(play between Thomas and Alisha)

That night Thomas had sent her a message saying that he couldn't come over. Something unruly had happened at Starless Bar and he needed to stay to take care of it. The unspoken part of it was that he didn't want her to come by to help. He could handle it, he reassured her. He preferred to handle it on his own in an attempt to shield her from some of the violent chaos that surrounded his kind. The way she had met Henri was something he desperately wanted to avoid the second time around with her.

At about eight pm it started raining heavily, which seemed to cue the appearance of her mother. She rushed through the doorway, grumbling unhappily at how the rain had seem to come from no where and how her hair was ruined. It poured down so heavily, the sort of cold rain that made people ill. She just knew the paper would be ruined. It was a lucky day, though, the paperboy had finally gotten the foresight to double bag the paper and leave it on the stoop instead of in a puddle on the drive where it would get ground into paper mache. She tossed the mail and the newspaper on top of the dining room table, calling, "Alisha, are you home dear?" She started unwrapping the paper from its plastic sleeve, balling up the wet plastic to throw it away before it ruined the finish on the table.

"Ok, I love you. XOXOXO" she sent the text to Thomas and continued on with her nightly ritual.

While her mother was out, she stood in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal. Alisha had been taking to eating lighter, healthier and every meal had some sort of green, leafy vegetable and a healthy portion of steak. Tonight it was fried chicken livers. She left off the bacon and bacon grease for her mother's sake. The livers were breaded lightly and fried in less than a teaspoon of olive oil. They were tossed into a cale and spinach salad with a honey-olive oil viniagrette. To her surprise, it was actually quite good. So by the time her mother, sodden with rain, stumbled through the door the dinner was on the table. "Oh Mother," she chuckled and helped her mom with removing of her jacket and reaching for a towel for her mother's hair. She then gathered the mail and the newspaper to set it aside. All of that could wait until they'd eaten. "You look adorable. Like a drowned rat."

"This is not adorable." Her voice was low with warning at being teased, but she quickly managed a little smile afterward as if able to see humor in it now that Alisha pointed it out. The light pink towel was raked through her hair as she walked to the wall where there was a decorative mirror made out of many circular mirrors adhered on top of one another, "So much for bothering to curl it today." A frown before her finger went up, smoothing a wayward line of mascara that was running from the corner of her eye. It was after the fussing that she was able to appreciate the smell of a hot meal, "You've become quite the cook." Her mother was appreciating that about her. Since the whole search for the cure and frantically trying to win Jessie over, she hadn't been taking care of herself and was feeling more and more exhausted lately. The upset with Alisha and Thomas had left her worried, but instead of increasing the rift between them, previous offenses were amended and she felt that their relationship, while strained from the known and now forgotten moments, was better.

"Momma, go wash your face, I'll make you a plate," she smiled at her mother. Seeing her in less than pristine condition was something that she'd grown used to as a child. Picking up beer bottles or vodka bottles and cleaning up vomit was something Alisha had done from an early age. Now that her mother was sober, the unkempt hair and make up was not something she saw very often, but it was a welcome sight. It reminded her of where they came from and made her more appreciative of where they were today. "I'll be staying home tonight. Thomas said there was some kind of commotion at the bar and for me to stay put."

"He did" I hope everything is all right," she muttered, reaching to her earlobes to pull her large, gold clip-on ear rings off as she walked to the back room. When her mother reemerged her makeup was gone, which made her eyebrows seem to disappear off her pale face. Her hair was brushed back like a lion's mane and she was wearing her cotton pajamas with the flower print and a white robe over it with a persistent concealer stain she couldn't get out of the neck of it. Smiling at Alisha she took a seat at the table and began picking around the dish she had prepared, "I get worried about you being at the bar with him sometimes. Bars attract unsavory people." She knew, she had been one of them.

Alisha was already sitting at the table, eating her salad and drinking from a glass of wine. "I know you worry," she put down her fork to reach out and gently cover her mother's hand with her own for reassurance. "But Thomas won't let anything bad happen to me. And the other vampires have all heard that I have no recollection of the cure, so I should be safe." She smiled then and picked up her fork again. She wasn't going to compare her mother's experiences with her own. There was no reason to beat that dead horse.

"I know, it's just," she remembered what Jessie said about not pushing Alisha. About letting some of those things go. She just took another bite from the chicken and then turned her fork in her hand, "There is supposed to be a special on A&E tonight about Barbara Walters," She wiped at her mouth and then smiled at Alisha, "You're welcome to watch it with me if you like. I've been wanting to see it for the past two days but I've been so busy. I want to knit Amelia a blanket but I think she'll be going to college by the time I finish." It wasn't easy when you were just learning. She had a certain lag to learning those things.

"Sure, I'll watch it with you," she smiled and took the last bite of salad. "You can knit while you're watching and I'll catch up with what?s new in the world," she stood up to take her plate into the kitchen. "Besides the Market being blown to smithereens for the upteenth time," she chuckled. It was a sad fact that living in Rhy'din had made her immune to the tragedy of a weekly bombing of the Market. Especially when it always seemed to recover so quickly. "Do you want me to make you some tea?"

"No, I think a water will do. If I have any tea I'll be up until the wee hours." She laughed, standing up slowly. One hand went to her back as she frowned, "Don't ever get old, Alisha, everything just starts to fall apart." Then she smiled and left her plate, assuming Alisha would take it for her to the kitchen. Beside the bed was, well, the pink abomination that she was trying to make Amelia. The rows she had knitted had started out too loose and now they were tight so it seemed like the blanket had gotten caught on something and stretched. It was only four feet long and she carried it with the ball of yarn and needles to the living room to turn on the tv.

"Ok Momma," she smiled and continued with the chores until the sink was empty and the table wiped clean. A doily and vase were set onto the table before she picked up the mail and newspaper to follow her mother into the living room. "Oh, water!" she laughed at herself. Setting the paper and mail down beside her chair, she hurried into the kitchen to get two glasses of ice water. She returned and set the drinks down on coasters before settling into her chair. Her shoes were kicked off and she curled her legs up under her. "The blanket looks nicer the more you knit."

Her mother had to put her reading glasses on for this. One loop over, right' Knit, stitch. No, pearl, stitch. There was a commercial on the television screen. Her mother didn't like wearing her reading glasses, they made her feel like she looked old. Like the grandmother she was. When Alisha sat beside her she groaned, "Yes, but that means I have to undo the whole thing and start at the beginning if I want to make it all look even. I haven't had the heart to unravel it just yet."

"I don't think you should unravel it," she mused and picked up the newspaper. "I mean, it's not perfect, but it shows how much effort you put into it and how much you've learned. Besides, you could just buy a perfectly knitted blanket, right' This is from Grandma Wygant. It's special just the way it is." She opened up the newspaper and settled in for a good read.

"She's going to grow up thinking I had a few screws loose," she held it up for judgement and laughed, shaking her head before she went back to her knitting and pearling. There was quiet between them as the Barbara Walters special came on. She had liked watching her when she was in rehab, she thought the woman was interesting and trustworthy. She was also a familiar face for her when she was growing up. At the commercial break she smiled at Alisha, "I think I'll make you a hat, next. Or a sock, whatever fits better."

Alisha really paid no mind to the television, she was skimming through the paper, looking at the headlines for anything that would catch her eye. When her mother spoke, she lowered the paper and gave her mother a look. "A single sock" Really?" Alisha giggled and picked the paper back up. "She's going to know you've got screws loose. We all do. Especially if we only knit one sock."

"Some socks lose their partner, you know. It could be the back up sock so that the other one isn't alone." She was smiling because she knew it was a bit absurd. But also, "Or just two wonky hats." One knitting needle was free for her to point at Alisha with a grin before trying her hand at another row on the blanket, "I should have gotten the multicolored yarn, it's kind of boring looking. Like a pink and white instead of just pink."

Alisha giggled at her mother's explanation. Leaning over, she kissed her mother's cheek. "Love you, Mom," she smiled and then went back to her reading. "You could always buy some white yarn and trim it around the edges and put little white bows so it looks polka dotted," she tried to help.

"I think I like the bow idea," she said, frowning as she missed two pearls and a stitch. She pulled out the line and started the row anew, "I could just tie them in and then I wouldn't have to worry about trying to get the pattern right. Might dress it up a little bit so it doesn't look so plain. Might even hide that it's a bit misshapen. I should have learned how to do this fifteen years ago." She couldn't bring herself to join any of the knitting circles. All the women there were practiced hands at it. They discussed what needle size they liked and the differences between yarn brands. Some of them even went to stores that were closing or special ordered the stuff. It was all a bit too much for someone just getting started.

"There you go," she agreed and flipped the page. Leaning her head forward, she brought the paper closer so she could get a good look at a photo that caught her eye. "Hey Mom?" she sounded a bit distracted, as if she were trying to remember something. She pulled the paper away from her face and folded it so that she could hold it out for her mother to see. "Don't you know this guy?" The picture was from an obituary of a John Doe.

"Hmm?" she leaned forward, lowering her hands holding the needles with yarn to her lap as she leaned in. Her jaw jumped in thought, as if she were actually chewing on her memory. Then she shook her head no, "No, I have no idea who that is. Poor sod's got no one out there to claim him." She started knitting again, "I wonder if the government pays to have them buried. Funerals aren't cheap."

"But Momma, I saw his picture!" She put the paper down and got up from her spot on the couch. "I'll show you," she disappeared into the hallway and then her mother's room. When she returned, she had a beaten up old photo album and was thumbing through the pages. "See, here he is," she turned the album around in her hands and held it out to her mother. "Right there. It looks like it's even the same picture."

"Well," she looked unsettled at Alisha's insistence, "It must be a coincidence," though the images were identical, coincidence seemed to be the way that she wanted to sweep it out under the rug, "The likeness is....unsettling. They must have put the wrong picture in the paper."

"Mom," she sat down and put the album on the coffee table. "If this guy is your friend, even from a long time ago, you owe it to him to identify him so that his family can know what?s happened to him. What if he has a wife and children" You know it's the right thing to do."

"I'll make the call tomorrow," she frowned, looking down at her needles as she started to knit again pensively, "I'll tell them that I think I know who it is and they they can take it from there." Her mother was completely uninterested in going downtown to identify a body of someone she knew from so long ago, "I didn't know him well, Alisha. He was more like an acquaintance. I have been meaning to clean out those old books."

Alisha picked up the book and flipped the page. There was a photo strip from one of those booths like at a carnival. "Mom?" She picked up the strip and held it up so she could see. "He looks like more than an acquaintance. You two look cute together," she smiled gently and placed the photos back into the book. "He was important enough for you to keep his picture. Who was he?"

"Some guy I met at a bar," she put the needles down and reached over, gently taking the strip of pictures from her. She had forgotten how his sheepish smile had grown elated as the night went on. The top image where he was laughing at her, hands held out in the air as if in the middle of an explanation, made her smile. Shortly after, she put the photo back down and admitted, feeling shame harden her voice, "He was your father."

Alisha watched as her mother's expression softened and she leaned forward to listen. There wasn't much said and she put her hand onto her mother's shoulder to provide support if she needed it. But the last four words out of her mouth had Alisha sitting back with her jaw dropped. She felt a numbness go through her and her mind went completely blank. Astonishment washed over her like a cold blanket and she shivered as she drew her hand away from her mother's shoulder. "Come again?"

"I would hit the bars, you know," she said with a sigh, extending the photo strip for Alisha to see, "Me and my girlfriends liked to party and we would pick up boys and have fun. We were so careless, and stupid. I was on antibiotics for something— can't remember what now— and wound up getting pregnant. I had an idea of who might be the father but after three tests that left just him," she sighed, "he skipped town after that night and I hadn't seen him since."

There are certain things in life a child does not want to know. There are also certain things in life that cannot be unheard. Her mother was laying both of those things on her now. "Three tests?" Her jaw dropped again and she sat back, stunned. "Four guys in one weekend?" Her gaze flickered up to her mother. Seeing her looking so despondent brought Alisha out of her surprised stupor. "No wonder you're always so worried about me."

"No, it was over a week and a half. You had to wait until you missed your period then to know if you were pregnant." Not that it changed the nature of her story so much. She sighed and then nodded, "I told you, bars encourage depraved behavior." She put the photo strip down, "We were all doing shots at Meryl's Bar and there was this carnival that had opened down the street. He was at the bar by himself and looked lonely so....I invited him to join us. After some drinks we went across the street," but that was as far as she wanted to share the story. "It was a long time ago. I don't need to look at him now but I'll make the phone call."

"Oh Mom," Alisha scoot closer and put her arms around her mother to hold her and comfort her. Barbara Walters was talking in the background, but neither of them were paying much attention. "I'm sorry, Momma. I didn't mean to make you feel bad." She sat back and gently smoothed her hands over her mother's hair. "So that's my dad?" she picked up the strip from the album and looked down at it. "He looks nice."

"He was," she said with a sigh, clearing her throat to change the subject, "Sweetie, it's late and I think I need to go to bed or I'm going to fall asleep on the couch." She wasn't that tired a moment ago. The needles and the yarn were wrapped together and set on the end table beside the couch. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and smiled, "Don't forget to turn off the lights when you go to bed. I don't want my bills goin' through the roof."

Her phone buzzed. It was Thomas' text message, "Breakfast?"

Alisha reached up to gently touch her mother's cheek as her own was kissed. "Good night, Mom," she murmured and watched as she left the room. She wondered if she would have done the same as her mother, if the tables were turned. It was with this thought in mind that she picked up her phone and glanced down at the screen. She didn't reply immediately. Instead, she turned off the television, the lights and went into her own bedroom. Her head was still reeling with the news her mother had laid on her. Plopping down onto the bed, she lay on her stomach and pushed a button so she could Facetime with Thomas.

The cops were gone and he had finally shut down the bar. But it was late for him. He was wearing a grey cotton weave shirt with the shoulders rolled up. She had caught him when he was at the bar, just finishing the 'clean up' that was necessary. The phone was propped on the bar top against the side of his drink, "Hey Dove, sorry about tonight. I tried to get everything wrapped up as soon as I could," he looked away at a clock and then back to her, "I know it's late."

"Hi." The moment she saw his smiling face and those trusting eyes, Alisha's tears began to well. She canted her head and then lay her forehead down on her folded arms and she began to weep.

"I'm sorry," he frowned, "I didn't mean to disappoint you tonight. I'll make it up to you tomorrow morning, I promise." He wasn't going to tell her that he thought she was over reacting, but she was experiencing a lot with him. It could be overwhelming, those experiences.

Alisha shook her head and lifted her tear stained face. "It's not you," she croaked. "I just found out that my father is dead." Her lower lip quivered and she sniffled hard to keep herself under control. "I didn't even know who he was until about five minutes ago."

"What?" He raked a hand through his hair and frowned. He wanted to say something about her mother then, she had been a sour point for him plenty of times, "Look, why don't I just come over" The bar is closed so I can leave now, I just didn't think you'd still be awake."

"Please come over," she whimpered and reached to touch the phone where his face was. "I don't want to be alone and I don't want my mom to see me like this. I could tell that she was upset, but she tries to be tough, you know?" Alisha wiped a tear that had escaped onto her cheek.

"Sounds familiar," he smiled, but it disappeared under the weight of her distress quickly, "I'll be there as soon as I can. Just make sure the front door is unlocked for me, all right?" When they hung up he washed his hands before stepping outside. Thomas forgot his coat, but he didn't care. It wasn't something that he needed, anyway, and was more of a ritual practiced to blend in. The world seemed wet and cold as if covered in a black ice. He smoked three cigarettes in succession on his way, not meaning to have their essence linger on him like it did when he strolled up to the front of the house, typing a 'here' for her.

"O-okay," she nodded and the screen went black and then to her picture of him as background. She stared at it for a long time. Hadn't she done the same as her mother" From the stories told, she met Thomas in a bar. She'd done lewd things, horrible things with him. The only differences in the stories were that she couldn't get pregnant by Thomas and that Thomas hadn't disappeared. She couldn't imagine the struggle and the pain her mother must have been through. Before she knew it, a text came through. Thomas was at the house. She left her phone on the bed when she got up and rushed for the front door. She hugged her robe around herself and opened the door.

"Hey," he breathed and went in to her, wrapping his arms around her. He wanted to hold her as tightly as he could but she seemed fragile, "You all right, Dove?" His hold loosened enough that he could get the space to look her in the eye. Voice was hushed because he wasn't sure where her mother was, exactly.

Alisha fell into his arms and buried her head into his shoulder. She didn't speak, even when he asked her how she was doing. And when she lifted her face to meet his gaze, her green eyes were awash with tears. "I don't know why I'm crying," she admitted as she buried her face into his shoulder again. "I didn't even know him. Did he even know about me?" She felt like a little girl, scared of the boogey man under her bed.

"I don't know," he wanted to tell her something more comforting. Chances were, he didn't. If she didn't know about him how could he know about her" Well, he might have been a dead beat. One hand slipped through her hair to cradle the back of her head as she pressed against him, "It's okay to be sad, even if it doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know if I'm angry or sad or guilty or disgusted," she shook her head, took a deep breath and then looked up into Thomas' eyes. "She met him in a bar and took him to a cheap motel. And he wasn't the only one. She went through three men, had them tested and by matter of elimination, this guy's my father."

"I....I'm sorry." He was going to tell her that he didn't know what to say. Her mother's sketchy past had never been a secret, but they had never been confronted with such vivid details. Placing a kiss on her cheek he looked towards the hall, "Let's go to your room and shut the door."

Alisha nodded and took a step back from Thomas. It was only then that she realized the front door was still wide open. She hoped that her nosy neighbor Norma wasn't listening in on the conversation. She closed the door and then took Thomas by the hand to lead him into her bedroom.

There was a glance as he watched her shut the door before they went down the hallway to her room. Once inside he shut her bedroom door behind him, sitting on the edge of her mattress with her, "How did you find this out?" How did this news suddenly hit her this way"

Alisha leaned against him when he sat down. "There was a picture in the paper. I recognized it from one of mom's old photo albums. She said she didn't know him, at first. But then I showed her the album and she....she...just told me that he was my father. She said she's going to call the police tomorrow and say she knows who he is. But....I think I should go."

"What did she tell you about your father before this?" he blinked, one of his arms wrapping around her to bring her in close to him. The idea of going to see him made Thomas frown, "Are you sure?" Was it healthy to meet a dead father"

"Nothing," she whispered with a shake of her head. Alisha closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She wanted to rewind time, go back to before the night's revelations. But she couldn't do that. She had to face facts and move forward. "I'm sure," she nodded and her eyes blinked open to look into Thomas' eyes. "I want to know who he was, how he lived. I want to know if he....if he..."

"If he what?" He kissed the side of her head and whispered in her ear, "You don't have to decide right now. Why don't you see how you feel in the morning and if you want to go, you can. I can....go with you if you like. You don't have to be alone." Another kiss to her temple.

"if he even knew I existed," she sighed again and simply held onto Thomas for strength, comfort. "I feel like I've been turned upside down and inside out." Turning her head, she rested her ear on his shoulder and placed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "I wish she had told me sooner."

"It's all right," he kept her close to him and sighed, kissing the top of her head and rocking her gently, "It'll be better for you once you're not in shock anymore." Her mother always seemed so full of secrets and whenever one was unveiled, it was rotten. It didn't surprise him that she had lied to Alisha. Thomas had seen her lie before, but to Alisha this was the first major deception she had to cope with.

Alisha stretched in his arms and yawned against his neck. "Stay with me, please," she begged. "I don't want to be alone." Alisha was bone tired and weary from the evening's events.

"Of course." he brushed her hair aside and kissed her. When his lips broke away he stood up, peeling the sheets to her bed back before he kneeled in front of her at the foot of the bed, slipping one of her socks off and then the other, "You won't be. I'll be right here, as long as you'll let me."

Alisha peeled away the shirt and jeans she'd been wearing, and then the bra and panties. A cotton nightgown was chosen from her closet and then she slipped into the bed that Thomas had turned down for her. She reached for him, then. "I don't want you to go, even when Mom gets up and gets angry because you're here. Just, don't say anything to her about my father. She's already upset enough."

"I won't," he said with a subdued smile, slipping out of his long sleeved shirt, shoes, socks and pants to crawl in next to her in his dark grey boxers. He had imagined that the first time he would sleep over, at least to her, would have been under better circumstances. It was the only time he wished that he felt warm and soothing to her instead of having the crisp, cool feel of untouched winter sheets, "I think she'll understand why you wanted me here."

"Thomas," she closed her eyes and pressed her back into his cold chest. "Feed from me." It may have been an odd request, but not to Alisha. She needed to feel connected to something, somebody. Her mind had almost completely shut down as the thoughts, memories of a little girl being slapped by her mother for asking who her father was, questions about why he wasn't in her life, feelings of abandonment and extreme loneliness.

Gently, as if her hair would break, his hand lifted her brown locks away from her neck. One of his arms wrapped her in closer to him and his breath released along her neck. Selfishly, she said what he wanted, but it felt callous to indulge when she was in pain. He kissed her neck and whispered in her ear, "You'll need all your strength tomorrow." Was she so upset that she was self destructive, that she wanted a little pain to ease her hurt"

Of course, Thomas was right. Alisha closed her eyes and hugged his arm to her chest. And in the comfort of his arms, she wept bitterly until exhaustion took over, and then she slept.

"It's going to be all right." Somehow, it had to be. His hand combed through her hair until he was certain she was asleep, but Tommy couldn't sleep. He laid against her, watching her measured breathing and the way her eyes jumped behind their lids as she slept restlessly in his arms. What had her mother done" Eventually, sleep too him as well.

(play between Alex and Alisha) That night there had been a tailor and several others who went to her to dress her more appropriately. She needed pants, a sort of long sleeved shirt and then another item that was a longer shirt that opened up on the sides and had no sleeves like a tunic. She was afforded a bag, which had her clothes and several other items in it. The room she had slept in was on an old slat bed with a lumpy mattress. After getting ready in the morning, Alex was already in the room down the hall that she had first appeared in. He was eating a more luxurious breakfast than the one she had. Bacon and eggs instead of bread, milk and a slice of cheese.

Alisha woke up with a start, and stared at the plain walled room with little more in it than the bed she was sleeping on and an old, beaten up wardrobe. She had cried for most of the night, missing Thomas and her mother, her brother something serious. Her homesickness made eating the bland affair difficult, at best. She just wanted to go home and see them. But when she was summoned to the main room of the house, Alisha locked her emotions behind a steel door. She dressed in the shapeless clothes that had been given to her, and tied her hair back with the hair tie that Thomas had given her the morning before. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way to the room for another face off with the Lord of the Manor. She still didn't know his name. Stepping into the room, she hugged her arms to her chest and stood there, staring at him. She nearly drooled, seeing the bacon and eggs. Their scent made her stomach growl.

He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and set it on the table. There was something else on the table. The closer she got to him, the more she might see that it was the watch that was resting there, "My name is Alex, and I'm also known as the Collector." In other circles, Mr. A. He leaned back in his seat as he examined her more carefully, "The name, Collector, is because I am in search of certain things. It's not for you to know about, but in order for me to be successful I need certain items brought to me at certain times. I have, through great efforts, identified places and times that they can be retrieved. This was Lyall's purpose to me, the one that you are now accepting."

Alisha brought one hand up to rub the sore spot in her neck where the lumpy mattress had forced her to sleep with her neck at an angle. It hurt. A lot. She looked down at the watch, and then back to Alex. She listened to the abbreviated; she was sure, version of what her job would entail. "I'm Alisha," she nodded and looked back at that watch. Maybe she could just get home if she had it. "So you need me to be your bag man' I show up at the place at ten AM and pick up the merchandise then bring it back. Sounds simple enough. And what do I get for my part in this?"

"Some of these items take weeks to acquire. Lyall once needed a year to be successful at one," his eyebrows knit as she seemed to dismissive of the investment necessary, "Not all people are willing to sell or have these items purchased." When she asked what her payment would be an amused look was on his face, "You receive money, food, clothes, unless you have a request to make, in which case I am willing to trade services with you. Otherwise, you can turn yourself to the streets and make your own way." In a world she didn't know, without any money to speak of.

Weeks. A year. Alisha's eyes narrowed at the descriptions. "Wait, you want me to steal for you?" Alisha folded her arms back over her chest and shifted her weight between her feet. "If you want me to steal, you've got to give me better incentive than these dime store hand out clothes and a mattress so lumpy that it feels like I slept on a speed bump."

"Sometimes steal. Sometimes it's a matter of being in the right place at the right time. The incentive is you can starve on the street," Alex looked at her and then nodded towards the door, "What you have to offer me could be better done by a man, anyway. Many cultures have a bias against women; I don't know that you would do well."

"Listen you bigoted blow hard, I can do anything a man can do and twice as well. I just want to go home. But since I can't do that, you know that you've got me between a rock and a hard place. So, stop making your stupid, empty threats and let's just get on with it. It'll save us both time and the irritation of each other's company."

Slowly he drew up to standing his full height and then crossed over to her. His hand shot forward, taking her by the elbow before he turned her, walking down the length of the room towards something that looked like a cloth-wrapped balance beam which faced the wall, "Your mouth has rendered your services unwanted. You have a choice," A twist of his hand as he shoved her towards the beam, "Take off your shirt or walk out the door."

The moment that Alex touched Alisha's arm, she knew that she was in trouble. She jerked, yanked and tugged as hard as she could, trying to wrench free. Strands of hair fell thick from the hair tie to hang loosely around her anguished face. "Let go!" she banged on his fist, but Alex was a lot stronger than she was. And when she was let go' She felt like she was pushed towards this balance beam. Alex said something so....horrific that she had to take a step back from him and cross her arms over her chest. "No," she shook her head and backed against the beam. "Please, don't hurt me."

"Shirt or the door, Alisha. It's time to make a decision." He stepped away from her, but only to pick up something that looked long and white with a curved handle. The rattan cane, the handle of which didn't look new. He arched and eyebrow at her expectantly, his gaze didn't flinch and his nostrils flared as if he were growing impatient with her.

Alisha realized that there was no other option, as far as Alex was concerned. He saw it as black and white. Alisha looked down at her feet and began to untie the shirt at the neck. "You're a sick pervert," she grumbled as the shirt fell to the floor. She turned her back to him, refusing to let him see her naked breasts. Those were for Thomas' gentle caresses and loving kisses.

"Hands on the beam, it'll be easier for you that way," he stepped up to her, standing to where only four inches separated them, "You get one more for that comment. The people that work for me" They don't run their mouths. They do their work or they get out." A step back, the cane in his hand bumping against the side of his leg as he waited for her to take a stance.

Alisha stared at the bar in front of her. Her hands shook as she lifted them to take a firm hold on them. "Is this how you treated him?" she grit out between her teeth. "Or is it just the women?"

"Does it make you feel better to know that this is how servants are treated?" There was a sort of metallic sound in his voice, as if her disbelief was entertaining. Just before, he takes in a breath. Then his hand cuts through the air, from the left to the right, the expert mark stretching from the edge of her left shoulder blade and at a downward diagonal. Caning was, as it turned out, incredibly painful. The ridges of the rattan sank into the flesh and snagged across it. For some, it was so painful that they didn't remember the strokes or crying out, just the pain that followed.

Later that day, Alisha would call anyone a liar if they told her how she arched her back away from the blow or that tears formed instantly in her eyes. Her skin, up until that point, had been soft and supple, almost like a combination of silk and velvet. She screamed violent obscenities and her knees buckled. But she kept a hold of that bar as if her life depended upon it.

Her cry and her downward fold were not enough to keep the cane from flying across her skin again. "One more," there was the soft, ghostly sound of his shoe along the ground. The air sounded like it was trying to whistle just before the slap came across her back again. There was only his voice now, over it all, "When you've pulled yourself together, see me. We have a lot of work to do." The cane was leaned back to its resting position against the wall. When he turned away he picked the watch off of the table, stopping in the doorway as he looked at one of his servants. Her eyes were sad when she saw Alisha's half naked, trembling form, like she wanted to tell him he was wrong for it. Alex frowned and spoke, as if angry at her compassion, "Get her cleaned up and the wounds dressed and call me when she's on her feet." His eyes went to the watch in his hand, thumb smoothing over the face of it before he left for his chambers. The woman nodded to his orders before she went to get wet rags and dry strips of cloth, kneeling by Alisha's side. "Miss?" She didn't want to surprise her.

Somewhere between the second explosion of pain that had fireworks going off in her brain and the third, Alisha vomited. Her stomach was curdling, her entire body trembling like the single leaf left on a branch in a windstorm. But she maintained her grip on that bar. Breathing was a chore, her entire world dark and all enveloped by sheer and utter pain. She didn't hear the girl kneel beside her, much less feel the gentleness behind the hands that applied a cool, damp rag to her back. She felt the sting of witch hazel and water and she cried out, sobbing. "Stop! Please, stop!"

"He's gone, now," she said softly. It was easy to be sympathetic when someone knew what you were going through. The cloth pulled away when she said stop before she placed it back against her skin, "It's going to be all right. You'll get better." her other hand stroked Alisha on the head.

Alisha gasped when the cloth was placed on her back. She lifted her head and resembled a fish out of water. Her mouth gaped open and she made guttural noises. She then bowed her head and vomited the rest of her makeshift breakfast. "Please, no more, I can't....I can't..." in her eyes the caning and the application of the ancient salve were all part of the torture. "I want Thomas," she cried heavy tears.

"I dun know who that is," she said. Taking the dry clothes and beginning to wrap it around her, the strips of cloth on her ribs and then over her breasts, "but you're here now and you got to pull it together. The cane is tough, but starving is a slow and terrible way to die." She shifted so that Alisha could put her head in her lap and cry out what was bothering her. Sometimes people needed to have a good cry like that to stand back up.

It took Alisha several long minutes and deep breaths before she finally was able to rise to her knees. Grasping the bar once again, she then pulled herself to a stand. And in those long minutes when she was pulling herself together, she came to the realization that her mother, Thomas, her brother; nobody was going to come to her rescue. They were a part of her life that was gone. A new Alisha rose from the ashes of the girl she had been. The world was a harsh place and she had to be just as harsh, just as stone cold as the world around her in order to survive.

(Alisha on an objective)

Their voices were garbled sounds at first. Noises that didn't arrange into comprehensible sentences until a few seconds later. As the children bounced curiously through the field towards her their words began to make sense.

"It fell over here!"

"I saw it first so it's mine!"

"Nope! First one to it gets it!"

"Yehounia! that's not fair!"

The boy was perhaps eight or so and was he first to appeared, breaking through a splash of purple flowers ahead of his sister. Clearly he had expected something that was not a living creature to be there. The laughter and teasing that they had been shouting between them stopped as they froze at the sight of her. Beyond arriving in a most peculiar way, there were other things which immediately distinguished her from the children. First, the children appeared similar to one another, which could have have been more a nuance of their family lineage than an overarching hereditary difference. Their skin was bronzed, more yellow than red or brown and their hair was kinky and tied back, the color of which was a reddish blonde. Beyond that, their loincloths and bare feet displayed a build and physique much like that of her's. If anything, they were nothing more than a slightly different human variation of her. They stared at her, frozen with curiosity and fear.

"Moooooommmmm!" The boy reached down for the little girl's hand and sprinted away, disappearing behind a wave of the purple wildflowers. The sound of wild grasses slapping against their legs grew further away as they sprinted in the opposite direction. Voices started to chatter back and forth, there was an exclamation of impatience from a larger, louder voice which must of been a parent's. The mother was not amused at the new game her children were playing. She rolled her eyes and it sounded in her voice as the children pulled her along to her mother.

"Yahounia, Lunniah, there is dinner to be prepared and I haven't finished getting started. Your father will string up both of you for t—" she stopped when she saw Alisha. The mother looked like the little boy and girl, except her skin was darker and her clothing covered more of her body. Her many bracelets looked to be made of copper with hammered patterns in the metal. Her hair was a darker blond with the red in it looking more like a brown rust. She stared at Alisha before her hand swung out, ushering the children behind her protectively. As they had when first seeing her, the mother stared at her in disbelief. Under her breath, as best as the dialect bug ear rings could translate, she spoke, "Don't hurt the children."

"It is a curse to have your children die. I am sorry for the pain, but I do not know if we have the solution that you seek." The older woman grumbled, stopping to put down her buckets when they had weighed upon her too much. Apparently it was time to trade off. When she plucked a mushroom and showed it to the older woman, her face twisted in an expression of surprise and disgust, "That is a dirty plant, we eat none of them." The village, apparently, was ignorant to using mushrooms as a food source. That is, until she added, "We have eaten those in times of famine."

Alisha nodded, agreeing that it was a terrible thing to have a child die. She put on her best sorrowful look and twirled the mushroom between her fingers. When she ascertained that they weren't poisonous, Alisha bent to pluck some more. "I will wash these and show you how to use them with your meat. I am sure you will love it," she smiled sadly and placed the mushrooms into her satchel. She then lifted the woman's pole to take the heavier buckets. "Let's get back before they finish cooking the meat."

"It you say so," the skeptical sound of her voice was impossible to ignore. The woman might have argued with her if she weren't a stranger that they were showing a hospitality towards. With a smile she took the lighter buckets, following behind Alisha. At the very least, she was the strange mushroom woman now. When they got to the fire pit she poured in her water. The grain cooking in the dry pot had started to brown and get a crisp edge to it before the water was added.

Alisha followed suit, pouring her buckets of water into the cook pot in the middle of the fire. She saved some of that water and settled onto a log. The mushrooms were swished and rubbed in the water to clean them and then she began to pull them apart. "When do you think I can meet the shaman?"

"What are you doing?" Annie asked, seeing her with the mushrooms. She wanted to slap them out of her hand but the older woman waved her away from doing something. She frowned and then looked at Alisha when she asked the question, "Tomorrow is the ceremony of ages, you will see him then. He is a very busy man, but he is also very wise. He could know how to treat your children if you told him what the problems were." There was a collective muttering of agreement after she spoke.

"I'm fixing mushrooms," she looked up with a brief smile before looking back down at what she was doing. "I am looking forward to meeting with him. The children at home have all of their hopes on him. So do their parents. Do you think that he would mind if I drew the magical knife?" She reached for the lid to the cook pot and set it into the fire near her feet. The mushrooms were placed onto the pot to brown.

"Drew?" the older woman spoke. Annie tapped her on the arm and indicated in the air, "Like the children do." Apparently, drawing was no considered to be an activity that adults did. Annie smiled and nodded to her, "I do not think that he would mind." Then, with her smile fading, "You do not have to participate tomorrow. You are a visitor. You could just watch if that would make you more comfortable."

Alisha was moving the mushrooms aorund the lid with a stick. She looked up when she asked but the other woman replied for her. She nodded and then she moved her hand as if she were writing in the air. "Oh, you've shown me such hospitality, I'd love to be a part of the ceremony, if that is alright with all of you."

Annie hesitated but the older woman nodded, waving her along, "Put her name in," to which Annie forced a smile and shrugged, taking a large wooden spoon to stir the zandu. One of the women left their company only to return with a huff, "The meat is almost ready, we need to hurry girls. They will mock us and say it takes us longer to cook than it does for them to hunt and cook!" To which a few of the women laughed and rolled their eyes.

The mushrooms were browned to suit Alisha's taste. She picked one up, pinching it between her fingers to keep from burning herself. Bringing it up to her mouth, she took a tiny taste. The mushroom tasted like every other mushroom she'd ever eaten. "Mmmm," she smiled and then gestured for Annie to try one. "Did you eat them like this?"

"You're not supposed to eat them," Annie was strong, but a wary woman. There was a moment that she looked to the elder for guidance, but the elder always nodded that she should try. So it was that she ventured away from the bowl to the mushroom, taking it with a pinching movement and then nibbling on it. Her nose wrinkled, "It's so much different this way." A bite of it followed and she smiled at Annie, "You are quite the cook."

Alisha was afraid that Annie wasn't going to like the mushrooms and literally held her breath until that smile emerged on Annie's face. Alisha smiled, too, and even laughed a little. "Thank you. It's really simple. You just clean them, but don't let them get too much water. And then you put them into a hot pan to get a little brown. Wait until you try it with the meat and c....zandu."

"It's time," she said, looking as the men and children of the village came to join them. A teenager was carrying the metal plates while the children danced around him. Annie's two kids were amidst the play except the little girl.....was wearing something quite curious. It was a sweater. A burgundy turtle neck that Alisha would have found to be very familiar. On the little girl it was like a dress with impossibly large sleeves.

Alisha scooped up the mushrooms and put them aside so they wouldn't burn. The children playing and dancing about was causing quite the din and Alisha couldn't help but laugh when she saw them. But Annie's little girl wearing her favorite turtleneck sweater had her laughing even harder. "She's so adorable," she admitted to Annie. "Please don't be angry with her for being curious."

"When we get home," she lifted a hand at her daughter who laughed harder, showing that she could run even quicker in the sweater. Then she ran up to Alisha and grinned, "I look just like you now." Now that the child was closer it was apparent she had painted her face with white clay. Annie rubbed her forehead and muttered some sort of curse. They were now flooded with the other villagers. People were grabbing plates and spooning out the zandu and then peeling off some of the meat that was propped on the spit next to it.

Alisha couldn't help but pick up the little girl and carry her on her hip. She offered the little girl one of the mushrooms. "You look just like me, only younger," she laughed, truly enchanted by the little girl. Alisha put her back down so she could go get a plate of her own food. Alisha waited until the others had taken their share and then fixed her own. The mu mushrooms were placed near the zandu and meat and she was pleasantly surprised when others tried it. She settled back onto the log, the plate held on her knees. "Mmm this is good," she smiled at the group as she ate.

"Yeeaaaaa! I am!" She smelled at the thing Alisha wanted to put in her mouth and turned her head away. It was with all the finickiness of a child that age. Probably only ever wanted to eat one or two things. There were some that took some of the mushrooms, though all were hesitant and there was some muttering about them. Atleast they were not violent to any of the changes. Annie's husband sought her out at one point, wrapping his arms around her and whispering something in her ear that made her elbow him playfully.

At one point during the meal, Alisha put her half eaten plate aside and put her face into her hands. She couldn't look at this community, this family, without thinking of her own. Thomas, her mother, Jessie and Jacob and Amelia. She grew heartsore and cried silently as she could.

That night, the group ate their fill and all dispersed. At home, Annie and Toyoti slept int he children's beds, the boy was lumped in with them. It was the daughter who howled and insisted that she sleep in the parent's bedroom, where Ali was occupying. Still donning the long, burgundy sweater all parties succumbed to her insistence, allowing the little on to stay int he larger, hammock-like bed in the secluded bad room of the home. By the middle of the night she was sprawled out, one of her thin, stork-like legs hanging over Ali as she slept. Her strawberry blonde hair was a mess., her braids had half come undone by the end of the night.

In the morning, Annie crawled out of the bed, stretching and almost stumbling to the left with tiredness after she did so. She clucked her tongue at her son to warn him to wake before she started up the family hearth. Apparently, breakfast was something that families handled singularly. Toyoti had already left— he was one of the hunters and went with the men early to travel for a good spot to hunt. She scooped her hair back and tied it behind her head before she poked her head in where her daughter and Ali were, "It's time, breakfast will be soon." She was going to prepare what was essentially an enormous omelet that would be sliced up and shared.

As exhausted and emotional as the day had been, Alisha hadn't gotten much sleep that night. So when she did finally crash, with the very boney little girl draped across her, she slept soundly. So when Annie peeked her head in, Alisha was mumbling in her sleep, uttering the name, "Thomas," and clutching the little girl tightly. Her eyes opened wide and she was startled awake. It took her a few moments to realize where she was and who she was with. By that time, her yelps of surprise and a little bit of terror subsided. "Sorry, so sorry, I thought you were somebody else."

"You hug too tight!" the little girl exclaimed, making a dramatic show of trying to catch her breath. She could, quite easily, put up a scene as if she were dying when encountered with a stubbed toe. But, she liked to be cuddled, as children do. She folded her legs, pulling the long sweater over it and balling herself up against Alisha, "Do you like eggs?" The smell of them was starting to come from the kitchen. Annie was scolding the little boy for doing something, which sent him scattering outside, the flap of the front door opening and closing behind him.

"Sorry," she cooed and gently pushed the girl's errant locks from her face. She hugged the little girl, sharing the warmth and enjoying having some company. Alisha had been very lonely the night before and save for the cuddle of a little girl, she probably would still be feeling that way. "I love eggs," she smiled and then sat up as best she could in that hammock. "How about I brush and braid your hair" Surprise your mommy?"

"That would be good," she said, grabbing at one of her braids that had become wild and half done, "Mommy gets mad at me. She says I'm too messy and that I don't take care." The cleanliness and appearance of a child was so often reflected in the parent. Sitting up with a yawn, he looked curiously at Alisha's bag and then back to her, "How far have you traveled" It must not be cold."

"Find me a brush," she suggested as they began uncurling themselves from each other and untangling from the blanket. "I have traveled so far," she sighed wistfully. "And it wasn't cold, no. I only packed a few things because clothes can be heavy." Well, it was partially true.

"Okay," it was a bit awkward to get out of the net-like, fixed-hammock beds. When she got across the room she returned with a comb which looked to be fashioned from a bone. She stuck it out, handle first, to Alisha and then sat on the edge, her toes drawing in the hard-packed earth of their home, "One day, I will go to where you are from. Did you know my birthday is in a week" You must come."

Alisha scoot towards her to take the comb from her. Alisha's fingers went through the girl's braids, easily untangling the elaborate braids. It was amazing how long the girl's hair was. She frowned, thinking that this little girl wouldn't last a day in Alex's care. Picking up the comb, she started at the tips of the girl's hair to comb out any other tangles. "How old will you be?" she asked with as little emotion in her voice as she could muster. Already she was becoming attached to the little girl and the thought of missing her birthday made her feel guilty.

Her feet swung as Alisha started working the comb through her hair, "Would you like your hair braided" You wear it real natural." Actually, everyone in the village, even the men, had their hair braided. Alisha stood out in that it was fairly free-floating from her head. When she asked her how old she would be she giggled, "Seven Summers." Assuming that their seasons were symbolic like years. She could have been anywhere between six and eight, based upon her size and ability to articulate. "Seven summers is a big one, lots of kids don't make it to seven but after seven you usually make it to twenty."

"I would love to have my hair braided," she smiled and began to work the girl's hair into small braids that she began to braid together into a French braid from the top of her head to the base of her skull. "Seven is on the brink of womanhood," she teased. Using a hair tie that she'd removed from the girl's hair earlier, she tied off the braids at the middle of the girl's back. "All done."

It was a piece of leather string from before, the center of which was folded from the many times it had been fastened in a similar fashion. Once it was done she smiled and leaped to her feet, dancing in a circle as if to show off her hair, "This is a weird braid but I like it." The kids braids were akin to dreadlocks. Loose and individual. It was adults like Annie who either cut it short or formed tight, intricate rows. The mother called from the kitchen, "It is time to eat!" The brother bust through the kitchen flap and all began to assemble around the bench like table. The iron skillet, or near equivalent, had the large, omelet-like creation in it being cut like a pie and placed on plates. No silverware, apparently. But there were cups with slightly murky water in them. From the nearby creek of course.

It was hard to get caught up in the moment when she knew that within a few day's time these people will be just a memory to her. She smiled tightly and took the girl's hand when they were called to eat. "Maybe you can braid my hair later," she murmured as they lifted the flap that separated bedroom from the living room/kitchen/dining room. Alisha made sure she sat next to the little girl on the bench and waited her turn before she took a slice of the egg pie.

"I braid very well," she boasted, taking a seat by Alisha at the table. She wouldn't take off the sweater, it was going on day two that she was wearing it. It made her stand out considerably against her peers given that none of them wore such fabricated textiles. But the little girl was adamant and, perhaps like her mother, headstrong. Annie smiles weakly at Alisha, "You should go spend time with the other women." She was beginning to wonder if Alie was feeling like a fancy sort of babysitter. Her daughter clung to her as if she were trying to be her shadow. There was a small stab of jealousy. Her daughter was disenchanted with her, mesmerized by the stranger. She wished her daughter would show the same enthusiasm to be as she was, but supposed that the newness and strange appearance of Ali made her impossible to resist for the child.

"I am sure you do," she smiled and then dug into her meal. Scrambled eggs, everywhere, tasted pretty much the same. There was some sort of meat and vegetable cut up into it and Alisha found that the strange flavor combination was quite good. She was about to take another mouthful when Annie suggested that she spend time with the other ladies. It wasn't the suggestion, more the way that Annie looked at her daughter that gave Alisha pause. "You're right, I should," she nodded and put the eggs into her mouth. "I'm sure that one of them will be able to tame this mop on my head into a proper braid." Alisha deliberately didn't look down at the little girl. Instead she stared into her plate or looked to Annie for the rest of the meal.

"But I was going to braid it!" the little girl insisted, instantly feeling that her claim to Ali was being taken from her. Annie's fierce gaze chided her and she crossed over to the child, "She is not here as your playmate, she is a village guest and you must remember that." But, as if realizing that her tone might be too harsh, she reached down to pet her child's head and remarked, "Your hair is...very pretty." Annie looked to Ali and sighed, "You do not have to participate tonight, if you would rather not." This little girl was really pulling on some strings and Alisha was feeling more guily now than when she spilled Kool-Aid on her mother's beloved couch and flipped the cushion over to hide it. She told herself that it was better if the girl wasn't so attached. That the girl would be better off when Alisha was no longer there. Annie said something peculiar and Alisha was dragged from her thoughts. "Should I not participate?" She'd been given the offer to back down, twice now. What could have been so horrible" Sacrifice" Her eyes went wide and she nearly choked on her eggs.

"It's just....you're a stranger?" Annie offered, tilting her head and then shrugging her shoulders as if she didn't really understand why Ali would volunteer in the first place. It would have been wrong of her, however, to discourage her from joining. Instead she looked at her son, who was starting at Alisha's arm and then leaned his against it, comparing the pigmentation differences before she clucked her tongue at him, "The dogs must be fed, don't wait." There were some, tied up on the other end. Her son groaned and went to the stove, taking a bucket and fitting the bones into it for them. Annie smiled at Ali, "We'll be bathing today before sundown if you'd like to join."

"I'll watch," she smiled with reassurance to Annie. Something seemed to make Annie nervous and Alisha wondered what it was. Sure, Alisha was a stranger in their midst, and the chief had ordered Annie to give her room and board. But Alisha thought it might be more than that. It made her eager for the night's showing. Watching as the little boy gathered bones and scraps for the dogs, Alisha leaned her elbow onto the table. "A bath would be lovely."

"In the mean time," she said with a sigh, "we must do laundry. You can sit on the bank or join us. You are not required to work since you are a guest." She said with a smile, glancing towards the cloth doorway which lead to the bedroom. One hand smoothed a lock of her dark, strawberry blond hair away. It was less of a contrast with her than the little girl, less blond and pronounced against her bronze skin, "It will take a while."

"Annie?" Alisha put down her fork and reached for the woman's hand. "Are you alright' You seem tired. Since I took over your bed, let me help with the laundry and the other chores. I really don't mind cleaning. I'll feel pretty useless if I just sit around and do nothing."

"That sounds....like a good idea," she smiled.

That day, Annie took Alisha to the river where the women scrubbed clothes and talked. It turned out that even in less modern society, the topic of discussion was much the same. Some of the young men had yet to pair off with the women, so debate on who was interested in who was sparked. A few of the women laughed while others rolled their eyes. Discussion of the children came up, but Annie didn't say much. She would smile, or swear, and a couple of the other mothers would give her a reassuring shove of the shoulder. She only had two, after all. She would be less nervous once she had her fifth or eight child. Once there was a mention of those that had passed, but the subject changed quickly. They scrubbed everything by hand. It was arduous and took them the day to get their clothes ready to line out on string made from animal skin at the home site. When the sun was getting low and they retired to the pools to bath, a thick, lathery soap bar was passed between them as they cleaned themselves. The elderly were less inhibited, they walked with no shame while the younger ones, perhaps those first permitted to bath with the women instead of the children, kept hidden under the water as much as possible. There was a sort of....natural curiosity about what Alisha looked like, though they tried not to make their stares evident.

By the time it was bath time, Alisha was worn out. Her mother's ancient washing machine and dryer would never receive another complaint from her, ever again. The topics of conversation weren't lost on Alisha, though she didn't participate in them. She could see the pain and worry in Annie's eyes when they spoke of the children. And she even saw a tear, or thought she did, when they briefly discussed children who didn't make the seven summers mark as Annie's daughter had. Alisha wanted to comfort Annie, but she truly had no idea if she would produce children that were healthy enough to thrive in their primitive culture. One thing she was sure of was that Annie was pregnant again. Nobody talked about that, but Alisha's gut instincts usually served her very well. It was evident when they were disrobing for the bath. Alisha wasn't ashamed of her body, except for the scars that criss-crossed her back. But, she couldn't keep a towel wrapped around herself and wash her body as well. She tried sticking to one corner of the small spring that they were bathing in. The water was cold, and she kept her arms folded over her chest to hide her hardened nipples.

It was something difficult to do when there was an audience, curious about the way you looking. They passed secretive looks between one another, commentary on the differences of flesh and pigmentation. The bathing had just seemed to begin when the sun hit the crest of the hill. Annie's eyebrows were lowered, staring at the sun as it drew more orange and red than yellow. When the bell-horn sounded, calling them all to the camp fire, her look was more anxious than that of the other women. She smiled when she looked at Ali, "It's time to meet the shaman." She climbed out of the water, toweling off and dressing herself in fresh clothes. Alisha still had a change of her own strange, modern clothing to wear. Annie waited for her outside of the river and once she was ready, all began to proceed towards the huts, specifically the large fire near the entrance. Annoxilla spoke to her gently, "The shaman is a well respected man, you must not look him in the eye. It is considered a curse to do so."

While the others averted their eyes or turned the other way, Alisha met each gaze head on and with a small smile. She washed as quickly as she could, even her hair was given a scrubbing with the bar of soap. She just prayed that it all came out. And when the horn was sounded, she climbed out and toweled off. She dressed in a pair of thick soled boots, trousers bloused at the top of the boots and a camisole covered by an open fronted button down shirt that she managed to acquire from her only friend on Alex's estate. She braided her own hair, a long affair from the widow's peak on her forehead, down her back. She rested it on her right shoulder. The fire was bright in the center of the town and the closer Alisha came to it, the dryer the air around her was. It snapped and crackled as the flames licked the thick logs and consumed the kindling. "Don't look into the Shaman's eyes," she repeated so that Annie knew that she understood. There was that feeling again, that Annie was nervous, maybe scared. She reached for Annie's hand to give a reassuring squeeze as they settled onto benches around the fire.

The men and women, and some of the older children, were present. It was the older women, the ones with white hair, which were absent and with the very young ones. They were gathered together as if waiting for the shaman to tell them a story of old. People stepped back to make way for him, he appeared in a shuffle of feet, looking to be about forty with a heavy headdress on his head, composed of many beads but not feathers. They appeared, at times, like native americans, but their hair was strawberry blond and their features distinctly European. As if the French could successfully tan. On his hip was, perhaps, the item of interest. It looked like a slate knife with twine wrapped over and over on the handle of it, all the way up to a base that was uncovered. People seemed to respect him and be restless at the same time. He stopped in front of Alisha, his eyebrows lowering in a heavy way over his protruding brow, "So this is the one that has traveled far." If the girl had been there, she might have defiantly added that Ali was a star, as she was so prone to doing.

Alisha lowered her head, determined not to look the Shaman in the eye. She could hear the silence as he made his way through the crowd, as if his very existence caused the soft hum of the townspeople. But when he stopped in front of her, and spoke about her, she lifted her head and looked him in the face. "I am," she nodded her head. Her mother had always insisted that Alisha look at her when she spoke to her. It was a habit, ingrained and unbreakable.

There was a hand, from no where, going over her eyes to discourage the eye contact. The Shaman did not seem to fight the eye contact of his own accord though. His expression seemed unchanged, unsurprised by her, "What is your name?" Annie climbed from her place, producing a piece of wood with her name on it, "Alisha," she said to him, but wasn't relinquishing the piece of wood, "She is observing our customs and will not part take tonight." The shaman turned to look at her, his stiffened posture asking her if it was so.

Alisha put her hand up and drew her head back when her eyes were covered. She flashed Annie a confused look and then remembered that she wasn't supposed to look the Shaman in the eyes. Yes. She turned back to the Shaman once the introductions were made and she nodded in the affirmative. "I would like to observe, if that is alright," she said quietly. Her eyes went to the knife and she gained a bit of a hungered look.

Observation is fine." After he said it, Annie handed her the piece of wood with her name on it. An enormous pot, like the one the zandu was made in, was brought forward. Full of pieces of wood. One of the younger women stirred it as if it were a stew. The shaman closed his eyes, hummed, and reached into the pot. When he drew out a piece of wood and looked down at it, he called, "Marimari." His eyes lifted. It was the woman who had teased Annie over dinner with the zandu. Her breath stilled in her chest and she forced a smile, trying to look more proud than afraid. Annie exhaled with relief and sat next to Alisha, reaching over to take one of her hands and hold it with her's.

Alisha was watching, but her name was put into the pot with the others. She felt a cold chill go over her body as the pot was being stirred. Her brows lowered, confusion setting in as she looked around her. The other women there were in the same state as Annie. And when Marimari's name was called there was a loud shout and sobbing. Alisha took Annie's hand again and squeezed. Just what was going on here, anyway"

Marimari took in a breath and came to sit on the ground, the fire to her back and the shaman in front of her. Annie held her hand, her other free one going over Ali's as if to prematurely comfort her. The shaman shuffled to Marimari and reached for the slate dagger at his hip, slowly unwinding the leather cords until it was reverently held. His posture shifted and his arm lifted. It was posed, carefully, but there was a secondary tool in his other hand now. A small hammer. The tip of the dagger was slowly brought down and then carefully positioned at Marimari's chest, the hammer behind it as if he meant to chisel something out of rock. Instead, the hammer hit the base of the dagger, the sound of the dagger hitting the bone as it drove forward was hard, like the crunching sound that metal and ice makes when it contacts. The dagger, apparently, was hollow thoughout it's length and at the bottom of it one of the other villagers held a cup. It wasn't blood that flowed from Marimari and into the cup through the hole that ran through the dagger, but something that glittered briefly and started to grow dull. Under the stab of the dagger, Marimari started to grow old. Middle aged instead of in her twenties, now. Then the dagger was pulled from her and she gasped, holding her chest as if the wound were severe though it left only a red kiss against her skin without any severe trails of blood. The shaman lifted up the cup. He chanted something, something the dialect bugs could not translate before he drank from the cup. The forty year-old shaman became a thirty year-old shaman His skin began to tighten and he smiled at the youthful effects, holding his hand out as if observing for the first time the youth renewed by the ceremony. Annie leaned in, whispering in Alisha's ear, "Do you see now why the dagger will not help your children?"

Alisha stared in horror when it became evident that the Shaman meant to harm Marimari with the dagger in question. And the more time spent watching, the more her stomach churned. "No," she whispered, shaking her head when the hammer was brought up. "No!" she shouted when the hammer was brought down and the dagger went into Marimari's breast bone. "Stop!" she cried out and jumped up just as the Shaman was drinking from the cup. It was too late. Alisha could do nothing more but than stare into the Shaman's eyes as he became more youthful with the passing seconds. "You flim flam artist," she sneered. "It's not the knife, it's the drinking of the blood, eating the younger flesh. You're no better then a vampire."

"Shhh," Annie warned her, whispering in her ear, "The shaman is very old, very wise. He had been with us two hundred years and has saved us when we were sick." Annie must have, deep down, known that the arrangement was wrong. But she seemed to be the only one strongly convinced of it. Both her hands kept wrapped around Alisha's before she urged her to take a seat, trying to sooth her, "we give so that he stays with us, continues to help us." She did not know if she could completely sooth Alisha and instead, encouraged, "We can go to the home, you do not have to see the rest."

Alisha was far from soothed, but she sat back down, anyway. She didn't want to upset Annie any more than she already had. A glance to Marimari affirmed that the woman wasn't bleeding or worse for the wear, though she appeared at least forty years older than she had just a few minutes ago. "this is wrong," she hissed to Annie and squeezed her hands. "How many does he do this to?"

"I have lost two children," she said quietly and then looked to the other women, "a few parents are gone. Usually no one dies but the kids and the elderly....before seven they are in the pot, then they are immune until they are twenty." She explained, watching as the shaman started to go to the others in the group, shaking hands and smiling. The rest of the tribe was greeting him, eagerly. She squeezed Annie's hands, "My daughter is almost there. It will be a wonderful birthday." But Annie was trying not to cry. Her hands dropped away from Alisha's, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say those things against him. He's also saved many of us, his knowledge of disease and illness, many of us would have died then or in childbirth." She stood up, clapping her hands to clean them.

Alisha's eyes went wide with understanding and horror. Annie had lost two children to this man. Children had been orphaned because of him. And these people were treating him as if he were Jesus Christ. It was just too much for Alisha to take. She stood up and pointed at the Shaman. "Murderer! Blasphemer! You scare these people into believing that you're doing good by them when all you're doing is keeping your youth! If you'd teach them to wash their hands, that would cure the sicknesses! If you'd not bathe together, but seperately so that the river can rinse any germs down stream instead of everybody stewing in everybody else's filth! And the babies" He's killed your babies for God's sake!"

There was a roaring commotion that followed her. Two of the men of the village took her up. Other of the women talked so quickly that they didn't make any sense. By the end of it, she was pushed into one of the huts and the door shut. It was a simply, quickly made holding cell for her. Judging by the pile of shucked zandu, it was something of a silo for food that they kept. There were no windows and the door was unmoving, as if a heavy man were sitting on the outside of it. There would be much arguing about her, about what to do with the new visitor that had spoken unfavorably of the shaman.

Alisha kicked and fought against her captors, clawing and screaming for them to let her go. But then she was thrown roughshod into the storage hut. She landed on her ass and she just knew that was going to leave a bruise. "Let me out of here!" she demanded and hurled herself at the unmoving door. There might have been a grunt on the other side. "I will piss an shit on your zandu if you don't let me out of here!"

The verdict was untouchable, for now. Apparently, she was fated to sleeping in the silo for the night. There was talking outside. One voice might have been Annie's but it was difficult to tell through the door. In the morning, some decisions would need to be made.

Alisha tried to throw her weight against the door once more, to no avail. The man had been ready for her this time and there was no give to that door. Sitting down, she picked up an ear of zandu and began to shuck it. The breeze that blew over the top of the hut came down through a hole, scattering chaff and debris about. Alisha looked up to see where the breeze had come from and she smiled. Tossing the zandu over her shoulders, she began to climb the pile that was in the middle of the room. She was grateful that these uncivilized people knew enough to let the hut vent or it'll burst into flames from the heat. When she got to the top of the pile, she grabbed ahold of the vent and pulled herself up and out of the hut. She kept to her belly as she inched her way towards the back and then down to the ground. Without a sound, she turned from the village and ran.

The verdict was untouchable, for now. Apparently, she was fated to sleeping in the silo for the night. There was talking outside. One voice might have been Annie's but it was difficult to tell through the door. In the morning, some decisions would need to be made.

Alisha tried to throw her weight against the door once more, to no avail. The man had been ready for her this time and there was no give to that door. Sitting down, she picked up an ear of zandu and began to shuck it. The breeze that blew over the top of the hut came down through a hole, scattering chaff and debris about. Alisha looked up to see where the breeze had come from and she smiled. Tossing the zandu over her shoulders, she began to climb the pile that was in the middle of the room. She was grateful that these uncivilized people knew enough to let the hut vent or it'll burst into flames from the heat. When she got to the top of the pile, she grabbed ahold of the vent and pulled herself up and out of the hut. She kept to her belly as she inched her way towards the back and then down to the ground. Without a sound, she turned from the village and ran.

There was a problem with running from the village. Namely, that Alisha only had herself and the watch embedded in her wrist. All of her belongings and whatever food was available was tucked away in the home of Annie and Toyoti. The village was in an uproar that evening, but it was not because they knew she was missing. There were debates being waged and the shaman was doing his best to sooth their angry senses. By the end of it, Annie was back at the home, rubbing her forehead and trying not to snap at her son and daughter as they played in the kitchen area. Alisha was thought to be locked away in their silo, no one had checked on her recently to know that the situation was otherwise. "Be quiet!" she said to her children, frowning as she looked at the cloth flap to the bedroom. What was she to do with Alisha's things while judgement was being decided"

Alisha had ran for nearly an hour, just to be sure that she was clear of the village. Her clothes were torn, she had abrasions on her hands and knees and her face was cut from low lying branches and tall grass whipping her in the face. Using the dim light from the bon fire, she then cut to the right and circled back around. She needed her clothes and maybe a scrap of food. Annie and Toyoti's hut was reached and she was about to sneak in when the family had come back. Alisha crouched down and then sat with her back against the hut, hidden by the wood pile. All she could do, at that point, was wait for them all to go to sleep.

"Bed," she clucked at the two of them. Toyoti was back, he was already laying down in the bed. The hunt for the boar was exhausting and the uproar in the village annoying. He wasn't someone that said much. Annie was left picking around the house, eventually grabbing Alisha's bag and pulling it into the kitchen. The children were asleep along the wall to the left of the large dinner table. It was a strange bad, fastened oddly but she undid the cords, pushing back the flap of leather to curiously slip her hands through what was there. The only indication that it was her was the occasional clink of her copper bracelets as her hands dug.

There wasn't anything in that bag that was overly incriminating, but Alisha wasn't fond of her things being rifled through. By a seven year old was one thing. An adult looking for leverage against her was another. So when the hut grew quiet, Alisha slipped around and into the flap that was the front door. She tiptoed to the bedroom where she'd left her things, but only found a snoring Toyoti laying in the hammock style bed. She turned to search the rest of the house and there was Annie, with Alisha's bag. Alisha cleared her throat and put her finger to her lips. "Shhh. You can have what you want, but please give me my things so I can just go."

"Oh my god," or whatever that translation was. Caught, she shut Alisha's bag and instantly shot a look over her shoulder and then back to her. She whispered, "What are you doing here, Ali" You are in a lot of trouble." She didn't seem attached to the bag, but curious. Her hands grasped it by the shoulder straps before she looked at the woman, her expression one of concern when she spoke,

"You should have just stayed quiet at the ceremony." She was wishing that the boat hadn't been rocked. Now that it had, she wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. Normally, she would have reported her.

"I came to get my things. Nobody has to know that I'm here. I know that I caused trouble and I don't want to make it worse for you." Alisha reached for her bag. "But I'm not going to sit around and let that parasite drain me dry. I've already been through that once."

"It's a lottery," she said with a frown, her hands tightening on the straps before releasing, "I told you not to part take in the custom. I didn't think that you would understand." Because she wasn't ratting out Alisha then, some part of Annie also didn't agree with it. Not enough to rebel, or maybe just unable to. She looked up at Alisha's face, sighing, "Where will you go?" " You told him I wasn't participating, I told him. But he still put my stick in the pot," she hissed. The anger was misplaced and Alisha knew it. "I'm sorry," she took her bag and shouldered it. "I don't know, Annie. Can I have some bread?"

"I will say you stole it from me if they find you," she frowned, standing up and going to the loaf. Her hands were shaking. She was nervous about this, about what was happening. If she might be caught or not, "You know, maybe I can speak with the shaman. I could explain that you were new, that you were shocked," the bread sliced before she turned to Ali, stepping to hand it out to her, "I do not know how you will survive alone."

Alisha put her hand on the loaf and she looked Annie in the eyes. So far, if she'd listened to Annie, things wouldn't have been the way they were. She wouldn't be on the run from an indiginous tribe and their angry shaman. She wouldn't be any less shocked by what had happened in that circle. Taking a breath, she decided to trust Annie. Alisha pushed the bread back into Annie's hands and put down her bag. "Do what you have to do," she sighed.

"I would hide," she admitted with a sigh, "in this situation, it was not favorable for the offender. But the offender was always someone internal. I could argue that you didn't know better," she said with a small shrug of her shoulders. Then, as if the question had been bothering her for hours, "What is your village like?"

Alisha smiled tightly and shrugged at the suggestion of hiding. What good would it do' She'd rather die warm and near a fire with food in her belly than out in the cold, starving and probably hyena fodder. She found a place to sit and sat heavily. "My village is much different," she started. But then she began to think about Rhy'din as compared to this place and in terms that Annie could understand. There wasn't much difference between the two. "I mean we ride animals to get to places instead of walking. We have running water and hospitals with doctors and medicine for those that are sick." She knew she said too much, but it was late and Alisha was too tired to care.

It was clear some words weren't translating well. Annie's face looked confused and then she tried to cover the expression with a smile, as if inquiring about some of those details would have been rude or off putting for her. She sighed and looked to the door, then back to Ali, "I am sorry that you aren't happy here." She could tell by the woman's reservations that there was no great joy being lost at the thought of leaving where they were. Nonetheless, it was her home, "I do not know where to begin to explain you to the shaman. Have you anything of value" An offer of apology may help."

Annie's apology struck a chord and Alisha reached out to touch the woman's hand. "Annie, my stay with you and your family....I truly enjoyed being here. You've a beautiful family and the children are good kids. It's the fact that the shaman sacrifices women and children so he can stay young. Why doesn't he just have his own children to pass down his powers and knowledge to' It's so far less barbaric." Alisha looked down at her bag and shook her head. She had nothing of value in her bag and the only jewelry she was wearing she would not part with. The earrings assured that she understood and was understood by those around her. And the ring Thomas gave her had too much sentimntal value to part with.

"It is also the men," she corrected, giving a shrug of her shoulders, "It is everyone that gives. The shaman is three hundred years old now, he has a lot of wisdom." When it came to passing down the knowledge to his children she shrugged as if unable to answer the question. Why would he obsolete himself that way' "Only the shaman knows how." Annie sighed, pushing her thick braid from in front of her shoulder to her back, "Is there no knowledge you have which is valuable?"

"I could always just cut his dick off," she grumbled. Alisha wasn't very nice when she was tired, achey and irritated. She waved her hand, indicating that she wasn't serious. "I could tell him everything he'd ever want to know, but I doubt it would do any good. My village is far, far away. Too far to raid or make a trade. I came to get help for my family, the children. But you're right, if that is all that knife is good for, I've wasted my time."

"What?" The statement startled Annie and she blinked, looking pale and as if she were ready to argue for all the reasons that it was a bad idea. Sarcasm, apparently, was no something she was terribly familiar with. Or, she was just too stressed to hear anything other than a serious response. When she talked about the knife Annie shrugged her shoulders, "I tried to tell you that I did not think it would help you. The shaman is our doctor, but he has no one to learn from. He prizes knowledge over all else." She frowned and then looked at Alisha, "When you were angry you spoke of things that we should do for ourselves. To make things better. Could you not trade those ideas to him?"

"I could tell him about keeping clean and allowing little ones to get sick so they don't when they get older. But for what? He won't listen because he's the almighty medicine man and his power is that he knows things that you don't."

"I don't know," she sighed, looking away to the door and then to Alisha, "Hide tonight, think on it. I don't know what else to tell you, those are the only ideas I know. The shaman likes gifts, if you can give him anything he will take you more seriously." Annie frowned and sat down, cross-legged on the bench seat of the kitchen table, looking at her, "I've never had to think about this sort of situation before.

"Annie, I'm sorry that this is on your shoulders. It really shouldn't be. I'll go to the shaman in the morning and talk to him. You're not to blame for my behavior." Alisha curled her legs up under her and used her bag as a pillow to try to make herself more comfortable. Her legs hurt and her throat was sore.

"You must not be here when he wakes," she warned, looking to the bedroom door and then back to her when she stood up, "My husband is up early, usually. But he is tired. He may sleep in still but just....don't be here when he wakes." The children could sleep in forever. And if they did see her" The stories and ramblings of a child could easily be discredited. Toyoti was a different animal. He was one of the better hunters, few would challenge him if he claimed something was so.

Alisha considered what Annie said. She was right. To be found in this hut at daybreak was to condemn Annie and her family in the eyes of the village. They were already in deep water for bringing the stranger to the village in the first place. "Alright," she nodded and then stood up. Groaning, she stretched her legs and then walked to the door. "Thank you for everything, Annie. I'm sorry I was such trouble." She smiled tightly and then left the house, carefully holding the flap to keep it from making too much noise. Alisha knew where she was going to go. The village was quiet. It was easy to sneak up to and into the shaman's hut. It was going to be a very long night.

It was morning. The sun was climbing into the sky and the daughter and son were already up, running through the village with the other kids, minding the chores they had to do and laughing. Ani was in the kitchen, preparing eggs like she did most mornings. There was a sound, one she had never heard before. It was not unlike a bird except it lacked the warmth of vocal cords and irregularities. Her head tilted at the. Beep. Beep. It was the 24 hour warning of the watch.

The Beep. Beep. Actually woke her from her lazy doze. She frowned at the watch embedded into her wrist. It took her all of a few moments to realize what was going on and why. The frown grew darker. She had 24 hours to complete her mission. Alisha stretched and groaned mournfully as she sat up and put her feet to the floor. She could smell the sizzling meat and the eggs and it made her stomach rumble. "Well, here we go," she muttered and stood up from the bed. She stretched again, her hands going to her head so that she could finger comb her hair into some semblance of disarray. Strolling into the kitchen area, she let her hands fall to her sides with a soft slapping sound. "Morning, Ani. Do you need some help?"

"Almost done," Ani said, lifting the heavy cast iron pan and then putting it in the center of the table with the benches, "If you could call the kids and let them know it's time, that would help." Sometimes getting them to come in to eat could be a chore, especially if the kids felt they were really involved with something. Ani was looking tired, as if she hadn't slept well or something was weighing on her. Lunniah's birthday had gone well, everyone had seemed pleased at the ceremony.

"Alright," she nodded with a smile. It was not lost on Alisha that something was wrong, but she didn't push. Instead she stepped out into the bright sunlight and put her fingers to her lips. She let out a shrill, powerful whistle. "Lunniah and Yahounia, breakfast time! Come get it before it's all gone!" she shouted and then folded her arms over her chest to wait and see if they would come running or if she was going to have to chase after them.

"But we're not done playing tag!" Lunniah was the one to complain, because she was still so young. Yakounia was at an awkward age, one where he recognized the beauty of a woman but was entirely unprepared to know anything more about it other than it was appealing and that he liked to look more mature when he was around Alisha or other attractive women in the village. Yakounia trotted up to her and gave an annoyed wave of his hand to Lunniah, who pouted. Today she was wearing the shirt dress, fashioned out of Alisha's burgundy sweater. Often she wore it, the cloth only got reprieve when Ani insisted that it be washed. The son passed by Alisha with a nod and the girl eventually came to the hut, frowning at having to abandon the game.

Alisha put her hand onto Yakounia's head to tussel his strawberry blond hair and smiled at Lunniah's pout. "You can play later, after you've eaten and finished your chores." she sounded like the mother she wasn't. But, she learned those phrases from somewhere and she hoped that her mother was proud of her. Ducking into the hut after the children, she settled onto the bench at the long table. Plates of eggs and the sizzling meat were served, Alisha and Lunniah with the fried mushrooms that they both seemed to love. "Mmm thank you, Ani. Delicious, as always."

"But they will already be winning the game so I can't just play later!" she countered to Alisha, giving her the look that most children give adults when they think that they're stupid for not knowing that there was a score and the game would be lost. Sitting down her and her brother sat opposite of one another. Her feet swung, his touched the ground.

Her son looked at Ani and said, quietly, "Dad asked me to go hunt with him tonight."

To which Ani paused and then made a smile, "Oh, you must be thrilled." There was tension in the air, as if her son knew it would be something that she didn't want to hear, but needed to be said anyway. She could see her son look proud and guilty all at once and leaned over to kiss him on top of the head, "Just be careful, stay out of the way and learn from your father."

Alisha's eyes ticked from Ani to Lunniah and then to Yahou. She ate quietly and observed the family dynamics. It must have been Yahou's first hunt and there was a reason to be scared. "Your father is brave and smart. He will keep you safe, Yahoo," she smiled reassuringly. She glanced up at Ani once again but bit her lip to keep from asking if she were alright. That could wait until the children were back at play.

Women lost husbands and sons to the hunt. A boar was a vicious creature and they were large, wild and mean. Her personal experience had told her that. She might have been expecting her son to tell her, the tired look about her giving all the indications that Toyoti had whispered about it in her ear and she'd been worried all night. Today, she had to receive the news as if it was a surprise and be happy for her son, "You better go with the men, today. Mind your father." She said.

Lunniah rolled her eyes, "You are so not a man."

To which her brother kicked at her under the table.

She whined and then looked at Ali, "He's such a jerk!"

It was a delicate situation, to be sure. Her heart went out to Ani, she couldn't imagine letting her children go anywhere near a boar that wasn't already slaughtered. The kick jostled the table and Alisha looked at Lunniah with a slight frown. "Your brother is entering manhood. You should respect that. Someday, when you begin your monthly courses, he'll remember that you gave him the respect he deserves and will show you the same."

It made the boy's shoulders pull back proudly when he heard her. Ani reached over, mussing his hair and then kissing the top of his head, "Go see your father. I'll see you for dinner. Go." The boy brightened further and then took another mouthful of eggs, picking a piece of meat off the pan and hurrying through the cloth doorway with a 'thwap' of the cloth.

Lunniah frowned, certain that Ali would have been on her side and was disappointed when she was shamed. Her eyebrows went up and then she smiled, "Can I have a braid of your hair?" Ani nearly choked, "Lunniah, that's not something you ask people. You already have her shirt, you cannot take everything from the woman. You should, perhaps, think of something you could give back instead of just taking all the time."

Alisha hadn't wanted to hurt Lunniah's feelings but as things went in this village, she was going to have to learn to defer all things to the men. It went against the grain of who she was, but she'd already made enough trouble for the family. At the question proposed, she looked at Lunniah as if she'd lost her mind. But before she could respond, Ani came to the rescue. "I really don't need anything but I'd rather not part with my hair," she tried to be gentle but firm. "Why don't you go play for a while so your mother and i can clean up?"

"Just one braid!" Lunniah was, as it turned out, a bit odd and outspoken, even for Ani. When she made the suggestion that she go out and play she huffed and then slid from the table, shooting back outside. Ani shook her head, gathering the rudimentary plates off the table, "Sorry, Ali, I don't know where she gets some of those ideas from." Turning, she put the dishes in the sink. The leftover food was getting wrapped up in what looked like a thin stretched animal skin.

Alisha held her ground and watched as the little girl slipped out of the hut. She sighed softly and got up to help clean up the dishes. "She's young and has an imagination. I think she's wonderful," she smiled to Ani and reached for the bar of lye soap. "Ani, is everything alright' I know that you're worried for Yahoo, but you just seem a little tired."

"Yahoo?" she blinked and then shook her head. Ali came up with the strangest sort of words and names, sometimes. She had thought she heard her say it that way before. She said his name with a smile, "Yakounia." When she told her she looked tired she nodded with a sigh, "I was worried for Lunniah for weeks and now I worry about my son. There is just no end to worry when you have a child."

"All you can do is teach them your beliefs and hope for the best." Alisha grabbed a scrubby and soaped it up before she picked up the first plate. "Are you going to have another one?"

"Yes, probably two or three more before the body won't allow me more," that was about the extent of their understanding. She frowned at the thought of it, one hand resting on the gentle rise of her stomach before the sound of a horn broke the air. Ani said, realizing Alisha would not understand the signal,

"We'll be meeting with the shaman tonight. That's quick." Usually it was every other month, or less, that such gatherings took place. It was odd that after only a week that it was happening again, "He must have something important to say."

Alisha looked down at Ani's belly and then back into her eyes. "You're a good mother, Ani," she smiled. The horn sounded and Alisha's smile vanished into a confused frown. It wasn't until Ani spoke again that the confusion was cleared. "Oh. I hope it's not more of that mutilation."

"Mutilation?" She said the word and looked at Ali curiously. Either the word wasn't translating well or she viewed the ceremony differently. "You mean the rebirth ceremony' No, it shouldn't be what he performs. It's too soon for that to be it." She reached back, pulling her blond red hair over her shoulder to the front, "I try to be a good mother, but my children always seem so wild."

"You give them freedom to become the people that they were meant to be. It takes a great strength to do that. They listen to you, and they obey you which is more important. They're not as wild as the little guy that runs around throwing cow poop at everyone," she chuckled.

Ani laughed outright at Ali's story, her eyebrows coming together and her eyes tearing up, "Someone runs around in your town throwing poop at people!?" She shook her head and gave Ali a shove of the shoulder. Drying her hands off on the shift-like dress she wore she nodded to the door, "We better get to the harvest today, need to prepare it for the winter months."

Alisha laughed with Ani, glad to see the smile on her friend's face instead of the worrisome scowl that she usually wore. The dishes were cleaned and Alisha dried her hands off by wiping them on the worn denim jeans she wore. "Alright, let's get to harvesting then."

Everyone was arrested by her. Toyoti, Ani....everyone. They withdrew as if a small explosion had gone off and stared at her. The shaman stared at her, his eyes like steel as if to see whether or not she had the nerve. The first person to regain themselves was Toyoti, who cried, "All hail the new shaman! The sacrifice has been decided!" Being the strongest warrior, it was his word that sent three of the men on top of the old shaman, whose eyes widened with fear when the reality that he might actually be overthrown hit him.

Alisha's cat like eyes were wide and blazing with anger. Adrenaline fueled her actions as instinct took over. She knew that she was about to change these villager's lives forever, but that wasn't about to stop her from defending her friend. And as Toyoti and the other hunters wrestled the shaman to the ground, she looked down at him with anger aggitating every step and every move she made. "People of this village will no longer live in fear of you," she growled quietly. "Or of this dagger." Her voice became softer, the quiet of the crowd made it so that she no longer needed to yell to be heard. "I will allow you to live," she didn't have it in her to kill anybody. "But you will earn your place in this village."

She turned away from the Shaman and looked around the crowd. Her gaze stopped on Ani. "I name Annoxilla as my apprentice, her daughter, Lunniah shall follow in her footsteps. Lunniah's first daughter shall follow in her mother's footsteps and the position will forever be in their hands." Turning back to face the Shaman and then Toyoti, she gave a small nod. "For his shameful conduct in calling upon the gods before the time came you shall take him out to the post where you'll give him ten lashings. A day will pass before he can come into a home to be taken care of." She tucked the dagger back into her bag. "I shall take my leave now. Follow my instructions until I return from my meditation with the Gods." She turned back to Annie and smiled ruefully. She'd done all she could. "I love you," she mouthed silently. The fire crackled and roared behind them. A resounding BEEP was heard, and the new shaman disappeared.