Third Born

With his hands he grips her bottom, moulding the cheeks like clay, pulling her onto him, matching the rhythm of her own thrusts, forcing herself onto his mouth for his tongue to scratch the itch she cannot reach. She feels her body undergoing a change, muscles contracting, insides turning to liquid, blood roaring in her ears, hips rising pressing ever harder against him, she couldn't stop the onslaught, she didn't even think of stopping; she screamed, unlike any sound she'd made before, not the fearful sound of first penetration, not the scream of pain of her first born, a scream of release, from deep inside, roaring, pulsing with her flow, pumping at the spring of elation and matched by his cry of triumph vibrating against her groin.

He held her back-arched against his mouth while her hips contorted with a series spasms plastering her against his face finally lowering her and moving up her body, lying on her fastening his teeth loosely across her throat. She could smell herself on his breath, feel his tongue hot against the skin of her neck; she brought her arms around to wrap him against her body and rocked him gently like a new born, shifting to accommodate him as he enters her enjoying the urgent roughness of his thrusting, holding him tightly as his body tenses and splashes his seed deep inside her. She's aware of having enjoyed him, enjoyed him enough to dismiss concerns of what would happen if they were caught by another from the settlement.

They slept briefly, the child's cry awakening them. She pushed him away fetching and comforting the child, watching the man empty himself nearby then cleanse himself in the stream wondering at his fascination with water, no one else in the settlement bothered, except to remove insects that could burrow under the skin. He gestured she should do the same, waving his arms and growling at her until she complied, taking the opportunity to empty her bladder while she sat in the stream.

He signed that he was leaving to hunt, she watched him go wondering if he'd return and repeat their exploits, shrugging, knowing he'd be unlikely to take the risk, the price of mating the Leader's woman being death or exile.

Toward the end of the day he returned, the small animal across his shoulders significantly elevating him in her opinion, a successful hunter the most admired quality in a mate. Crooning a greeting, he placed the animal on a rock and began to collect fuel for the fire ensuring sufficient for the night. She knew he wouldn't be staying, too risky, she thought about returning with him to the settlement, decided it would be unwise, most likely trigger a fight, another night or two alone wouldn't be unusual, at least she had food here, better to eat what he's providing rather than suffer the meagre remains she'd be given after the Leader had taken his fill.

He left her with a well-built fire and meat roasting as the sun began to sink below the horizon taking the remains of the first carcass and the latest kill to the settlement. No questions asked, a hunter returning with food. She wondered who'd warm his body this night. She chewed some meat feeding fragments from her mouth to the child, knowing he needs the nourishment, her breasts dry. Her sadness for the child wells inside her, unlikely to survive, too weak, too sickly but she wasn't ready to leave him, not yet. The sky blackened rapidly into night.

She slept long into the night, the child cradled close, she could barely remember a night without a child at her breast, a comfort to feel him there, breathing quietly, sleeping head pressed against her heartbeat. The sound of the fire woke her, a sudden explosion of sap in the heat of the embers sending a shower of sparks into the black sky. She knew he'd returned to replenish the fire. He must have left the settlement to hunt with the dawn, easier kills sometimes possible at waterholes in glimmer of early morning. She wondered if he'd passed through the camp before, seen her sleeping, walked by or stopped to watch.

She tried to turn without disturbing the child, craned her neck to see if he was near or already moved away, smelt him before she saw him, felt his warmth before he touched her, heard him breath before his body slid alongside her. She shifted, moving into him, craving his warmth, heard the softest of croons in his throat, to sooth her; no need, she had no fear for herself, not of him being near her, not of his stiffness pressed hard against her buttocks. She did fear for him, one glance in her direction and the leader would take his heart, and quite possibly hers; even that fate had attraction, daily existence terrified her, as an outsider she was almost a slave, only the older women showing any degree of ambivalence to her origins.

She felt his arm move over her hip down across her haired belly, she lifted a leg slightly to accommodate him expecting him to probe, feeling him settle, just wanting to touch. Wide-awake, she waited for more, only to hear him snore gently, leaning against her. She couldn't sleep now, he'd stirred her, she wanted more but knew better than to initiate, he'd move at his pace, not hers. She did sleep again and when she woke he'd gone, never felt him move, only a void where he'd lain, where he'd touched.

Later in the morning two men from the settlement passed through the camp, they carried a body, bloodied and beaten. She couldn't recognise who, and it wasn't her place to go looking, she'd be beaten herself for her troubles. When they returned they gestured she should go with them, she shook her head, signed she would go the next day; if this person had been beaten senseless by the Leader she didn't want to return now, he'd be exuberant, he'd take her violently not caring if he hurt her she'd be just another person to subjugate, to impress his power upon the others. She waited a long while after they'd departed and walked in the direction they'd taken the body. She didn't go far, she heard beasts snarling, already arguing over the corpse and stole back to the shelter of the rocks to find the comfort and security of the fire wondering who the body was, fearing for a moment it might be the one who'd mated with her, then realising she would be dead herself if that was known.

The day wore on interminably despite her busying herself, collecting berries from the nearby trees, bringing more fuel for the fire from the undergrowth, there was always plenty of wood to burn, scrub fires raced through the area most dry season leaving stunted dead shrubbery, new plants springing green from the soil with the rains. When he returned - she expected him to return - she wanted to be able to show him she could organise a camp, collect foods, she even washed herself and the child.

As dusk fell into night she knew he'd not be coming and wrapped herself in the sleeping skins for warmth, resigned to spending the night alone with her child. She'd finished the meat he'd left for them and eaten the berries, it was scarcely enough to sustain her let alone provide nourishment for the child, he whimpered most of the night hungry and unable to settle keeping both of them awake, in the pre-dawn she decided to return to the settlement. If the man were coming to her, she'd meet him on the way, if not... she had to return anyway.

She walked slowly and quietly to the foot of the cliff, being careful where she trod, not wanting to alert anyone, or anything, to her passage, and began the long climb up the steep path to the caves. The cliff cut back where the caves were, a broad shelf forming an apron fronting the overhang that provided their shelter. The caves were not deep, more a recess than a network of tunnels. At the top of the path a night guard soundly slept, 'you'd better wake,' she thought, 'before the Leader sees you. He's had more than one guard beaten for sleeping instead of watching.' She thought to wake him, a kindness, but he'd stir in fright and alert others, she wanted to arrive unseen, meld into the group, go about her chores, hope not to be immediately noticed.

The child had other ideas, his sudden crying busting onto the silence during the time when the brain is waking and the body still sleeps, any noise sufficient to awaken the whole. No one stirred though noises rumbled from where people lay. She felt naked, exposed standing more or less in the middle of the apron, lit from behind by the dawning day. The Leader cried out to her, a demand, an order to join him. She hesitated looking around to see the man who'd joined with her, earning another barked call. She didn't want this, didn't want to be violated within minutes of returning and spend the day sore and sick with disgust. She took a few steps backwards.

The Leader moved with astonishing speed, on her before she realised, fury braying at his throat, spittle flying from his mouth flashing gold as the sun burst the morning clouds and lit the scene. She cowed down shielding the child with her body waiting for blows to rain upon her. He kicked her, winding her, making her gasp for breath, kicked again knocking her onto her side to expose the child screaming on the ground.

If she'd not been so frightened for the child, she would have seen others rising edging around the apron watching the display. She scrambled, wincing in pain, toward the child, saw the Leaders foot swing back and threw herself over the child before the blow landed, receiving the full impact of his heel on the side of her head, stunning her to drop across the child's body. The Leader pushed her away with his foot and bent to take pick up the child.

The young hunter came from the edge of the crowd roaring his displeasure, stopping a few metres short of the Leader, screaming at him to stop. The Leader looked round from where he bent, saw the younger man and continued to lift the screaming child from the ground, his intent clear, they were metres from the cliff edge. The younger man charged head down knocking the Leader off his feet; he released the child and turned spitting fury, launching himself at the man knocking him to the floor sprawled across him. Not giving any quarter, the Leader immediately began to pummel the younger man around the head, blood spraying from his mouth with each blow, the younger man weakening under an onslaught that bordered insanity.

She opened her eyes, the child's crying competing for her ears with the sickening thud of fist on face. Looked around she saw a rock, head sized, capable of real damage and crawled to where it lay, gathering it to her, rising and moving toward the brawl. The Leader sat aside the younger man braying with triumph, the young hunter is beaten, bloodied, and defeated, his face a mess, his arms no longer capable of protecting his head. The Leader sits upright head thrown back roaring his victory; out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of the rock raised above her head, about to strike, he has no time to move, just a flash of fear in his eyes as she brings the rock down on the back of his head with a sickening crack. She sinks to her knees, emotionally drained, no longer caring for her fate, just wanting an ending.

The sound of the rock striking the Leaders head silenced the members of the group watching the fighting. No one moved until one man stepped forward roughly pulling the Leader off his victim, looking closely to see if the young man were still alive. He looked up at the people watching, barked a call for help, bringing the men of the tribe to life.

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