Assimilated

"We'll see. Are you finished?"

When I was, she brought me back to the granary and shut me inside. I heard the sound of a chain as she secured the door.

As soon as the noise of them faded away, I backed against the roughened, dried mud wall and began to scrape at the fibers that bound my wrists.

Why hadn't she used my manacles? That was foolish mistake.

A nest of termites steadily eats away at a house. Months or years may go by, but eventually all that remains is a hollow husk that will one day crumble of its own weight. That was what the war had done to me. My family was gone. My friends, gone. Even men like Mio, who I respected. Gone.

In a matter of hours, I'd been stripped of all my possessions. The war had stolen my hope of a better life. All that was left to me was the desire to get out of this Ancestors-forsaken place.

I tried to keep my wrists moving through the night, but eventually I drifted off to sleep, propped against the corner wall of the hut.

In my dreams, I was still a boy. My father took me out on Lake Kongo aboard a papyrus trader. The air was cool and bright, and I could see clear to the horizon.

**

In the morning, true to her promise, the archer brought me food. First, she took me out back to relieve myself. I was erect, as I am most every morning before peeing. But if she noticed, she gave no sign of it. She was alone, though I heard other women talking and singing nearby.

She brought me back inside and fed me a bowl of boiled yam with greens and bits of fish. It was a meal not unlike what I might have had back home. And it was delicious, though I admit my hunger might have spoken louder than my taste buds.

She tipped the bowl, not ungently, against my lips so that I could drink. When I had a mouthful, she drew the bowl away to let me swallow.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Djo."

"Faisa," she replied. She continued to feed me.

I studied her, now with the benefit of daylight that streamed into the hut. High cheekbones, no longer painted red. Dark lips. A slim frame, well-muscled for a woman. Firm breasts, barely covered by a halter. A long wrap skirt tied at her waist. She had a short sword sheathed at her side, one not unlike what we used in the army.

I had made a little progress fraying my bonds the night before, but I was sure that by evening, I could weaken them enough to break them. That was when I would do it. Just before nightfall. I could find the stream in the dark and follow it much of the way back the way we'd come. I could at least get a good distance from the rebel village.

"I know something of what you're going through," Faisa said.

"I doubt that."

She looked at me, considering. Her eyes seemed to pierce me, to look into me. "My husband was a soldier like you," she said.

I nodded as I took another mouthful. She was, of course, lying.

"You don't believe me."

I shrugged. I didn't want to believe her. It wouldn't change what I had to do. "You've been... kind. But you shouldn't be. We're at war."

Faisa shook her head. "The war is over. For all of us. It lives on in your heart because you continue to feed it."

"That was Mio. I just want to go home."

"Now it is I that don't believe you, Djo."

I sighed. I ate the rest of my breakfast in silence.

After I finished the bowl, she took it and left, locking the door again and leaving me in darkness. I listened to the faint sounds of the village at work. I continued to grind away at my bonds.

When Faisa came again, it must have been evening. There was much less light. And I was ready.

Our gazes met and I glanced away. I couldn't look her in the eye.

"You need to go out?" she asked. She'd brought another bowl.

I nodded and pushed myself up to standing. She stepped aside as I padded towards the doorway, barefoot on the rough wooden planks. When I was beside her, I wrenched my arms apart, ripping through the remaining threads that held my wrists.

Faisa must have sensed it coming. The bowl of warm stew splashed in my face, momentarily blinding me. Still, my hands went unerringly for her throat. She should have screamed first. Instead she tried to twist away. But my grip found its target.

I was already too close for her to draw her sword, and she knew it. She turned to me, driving a knee into my belly. The pain, when it came, doubled me over. But I did not let go. This was my only chance. We tumbled to the floor and I forced her onto her back.

Faisa fought, tearing at my eyes, clapping my ears. But my weight bore her down. I batted her arms away with one hand while the other gripped her slender throat. As I tightened my hold, I could feel the fight draining out of her.

I would never be as skilled as her with a bow. I could never match Mio with the trombash. But, by the Ancestors, I could kill men with spear and sword and shield, and that took brute force.

She weakened, her breaths heaving. Soon, even her feeble slaps slowed. I looked into her eyes again. The acceptance I saw there made my breath hitch in my throat.

She welcomes death.

Looking back, I don't know if I would have stopped then. I don't know if I would have dimmed the gleam of her eyes forever. The question still haunts me. I certainly didn't have to kill her, to get away. But it might have improved my chances of escape. In war, you don't leave an enemy alive so that they can face you another day.

But I never got the chance to know whether I would have followed that instinct.

I didn't hear footsteps behind me. A cord fell over my face. I immediately reared up, got fingers under it before it settled around my neck. A massive weight hauled me backwards and off of Faisa.

Even though I fell back upon my attacker, it nearly forced the breath from my lungs.

"Hells!" I gasped.

"Yes!" Saidi growled as her left calf wrapped around my torso, locking with her other leg. She yanked the garrotte up, over my fingers and fully against my throat. "Keep struggling, Kwi. I want to hear your ribs crack before you die."

Faisa may not have been a gungo fighter, but this woman was. I'd seen others like her during the war. In unarmed combat, they humiliated soldiers. They broke them.

I gagged. I twisted, arms flailing, legs kicking against the floor, trying to escape her hold. But she was nearly as heavy as me. Her thighs squeezed like a python. I had been foolish to turn my back to the door.

Saidi's legs tightened even further around me. The cord dug into the soft flesh of my throat. I saw spots before my eyes.

"Please..." I choked.

Faisa struggled to her feet. She stood over me. I reached for her, pleading in a voiceless gasp. She staggered out of the hut.

I passed out.

**

I woke to the cold iron of manacles clinking into place around my wrists. I was lying on my belly, hands behind my back. It must have only been a few minutes later.

"By my thrice-damned Ancestors!" Saidi said. "What are you doing? Kill him!"

"No," Faisa said.

"An useless mouth who bites the hand that feeds him."

Faisa didn't reply as she worked the metal, testing the chain's give. It wasn't so tight that it wrenched my shoulders, but I wouldn't be able to bring my hands far in front of me.

"Then he is your rutting responsibility. The next time, he'll kill you. And I might not be around to save you."

"Fine."

I turned my head to see Saidi stalk out of the hut, leaving me with one last glare.

"Roll over," Faisa ordered. "Look at me."

I did, feeling the metal dig into my wrists. I looked up at Faisa. The skin around her collarbone was flushed and would probably bruise. But otherwise, she appeared unharmed. I couldn't say the same. My face was still dripping with stew, and, probably, my own blood. I feared Saidi had broken one of my ribs, and I could still feel the groove the cord had left on my neck.

I didn't know why I was still alive. I stared at her, suddenly overwhelmed with shame. She had shown me kindness. I had almost taken her life. For nothing, because I likely would have been killed soon after.

"I suppose I wanted to see what you would do," she said, as if musing to herself. "I had some foolish hope that I could trust you. With the manacles on, I never could have."

"Just do it," I pleaded. "Just kill me."

"When I..." she paused, and then spoke very deliberately. "When I lost my husband, I wanted to die myself. But I had the courage to live. If you don't have that same courage within you, tell me now. If you truly choose death over life, then I will send you to your Ancestors."

She drew the sword from her sheath.

"Perhaps you will kill me one day, Djo. But don't fool yourself. You'll never make it back to your Queendom. There are far better hunters than me in this village. Women who know this forest. They'll track you down and leave your corpse for the animals. Women like Saidi will happily, slowly, bleed you dry. They'll never let your soldiers and hunters find this place."

I tried, unsuccessfully, to choke down a sob. I knew she spoke the truth. I didn't have much to live for, but I wasn't ready to die either.

"So," she said, rubbing gingerly at her neck. "What do you choose?"

The tears came unbidden, running hot into my ears. My throat still hurt when I spoke.

"Life," I said. "I choose life!"

"Good," Faisa said. She sheathed her sword. She was about to lock me away again. "I think we finally understand one another."

**

Faisa came in with the morning light, as it streamed into my little cell. I had stopped thinking of it as a granary. Instead, it was my dark little cell, even worse than the forest.

I looked her over. She had food again, in a covered clay pot, and a bowl of water to wash. Some kind of fried fish. My stomach growled when I smelled it. Other than a knife, she did not have a weapon. It was the first time I'd ever seen her unarmed. She waited for me to get up and go outside.

"Why?" I asked. "Why are you doing this?"

Faisa looked at me thoughtfully. "I suppose you remind me of him. Of my husband." She paused. "That isn't fair to you. I know you aren't him. But I would guess you've experienced much the same."

"Who did your husband fight under?"

"Chief Ido," she replied smoothly. "Mostly in the west. He was killed in a skirmish after Wengu."

I knew of Ido. His army did fight mainly in the hilly forests to the south. Her story still didn't make sense, but I nodded anyway.

"And that isn't all," Faisa said. "I need you to tell me what's coming next. More hunters like you, or an army. We need to be prepared."

I shrugged. "You have Byam too."

"Byam was taken to another settlement," she said. "He tried to escape, and I hear he went after Nika in the attempt. I don't know what they did to him."

That sounded like Byam. Still trying to claim his bounty. He would have to fend for himself, if he still lived.

I got up. I would have to become more practiced at sitting and standing with my hands chained behind me. She took me out to squat. It was cloudy outside, but still far brighter than inside the hut. She rinsed my face off with water and fed me.

When I was done, she gave me an apologetic look. "You need a bath. I can barely stand the smell anymore."

I nodded my assent, and, for the first time since my arrival, she led me away from the little hut.

The music of the village had been muted inside my cell. Now it came to life. The hollow drumbeat of pounding yams with mortar and pestle. The chop and thrash of woodcutting. The splash of washing and bathing in the stream.

Faisa took me there, past curious women working alongside the bank who stared at my nudity. She unwrapped her skirt and led me into cool water up to my hip. At least in the water, I wasn't the only one without clothing. Other bathers handed Faisa a brush.

She dunked my head and set to work on me, neither excessively rough nor gentle. In truth, the bristles were necessary to dislodge all the grime caked on me. I had not bathed for several days before my capture. The scrubbing brought my skin back to life.

Faisa took care in places where I'd been cut or bruised. She used her bare hands on my calves and the tops of my feet, as they were covered with scratches and bites.

My cock had been half-hard for our entire morning excursion. I realized with some shame that it excited me to be naked before her and all of these women. Even moreso when she stroked the length of my shaft with her hand to wash it. As she did this, her other hand cupped my butt. With each stroke, my cock grew more engorged, until it stood stiffly out in front of me.

No one seemed to notice, and Faisa completed her task efficiently, even if I suspected that she dwelt overlong on that particular part. I struggled to think of something else, to no avail. I was still holding up the battle standard.

When she was done, she took me back to the bank and laid me out on drying mats. She opened a jar of oil that smelled of coconut and something grassy, like shea or citronella. She rubbed it all over me, even in my most intimate places. Her fingers ran up the entirety of my buttcrack, even grazing the sensitive divot of my ass. I laid there on my belly and accepted it without complaint, even as women walked by. It was all I could do not to hunch and rub my throbbing cock against the mat.

We weren't the only ones applying oil. After they bathed, a few women did this alone or in pairs. Sometimes with razors, to shave off hair. The village women seemed to spend a lot of time grooming.

"The oil will protect you more from mosquitos and leopard flies," Faisa explained.

"Could I have some clothing?" I asked, sitting up next to her when she was done.

She got up and rinsed her hands in the stream, pursing her lips in thought. "No," she said, finally.

"Why not?"

She snorted. "There's nothing here but women's clothing. Do you want a wrap skirt?"

I shrugged, trying not to look at my erection. My skin gleamed from the oil, as if I were a shiny piece of brasswork she was displaying to the others. "At least it will cover me."

"I'm the one who has to bathe you every day. It's easier when you're naked." Faisa decided. "When you've earned clothes, or freedom from the manacles, I'll tell you."

I sat there, absorbing that, trying to understand how it made me feel. Uncomfortable, yes. Embarrassed. Who was she, other than a stranger I'd had the misfortune of encountering in the woods?

But I also felt alive. Incredibly aroused. From the moment I'd stepped outside of my cell, it was like every nerve in my body had been set afire.

"I have work to do," Faisa said. "I'll take you back to the yam hut if you want privacy. Or you can stay here the rest of the morning."

I raised an eyebrow. "You'd leave me here alone?"

"You're not alone. Everyone here knows who you are. Just sit here and wait for me. If you need to relieve yourself, tell someone and go in the brush over there."

I just stared at her. She didn't need to warn me again about trying to run. I wasn't fooling myself anymore. Even if I wasn't naked and shackled, I wouldn't have gotten far.

She wrapped her skirt again, tying the knot at her waist. "I'll be back at midday," she said. She walked across the clearing and joined Saidi and a few other women who were chopping wood and bundling brush for thatch.

Another woman skinned a bushbuck carcass. Further downstream a group of women worked clothing on washboards and set clean garments on a rack, singing a call and response song. Another sat on a stump, braiding the gray hair of an older woman who sat beneath her. Of the twenty or so that I could see, all of the women wore knives at their belts. A few wore swords.

Several basenjis meandered about. They played with each other, poked around for food scraps, or lay near the water, enjoying a cool afternoon, much as they would in any other village.

There were no men, nor were there children. I saw a couple of elders, but all the rest looked to be of childbearing age.

Throughout the war, nearly half of the Kong fighters had been women. The kilombos had had people of all ages living in them. So where were all of the men?

Though they wore jewelry, neither Faisa nor the other women wore the varicolored assortment of warding charms everyone used to keep demons at bay. No personal wards, and no ancestral pylons.

Nothing in this place made sense. These people seemed to have no fear of discovery or attack. This was nothing like a kilombo. It was not what I expected to find in a rebel camp.

Faisa had stripped off her skirt again as she worked an axe. Muscles stood out on her back and legs, covered with a sheen of sweat.

I remembered what her hands felt like on my skin. Calm. Certain. She was sure of herself, and whatever it was she was doing with me, even if I wasn't.

A hound trotted over to me, ears pricked up. Its one white paw jogged my memory.

"Lily!" I greeted her, as she licked my face. I laughed, sputtering. With my hands secured, I couldn't push her away. But I didn't want to. Instead, I rubbed my face against her wet nose. The unequivocal affection of a dog did more to soothe my soul at that moment than anything else I could imagine.

"I guess you've already chosen which side you're on," I chuckled.

She soon lost interest in me and went to join other dogs. I recognized Ginger among them.

Faisa said she feared more soldiers or hunters. But clearly, these women had defenses I couldn't see. They were capable fighters. They'd had enough advance knowledge we were coming to set an ambush. They'd used some sorcery or trick to separate us from our dogs. When Kabanji came with his expedition, I doubted he would fare any better than we had. If he arrived here to find the village abandoned, he'd be fortunate. It might be the best outcome for everyone if these people were simply left alone.

I was beginning to believe that, just like Lily and Ginger, I had chosen a side.

**

"Why aren't there warding pylons around this village?" I asked, as Faisa fed me bushbuck stew. I glanced pointedly at the amber beads around her wrists and ankles. "Why don't you wear charms against demons?"

We were back in the yam hut. She'd allowed me to stay out all day. When we returned, someone had sluiced out the hut and left me sleeping mats, so that I didn't have to lie on the bare planks.

"We have other protections against demons," she said.

"Sorcery," I said, with disgust.

"Yes," she tipped the bowl to my lips. My grimace faded as I took another mouthful. The stew was rich, seasoned with herbs I'd never tasted before.

"You did well today," Faisa said. "It's good to know I can trust you. It makes it easier for both of us."

"All I did was sit on that mat and watch you all."

"That's all I asked."

I opened my mouth for another mouthful. "It's not like I have a choice."

She paused, holding the bowl. "You always have a choice, Djo. You learned that yesterday." She looked down at the floor. "If you want, you can stay in here tomorrow."

"No," I said. "You're right, I have a choice. I like it outside."

Faisa resumed, but she seemed bothered by the exchange, a frown lingering in her expression.

I swallowed more of the stew. "We came up here because a man named Kabanji was recruiting bounty hunters in Lungu. He is a chief in the army."

"I've heard of him."

She knew the Kwi army well. Some soldiers' wives were camp followers. They followed their husband's hosts, doing various tasks, including whoring. I supposed Faisa could have learned a lot that way, including how to use a bow.

"Mio, Byam and I figured we would come to claim bounties before the chief could bring together a larger expedition," I said.

"But where, specifically, did Kabanji say we were?"

"The Aga River valley. He'd lost two men up here, before the rains." I said. "Doesn't this stream flow into the Aga?"