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About Tehuti
I am an amateur writer of novels, serials, and novellas. Most of my work is in the genres of fantasy, mythology, drama, occult, GLBT, and erotica.
As I'm not seeking publication, I offer my work online for free reading. I'm not seeking stylistic critique so much as feedback from people who just like reading what I write. I love hearing what people think of my characters, plots, themes, etc., so if you have any comments or advice on those, feel free to share. I'm not hugely popular and often go many months without hearing from readers so I enjoy all the comments I get!
My interests are Ojibwa mythology, Mackinac Island, Egyptian mythology, Jungian symbolism and dream interpretation, ritual crime, fantasy writing, and various other things you can find in my personal bio, available just to the right. Please click to learn more about me and what I'm looking for in terms of readers and potential friends.
Feel free to hit me up if you're interested in any of these things, and enjoy my writing!
Tar! :) |
The Arrangement UNDERAGED CHARACTER WARNING
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Mild spoilers. In the in-progress Escape From Manitou Island, I had my characters Charmian, Singing Cedars, and Walks-On-The-Shore stumble across a band of hostile Seneca Indians on their way back west. I had to hurriedly create a leader of these Senecas, who would interact with the main characters, present a brief obstacle, and then end up helping them out. Hence I created the throwaway war chief character "Tooth," who I intended to last such a short time that I didn't even put any thought into his name and just named him with the first stupid thing that popped into my mind! (In the story even Charmian exhibits puzzlement over this name.)
Thing is...even though Tooth lasted only about six or so chapters, and then only as a secondary character...I've been thinking about him a lot lately, and discovering that I really like him! He's incredibly blunt, tough, and scowly...yet whines like there's no tomorrow as soon as he's wounded. ^_^ And when he and Charmian at last part ways, he scowls at her cheery wave, but manages one of his own. Awwwww. How can you not like a character like that?
I feel a bit regretful now that Tooth played such a small part in the story, and I have no valid excuse to bring him back into it...I think that really might be the last that's seen of Tooth in the Manitou Island series. *sniffle* So I got to thinking...I wonder what the rest of his life, beyond the story, is like? What made Tooth who he is and what does he have waiting at home for him? In the story, Tooth himself gives only one small hint: After his wounding, he moans, "Little Fawn's going to kill me...the last time she had to sew me shut, she hit me in the head with a pot!" ^_^ So...that gave me a decent starting point for this story...and I hope you enjoy it.
Please take note that I know practically NOTHING of Iroquois culture, aside from the fact that they have longhouses and their society is matrilineal (everything runs through the female side of the family). I mean to learn more, but have had trouble so far finding proper sources of info. *blush* So I've taken a LOT of artistic license here (not that I never do the rest of the time, but still!)...chances are that most of these are licenses I would have taken anyway, but if you know of Iroquois culture and spot something terribly inconsistent, please feel free to point it out and educate me.
DISCLAIMER: I need to place an "underage" disclaimer here, just in case, seeing as the ages of the two characters involved are about fortysomething (Tooth) and around fourteen or fifteen (Little Fawn).
Not proofed yet, so beware of really ignorant typos; I'll get to them eventually (feel free to point them out though). And PLEASE comment if you rate to let me know what you liked/didn't like in particular! ("Great story!" doesn't help me much...)
* * * * *
DAY STAR GRASPED her young daughter's arm and squeezed it slightly, pointing across the camp. "There he is, right there."
Little Fawn craned her neck to look. A small band of men had entered the clearing--they came from a neighboring camp--and they were making their way past the longhouses, the younger men chattering with those of her own camp who stepped up to speak to them as they passed. Most of them looked to be around their twentieth or twenty-fifth year, five or ten years older than herself. Little Fawn looked them all over.
Her eyes at last wandered to the one leading the party, and followed him as he walked by. He walked somewhat apart from the rest of them, a set of turkey feathers adorning his head, several eagle feathers interspersed with them. He scowled as he walked, an old scar running across the bridge of his nose, and his clothing, while functional and clean, looked like it had been put through years of wear. He seemed much older than the rest of them, perhaps around forty. What she noticed most of all though was his eyes. They were hard and glinting, like those of some predator. Unkind. Spiteful.
Her mother squeezed her arm again. "There," she whispered to Little Fawn, the small band making its way past them, "is your future husband."
* * * * *
Times had been difficult. Although the five tribes were allied, there had been some infighting, and now even some of their own tribe had turned upon each other. A blood feud had been exacted; fortunately it had not lasted long, but there were still spiteful feelings between the two camps, and relations were suffering as a result, seeing as they dwelled right on the border of hostile territory, and needed each other to keep their eyes open for enemies. Little Fawn's father held great influence in their band and always spoke at the head of the meetings; so an arranged marriage was considered the best move, to again secure the good favor of their neighbors. The neighboring band had just been attacking some of the enemy who had wandered too close to their land, and so an arranged marriage with their war chief was considered prudent, seeing as he appeared to know what he was doing, and an alliance between a peace chief and a war chief could be nothing but useful. A messenger had taken this proposal to the other camp and returned a few days later with a response. Their neighbors would take them up on the offer, for the betterment of both their bands.. And so now, Little Fawn was engaged to the war chief Tooth, someone she had never even met before now, and who was old enough to be her father.
"I do not like him," she murmured as he and his party passed, on their way to speak with her father.
Her mother blinked and gave her an incredulous look. "You've only just seen him! How can you possibly not like him already?"
Little Fawn kept her head lowered. "He has cruel eyes," she said quietly. When Day Star said nothing she lifted her head to look at her. "What if he mistreats me?" she asked, an aggrieved note entering her voice. "What do I do then?"
Day Star gave her a look that was halfway between sympathy and disappointment. "Little Fawn! Please don't run away from this over such a small matter!" She took her daughter's hand. "If he strikes you now and then--this is so little to put up with! Please tell me that you won't run away from him over such a thing."
Little Fawn lowered her head again.
"If he truly mistreats you, beats you regularly, then you can leave him and we will throw him out of the house," Day Star promised. "But please, Little Fawn, at least give this a chance."
The marriage was already arranged, so it wasn't as if she had much of a choice. She always had the right to refuse, and knew that her parents cared about her too much to disown her if she did...but she hated that look of disappointment she'd just seen. And times were hard.
"I will," she murmured, and her mother let out a sigh of relief.
* * * * *
Otter-Tail had to hurry to catch up with Tooth, as their leader walked--or rather, stalked--so quickly that they were in danger of being left behind. "Slow down a little!" he hissed. "Spirits, one would think you just want to get this over with..."
"Basically," Tooth muttered, not slowing his step. Otter-Tail sighed. "Of all the addlebrained ideas...as if I need a woman to take care of! Yet another responsibility on my shoulders! Some peace offering. I'd rather just have a nice pipe to smoke on."
Otter-Tail rolled his eyes. "You were ever the romantic." He moved over to Tooth's other side. "Think of it this way--it's actually less responsibility. Now you won't have to do your own cooking and cleaning, and you get a nice new home out of the deal."
Tooth snorted. "I liked my old one just fine! As if I enjoy MOVING just to settle some grudge!"
"Well, if all else fails, at least you'll have a nice warm romp in the pallet to return home to every night."
Another snort. "That WOULD be the thing you consider most important!"
"I'll gratefully take her off your hands, if that's what you truly want..." Tooth waved at him to be quiet as they neared the meeting house, where Gray Goose, the peace chief, awaited; they clasped each other's arm, then parted, and Gray Goose gestured at the entryway of the longhouse.
"If you'll come in and sit with me for a bit, we can discuss this further, and then seal our agreement with a smoke."
Otter-Tail noticed Tooth's weary sigh, and unfortunately Gray Goose did as well, for he furrowed his brow. Otter-Tail quickly spoke up. "This sounds reasonable," he said, and nudged Tooth in the back. Tooth scowled.
"Very well," he grumbled.
Gray Goose started to go inside, then paused, looking off to the side. He glanced at Tooth and then gestured. "There she is over there--with my wife. I hope you find her acceptable! She's quite hopeful for the same."
He turned to go back into the longhouse. Tooth and Otter-Tail looked in the direction that he'd pointed. As soon as Gray Goose's wife noticed them looking, she blushed and grasped her daughter's arm, hurriedly pulling her along with a sharp whisper. Tooth did get one good look at the girl, however, when she lifted her head and her eyes met his just briefly. His own widened. Then she was gone.
Otter-Tail peered at him curiously. Tooth let out an annoyed growling sound and turned back to the longhouse. "Spirits...she's practically a baby!" he snarled, and stalked into the building before Otter-Tail could speak his piece.
* * * * *
Otter-Tail well knew how little Tooth liked sitting and talking over things--many of the war chief's meetings had boiled down to a few grunts and a lot of smoking--and so he could tell that Gray Goose's verbosity wearied his friend. Tooth sat and bore it all as if boulders were being placed upon his back; he did little to hide the look from his face, and several times Otter-Tail had to intervene just to keep Gray Goose talking, the peace chief was getting so confused. Only when the peace pipe was presented did Tooth seem to liven up a little, which picked up Gray Goose's spirits as well; they both sat and passed the pipe back and forth, Otter-Tail accepting it once or twice, and it would have seemed like Tooth's only reason for even showing up was just to smoke a little, then leave as quickly as possible. Gray Goose seemed to sense this as well when he handed the pipe over one more time.
"We've already prepared a new room in the longhouse for you and Little Fawn," he said. "I greatly appreciate the trouble you go to for us. Your men are welcome to stay should they wish."
"Mm," Tooth grunted.
Gray Goose bit his lip, then went on. "I realize she's rather inexperienced as a wife...but she learns quickly, and already knows how to cook and clean animals well...and she's very much looking forward to this alliance, so she will of course do whatever you need. Whatever is needed to help keep our tribe strong against our enemies--I know you both realize this, and I am grateful."
"Of course," Tooth muttered. He reluctantly handed the pipe back and they all got to their feet. He dusted at his sleeves, still with that unpleasant look. "Just tell me which way it is," he grumbled, and Otter-Tail had to make the sign for longhouse before Gray Goose could tell what he was asking. Gray Goose blinked and nodded, flushing a little.
"Follow me...Day Star and Little Fawn can help get you settled in right this moment, in fact."
"Mm," Tooth said, and turned and headed out. Otter-Tail grimaced and offered Gray Goose a sympathetic shrug.
"He's just...tired," he explained. "From fighting."
Gray Goose nodded sagely. "Little Fawn will help him relax," he promised.
* * * * *
Just as promised, a little compartment was prepared for Little Fawn and her new husband, in the same longhouse as her mother and father; they dwelled in small sections along the walls, partitioned off from each other but left mostly open to the central aisle where the fires for each family were kept. The compartment was just big enough for the two of them, and a child or two, should that happy day ever come to pass; it was right next to Gray Goose's and Day Star's compartment, and so Little Fawn could hear her parents as they moved in and out of their room, arranging her few belongings and attempting to help Tooth with his own. Her new husband...she didn't know if she would get used to that term...didn't seem to appreciate their interference, and did much scowling and biting of his tongue as they bustled in and out; she almost expected him to whip out his hatchet and land it in someone's head. He managed to refrain, however, and at nightfall they all sat in their new compartment and ate together, Otter-Tail having taken care of the rest of the newcomer's band so the four of them could be alone. Gray Goose and Day Star attempted to talk a little at first, but the war chief wasn't the most communicative, and so after a while they gave up aside from a word now and then, usually about the food itself, since Tooth seemed to show no real interest in anything else.
When they were finished, they silently picked up their bowls and trays, and Little Fawn carried hers and Tooth's over to her parents' compartment for washing later the next day. She lingered there a moment or two, until her father nodded goodnight at her, and her mother hugged her, cupping a hand to her face and meeting her eyes. Little Fawn was surprised to see that her own were wet.
"Now go on over and see to him," she said. "He's tired, and could use your company."
Little Fawn was inclined to disagree--the war chief hadn't cast her a single glance throughout the entire dinner--but she wasn't inclined to disobey. She lowered her head and left her parents' compartment, heading back into her own. Tooth was smoking now, scowling at the fire which burned outside their entryway, and she silently sat down off to the side, folding her hands in her lap and biting on the inside of her lip. They sat this way for quite a while, until she finally felt so perplexed and bored that she couldn't help tapping her fingers against each other, her stare wandering over the walls, and her mind wondering what exactly she could do to liven up the situation any. She'd expected an arranged marriage to be many unpleasant things, but she'd hardly expected it to be so boring.
"Name?" Tooth muttered, nearly making her jump, his voice was so unexpected. She hadn't even been certain that he could talk.
"Little Fawn," she said softly. "My father says your name is Tooth."
He jerked his head in a sort of nod, puffs of smoke rising from the pipe; he scowled at them as if out of spite. His eyes were just as hard as they'd been that morning. He didn't say anything else, so she lowered her head again, and resumed fiddling her fingers. She heard one of her parents moving around a little, and suddenly wished that this place were a lot more private. Her people weren't shy, but she hardly relished the thought of them listening in on the two of them...sitting doing absolutely nothing. What sort of things would they say in the morning...?
"I hope you like it here," she said after a long while.
"Mm," he said.
She fiddled her fingers a little more. "I apologize if we made you leave any friends or such behind..." she ventured, even though, as this was an arrangement her father had made, she should not have been apologizing.
"Mm," Tooth grumbled. Puff. "Didn't have anybody back there anyway."
More fiddling. Little Fawn gnawed on her lip and tried to think of anything to say. "I hope...you'll be comfortable here," she said, before realizing that was practically the same as what she'd already said. There was a thumping noise behind the wall and both of them stiffened a little bit, as if listening; Little Fawn's ears began to ring. After a brief silence a bustling noise came, then Day Star peered into the entryway, a way-too-bright smile on her face. Little Fawn and Tooth both glanced up at her. She smiled and waved.
"I have to speak with Little Fawn for just a moment...just a moment is all."
Tooth's scowl returned but he jerked his head again. Little Fawn got to her feet and exited the compartment. Her mother pressed a pouch of tobacco into her hands--quite obviously an excuse to call her out--then made certain to give her a very pointed look, gesturing with her eyes toward the new compartment and raising her eyebrows. Little Fawn suppressed a sigh and turned to go back. She resumed sitting by the side wall for a brief time, before scooting over to sit beside Tooth, and the two of them stared at the fire crackling outside, she fiddling her fingers, he scowling and smoking. Her ears strained but the other compartment was dead silent by now.
"I suppose they're going to listen in all damned night," Tooth muttered.
Little Fawn just kept biting her lip. "I hope you find it comfortable here," she said once again, just to fill in the silence that she knew her parents would be listening to. She noticed the package of tobacco she still had, and held it toward him. "I hope you enjoy this," she said, a little more loudly.
He glanced down at it and at last bothered to show something a bit more than irritation. He accepted the package in silence, then set it over near the other wall, and they both continued sitting silently. Little Fawn probably would have laughed under any other circumstances. She wondered if he was just as uneasy being here as she was, or if he really did just want to leave.
The silence seemed to stretch out forever, and she could even notice the fire dimming a little. She heard nothing from her parents' compartment, and then a tiny thump. As if this alone spurred on her speech, she said, without lifting her eyes, "I am sorry if you're unhappy here..."
"No," Tooth grumbled, putting down the pipe at last and practically grimacing at the fireplace. He said the word as if he found her to be a remarkable chore. "I am just...used to not sharing my space with another!" he said, sounding quite peeved.
She lowered her eyes again. "I'll make certain to keep out of your way."
"This isn't it. Spirits! It's your damn longhouse."
"You mean you've never taken a wife before...?" she ventured, peering at him surreptitiously. She saw him blink, then he looked right at her; she made certain to be staring at the floor when he did so. She heard him snort and take up the pipe again.
"No," he just about snapped. She bit her lip, thought of asking why, then didn't when he must have read her mind. "Never needed one!"
She nodded, and for some reason the gesture seemed to make him relax just a little. I'm sorry I'm such a burden then. I'm sorry I'm not wanted here, she thought of saying, but he looked up at her before she could, and she knew it was better to silence such thoughts. His hard eyes fixed on hers, and though she knew it would have been best to avert her own, she stared back. There was a brief silence, then a thump came from behind the wall. They both glanced at it, then she resumed gnawing on her lip, and he resumed scowling. They glanced at each other, then back at the fire.
When he shook the pipe out and set it down with a clink, letting out a breath and glaring at the fire, she nudged herself a finger or two closer, and made certain to lift her own head when she sensed him doing the same. Their eyes met again, though she kept her head slightly lowered, and didn't stare at him long as it would have been rude. For a moment or two she listened for any sound behind the wall, and could tell he was doing the same; then she realized just how ludicrous this was, that all four of them should be listening so intently for something that was none of their business.
She had a passing thought about a longhouse without walls--would such a thing even still be a longhouse?--before she felt Tooth's hand against her face, and stiffened a little, before making herself relax. She looked at him once more, and his eyes weren't quite as hard as they'd been before, though they still looked spiteful and unpleasant. She lowered her own and pressed her cheek against his hand, feeling how rough his fingers were. She wondered how many animals he'd killed and skinned and gutted with those hands.
He paused just barely, ear practically straining at the wall, then leaned forward and abruptly put his mouth to hers. With barely a delay their tongues met, and he kissed her roughly, as if just to get it out of the way. That was what she felt from him, as his tongue ran over her teeth and his lips sucked at hers, and so she didn't protest when he grasped her arms and lowered her to the floor.
They hadn't bothered preparing the room for sleep, and so the pallet was still rolled up against the wall, Little Fawn lying on the ground as her husband kissed her and brought himself over her body. He began to quickly work at her clothing, and so she did the same for him, sensing physical lust, but other than that, just a desire to get it done with and out of the way. Her mother had told her that it was likely to be like this, and so she knew what to expect, even if it wasn't what she would have wanted. For the good of our tribe kept running through her head, and she focused on this as he let her sit up long enough to slip her dress off, and then worked off his shirt and leggings himself. She moved an arm up to cover her breasts, feeling a flush rising in her face--the walls had never seemed so flimsy or useless before now--but he didn't seem to notice. He just continued kissing her, one hand groping at her hip while the other hurried to untie his breechcloth. She caught glimpses of him through slitted eyes as he moved. His build was sturdy and as hard as his eyes, several more scars and tattoos lining his chest; she tried to see down below his waist, but he was close to her, still fumbling with his breechcloth, and she decided it was better not to stare. She averted her eyes, spreading her legs obediently when his fingers pressed up between them.
She, too, had never been married, although she guessed that his absence of wives did not mean an absence of bedmates; she further believed this when his rough fingers ran quickly over the fold of skin between her legs before stopping at the top, and pinching and rubbing slightly at the tiny knob there. Little Fawn sucked in a breath and tensed, flinching. She could feel the wetness forming there, making her slick and smooth, and started to throb where he touched her; her nipples tightened, pressed against her arm, but other than that she wasn't certain what was supposed to happen, if anything. Tooth lifted himself up somewhat, moving forward and grasping her thigh to lift it a little; Little Fawn shut her eyes and opened herself, tilting her hips forward. A second later her husband plunged into her, tearing away her maidenhood with a strained grunt. She grimaced and gasped, tightening, but forced herself to try to loosen somewhat, digging her fingers into the ground. She let out a shaky breath and took another in.
Tooth moved quickly, thrusting in and out, in and out, his breath fanning harsh over her face. He was big, and of course much older than her, and Little Fawn continued biting her lip as his swollen length pushed in and out, coated slick with blood and fluids. She could feel the slipperiness and it made her shudder a little, though she tolerated it. After a moment or so of this he bent down and his lips met her jaw, his tongue running over her skin; he lifted a hand to nudge her arm aside, and she tilted her head to the side when his mouth closed over her left nipple, sucking noisily. He started grunting as he moved, the odd animallike sounds joining the suckling and the noises of their bodies scuffling against the floor, filling the small compartment. Little Fawn opened her eyes, tilting her head yet again to peer back toward the fire, seeing it at an angle considering her position; she thought she spotted a shadow near the entryway, but just like that it was gone; a moment later a murmur came from the neighboring room, and then the sounds of her parents pulling out their pallet and settling down for the night. She shut her eyes again, and opened her mouth obediently when her husband's tongue quested at it, and lay still to let him finish as he saw fit. He did so perhaps twenty or so minutes later, his eyes shut and his face snarling, a heated growl rising in his throat as his hips plunged hard at hers, his fingers digging bruises into her hip; when he grunted explosively and froze, spurting hot inside her, she shook again, but bore it, her breath coming fast in her throat. He let out his own breath and sank over her a little before pulling himself out and rolling off, and collapsed half-sitting, half-lying next to the wall, panting harshly; her arm again crept up to cover her saliva-coated breasts, but she didn't even bother to cover the downy, slickened and bleeding mound between her legs, as that would have seemed rather stupid, by now. They lay this way in silence for a while, attempting to catch their breath, and although neither of them said it, she was certain that he was thinking as well as her, At least that's over.
* * * * *
It was a long while before she even approached sleep. For what felt like hours she lay upon the pallet which had been hastily dug out before they had both collapsed on it for the night, her new husband's arm thrown across her body and his breath fanning over her ear as he snored softly. She stared at the ceiling of the longhouse, which was barely visible now, the fires having died down to embers. She peered at Tooth, lying at her left, once every so often, making herself think the same thought each time.
This is the way I will live, she thought, the rest of my life. No matter how many times she thought it, it didn't seem real. Not even the vaguely unpleasant ache between her legs made it feel any more real, that this was what the rest of her life would be like.
She at last fell asleep, and even though she dreamed of him as her husband, it still felt no more real.
* * * * *
Tooth awoke about an hour before the sun was to rise, just as he always did--though as soon as he discovered himself awakened next to a sleeping woman, he had to stop and think for a few moments, confused, before his brain cleared and he scowled to himself. He pushed himself up and started scrabbling for his clothes, slipping them on and wondering what to do just to pass the day, now that he would be spending his time in this camp, with this company, for the rest of his life. It hardly seemed real. He hated things that didn't seem real. If it hadn't been for the tribe, it would've been much easier to just leave now. She'd been enjoyable, but he certainly didn't look forward to a lifetime of this.
As he poked about for his leggings, he rustled the pallet, and she abruptly sat up with a sharp breath, blinking and dazed. Tooth glanced at her, suppressing a growl as he tied on his breechcloth; she blinked a few times before looking at him, her hair mussed and her eyes groggy. As soon as she saw him her eyes widened in recognition--memory?--and then she blushed, grabbing for her dress even as she held the coverlet up over her breasts.
"B...breakfast," she said in a faint voice. "I can make you something to eat before you leave..."
"I'm practically ready as it is," Tooth grumbled. "I hardly want to sit around and wait!"
"I can be quick with it," she promised, pulling on her own leggings under the covering. "I'll make you something to take with you if you want. I'll be quick, I promise."
He nearly barked at her, then forced himself to bite his tongue and let out an irritated sigh instead. Little Fawn rose from the pallet, still only half dressed, and flushed furiously as she pulled on her dress. She raked a hand through her hair and stooped to dig in some of the belongings tucked away in the corner of the compartment, pulling out some corn and dried meat. He didn't wish to sit around and wait, but made himself do so anyway, as she started the fire going again and quickly managed to cook some soup, stirring it and handing him a bowl which he sipped at as she sat waiting with her stare fixed on the floor. He made himself finish it quickly, and she received the empty bowl without protest, starting to put the other items back away. He stood up and stretched, watching her as she cleaned up, then turned to the entryway.
"You might consider," he said, and she glanced up at him, "getting up earlier if you plan on making things to eat. Otherwise, don't bother!"
Little Fawn stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Tooth's scowl returned and he left the compartment, stomping on his way out of the longhouse.
* * * * *
"I don't think he likes me," Little Fawn murmured.
Her mother gave her a perplexed look. They sat in her parents' compartment now, her new husband having long gone off into the woods to hunt or some such; she didn't even know. As soon as he'd gone, Day Star had invited her in and plied her with all sorts of questions which mostly elicited little more than a shake or a nod, a few which made her blush a bit, but none which drew any huge reaction. This comment, however, had been offered unprompted. Day Star tilted her head.
"Why do you say this?" she asked. "He treated you well, did he not--?"
"He seems to only be tolerating me," Little Fawn said. "Even when we...I feel he just wished it over with." She met her mother's eyes. "Mother...if this keeps up he'll never be happy here. What good am I doing? I think he just sees me as a bother. I think he would have preferred to stay home."
"Hush! If your father heard you say such things!" Day Star gasped, grasping her arm. "It's been only one day, Little Fawn! You have to be patient. This is the way that most marriages are, you realize? You do know the two of you did not wed to like each other, don't you?"
"What of you and Father?" Little Fawn challenged, feeling flustered.
Day Star blinked, then sat up straight. "Your father and I cherish each other," she said. "But even our marriage was arranged! Just be patient, and perhaps you will come to cherish him. If not, at least it's for the good of our tribes. Can't you do this?"
Little Fawn was quiet for a long while. "But I should at least make him happy sometimes," she insisted. "He didn't even seem to like the breakfast I made him. What am I supposed to do so he won't just leave?"
Day Star shrugged sympathetically. "Just do the best that you can, Little Fawn. If he does not realize how hard you work, then he's a bad husband." A pause. Then, before Little Fawn could speak up about this, "But even if he is, then please give him a chance! For the tribe!"
* * * * *
Little Fawn did what she could, though it wasn't quite as easy as she'd hoped. Nothing ever made her husband smile. She failed to awake early the day after this conversation, and woke up to find him already gone; and so she resolved to awaken earlier every day. Even when she did so, he scowled and grumbled throughout breakfast, and never seemed content. Whenever he returned with fresh kills--as she figured he had nothing else of any interest to do as long as he wasn't leading a war party--he sat and muttered unpleasantly as she gutted and dressed them, as if he would have rather done so himself. Even their lovemaking, performed dutifully every other night or so, was nothing more than perfunctory, her husband gripping her hips as he thrust and panted, Little Fawn always submitting without complaint. It made her body ache a little but it was nothing outstanding; she sensed that he felt the same. Thus the weeks passed, and he stayed with them, but he never smiled, never freely conversed, and never seemed the slightest bit pleased with this arrangement. Little Fawn often found herself wondering if their tribes would have been better allies if in fact they hadn't gotten married.
Even she began to grow frustrated with how bland and wearisome the entire thing was, and one day when he was gone, she couldn't help but mumble about it as she and her friend Broken Feather sat pounding corn upon a rock. Broken Feather listened sympathetically, but her own words afterward weren't much different from what Little Fawn had heard a hundred times before.
"Just keep at it, Fawn. I'm certain he'll come around. How would you feel if you had to leave your tribe?"
"He claimed he had no ties back there," Little Fawn said with a great sigh. "And how is just keeping at it helping me? I'm nothing but an average wife, and he knows it. I keep waking up to feel that he'll at last be gone; I have no idea why he's still here."
"Careful or he'll think you're trying to get rid of him!" Broken Feather joked. "Well, if being the average wife isn't good enough for him, why don't you attempt being more than average...?"
Little Fawn frowned. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded, thinking she was still being joked with.
"Just as I said," Broken Feather replied. She peered over her shoulder, then leaned toward Little Fawn as she started pounding the corn harder, making a bit of a racket against the rock. Little Fawn sensed the diversion, and followed suit, so that while they could hear each other, their voices wouldn't carry back into the rest of the camp.
"How do you think it is that Flatfoot and I get along so well--?" Broken Feather said. "Just from me being an average wife? Please! This may be what every woman's mother advises but it's hardly true! Husbands don't want wives who are 'just good enough.'"
"But I've tried everything to make him happy already," Little Fawn complained.
Broken Feather rolled her eyes. "Tried everything expected! This is just it! Everything you do for him, he's fully expecting. You wake up early--you cook his meals--you gut his catch and you mend his clothes. So what? Any wife can do these things. The problem is that you're doing only what's expected of you."
"And so what do you suggest I do?" Little Fawn challenged.
Broken Feather shrugged, still pounding. "Do what's not expected!" she replied.
Little Fawn's face screwed up. "You mean surprise him? Do you even know Tooth? Surprises are the last thing HE would be interested in!"
"You're thinking too literally again, Little Fawn. What have I warned you about? Don't think of just the expected surprises. Think of what even you wouldn't expect. Think of...say...the very last thing you would be inclined to do...and then do it. And see how he thinks of you then!"
Little Fawn frowned, perplexed, but Broken Feather merely continued pounding the corn and chattering, now about trivial things. After a long while all she could do was sigh and keep up her end of the work, though her friend's words hadn't put her too much closer to any solution.
* * * * *
Tooth returned that night with a deer. Gray Goose and Day Star exclaimed over it as if it were the biggest catch in the tribe, but Little Fawn didn't join in their enthusiasm; the way that Tooth scowled at the reaction told her that he could have done better without it. She set to skinning the animal and preparing its hide and meat in silence, though she did chew on her lip a little as she did so. When she returned to the longhouse he had already gone to bed without her, so she had plenty of time to stare up at the ceiling in the flickering firelight, thinking.
The next day he set out early, after grudgingly allowing her to pack him some of the meat for cooking, and a while later she decided to head out into the woods as well. Boredom drove her from the longhouse and she wandered among the trees, occasionally stopping to pick some berries or the roots of plants that she knew would make good seasoning...if only Tooth bothered showing the enthusiasm for soups that her other relatives did. She actually felt somewhat resentful of him, with all his grumbling and grousing. No matter how hard she worked, it never seemed to matter. She was probably far better to him than most other wives would be.
Most other AVERAGE wives...
She glanced up to see that the sky had grown overcast as well as dimmer, the day growing later than she'd thought. She turned and started on her way back home, staring at the ground as she went. She took her time, as she didn't really have much to look forward to back there. She knew she would hardly be missed.
Most other average wives...
Rustling noises from ahead made her slow her step, and she listened carefully; it was all too easy to be set upon by enemies, and she knew it had been rather foolish to go walking out on her own, so far from the camp. Still, the noises continued but did not come closer; frowning, she crept ahead, craning her neck to try to get a better look into the woods, which were thick here with undergrowth. The leaves were rustling. She heard an odd snorting noise and her brow furrowed.
She moved along until she had located a small parting in the shrubbery, and peered into a little clearing set back from the main trail. She blinked a couple of times in surprise. Although she didn't believe it was the right season, still, she saw a doe standing in the clearing, a large buck mounting her from behind. The buck thrust at her swift and hard, sometimes hard enough so that his hind hooves left the ground as he impaled himself in her; he snorted and panted, tail quivering, and even the doe held her head up and back, tongue dangling from her mouth as her legs quivered from his weight. Little Fawn watched them in silence until the dull splattering sound of the buck coming made her blush and turn away, granting them a bit of privacy; she hurried along the trail again, her face flushed, but not quite able to understand why the sight should have embarrassed her so. It wasn't as if she'd never seen animals mating before.
Still, it had rather surprised her to come upon them so suddenly like that, and so unexpectedly, out of season and out of place...
Her step slowed. A drop of rain pattered against her cheek and she blinked. She could see the camp ahead in the darkening light, lights burning brighter inside the longhouses as everyone scurried to get inside before they could get drenched. The downpour seemed to come out of nowhere, and there were a few cries as mothers grabbed their children and shut themselves within; Little Fawn stood still in the trail, staring at the camp, as if it were no longer even her own. She saw her own longhouse standing silently, and stared at it most of all.
After a while a figure stepped out, two other figures behind it. She could recognize Tooth, glancing from side to side; her parents stood just behind him, anxious expressions on their faces. She stared at him as he took a few steps away from the longhouse and cupped a hand to his mouth, shouting her name, his voice muffled by the rain.
"Little Fawn!"
He sounded irritated. Irritated to be out in the rain, getting soaking wet. Little Fawn's leg had tensed to take a step toward the camp, but now she took a step back. He apparently saw the slight motion, as his head whirled around and he stared at her for a brief surprised moment; then the scowl returned to his face and he turned to face her. "Little Fawn!" he shouted, as if ready to mete out her punishment; and just like that, she turned and fled back into the woods.
She managed to catch how his eyes went wide, as she turned away. "LITTLE FAWN!" he yelled, and then came the sound of his footsteps coming after her. She picked up her pace and ran as fast as she could--she'd always been a good runner, had had to be, to outrace Broken Feather and the boys--and as soon as she could sense him gaining on her, she turned and vaulted off the trail and into the deep woods. She heard him wheeze and them stumble and crash after her, and his voice grew positively ugly as she assumed he must be struggling to make his way through the tangled brush and fallen trees. "LITTLE FAWN!!"
She jumped over a log and down into a hollow, nearly losing her balance. A quick glance up and back showed her that he hadn't caught up with her just yet, though her own progress wasn't especially silent, and she could hear him coming toward the hollow. When he at last reached the log and practically fell over it, she briefly met his eyes, and they were livid, more enraged than anything she'd ever seen. She wondered for a split second if he would beat her if he managed to catch her.
With that thought, she turned once more and darted down further into the woods.
She heard him let out a furious growl and come stumbling after her, wheezing for breath. She darted glances around herself and at last spotted a tree that stood upright, yet it was dead, its branches bare and its trunk hollow, a large gaping crack rising along one side; she turned to this and jumped through it, pressing herself inside the hollow trunk. It had been a large tree and so there was plenty of room for her, with some to spare; she stood there gasping brokenly, her lungs burning. Her muscles burned as well; she hadn't run like that in ages. Her heart thudded hard enough in her throat that she could hear it, and she wondered if he could too, as he at last entered her line of vision, glancing left and right with his fists clenched at his sides. His own breath came as hard as hers must be coming.
"Where are you, damn it?" he yelled, and ground his teeth. "Little Fawn!"
She took in a shaky breath and attempted to hold it. Her mistake, underestimating him; his head whirled around again and even though she could tell he hadn't seen her, still, his eyes fixed directly on her tree. With a livid glare he came stalking right toward her, fingernails digging into his palms.
"When I get my hands on you, you stupid..."
Little Fawn edged back into the tree, bracing herself. A second later a great hunk of the bark came tearing loose with an awful rending sound, making her grimace; her husband stood before her, his eyes venomous, and he bared his teeth as if he intended to tear her to shreds with them. He raised one fist.
"What do you think you're--"
Little Fawn pushed herself forward and, despite the smallness of the space, grabbed his wrist. He blinked, just once. Then she pulled him inside with her, and he ran into her as she stumbled against the back of the trunk, and an instant later her hands were sliding up beneath his breechcloth, her mouth pressed to his.
Tooth's eyes goggled and a muffled noise escaped his mouth. As soon as it did, her tongue ran along his, then over his teeth, and she sucked at his lips and kissed him again. He blinked several times, looking utterly baffled; but she did feel his muscles tense as soon as she ran her fingers over the length between his legs, cupping him and squeezing slightly.
The breath from his nostrils blasted against her face and she started untying the breechcloth, pulling it loose and caressing him again. He did nothing in response--but a moment later, she felt his hand grasping her hip, his fingers digging into her almost painfully. She shifted herself and his hand slipped inside her dress. She gasped and tightened when he jabbed his fingers into her, as if testing her; as soon as he did, she grew wet, her breath catching in her throat. She felt him starting to grow wet as well, and that was apparently all the sign that was needed.
He pressed her back against the inside of the trunk and began pulling up her dress, his mouth devouring hers. Little Fawn accepted his rough kiss, and his rough touch against her skin; he ran his fingernails down her side and then clenched her buttock through her dress. He lifted his shirt and moved against her, and she stroked at him as he grew hard, his shaft sliding between her legs. She parted them widely, dropping her head back against the wood and holding onto him as he drew himself close. He grasped himself and Little Fawn used one hand to spread herself open; a moment later he'd plunged inside, and the two of them leaned against the inside of the tree, rutting at each other just as assiduously as the two deer had been.
Little Fawn continued gasping for breath, and dropped her head now against his shoulder, putting her arms around him to hold him as tightly as she could; she slid one leg up and he grasped onto it, his other arm wrapped around her waist and keeping her from falling. As soon as she realized this, she let out her breath and relaxed so that he held her upright. His own breath came in quick short gasps at her ear; when she opened her eyes just a sliver she could see how tightly his were shut, his teeth gritted, but the feeling of his grip on her was different from the way it had been before. As he grasped her leg, his fingers ran up and down it, caressing her clumsily...and she'd never felt his arm around her before. Nor had she started shivering so much as they made love, and she couldn't stop trembling at the feeling of him inside her. Before, he'd been too big, too rough, too brief and unpleasant; now, his size made her want to moan, his urgency made her squirm against him, and she suddenly found that she no longer cared how brief or long this might be, just as long as it took care of whatever it was that she felt surging up inside her.
She whimpered and clung to him tighter, and was surprised to hear her own voice, small and faint. "Tooth..."
Her husband grunted, jerking against her. She felt a bit of warmth enter her, and gasped and tightened--but he sucked in a breath, and continued pushing at her, even faster now. His fingers slid up between her buttocks and rubbed at her, and he shifted himself so he pressed against her more closely in front. She again felt him rubbing against that spot between her legs, and before she could stop it a squeal escaped her and she shuddered. She raised her other leg to wrap it around his waist as he crushed her to him, and their mouths met again, a whine in her throat, a groan in his, and she shivered again, finding that she loved the sound that he made. The tree groaned as well in protest at their frenzied motions, but these abruptly stopped when he rammed himself at her, and she felt as if a river had suddenly broken loose inside her. Her head jerked up and she cried out, tightening, seeing his own head fall back as he gasped at the air and clutched her to him. His hips trembled at hers--his seed, flowing hot inside her, made her quiver and moan. Her eyes stung as tears sprang to them--but before she could think of crying, she felt his hand against the back of her head, and opened them to blink at him. His own eyes were still the same hard unpleasant eyes as before--but he pulled her forward and crushed their mouths together, and she opened and let his tongue jab against hers. He let out a guttural growl, and she fought down another whimper as their climax slowly died, their muscles untensing.
When he pulled away from her mouth, they were both panting, chests heaving. After the briefest pause he slid his arms back a bit to grasp hold of her waist and lowered her from him; she shivered as she felt him drawing out, and couldn't help but glance down at him when he took a small step back, but he was already retying his breechcloth. She peered up at him and just barely saw the flush in his face; he didn't meet her eyes.
"Put your clothes back on," he muttered, and she reached to pull them back into place, feeling the warmth in her own skin. They spent a moment smoothing themselves down, though they could do nothing about their blushing. Tooth turned and stuck his head out of the crack in the tree, peering around the woods, then glancing back at her and jerking his hand. He stepped out and she followed, also peering around furtively before falling into step beside and one step behind him as they started trudging their way back through the woods. The rain had let up some, but it was still falling, and they walked in silence, taking a more level path back toward the camp. Little Fawn peered at her husband every so often, but he didn't look back at her. He was scowling, seeming just as irritated and peeved as before. She bit her lip.
She took a tiny step to be just a bit closer to him, and slipped her hand into his. She saw him stiffen, lip starting to curl back as if he intended to start screaming at her again...then the look faded, and his tensed posture relaxed somewhat. A moment later, his fingers curled around hers--his grip on her hand was tight, possessive--and she found that she liked that. Face growing warm, she matched her step with his, though he slowed his down a little, and they walked side by side, arms touching, in silence.
Gray Goose and Day Star stood at the edge of the woods, calling their names. Tooth and Little Fawn slowed their step and glanced up at them, actually coming to a halt to listen. The other two didn't notice them yet. Their voices echoed through the trees.
"Little Fawn! Tooth!"
"Tooth? Little Fawn...!"
Little Fawn stared at them for a moment, then looked up at her husband. He too was staring at her parents, an odd look on his face. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing that she was.
They're calling both of us.
This is the way it will be, the rest of my life...
Tooth blinked. His head turned abruptly and she blinked as well to find him staring at her instead. He seemed surprised for a moment, then his scowl returned; his grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her arm as he started walking again.
"Come on," he grumbled. "Seeing as I'm stuck with you now!"
Little Fawn had to hurry after him to avoid tripping and falling and being dragged behind, her parents' voices rising with joy as soon as they entered the camp...but her face grew warm again when she noticed the way that his fingers twined with hers, and she found that the thought of returning to their longhouse, and passing another night there, didn't seem quite so tedious anymore.
END
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