Past Lives, Continued

originally posted February 8, 2006

They spoke of his courage, how he stood unflinching against the charge of outriders. Four of them; Kamchak of the Tuchuk, Conrad of the Kassars, Hakimba of the Kataii and vain Tolnus of the Paravaci urged their kaiila, lances at the ready to run him through. Cabot neither moved to evade nor raised arms to defend himself. I thought it was an incredible tale, but the longer I lived with these fellows, the better I understood his gamble. By demonstrating his courage, a trait heralded above all others in the land of the Wagon Peoples, he earned their respect.
My introduction was far less impressive. Tired and hungry, unaware that I traveled on land claimed by such fierce people, I was run down by a woman. Barely a man, an adult more by circumstance than age, the danger was not immediately apparent. The stamping of the kaiila's paws, the strike of which would shatter whatever of my bones it met, was greatly unheeded. She was, simply, fantastic. I was not without experience, having dallied with the Chamber Slave in my family home, but this was a woman beyond my ken. Deep, smoky eyes that refused to squint in the harshest rays of Tor-tu-Gor settled upon me fully, unabashedly. Her hair was wild, tangled and unkempt. It framed her face darkly, lifted from her shoulders by the brazen Plains Wind.

Maya.

As she spoke, informing me of my trespass, the penalty for such, my fate; I scarcely listened. Her mouth. I remember wanting to taste it. I remember the way she stood there, haranguing me as I found my feet and idly rubbed the dirt from my neck. I recall the shape of her hip in the brief, hide skirt she wore. When I finally did taste her, I do not think she was fully cognizant that it happened. She could not believe that events played out in such a straight-forward fashion. Did I not pay mind to her address? Was I not aware that to trespass these lands was a death sentence for one such as I? No other man, I gathered, had thought to approach her thusly. None was stupid enough to put his mouth on her. She could not deny, nor would I let her in subsequent years, that she joined the kiss. I will not say that she melted into my arms. Nor will I say that she swooned. She was, however, a willing participant when our lips met. When it ended, when I pulled back to draw breath I'd forgotten to need, she lifted the lids of her eyes and regarded me evenly.

"My brothers will kill you," she said.