The Blink, Chapter Two

26 May

The Blink

Chapter Two

By L. Stewart Marsden


She was young, but strong. She pinned his arms down with her knees, which peaked from beneath a doeskin cover. Her look was fierce, and made more so by the decorative scars on her cheeks and nose. Her black eyes shone from beneath thick eyebrows, and her facial features were noble in ancestral design. Her aquiline nose, while dominant, was not unattractive, and her pursed and ample lips, inviting.

“Uncle! I give up,” Adams repeated in a calm voice. He smiled. She frowned.
He looked in the direction of her knife, still held tight against his throat. He tried to indicate through various expressions how harmless he was, but she would have none of it.

A breezed fanned smoke from the fire over them, and the smell of the cooking animal was strong.

He smiled and sniffed in an exaggerated fashion, looking over at the fire with his eyes, and murmuring “Mmmmmm!”

She sat straight up, and moved her knife to the side, but still held it in threatening fashion. She looked at the cooking animal, and back to him.


He looked at her quizzically and shook his head.

“I don’t understand.”

Ja-yo-si-ha-s?” she repeated, then moved her hand to her mouth as if eating something.

“Yes! Yes! I am hungry! Ja-yo-si-ha-s!”

They smiled and he made an attempt to sit up, but she quickly brought the knife back to his throat and shoved him back. She said something and motioned him to roll over on his stomach. When he obeyed, she grabbed both arms behind his back, and bound them together with a long leather thong.

Then she motioned him to get up, which he found awkward with his arms bound until she helped by pulling on one of his arms. Her knife pressed to his bare chest, she prodded him towards the campfire, and against a young sapling, where she had him sit with his back against the tree. She bound him to the tree with another leather thong.

Her eyes always on him, she moved to the campfire and took the spit down, leaning one end on the ground and holding the other end up while she sliced pieces of meat from the animal. She ate one of the pieces, and closed her eyes with pleasure, then brought a slice to Adams.

He opened his mouth and she fed him the bit of meat.

It was delicious!

He nodded and smiled, muttering “Thank you!”

Wa do,” she replied. “Thank you.”

She continued to eat and feed him, still careful to keep a safe distance, though he was bound to the tree. At one point she pointed at his skirt made of ferns. She lifted up one of the ferns that covered his crotch and giggled.

U-le-lv-ha!” She covered her face with both hands and shook her head. He laughed with her.

“It’s like a kilt,” he said. “You know, like the Scottish men wear? Nothing underneath!” And he laughed heartily. “What is your name? I am Kyle Adams,” and nodded his head. “Kyle Adams.”

She repeated, “Kyle Adams.”

“Name. It’s my name — what people call me. What do your people call you?” He was painfully aware how difficult it was to communicate without using his hands.

“Name? Kyle Adams?” Then it became clear to her. “Dagwado!” She thumped on her chest and declared brightly, “Si-quo-ya! Dagwado … Si-quo-ya! Name!”

“Your name is Sequoia?”

“Uh! Dagwado Si-quo-ya!” and stood and danced about excitedly. Then she knelt in front of him and poked his chest, “Kyle Adams!”

Her voice was loud, and echoed into the darkness. She smiled, and her deep eyes sparkled.

“Siquoia,” he said, and implored her with his eyes and motion of his head to please untie him. She sat back and stood, shaking her head “no.”

“Tla! TLA!” She marched back to the fire and sat on the other side, peering at him through the dying embers. Then she lay down on her side, watching him intensely, gripping her knife tightly.

A log shifted in the fire, and a last spray of embers showered the campfire. As uncomfortable as he was, Adams fell asleep, exhausted.

§ § §

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