do is debatable. Her contractions are pretty much nonstop at this point.
Ehmay positions herself in front of Oza. There's a scream. Either a million years or just a few seconds later, the very top of a tiny head emerges from her pubic region.
I keep on massaging, but I also avert my eyes to keep from getting queasy. Like I mentioned before, childbirth is not for the faint of heart.
Things seem to stall. Even after Oza strains with all her might, the baby doesn't move any further. Ehmay carefully manipulates Oza's belly, squeezing downwards like you would a tube of toothpaste. Ehmay shouts encouragingly. More of the baby's head emerges. A shoulder slides out next. Two more pushes and Ehmay catches the child's slippery body before it can drop to the floor.
Oza leans her elbows against the wall, breathing heavily while Ehmay deals with the new arrival. It's a boy, and he's small. Too small. He can't be full term.
Worse of all, there are no cries.
The air is sucked from the room. Somehow, Ehmay remains calm enough to flip the baby over. She pats firmly against his back to clear out his mouth and nasal passages. Minutes go by. The grim set of her lips say it all.
The baby isn't breathing, and it doesn't look like he ever will.
An emergency of this magnitude would normally send me into an incoherent mess. But not this time. I am clear-headed enough to recall how a couple years back, I took a first aid course. CPR might be the baby's only hope.
I step forward to help. A stinging slap to my cheek prevents me from getting anywhere near the child.
Oza stands between myself and her infant. Her eyes are brimming with tears, but her teeth are barred like a tiger. "Damara," she hisses contemptuously. "Damara kunant-hāssasmi!"
She shoves me backwards in spite of her weakened condition. I stumble but manage to stay upright. The old lady hobbles over and tries restraining her, but Oza easily breaks free. Random objects as well as venomous words are hurled in my direction.
"Damara huwappa! Kunantar!"
A basket zooms by. A dirty pair of leggings lands on my head, which I quickly pull off. I barely dodge a flying wood bowl. It missed my nose by a hair.
Why is Oza acting this way?
I piece together the clues of why she hates me so much. The truth punches me in the gut.
"Oh no." I look at her with as much sympathy as I can convey. "I'm sorry, Oza, but I'm not really a goddess. I'm Bella - not Damara. I had nothing to do with what happened to your baby-"
Before I can finish, she reaches for a stone hammer. Hatred burns to the depths of her soul. Ehmay quickly gives over the stillborn infant to the old lady. Oza's intended weapon is snatched from her possession. Ehmay utilizes her firm words to calm the situation. Unfortunately, it has little effect on Oza.
"Kars-mi parn," growls Oza, still glaring at me.
I don't know how to respond, so I don't do anything. This ends up being the wrong thing to do. Something inside her snaps. With a gut-wrenching yell, she rushes forward, fingernails drawn out like claws. Ehmay intercepts her and wrestles Oza into submission. She fights for only a few seconds. Then she sinks into Ehmay's embrace, clinging to the older woman like she's drowning. Her entire body succumbs to wracking sobs. But her glare never falters. It cuts through me like glass.
She stabs a finger towards the door. "KARS-MI PARN!"
What she wants is unmistakable. I hold it together enough to flee into the night - running past the communal fire, past the inquisitive stares of the villagers, past everything. Through blurred vision, I locate the hut I've been forced to call home and crash into bed. My bottled up emotions break loose. Tears pour unhindered down my cheeks. The sobbing even affects my bodily functions. It's a struggle to breathe, and I'm not completely sure I even want to bother doing it anymore.
"Bella?"
Ewar's confused voice hushes me up momentarily. I lift my head. He's standing above me, brows glued together. One of his fingers wipes the wetness from underneath my eye. After enduring Oza's wrath, Ewar's close contact flusters me. I flinch away. He stiffens and walks back a step, looking faintly guilty.
Seeing him this way only adds to my despair. Almost everything that's happened these past two weeks has been a nightmare. And whose fault is that?
"I'm a jinx," I croak. "I destroy everything I touch. First it was the chair. Then my life, your life, and I guess Oza's life too." I sniff. "I can't take this anymore. I want... I want to go home!"
I dissolve into another batch of tears, no longer able to speak. Ewar stands there watching, expression hardening into slate. He utters not one word. Then he turns his back on me. Out the door he goes, never looking back.
Whatever control I had left is gone the moment he disappears.
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The next thing I know, the first rays of dawn pry open my tired, puffy eyelids. Did I cry myself to sleep? Guess I did. I look around the hut from where I sit. I'm alone this morning. Either Ewar stayed out all night, or he left the hut long before I awoke.
I wash my face in cold water, hopefully erasing all trace of my crying fit. Briefly, I contemplate getting something to eat, but my appetite is non-existent. With nothing left to do, I step outside and receive a surprise.
Ewar is putting his transport sledge back together.
He binds the long branches with leather cord and elbow grease. Beside him sits a mountain of food, water, and animal skins. There's enough supplies to last for days, if not weeks. I move closer to investigate the many baskets which will soon be loaded onto the sledge. One in particular draws my attention. It contains my phone, clothes, and sneakers.
My head snaps up. "What's my basket doing out here?"
Ewar's somber gaze does nothing to ease my growing alarm. First he waves between the two of us, then aims a finger in the direction of the gorge's only exit.
"Mayant-hattatar."
While his words are a mystery, the intent is undeniable. He's taking me away from the village. He wants me gone. And who can blame him. I've been more trouble than I'm worth.
I nod my head in acceptance but turn away before he can see my watery eyes.
Arl appears and assists Ewar with reconstructing the sledge. Ehmay walks up right after him. One look at my withdrawn face and her mouth pinches together. Before my muddled mind can comprehend what's happening, she nudges me inside her home and silently orders me to sit down. Food and water magically appear in my lap. Although I appreciate her concern, I shake my head. I'm not hungry. My refusal is ignored. She holds up the bowl of gruel to my mouth and sweet-talks me into swallowing the stuff down. I feel like an overgrown toddler. But her persistence wins out. I give in and eat. I don't have the energy to argue with someone who wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.
When we step back outside, a small body collides with mine. Alie hugs me with the force of a hydraulic press. I manage a wobbly smile in return. My heart is touched. Alie detached herself from her new hubby long enough to say goodbye to me. She really is my friend. But her usual bubbly personality is noticeably subdued this morning. There's no cheerful chatter ringing in my ears. She quietly secures a warm fur cape around me. A pair of identical mittens are handed over as well. I'm grateful for these gifts. It's getting chillier by the day. Winter will be especially brutal once I'm on my own. I'll need these things to survive the frigid temperatures.
That's Alie for you, always making sure everyone around her are dressed their very best.
The sledge is ready and loaded with supplies. Arl gives Ewar a hearty hug and even attempts a smile. Ehmay doesn't smile at all. Despite Ewar's greater size, she cups his face in her hands and speaks to him with a shaking voice. He mostly nods along with whatever she says.
A small group of people are here to send us off. Jas, Alie, the old lady from last night, plus a few other familiar faces. One person's presence surprises me the most. Mett and his two surviving children are standing off to the side. The children watch the goings-on with innocent curiosity. Their father, on the other hand, looks rough. Bloodshot eyes hint at his exhaustion. When our gazes cross, he surprises me further. He offers a limp hand wave goodbye. I return the gesture. He doesn't seem to hate me completely, which is a miracle considering how his wife acted. She treated me like I was some sort of demonic being who hexed her unborn child.
Speaking of Oza, she is nowhere to be seen. She's probably recuperating at home and rejoicing that I'm leaving the village forever.
Ewar calls my name. It's time to go. He lifts the sledge's wood handles and starts dragging it toward the exit. The only sound is our footsteps echoing against the gorge's vertical stone walls.
Our journey has begun.
I walk behind him and the sledge, my expression devoid of emotion. The gorge is soon far behind us. The river too. We travel through the accompanying forest within a couple of hours. It's going by so quick. I'll be alone before I know it. What will life be like then? I've never been by myself completely. There were always neighbors, co-workers, people I often saw while frequenting the same businesses. But I'm in a very different time period now. People are scarce. Depending on where Ewar decides to take me, it's unlikely I'll have anyone nearby. Even the most diehard introvert couldn't handle that sort of isolation for long. How will I cope?
Heavy cloud cover greets our arrival at the grassland. Ewar motions for me to get on the sledge so I can ride. I shake my head. Dragging the sledge looks exhausting. Any additional weight would only add to his burden. Besides, I have legs. I can walk.
He makes a face at my refusal but doesn't force the issue further. My mind wanders again as we walk. It's hard to believe only two weeks have gone by since I sent myself backwards through time. It's astounding how much has happened. I met Ewar and his people, had an unpleasant run-in with a sadistic barbarian, and accidentally got married. And on top of all that, I was hailed as Damara, Goddess of Fertility.
Ha.
Me, a fertility goddess? Not likely. I don't have the credentials. If anything, I'd be one of those deities people worship only because they are afraid of divine retribution. I'd be more believable as Bella, Goddess of Misery. I'm the best at spreading that far and wide.
Near sunset, we make camp and sleep close to the fire. Ewar keeps a wide berth from me, only interacting when necessary. Somehow it makes me feel even more alone. I fall asleep with my arms hugging myself underneath the blanket.
The second day of traveling is largely uneventful, until a familiar sight appears on the horizon. The sea of brown grass meets a wilderness of dreary trees. It's the woods where Ewar and I first encountered one another. Somewhere within its depths is a broken time machine... plus one confused wooly mammoth who has a fear of alarm clock apps.
I worry on my bottom lip. It makes sense for him to take me there. He probably thinks those woods are my native environment, as though I'm a wild animal that needs to be released. Strangely, we don't immediately head in that direction. Ewar sets up camp in the grassland and we once again sleep by the fire. Well, not sleep exactly. I toss and turn most of the night, haunted by terrible dreams of my future.
He's awake by first light. Breakfast is nuts and berries mixed with lumpy animal fat. It tastes exactly as it sounds. I force myself to eat despite my flopping stomach. There's no guarantee I'll be having another meal anytime soon.
I scarf down the humble meal. This leaves me with nothing left to do. I end up following his every move, searching for the moment when he will dump my sorry ass in those woods.
It takes forever.
Ewar goes on eating, slow as a sloth. Then he takes his time about sipping on some water, stretching his arms, and putting out the fire. The waiting is killing me. Don't cave people have schedules? Rip the band-aid off already. I just want this to be over with!
Finally, just before I've reached the point of yanking my hair out, he gets around to reloading the sledge. We start walking. Not towards the woods, though. Where we're headed has not a single tree. I'm thoroughly confused at this point. If he's going to abandon me, he should at least do it in a place I'm somewhat familiar with.
I march over and tap his shoulder. He stops and focuses curious eyes on me.
"Ewar, where are we going?" I point toward the distant woods. "I thought you were taking me there."
He shakes his head and points the other way. "Mayant-hattatar."
"Ok... Is that a place? Where's it at?"
No matter how much he and I communicate through hand signals and facial expressions, our lovely language barrier keeps us in the dark. It's no use. I gesture for him to continue guiding us to wherever the hell we're going. I guess I'll find out the destination soon enough.
We walk from sun up til sundown. The next morning we wake up and walk some more. The day after that? Yep, still walking. How much territory have we covered? Beats me. All I know is that my legs are about to fall off from using them so much. And just when I think I can't go a step further, Ewar insists that we walk even more.
Are we ever going to get somewhere?!
On the third day after we left the village, the environment begins a gradual change. The nearly knee high grass we've been tromping through shortens to ankle level by the fifth day into our journey. Flat grassland rises into rocky, rolling hills. We're forced to cross several streams, but luckily, they aren't deep. Our feet barely get wet. And the trees around here aren't anything to brag about. They're short, scrawny, and prefer to stick close to the available water.
We weave our way through the hilly country. Occasionally sharp rocks poke through our footwear. Ewar drops the sledge and scowls whenever it happens to him. I prefer to hop around and recite every curse word I can recall. As they say, different strokes for different folks.
At long last, we enter a clearing between hills. People are here. Lots and lots of people. I would estimate this settlement being at least double the population of Ewar's village. Though, I wouldn't say this place is better. Only a few permanent structures exist here. Tents outnumber them by a long shot. But the heart of the community is a cave. The dark, damp mouth gapes open from the bottom of the nearest hill, silently beckoning the brave to enter if they dare.
"Mayant-hattatar," says Ewar, almost reverently.
I wave my arms at the settlement. "This is Mayant-hattatar?"
He shakes his head in frustration.
I follow at his side as he drags the sledge through the settlement. People of all ages are doing normal things, like tending fires and butchering meat. As Ewar and I pass them, they barely give us a look. That's surprising. Are they accustomed to strangers like us showing up unannounced?
We make a beeline to the cave. A young boy no older than twelve sits at the entrance. Our approach goes unnoticed. He's too busy playing some sort of game with a handful of rocks.
Ewar clears his throat and broadens his shoulders. The new stance makes him seem larger, and therefore more intimidating. The boy belatedly looks up from his game.
"Uēs kāni memāi-katti Mayant-hattatar," says Ewar.
The boy huffs one mocking laugh. "Kuit memiyan?"
Whatever Ewar says in response to the question only results in more laughter from the boy. Ewar's eyes narrow to steel points. He stomps back to the sledge and carries back my basket. He thrusts it underneath the boy's nose and shows all my things from the future. The boy's eyebrows rise higher and higher. When he sees my phone, his eyeballs look ready to pop.
"Kuit apāt?" he says in awe. "Kuenzumna uēzzi?"
Ewar glances at me, his harsh gaze softening momentarily. "Iuaras alwanzatar perunant. Ina si."
The boy tilts his head and studies me up and down. "Kuwat apā har alwanzatar perunant?"
"Assum apā..." Ewar pauses, seeming to struggle with what he wants to say. Exhaling through his nostrils, he lowers his voice significantly. "Damara."
"DAMARA?!"
A group of people nearby turn to stare. Ewar's face reddens in anger.
"Shh!" he hisses.
The two of them argue back and forth. A short time later, the boy nods in agreement. He walks away but motions that he should be followed.
"Bella." Ewar places my basket underneath his arm and looks me straight in the eyes. "Stay."
"But-"
His gaze turns pleading. "Stay."
I twist my mouth, fighting back an eye roll. After giving careful consideration, I nod in defeat. "Fine. I'll stay right here."
As he leaves with the boy, he glances back several times. They both disappear inside a hut some distance away. Meanwhile, I cross my arms and grumble to myself. What's he doing? Why do I have to stay here by myself? Please don't tell me he's leaving me here to live in this musty cave. And, most importantly, what's with him anyway? I teach him one word and he's already using it to tell me what to do!
A trampling sound pulls me out of that line of thinking. I find a crowd of people advancing this way.
"Damara. Damara!"
From whispers to shouts, the word is repeated by numerous mouths. Something about their excited babbling and piercing stares make me nervous. I turn to flee in the other direction. My hopes are dashed when I see more people coming from that direction.
I'm backed into the rock wall outside of the cave, surrounded on all sides. A teary-eyed woman drops to her knees in front of me. She clings to my tunic and wails.
"Damara!"
Another person grabs my hand. She forces it over her flat belly and rubs before I can yank it back.
This opens the floodgates.
Dozens more hands reach out. Some lightly graze my skin, content with merely touching me for a moment. Others are more demanding. One person tries caressing my face, but I dodge the attempt. Instinctively, my body curls in on itself in hopes of making it harder for them to fondle me. Even so, someone pulls out my hair comb, the gift from Ewar.
"Hey! Give that back!"
I manage to snatch it out of their thieving paw. Much too late, I realize that in doing so, I have exposed more of myself to the horde. A glove is pulled off, gone in the blink of an eye. I feel a tug on my tunic. Part of it rips off. The pieces are fought over like a clan of hyenas over a fresh kill. I plaster the remaining scraps of my tunic to my chest, horror-stricken. Will I be ripped apart next?
"Ewar! EWAR!" I shout.
"Bella!"
He shoves and flings people out of his way. At last, he reaches me. His body covers mine, my front spooning his back. He fights them off using only his hands and fearsome grunts. They are relentless. Occasionally, someone manages to get through his blockade to touch me.
"Sakuwantar!" someone yells.
A figure pushes through the crowd. As people turn to look upon the intruder, faces pale and bodies move respectfully out of the way. A woman armed with a bow and a drawn arrow moves in front of Ewar and me, effectively becoming our guard. Still, certain people stubbornly refuse to leave. I'm not sure if it's her stern voice or her weapon aimed directly between their eyes which finally convinces them to disband.
When the last of the horde is gone, the three of us finally relax. Ewar frowns at a scratch on my arm and my shredded clothes. In one swift movement, he pulls his tunic over his head. His adamant expression brooks no argument. I take it gratefully and put it on. It may be a little too big, but it beats being almost topless.
I turn an inquisitive eye onto the woman who helped us. Her light red hair is rolled into a loose bun. A few wrinkles around her mouth hint that she is older than I am - though, that hardly matters. She's the sort of person who ages gracefully. Her face features startling violet-blue eyes and pouting lips. She will be considered beautiful until the day she dies.
The young boy from earlier totes back my basket. None of my things are torn or broken. He protected it well. His expression is full of wonder when I smile at him in appreciation for his service.
The woman slings her bow over a shoulder. She speaks to the boy, who immediately sits back down where we first found him. She lights a stick of resinous pine from a nearby campfire. Holding it like a torch, she directs Ewar and I inside the cave.
At first glance, the cave is unspectacular. But soon the narrow tunnel expands into an enormous chamber. The ceiling is almost at cathedral height. Stalactites hang like ornaments everywhere you look. Along the red-tinted walls are works of art. Drawings of animals decorate the space, from herds of horses to large solitary creatures. I'm pretty sure one is a bear. Stick figures of faceless men are represented as well, usually shown hunting with what I suppose are spears.
We go past several tunnels, each leading in different directions. It's a maze in here. Minutes of walking later, she shows us to a chamber of much smaller proportions. It's no larger than my apartment back home. A campfire burns low in the center of the room, creating puffs of gray smoke which hover at the ceiling like dark clouds. This room does have one advantage over the other areas of the cave. The walls in here shimmer in the fire light. Tiny crystals are embedded within the rock. It's truly beautiful.
The woman says something to Ewar. He nods once. She exits the room, leaving us behind. The light from her torch leaves us too. Despite the campfire, the room darkens significantly. The shadows of the stalactites seem to dance along the walls. Spooked, I move closer to Ewar.
He and I stand around for the longest time. Finally, echoing footsteps signal someone's approach. A man enters the room. Well, I think it's a man. It's hard to tell with the getup he's in. He wears a long robe made from some shaggy animal. His entire face is covered by a mask of painted wood. It features big, haunting eyes and a horn attached to the exact center of the forehead.
Ewar leans into my ear. "Mayant-hattatar," he whispers.
Then I understand. Mayant-hattatar isn't a place. It's a person.
The man, presumably Mayant-hattatar, circles round to the opposite side of the fire. He waves his arms above it like a wizard conjuring a spell.
"Pahhur, memāi," he chants rhythmically. "Tēzzi-nas hurwasa!"
Something powdery falls from between his fingers. The dull fire blazes into bright orange. His chants grow deeper. In addition to all the noise he's making, he performs a dance of flapping, bent elbows and swinging buttocks. I'm catching secondhand embarrassment from just watching. Honestly, he looks like a drunkard at a costume party.
I heave a tired sigh. "What a fucking freak," I mumble to myself.
Mayant-hattatar stops mid-dance, staring directly at me. After a moment's lull, he straightens himself into a less ridiculous position. He removes his butt ugly wood mask, revealing an ordinary face you wouldn't look at twice under normal circumstances. Yet, his growing smile is almost infectious.
"Oh my. Aren't you a cheeky little thing!"
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A/N-
You wanted answers. Here they come... starting with the next chapter.
People who review will be saved from boring blah fantasies with the help of either hunky Ewar or that foxy lady with the bow and arrows. It's your choice. Choose your savior wisely.
Thanks for reading. :-)