Anne
The harvest festival is today. I've been here for weeks and not much has changed. The villagers still hate me, all except Waya and the older woman, Inola. Running away would be futile, I have nowhere to go, I'm all alone.
Waya and I communicate much better now but he is usually withdrawn and quiet but he does lower the guard sometimes and I get a glimpse of him. A week ago he visited my destroyed village and when he came back, he gave me a bundle of novels and a stack of parchment along with a quill and ink pot.
Now I it on the pile of furs with my knees drawn up, the book propped up on them, reading an adventure novel. Waya sits on the other side of the room whittling wood, taking careful time.
"Are you going to the festival?" I ask, closing my book, sitting it aside.
He looks up, hair tied up in a loose bun. "We have to go. Elder Inola demanded you be there."
My brows furrow. "Um, no. I don't want to go."
Waya turns back to his whittling. "You don't disobey elder Inola," he says, as if that ends the discussion.
"I'm not going to a festival where everyone hate me. They'll be talking about me! I am a pariah, Waya, don't you understand that?" I argue.
He sighs. "Anne, we are going. You'll get over it."
Anger flares inside me and I toss the book away from me and roll over. What is he not understanding? How can I go to a festival where I'll be constantly ridiculed? Anxiety turns my stomach and I get up and go over to the drinking bucket, filling a clay cup, and slowly drink the water. The cold water relaxes me and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Waya sidles to my back and for a moment he is silent. "Anne," he murmurs, breath tickling the back of my neck.
Shivering, I turn and look up at him, warmth rippling off his body and seeping into me. "Yes?" I raise my eyebrows, a headache pulsing in my head.
"I'll be right there with you. Even if all those things happen, I'll be there." His voice is soft and deep, resonating in my bones.
Something eases and a small smile tugs my lips. "Thank you."
-~-
The weather is warm with a cool breeze, the wind brushing my navel and arms, sweeping stray strands of hair off my face. Waya stands beside me, arm brushing mine as we look upon the crops they've been working on. I can't deny it's a bountiful crop. Pride flows through the crowd and they dance and sing. Excitement courses through me.
"This looks amazing," I whisper.
Waya looks down at me and grins. My chest flutters and when he makes his way towards the food, I pause by the bonfire where men and women dance and laugh. "I'll wait there," I say confidently.
He looks at me and then our surroundings. His jaw tenses. "I'll be quick."
I nod and tap my foot, smiling, letting the joy of the festival fill me as I dance in place.
"What are you so happy about, white dog," a voice says in their native language.
My heart stops but I keep my face forward. "Leave me alone." I steel myself, taking a deep breath, balling my fists.
Two women circle me. "You know Waya isn't yours, he belongs to the women of the tribe," one continues.
"Why would he want white trash when he has us?"
"He likes to visit us while you're asleep."
"He's quite handsome, isn't he?"
Tears prick my eyes and an odd feeling squeezes my heart. "Ahiya'a," I hiss. "Go away!"
The women laugh like Hyenas and they spit at me. As I raise my fist, a hand grabs me, pulling me back. "Never come near my wife again. Leave us," he growls, turning his back on them and facing me. "What did they say to you?" he asks in my language.
I look over his face, copper skin, hair unbound and framing his smooth face, his brown eyes boring into me. He is quite handsome. The other women ogle him and something within me sinks. I swallow hard and shake my head.
"Nothing important," I say.
His eyes soften and he guides me towards the edge of camp. "Anne..."
Shouts go up in the village and men on horseback trample into the middle of the festival.
-~-
The clan elders step forward and Waya shoves me behind him. "Stay behind me, those men are from our sister tribe," he says, fiercely. For a moment I forget what the women said and watch the men and clan elders.
"Welcome, agido. What brings you to our celebration?" elder Inola says in the native language.
A man with long hair but shaved sides, comes forward, looking down on Inola. "We have been notified you have adopted a white woman into your tribe," he starts, scanning the crowd. I shrink behind Waya, my heart frozen.
"What of it, Wohali?" Inola widens hers stance.
Wohali snarls, lip curling. "She is a liability. They will come for her. Dispose of the trash and clean your hands of the trouble the white man will bring."
Waya's hand shoots back and fists in my wrap around skirt. I press my hands against his back, trembling.
Agreeing murmurs go up around the tribe and my breathing comes fast and hard,
Elder Inola holds her head high. "I run this clan and when the girl was brought back as a prisoner, I chose to have her integrated into this tribe. The tribe I run."
"It is bad judgment, Inola. Listen to your people, get rid of her, she is nothing."
Inola scoffs. "You are nothing, Wohali. She is a life. A life worth protecting."
"We will stay until morning, think about it, Inola. Your people don't approve." he rides towards the edge of camp.
Waya whirls on me. "We have to get out of here." his eyes are wild as his hands come upon my shoulders.
Why is he trying to protect me?
"Running is unnecessary, Waya. I will not be disposing of Anne. I stick to my decision," Inola says from behind Waya.
His hands fly out. "They will give her up, elder Inola. They will take her behind your back." he speaks so fast I have trouble translating his words in my head.
She shakes her head. "Go somewhere, not away but be alone. Leave things to me." Inola smiles reassuringly and strides away, calling off the festival.
He sighs. "I can set up a temporary tent by the river."
Questions boil inside my mind, but I just nod.
-~-
Waya sets up the small temporary tent and we lay on the furs face to face, closer together than usual.
Without looking at him, I touch the furs, chewing my lip. "Why did you try to run?"
Hesitantly his hand folds over mine. "I didn't want them to take you."
Finally, I look up at him. "But why? You never wanted to marry me," I whisper, almost like I'm divulging great secrets.
"Because I see you now."
Chills crawl over my skin and when he slides his thumb over my hand sparks fly into my bloodstream, racketing my heart rate.
I squeeze his hand. "Waya, do you have sex with the women in the village?"
His eyes widen. "That's what they told you, isn't it?" he asks.
I nod.
Waya brushes his fingers over my cheek, making my body tense and heat flares and melts me. "No, I am faithful to you, whether we become intimate or not."
The possibility of us becoming intimate makes me shiver and I nod again. Misinterpreting my shiver, he wraps an arm around me, pulling me into his body. "Body heat will keep you warm." he murmurs by my ear.
My breath hitches and I hesitantly press my body against his, pressing my palms flat against his back, strong abdomen brushing my soft belly, our arms pressed together. He tucks my head to his shoulder and after an hour of being tense, I slowly relax and fall asleep.