Chapter 8

One morning Nika went to hunt for fresh meat as she often did. But by mid- afternoon she hadn't returned.

Even though Vincent was worried, he knew that lately she had had to walk farther than usual to find meat. Her constant hunting had already killed much of the small game around their camp. But when dusk arrived and she was not back still, he really became worried. There was nothing to do now but to wait and hope that she was not hurt and that she had found a safe place to stay for the night.

As soon as it was light enough the following morning, he took a few provisions and his rifle then set out after her. His leg was almost completely healed by now and he was angry with himself for not having gone with her.

Walking was still a little painful but it was the lack of exercise in his leg that was causing most of the pain. Of course he didn't let that stop him. He had this feeling deep inside that she was in trouble and nothing less than death itself would have prevented him from searching for her.

He followed the small stream, which was the direction she always took when she went hunting. She always went the same way since most of the game that she killed were small animals that usually went to drink from the clear water of the stream.

He walked upstream for a couple of hours until he found himself in a small clearing. There was a single large tree in its centre so he stopped there to rest a little and eat. He was getting ready to leave fifteen minutes later when he heard voices not far from where he was he was sitting under the tree. It then occurred to him that he had made a mistake in choosing this place to rest and eat. There was nowhere for him to run now except to hide where he was.

The sound of the voices got louder and it was clear to him that whoever was coming his way would pass very close to the tree. He had no choice but to remain still and wait since running away would definitely attract attention.

A few minutes later, half a dozen completely naked men, with fluffy feathers tied to their manhood and with animal's figures drawn on their chest, appeared in the small clearing.

They hadn't seen him yet as they walked toward the lone tree and thus straight toward him.

Then the one the farthest ahead, probably the leader, saw him and he froze in his tracks. Without saying a word, he pointed in Vincent's direction to the others and he began shouting.

What followed next happened so fast that Vincent only remembered it vaguely afterward.

They all rushed him before he had time to greet them or ask a question. He knew that he could easily have killed half of them before the rest got to him but until they jumped on him he had no way to predict if they would be friendly or not.

One of them hit him on the head with the wooden end of his spear and while he was half- unconscious, they bound his hands behind his back and tied a fibrous rope around his neck.

To reanimate him, they simply threw him in the cold water of the creek nearby and had fun watching him trying to keep his head out of the water. Once they were tired of this fun, the leader pulled him out of the water by means of the rope around his neck.

When Vincent tried to talk to them, he was hit in the face. It became painfully evident to him that these people didn't want him to address them in any way. They seemed very interested in his rifle at first, but when they removed his knife from around his waist, all of their interest switched to the knife and its cutting capacity. They were even more agitated after that.

The leader and two others began to talk very fast in a language that was very similar or the same as that of Nika. Vincent could understand most of everything of what they were saying. It seemed that they were debating what to do with him. The leader, the one with the most intricate drawing on his chest, wanted him kill immediately.

Finally, they were able to reach an agreement. They were not going to kill him but the leader of the small group was going to keep the knife and would not reveal its existence to Haski. But Vincent and all the rest of his things were going to be brought back to their village and given to Haski who in all probability was the chief.

As soon as this was settled, they began to walk back the way they had come with Vincent walking in the centre of the file while the warrior immediately behind him was holding the rope tied around his neck.

They were walking very fast and the fact that his hands were bounded behind his back put extra strain on his still painful leg and soon he was in much greater pain. He fell to the ground often as he tripped on obstacles, but each time they would kick him in the side and force him back on his feet by pulling on the rope. But even then, as he miserably walked as a prisoner toward their village, he had a chance to observe them.

Their skin, at least that part that was not covered with paint, was more of a pale brown colour than it was black and their bodies were slim and tall. Their faces seemed handsome enough but since they had so much paint on it, it was difficult to judge. As for their hair, they all had a single shoulder length tress of dark black hair that was tied at the back with a short leather rope and decorated with a few feathers. They seemed to take great care of their hair and every time that mud or dust would get into it, they would immediately wipe it off very carefully.

After a couple of hours of fast walking, they stopped to rest and ate fruits that they had been carrying in a bag of animal skin.

They rested for only a short while and they soon resumed their fast walking back to their village. It was almost dark when they arrived there. Judging by the number of huts that could be seen, Vincent figured that there must have been five or six hundred people living there.

The place seemed to be clean enough and there was a definite order in the way the huts were arranged in concentric circles around a number of larger dwellings in the middle of the village.

There were many cooking fires burning everywhere and the smell of food cooking reminded Vincent how hungry he was. They tied him to one of the several posts not far from the centre of the village. Then without any further concern for him, they went to a central fire where half a dozen females, who must have been waiting for them, served them hot food.

For the rest of the evening and for the whole night, Vincent remained tied to the post and not once did they come to give him food or something to drink. In the morning, he could hardly feel his arms since the tight rope prevented much of the blood from circulating in them. It was only because of his constant moving of his wrists behind his back that both of his arms were not completely paralysed.

As soon as the sun was up, a woman accompanied by two guards came to feed him. He was then taken to a hole near the edge of the village where he was allowed to relieve himself. Once again, he was taken back to the same post and tied up.

The guards went away but the woman remained near a fire close by and she got busy cooking a stew in a big clay cauldron. She had been kind to him when she fed him and she had even smiled at him once, so Vincent made up his mind to try to engage her in conversation.

"Are you the wife of a man from the village?"

When she heard him speaking to her, she stopped what she had been doing and came closer to the post but not near enough to attract attention. She began to pick up pieces of wood from a pile near Vincent.

"Be quiet," she whispered in an evidently nervous tone of voice." Slaves must not talk to each other, if you are caught you will be beaten."

In a much lower voice, Vincent then added,

"So you are a slave also. Are there many other slaves?"

He was not expecting an answer but she did answer his question.

"Yes, as many as there are huts. Sometime ago there were many more, but they killed many of us who tried to escape."

"Tell me, is there a woman here by the name of Nika?"

"Yes she is here. They brought her here two days ago."

Upon hearing that Nika was still alive, Vincent's heart began to beat faster. He wanted to know more about her condition. But the woman moved away closer to the fire with the armful of wood. Two warriors were now approaching them.

They didn't say a word and they untied Vincent's hands. They then pulled him by the rope that was still around his neck. He was thus forced to follow them as they crossed toward the centre of the village where he had seen the half dozen large dwellings the previous day.

As he walked with the two guards, he was able to distinguish the slaves from the citizens of the village.

The slaves were not permitted to wear any kind of ornament and their bodies were not painted, whereas the females of the village - those that were not slaves - were painted with intricate designs and the men had animals painted over their bodies. All of them - excluding the slaves - had either feathers or other decorations in their long hair.

Except for the feathers that the warriors wore, everyone in the village was completely naked. Even the women went around as naked as the day they were born.

Then Vincent noticed something very peculiar. It occurred to him that there were no old people anywhere to be seen. He did see a few children, but very few of them. On the other hand everyone looked healthy and in the prime of life.

The men would have been considered handsome if they had been on his world. And as for the women, slaves or citizens, they were all stunningly pretty. They were rather tall and slim with dark black shoulder length hair that was tied at the back, much like the hair of the men, and all of the women had splendid breasts that bounced about as they moved around.

They walked between huts and mud houses. Then Vincent was a witness to a strange sight when they came upon a scene where he saw men having sex with women here and there. He even saw one male actually leave one woman and immediately go down on another who was waiting her turn. Of course, both women were slaves and Vincent tried not to think about what could have happened to Nika.

He was brought in front of a high wall made of long poles placed close to one another and tied together with ropes. The wall completely enclosed a large house made of similar poles while the roof was like all the others, consisting of large leaves set overlapping one another on a rack of sticks.

Most of the people of the village had been following them and this made him nervous since they were probably expecting a show of some kind, he told himself. A show with him as the main attraction.

Then a man with numerous feathers of all kinds sticking out of his hair and with many decorations painted all over his body, came walking out of the dwelling. Vincent was forced to get on his knees in front of him. His leg was still painful and he cried with pain as he fell on his knees. He was slapped on the mouth immediately by one of the guards standing next to him.

It was quite evident that the man that had just come out of the large house was the chief. Cruelty could be read all over his face and he smiled as soon as he realised that Vincent was in pain. His body was covered with beautiful drawings of animals and his tress of hair was longer than any one Vincent has seen so far.

He took a few steps until he was just a few feet in front of Vincent. When Vincent was able to raise his eyes toward him, he noticed that in his hand he was holding Vincent's rifle. Pointing to it with one hand as he held it in the other hand, he addressed himself to Vincent in a low-pitched voice.

"Where did you get this?"

Vincent was not certain as to whether he would be permitted to answer. Would he be slapped again if he did? He decided to take a chance and answered the chief,