Intended Ch. 01

So Jakal knew Sala had the right to take him as a lover if she so chose. Of course the man had to be willing, but in general it was not considered polite to spurn a woman's advances without good reason, and in which case it was important to save face when rejecting her invitation. Not that many often desired to turn an alluring female away.

His painfully stiff manhood illustrated he had no intention of rejecting Sala's advances should she make them. Nonetheless, he knew that only if she had welcomed his tongue the night before could he follow through with his desire to taste her now.

Besides, he was assuming she dreamed of him; for all he knew she was using his body inadvertently, imagining herself with some other male. So he continued to lie still, breathing her in, tortured as he burned for her.

A shiver rippled up her spine as the woman fought the urge to run her fingertips down his muscular arm. Holding her breath, she carefully lifted her leg off the man sleeping beside her, sliding her hips back as far as the tiny space would allow.

A moment later the Tracker cleared his throat and turned over, looking at his companion's face as sunlight peeked through tiny gaps in the otherwise dim shelter. Smiling, he asked, low, "The sun has returned. Did you dream well?"

"Er, ah, y-yes, yes I did," Sala stammered, now certain he had been awake all along. "And, and you?"

He nodded. "I often find the moments just before waking to be an especially powerful time for vivid dreams."

Her heart pounded in her throat. "Oh? I had not noticed."

"Yes. Perhaps our spirits know when it is soon time to return home from their wanderings, so they do those things they neglected, but desired to do when they entered the Dream World."

Trembling, Sala forced herself to take a deep breath. It sounded choppy, more ragged than she had hoped. She was unprepared for what came next.

"If I might ask, where did your dreams take you?"

It was a bold, rather intimate question. One's dreamtime journeys contained many secrets of a person's spirit and therefore were considered private, almost sacred. The dreamer could certainly choose to reveal a dream to anyone, but typically, only the closest of companions might solicit that information. There were no formal prohibitions against inquiring about another's dreams; it just was customary to reserve such discussions for one's most trusted confidants.

"I, I do not remember," she answered, too mortified to chastise him for asking her something so personal. "Sometimes I awake from the Dream World with no knowledge of my wanderings from the night before."

The man's lips twitched. "I understand. It also happens to me sometimes. Perhaps at those times one's spirit has chosen to keep certain secrets to itself."

"You may be right."

Silence fell between them, their eyes locked in an embrace for only a moment.

Jakal sat up. "Are you ready to start the day? Perhaps I could catch us fresh fish for our morning meal."

Sala suspected the Tracker recognized the extent of her hunger when he presented her with three fish for them to eat. Under normal circumstances one each would have been more than enough. But she had eaten little in the six days prior to this one. Once she realized someone pursued her, she was forced to work that much harder just to stay ahead of him.

After they had eaten their fill, Sala searched the area around the camp for a suitable branched twig for combing her hair. Lifting her hand to her head, she knew her locks were a tangled mess. The man's hair was similarly disordered; perhaps she should suggest he use the comb once she had finished, she thought with a private smile.

Finding her prize, she returned to the camp, noticing as she approached that her companion, her captor, watched her intently.

"You have found what you were seeking."

"I have," she replied, returning his smile. "And if you do not mind my saying, you may want to use it yourself after I finish. It is easier to bind the hair when it flows smoothly."

Jakal nodded, reflexively reaching a hand to his own head. He grinned. "Since you suggest it, I believe I will."

The woman lowered herself, cross-legged on the ground beside him. Pulling a section of hair over her shoulder, starting from the bottom up, she untangled the strands. She worked her way toward the back of her head when her comb encountered a sizable snarl.

"Ow!" she exclaimed as a fork snagged the heavy knot.

The man, who had been pretending he was organizing his pack rather than observing the woman's fluid, sensual grooming of her shiny locks, looked up.

"I have a large tangle close to the skin," she explained in dismay.

Leaning back, he saw the knot of hair.

"Perhaps I can help," he offered. "Sometimes it is easier for someone who can see the tangle to work it out."

"Thank you," she answered, handing him the makeshift comb and turning so her back faced him.

Jakal settled in behind her with his knees bent, the inside of his long legs touching her hips and the outside of her warm thighs. I need to be close in order to reach her; I would not want to cause her discomfort by pulling on the hair from too far away, he told himself, even as he knew quite well this was not the real reason for his proximity.

He nearly had the knot released when he felt her shudder. "Am I pulling too hard?"

"Oh, no, I just felt a chill. I think it was the wind."

Although his own skin told him no wind was blowing, he let the comment pass. She hungers for my touch, he thought, watching her thick, waist-length locks shimmer as he ran the comb ever more easily through the strands.

She did not act like the other women, but he was certain she desired him. His nose, eyes, skin, even his ears perceived her signals. If she wants me, why won't she initiate a coupling? I am certainly more than willing, he thought, his shaft rising again.

A heat grew against the woman's bottom, emanating from the man behind her. Sala's breathing quickened, sensing the source of the increased warmth, her resolve slipping away like the knots in her hair.

When her tresses were completely smooth, Jakal pulled himself away and sat beside her. "Well, I am finished. I hope I did not cause you any undue discomfort."

"Not at all. Thank you." She paused. "It would only be right to return the favor. If that would please you, of course."

"Thank you. It would be easier to have someone who can see the knots work them out."

They exchanged a smile as she settled in behind him. Following his example, Sala sat with her legs spread apart on either side of his as he sat cross-legged in front of her. But like him, she sat in this manner in order to feel the warmth of his body.

His hair was shorter than hers, she observed as she removed the leather thong tied low at the base of his neck, but not by much. The color was a couple of shades lighter than hers too, but still very dark like all of their people. To the untrained eye of strangers, it might appear that they all had the same colored hair and eyes with the partial exception of the Light-Eyed Ones, but the variations were obvious to them.

Working on small sections at a time, Sala noticed the natural spirals of the finely textured strands; the weight of his hair and the fact that he almost always wore it tied back obscured most of the natural curl. He always did have beautifully wavy hair as a boy, she thought. I suppose I had always assumed it went away when he became a man. But then, never have I been so close to Jakal's hair since we were children.

"Your hair still curves like when you were a boy," she said aloud. "I had thought it mostly went away when you reached manhood."

"My hair is so much longer now, I do not think it can be easily seen unless one is very close."

Jakal flinched when her combing fingers brushed his neck. Sala drew back her hand. "I am sorry; it was an accident."

"Your touch does not bother me in the least," he assured her. "I was just thinking and it caught me unaware."

After a time she spoke again. "I noticed you do not have many cakes of travel food left. Perhaps we should take time to secure more provisions."

"I agree; I had been considering the same this morning. What do you suggest we do? Stay here another night?"

"There are fish in the stream, but not many bushes and roots grow under trees so thickly together," she began, hesitating.

The man said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"If we follow the water downstream, we will come to a river, probably less than a day's hike away. There should be more light there, more plants. We would have no problem finding food near the river."

The Tracker frowned. "Traveling downstream would take us further away from the Camp, not closer."

Though he expressed doubt, he found himself, despite his own better judgment, searching for a way to rationalize accepting her proposition. It was not like anyone from the Wolf Clan knew where they were or how far they had traversed, and no one actually said they must return at once.

"After we have collected enough food, we could follow the river up or downstream, away from this dense forest to where the trees stand farther apart. That will make it easier to navigate, hastening our return," she argued, though she knew very well she had no intention of returning. "Besides, our Clan does not know where we are. What difference does an extra day or two make?"

Jakal laughed, amused by her use of the same logic as his own. He liked this woman, very much, and was sorry he hadn't known her better before now. It would be pleasurable to spend a little more time in her company. "After you finish removing the tangles from my hair, I will pack up the shelter so we can be on our way and find your river."

Sala sighed with relief, unaware until that moment that she had been holding her breath. "Thank you."

The day grew long as the pair hiked beside the stream toward the river into which it flowed. Jakal was feeling increasingly foolish, beginning to believe he had allowed himself to be manipulated into taking a pointless detour.

He knew the tributary would eventually join with the river, but when? He had never journeyed this far into the dense forest before, making it more difficult to judge their precise location. Would she try tonight to get him to walk "just one more day" to reach it?

But then, he had not put up much resistance to her idea. What made it even worse was his motivation for doing so had been purely selfish; he put his own desires in front of his duty.

Why does she resist joining with the Spiritwalker so much, he wondered. She is independent and stubborn, and wants to choose her own mate. He could understand and respect that. Still, being the mate of a spiritual leader brought with it high status, many privileges, even if he knew that a high status was not all it may seem to others. Mostly, he had never known of anyone so opposed to such a joining that she would actually try to leave.

But then, he was just as surprised to be summoned by the shaman and directed to locate and bring back his Intended; in fact, Jakal was advised not to return without her.

"Why has she gone?" he had asked at the time, perplexed by her sudden departure.

The Spiritwalker glared at him. "It is not your concern to consider the whys, Tracker. It is your duty only to follow my instructions."

Jakal remembered the flush of the man's face, the angry fire in his eyes as it became clear the Spiritwalker believed her disappearance caused him to lose face. As he set out to scour the landscape for the missing woman, the Tracker pieced together enough of the available information to conclude that she left because she did not wish to be their spiritual leader's mate.

Though he would never say it, he had thought to himself more than once during his search that perhaps the shaman should reconsider his selection. If she demonstrates so strongly that she does not desire this joining, why not choose someone who would welcome such a pairing?

He glanced to the woman in front of him, her shapely hips swaying as her muscular legs led them ever forward, back straight and strong, long hair swinging with each step. She is willing to lose everyone, everything she knows in order to keep the right to choose, the Tracker thought. The realization filled him with renewed admiration for her courage and determination.

Just as the sun was beginning to drop from the sky, Jakal felt increased humidity in the air. Shortly thereafter he heard the first murmurs of running water.

Sala turned her head toward her shoulder as she walked. "I hear the river; it should not be far now."

"I hear it too," he acknowledged.

The trees thinned until they found themselves standing on the wide banks of a great river.

The woman gasped. "Jakal, look! Falling water!" she squealed, her face beaming as she pointed to the waterfall nearby.

One of the tributaries that fed into this river flowed from a towering hill to their right. The higher ground ended abruptly as it met the river's edge. This sent the stream cascading into a pool just off of the primary current, the ribbon of water completing its journey home in a most dramatic way.

With shining eyes, Sala turned to the man beside her.

"It is beautiful," he agreed, his smile as wide as hers.

With dusk upon them by the time they arrived at their destination, Sala and Jakal rushed to gather firewood. The extended hike after so many days of swift travel left them both exhausted, and they intended to turn in early. For a time, however, they talked and looked at the stars; they had not realized just how nice it was to see them again after a night in a forest with a canopy so dense few stars penetrated.

In spite of herself, Sala began to let her guard down. Jakal was intelligent and perceptive, and she truly enjoyed talking with him. I know we are not going anywhere tomorrow, she rationalized; it will take all day just to collect the food and perhaps even into the next to dry it enough to be suitable for transit. So for another day she put off formulating a plan to escape.

Soon thereafter they crawled into the lean-to and attempted once again to arrange themselves into workable positions so both could sleep comfortably. They laughed at their predicament, as much to dissipate some of the tension as it was a result of the cramped space.

"It is good the water makes the air so cold here," Jakal joked. "That makes having to sleep so closely together useful."

The air was colder here, and despite the furs and the heat of their bodies lying side by side, Sala began to shiver. She tried burrowing into the layers covering them a bit more to warm herself better, but she could not stop shaking.

"Sala, you are cold," the man said out of the darkness. She could feel him shifting around. "If you turn onto your side and come closer, my body can help warm yours."

Grateful, the shivering woman readjusted herself under the furs and into Jakal's form. He took her in his arms, cupping his body over the back of hers. His arms wrapped around her trunk and rested on her stomach.

"Are you warm enough now?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes, that really helps. Thank you, Jakal," she replied, snuggling closer.

The next morning it was the Tracker who woke up feeling awkward. The woman who slept beside him remained in the same position as she had been the night before, the back of her body against the front of his. The soft curve of her buttocks pressed into his groin as her chest rose and fell with her breaths. It was too much stimulation for his body to take; by the time he had woken, his manhood was nearly ready to burst.

Her soft body felt so good beside him, smelled so good, and he could not help but imagine himself sliding her thighs apart and slipping his aching member inside her hot depths. If only he could move his hands a little higher, cup his palms over her luscious breasts, tease her nipples stiff with his fingertips. How he wished her could bury his face into her neck, nibble the line of her shoulder, suckle her earlobe. If only she would ask, he would bring her every form of pleasure he knew, making her cry out in ecstasy over and over until she begged for a reprieve.

This line of thinking was not helping relieve the stiffness in his organ. Instead, it began to throb with his need. Jakal was starting to chastise himself for the position his fantasizing had gotten him into, when to his great surprise he felt Sala's fingertips stroking his erection through his leather leggings. He raised his hips a little, desperate for relief. At last she is signaling her desire to couple, at last we can...

Just as suddenly Sala jerked her arm away. Stretching her limbs, she yawned and turned onto her back, blinking a few times before opening her eyes.

"Jakal," she murmured, turning her head toward him. "The sun has returned. Did you dream well?"

Again, she was asleep! How could she inflict such agony upon him?

He remembered then that she had asked him a question. "Uh, yes, yes I did. And you?"

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I did. I was dreaming about the days when I first passed into womanhood."

She needed to say no more. The crossing into womanhood was as highly anticipated a time for men as it was for the young woman, for those she selected would have the honor of being among the first to teach her the pleasures of the body.

Suppressing an urge to sigh, Jakal sat up. "Well, after our morning meal we should get to work securing our food supply. We lost a day coming here and have much to do before we return."

The woman did not bother to suppress her sigh. "Very well. But first, I am going to look for the foaming plant so I can bathe under the falling water."

Bathing did sound like a good idea. It had been many days, too many really, since he last washed his body. "Agreed. I think I will do the same."

After a quick breakfast of travel cake, Sala set off downstream scanning the area for soaproot. She found what she was looking for in a grassy meadow some distance from the camp and pulled up a few of the bulbous flowering plants. Although he had not asked it of her, the woman collected enough so that they both could thoroughly clean their bodies.

Returning from her search, Sala stripped off her dirty clothing, leaving it and a soft pelt to use as a towel on the riverbank. She stepped into the shallow pool off of the main, deep current, wading toward a large stone with an impression on top, almost like a bowl. Using another stone, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, the woman pounded at the roots until she had a good quantity of foam.

"Jakal, come," she called. "There is enough foaming plant for both our bodies."

He had been watching her, not obviously he hoped, while he fished downstream a short distance from their camp. His loins tightened for the second time that morning, now due to the sight of Sala's naked body. She stood in the cold water just above her waist, her dark nipples hard and jutting, while she beckoned to him, smiling.

The woman was already drenching her hair and body under the fall by the time Jakal reached her location, allowing him to remove his clothing and slip into the pool without his stiff tool being seen.

Though it was quite cold, his skin prickling all over, the view of Sala's nakedness caressed by the flowing water kept his member rigid. He was so tall that it bounced along near the surface, but he was now too entranced to care.

Sala stepped away from the cascade toward the rock containing the pounded soaproot. She scooped up a handful and began working it through her hair. Smiling broadly at the man beside her, she suggested, "You should stand under the falling water to wet your hair and body. It is very exciting to feel it coming down on you."