Intended Ch. 09

As the late afternoon sun crept toward the place where the land met the sky, the shaman cursed the woman for forcing him to lose his temper. By now he had expected them to be only a short distance from their destination, but at the rate they were going it would be nearly dark before they arrived.

He was loath to admit it, but he also cursed his own shortsightedness. He had been so confident about his success he failed to consider a backup plan for disposing of the female's body. At this point he would have been satisfied with simply dumping her into an open pit and burying her alive, but he had no tools adequate for digging a hole of that size. The thick sod was too much for a knife and a broken spear, and he had been forced to pack lightly so that he could manage hauling her as needed; he had no other tools or weapons.

Leaving her out here, hoping she would be carried off by a predator or scavengers, was not an option either. Though unlikely, they were close enough to their settlement she could also be found by a person; her body was so bruised and battered he could not take that chance. He should have just kept it simple and flung her down the ravine where Sedon fell, he thought. It was too late to do it now, since that was precisely where he told Keta he would be.

No, he had to move forward, stick to the original plan. It was the only way to guarantee both her death and her burial. Besides, the Spiritwalker reminded himself again and again as he huffed and strained, in the end, watching her die in terror would make all of his suffering worthwhile.

Immediately after Jakal left, with a trembling hand Veba gulped the rest of her tea, quickly preparing another cup.

While she waited for it to steep, the woman picked up the small leather bag of forgotten herbs, staring numbly at the half-filled pot containing the brew that was supposed to have made Jakal "relaxed". It must not have worked because I forgot to add this, she thought, fingering the pouch.

She knew she was not supposed to drink it, but she had already disobeyed the Spiritwalker, and if anyone needed to relax, it was she. Despite all the work she had put into this day, in the end she still failed him, and now he was going to kill her.

The shaman had forbidden her from drinking her medicinal tea until she had completed her task, precisely so she would not forget a single step. But Veba had been incredibly nervous, filled with nausea, her body sweating and shaking. She needed the tea, just one more dose, and once the thought entered into her mind she could think of little else. One more dose would mitigate her fear, would bypass her guilt, making it possible to commit an act she knew was wrong.

Afterwards, she felt so much better she continued to drink it; she never would have been able to get through with the day without its comforting presence. Yet in the end, the Spiritwalker had been right. Because of the tea, she had forgotten something, and now she would die for her mistake.

Dumping the missing herbs in with the rest, she picked up an empty cup. I will have only a little bit, she said to herself. Just one cup, then I will go see Jakal's friends. Despite the Light-Eye's pledge, Veba held out little hope that anyone could save her now. She needed something to quell her fear, to help her escape, if only for a little while.

The Light-Eye said that he would protect her, but the only one he was truly concerned about was his mate. He promised he would help her, but then he left her here, all alone. He told her to go to Belak or Kitad; he did not even care about her enough to take her to them himself. Besides, what could they possibly do to keep her safe? The Spiritwalker was going to kill her for betraying him, and he would not stop until she was dead.

Her last thought stabbing her heart with fear, Veba downed both beverages in quick succession. As she waited for her terror to recede, smothered by blessed indifference, her mind drifted to the night before...

...As she lay naked on the ground, the shaman had spread her legs, pulling them toward her body. Bending her arms by the elbows, he bound her ankles and wrists together, holding her wide open. Peering down at her, the Spiritwalker announced he had a special task he wanted her to perform the next day, a task so important it would require she forgo her medicinal tea for a time.

"I know how much you have grown to rely on its...pain-relieving properties," he acknowledged, his tone condescending, "but I need you to follow my instructions precisely, and the tea dulls your ability to concentrate." Noting the panic which must have shown on her face upon hearing this, he continued, "Do not fret, my dear. After you have successfully completed your task you may resume drinking your precious beverage."

"Y-you wish me to be friends with the Light-Eye, to sh-share furs with him?" Veba had asked hesitantly, certain it had to be some kind of trick. Only ten days ago, the Spiritwalker had burned and beaten her in a jealous rage. Why would he change his mind all of a sudden, before the injuries had even healed? "B-but he and Sala have an agreement to join bodies only with each other, and he made it clear to me he would never..."

"Are you questioning me?" the Spiritwalker snapped, his eyes blazing at her impertinence. "I am fully aware of their...exclusive arrangement."

Almost as abruptly, his tone softened. "My dear, this Camp is far too small a place to allow wounds between our Brothers and Sisters to fester. I am sure you have noticed that when food spoils it soon spreads to the rest in the cache. Our people try to prevent it by preparing and storing our provisions properly in the first place. However, from time to time, despite our best efforts, something in our stores begins to rot. If we do not quickly remove the source of the spoilage, it threatens our entire food supply.

"Your rift with the Light-Eyed One is like a piece of improperly dried meat rotting in the cache, Veba; if we do not remove it at once, the peace and stability of our settlement is threatened, perhaps requiring us to make even greater sacrifices for the good of our people. Jakal has been touched by the luck of the Travelers, my dear. If it comes down to a choice between him and you, it would do you well to consider that no legend exists about the Wolf Clan's need for a prideful, over-endowed female."

Veba believed the Spiritwalker greatly exaggerated the impact of her tense relationship with Jakal. After observing the Light-Eye and his mate for nearly a moon cycle, it was clear that he barely noticed her presence; he was hardly troubled by their lack of communication. The woman knew the shaman was using her for some other purpose, but she had learned to recognize the threats which were so commonly woven into what he called his "lessons". He expected nothing less than complete success, and the sacrifice would be hers should she fail him. With all the talk about removing spoiled meat, she did not want to find out what he had in mind.

He directed her to invite Jakal to join her for the afternoon meal the following day. During midday his mate would be out working with the other females, making him more likely to welcome such an offer. If Veba completed the meal a little later than usual, he would arrive quite hungry. The hungrier he was, the longer he would remain in her company, providing her a greater opportunity to make amends.

"But what if he refuses?"

The shaman stared at her with his hard glittering eyes which always seemed to bore through her skull. "It is your responsibility to ensure he does not refuse. You are a resourceful woman; put those talents of yours to good use."

The spiritual leader produced two pouches he claimed would give her a "small advantage", the advantage Veba needed to ultimately ensure her success. The herbs they contained, he said, would make a highly relaxing tea that she was to give to Jakal. "I promise you, after he drinks this, he will be so agreeable that you can take your pleasures with him, and he will remember nothing of it the next day. I warn you, he may not be as...responsive as you may hope. Whatever you do, do not...panic. You will be able to stiffen his manhood, to join your body with his, and I assure you, he will come out of his...stupor the next day.

"The beverage must be quite strong to work properly. The contents in this bag," he lifted to the larger of the two, "must steep for as long as possible. Add them to the water pot about the time you begin preparing the meal. However, the herbs in this bag," he indicated, picking up the small pouch, "have a rather...unpleasant taste. Do not add them to the pot until shortly before you eat; I doubt you will be able to persuade him to drink it if the flavor of the...active ingredients overpowers the rest."

Picking up his knife, the man squatted at her side, scraping the edge of the freshly sharpened blade along the skin of her pendulous breasts. "I may be going away on a sacred journey, Veba, but let me assure you I will indeed know if you fail in your task this next day." He ran the tip around the perimeter of one of her erect nipples, grabbing her chin so that she looked him straight in the eye. "Do not disappoint me again," he warned with a flick of his wrist, piercing the delicate skin. The woman cowered as a bead of dark red blood formed on the surface.

Putting down the knife, the Spiritwalker grasped her nipples between his fingers. As he toyed with them, stretching them further and further, he went on, his tone gentler, almost tender. "I must admit, the thought of you sharing your...succulent body with another, let alone the Light-Eyed One," he confessed, twisting her nubs until she cried out, "pains me. I have grown quite fond of you, my dear, and I am a jealous man. But you see, your task is so important that I myself am willing to make a sacrifice for the good of our people."

The musky scent of her increased arousal filling his nostrils, the shaman got up and stood behind her bottom, lifted into the air from the way she was tied, open for his inspection. Squatting once more, he drove all four fingers between the swollen lips of her womanhood as she whined in discomfort.

Vigorously pumping his digits in her slippery heat, he stared into Veba's eyes while they both listened to her body squelching, betraying her excitement. "We both know how much you desire to take him to your furs again, and the possibility of doing so once more obviously appeals to you. Good. It is important to remember that while punishments are necessary when you disappoint me, the rewards for pleasing me are most generous."

Withdrawing his hand, the Spiritwalker plunged his manhood into her sopping passage in a single stroke. After a few lubricating thrusts, he pulled out and forced his rigid tool past the tight barrier of her unprepared rear opening, grunting with satisfaction as she cried out in pain, her burning hole slowly expanding to accept his rough invasion. Shoving his fingers back into her womanhood he said, "Now my dear, I need you to promise me you will do everything I tell you, exactly as I tell you."

Veba nodded obediently.

Pulling his hand away he leaned forward, pulling her nipples with his wet fingers so hard she was forced to curl up lest he tear them off. "I am afraid that is not good enough, Veba darling. I must hear you say it."

"Ahhh! I promise!" she groaned, her peak rising up through the pain.

"What do you promise?"

"I promise to follow your instructions exactly," she panted. "I promise I will make amends with the Light-Eyed One, that I will take him to my furs."

When he released his fingers' grip on her swollen nubs, Veba fell back onto the floor, nipples throbbing painfully. The shaman slammed his stiff shaft deep into her hot, snug canal, all the way to the root, smiling cruelly as she screamed. "How will you accomplish this?"

"Uhhh..." she whimpered. "Th-this next day I will invite him to share the midday meal at my dwelling, and make sure he drinks your special tea."

"And plenty of it," the Spiritwalker added, pushing his fingers back into her weeping sex. "How do you prepare the beverage?"

"E-empty the large bag of herbs into the hot water when I begin to prepare the meal..."

"Because?"

"Because it has to steep a long time to work properly."

After several hard thrusts into both entrances he stopped abruptly. "And then?"

"Ohhh... Add the contents of the small bag to the water just before eating..."

"Why?"

"So its flavor will not overpower the rest."

"Since it is vital that you do not forget a single step of my instructions, how will you remember what to do?"

"I, I will not drink my tea, not until my task is complete."

"Excellent!" The Spiritwalker grinned broadly and resumed raping her holes until she thrashed and screamed, milking the essence from his swollen member with her pulsating muscular band.

With renewed energy, he picked up her bound body. Tossing her onto the furs, he sat on her face, groaning as Veba orally pleasured his back opening. Once he had learned it was an act she hated to perform, the shaman required it of her every night. Just to prolong her torment, he forced her to thoroughly lick the length of the crevice between his buttocks before plunging her tongue deep into his narrow tunnel, pleasuring him from the inside while his tight ring held fast her probing organ.

Once he was satisfied with her performance, he took her roughly, as always. On this night he rotated from her mouth to her womanhood to her rear passage, over and over in a frenzy of lust. He had not experienced such excitement since their first encounter, and his tool stiffened again and again; well before the night ended his essence dribbled out of every abused orifice...

He was so pleased with me last night, Veba thought, slumped on a cushion while she fingered herself idly at the memory, her mind detaching from her body. It was almost like the first time...

Sala moaned quietly. Lying semi-conscious while the Spiritwalker dragged her bound body behind him on a large hide attached to two poles, she weakly struggled to break free of her bonds, but the way he tied her, coupled with her injuries, made escape impossible.

"Save your strength, child," a voice warned. "You cannot break free."

Once more the young woman's swollen eyes fluttered closed.

In the haze a face began to take form, the face of someone she had not seen in five years.

"Mala?" she whispered as tears flowed down the sides of her face.

"Shhh," the older woman, her form shrouded in fog, warned as she placed her finger in front of her lips. "Say nothing aloud, daughter of my daughter, or he will hear you. Speak only with your thoughts."

"He?" Sala asked, though her heart filled with dread.

"You know of whom I speak," her mother's mother replied.

"He is going to kill me!" the young woman blurted out.

"Yes, he is going to try," she acknowledged matter-of-factly.

"Save me, Mala! Please!"

"I am sorry, child, but I am of the Other World now; I cannot help you in that way."

Sala began to weep. "I do not want to die!"

"Then you shall not," Mala responded, stroking the hair of her daughter's daughter. "But you must be stronger than you know."

"But how can I escape? He has beaten me, stabbed me in my leg and now I am tied up; I will never get away."

"No, you cannot. Your survival depends not on physical strength."

"I do not understand!"

"You do understand, child. He told you how he intends to kill you."

"No, he did not!" she denied in a panic.

"Dearest Sala, if you are to survive, you must prepare for what is to come. If you continue to deny the reality of your situation, you will die."

"I am so afraid!"

"I know, my love," another voice crooned. Sala looked up to see not the mother of her mother but her mate.

"Jakal! H-how, how can you be here?"

"I am always with you," he reassured her, caressing her face.

"Jakal, the Spiritwalker is going to kill me," she mourned. "I am not strong enough to survive, not alone."

"You are not alone," the man replied firmly. "But you underestimate your own strength. I saw your spirit when we visited the Spirit World and it revealed to me the great power you possess within you."

"But the Spiritwalker is too powerful, too clever!"

"Remember, my sweet woman, we are all human and make mistakes, and that includes the Spiritwalker. If there is anyone who is overconfident it is he. We must simply exploit his weaknesses."

"What weaknesses?"

"You know where he is taking you..."

"No! He cannot, he cannot take me there!"

"My love, you must accept the truth. But there is good in it also."

"How can it be good that he plans to drown me in the lake?"

"I understand you are frightened, but you must listen to me. He is taking you to the lake because he knows of your fear, but carrying you all the way there is slowing him down, allowing me to catch up. The Spiritwalker wants you to suffer, but because of his pride and arrogance, his overconfidence, he is actually making it easier for me to find you.

"Do you remember when he stabbed you in the thigh with his spear? When he broke off the tip? Your blood and the flint shards are clues. By carrying you the extra weight makes his footprints more visible. And do you not think that dragging you along the ground is not also leaving behind a clear trail for me to follow? He has made many mistakes already."

"That is true, but what if you do not arrive in time?"

Tracing her lips lightly with his fingertips, he gazed at her, eyes blue as the sky. "Do you trust me with your life, Sala?"

She nodded through her tears. "Yes."

"Then I need you to trust that I am coming for you, and that I will not stop until I find you." He paused, kissing the tears from her cheeks. "I will need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"You must hold on, however long it takes. I am coming for you, I promise. Hold on, Sala. Do whatever it takes to survive..."

Sala watched as the man she loved faded into the misty forest before her. "NO!"

"Do not leave me!" she attempted to cry, her words muted by the gag.

The Spiritwalker dropped the poles holding up the hide, the burden it contained landing on the ground with a thud and a groan. So, at last she wakes. Good. After all the trouble he had gone through to make this happen, the last thing he wanted was for her to die unconscious. For full satisfaction he needed to see the terror in her eyes once she finally realized she was going to die, and by his hand.

Turning around, he squatted next to her face, pulling down the strip of leather denying her speech.

"Dreaming of rescue, my dear?" he taunted, tracing her features with his fingertip, ending with the outline of her quivering lips as she flinched at his gentle touch. "I am afraid, for you, it will remain only a dream. You see, your precious Light-Eye is indisposed and will not be coming to your aid."

"What have you done to him?" she demanded bravely.

"Let us just say he is...trapped deep in a nightmare from which he will not recover." He grinned sadistically. "Help is not coming, Intended. It is time you start facing the reality of your situation. You are going to die."

Jakal considered his strategy as he raced down the hill, the edge of the woodland spread out before him. He would start with the main trail; Sala and her friends always took it into the forest before branching off onto the side paths.

"Sala!" he shouted as soon as he breached the border. Though he seemed to be rushing along the trail, the Tracker was actually carefully studying the path before him as well as the plants and trees on either side, his sharp eyes scanning for clues.