< “And you are involved in this matter?” the Old One asked with certainty.
Laloro dug into the earth with one huge foot. “I threatened him.”
“What’s that?” asked the Old One.
“I threatened to kill him if he didn’t give me his powers. He lost the desire trying to hide it from me.”
“Ahh,” said the Old One rubbing his nipples. “You have created discord among the gods. I believe you should throw more coins into my gourd.” >
“Now, let us see who Na finds more desirable,” said Quashe, stretching across the crocodile’s back. She sent her snakes slithering over to Na. Each snake curled around a different limb. Together, they pumped blood through his body until Na’s eyelids flickered and he returned to consciousness.
Na’s heart constricted at the sight of Sene trapped beneath reptilian heft. Then Quashe called to him. His gaze leaped from Sene to Quashe. Quashe’s voice yanked all of him into stiff hardness. Quashe shook with clicking laughter and leaned over to confront Sene. “You cannot hold the powers of the gods, ugly one. I should let my crocodile eat you for trying.”
A brief flash of emotion sparked in Na’s eyes, but he remained silent. Every inch of him strained towards Quashe, but entranced or not, he knew the rules—not without Quashe’s permission.
“Stay there,” Quashe barked at him and commanded her crocodile to back off Sene. “You have refused me. I must find something sweet to clean myself of this bitterness.”
< Quashe sat stiffly on her crocodile’s back, Na’s betrayal pulsing in her memory. The flutter of Faru’s desire surged through her flesh as she searched the trees for a few men to ravish. >
Night fell, and Sene had not moved. The sound of Na crying forced her awake. She opened her eyes and saw him standing, immobilized, waiting for Quashe’s return. She put her hands over her ears to shut out the noise and the sensation of hand against skin ran through her body like lightning. Her fingers fluttered. She had thought this day’s delight was done—departed with Faru’s gift, but here she was, still shocking herself with sweetness.
Sene ran a finger from her forehead to her chin and shivered. She held her hands before her face. They looked just as they always had: dry, cracked, swollen. Yet today, they had done new things. They had stained themselves with berries, lured a husband away from a goddess, and painted the walls of her dwelling with the juices of her own coming.
< A flapping sound echoed in Quashe’s ears. A dark figure dove and nipped the dip in her throat. She glanced back and saw a throng of fruit bats hovering close. She pressed her human-soft skin—impregnated with the double sweetness of her and her brother’s powers—against her crocodile. Her tough reptilian scales pointed to the sky. Another dark-winged figure swooped down and broke the skin at her elbow.
Quashe yelled at the top of her lungs. “Aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeee.” >
Sene rolled onto her side and struggled to her hands and knees. She crawled over to Na and pressed her cheek against his calves. A bout of dizziness swept through her. She settled herself against the earth and lay curled around Na’s feet.
< “Old One, I must go,” Laloro yelled upon hearing Quashe’s scream. “Quashe needs me.”
“Yes,” said the Old One. “Go to Quashe and bring her here, I believe she can help with Faru’s problem.” >
Sene nudged Na’s ankles with her charged hands. Her fingers massaged their way up his calves. She pressed her thumbs into the indentations behind his knees. Tears crept down her face. Her fingers shook. But she kept touching him.
Sene rose on her knees and kneaded Na’s thighs and buttocks. Her hardworking hands drifted up his spine, manipulating immobilized muscles. She spread her fingers over his back and raked her fingernails across his skin. She did not think of pain or pleasure, she wanted only to bring Na back.
< Laloro flew in the direction of Quashe’s screaming. When he reached the meadow, he could see Quashe’s huge crocodile crowned by a small mountain of bats. Laloro pointed his trunk at the bats and showered them with a plague. Bat skin bubbled and burst into flame. Laloro took a deep breath and blew the burning creatures from Quashe’s back. Quashe raised her beautiful crocodile head and looked up at Laloro, eyes glittering in gratitude. >
Sene stood, her belly brushing against Na’s back. If she closed her eyes, she could feel him shivering, ever so softly. She pinched his shoulders with little bites. Still Na did not move. She walked around to face him and stroked his forehead with thoughtful fingers.
“Come back, husband. Quashe doesn’t care about you.” She caressed his ears. “Na, please, return to me.”
< Quashe grazed Laloro’s warted skin with her snout and he almost burst from pleasure. She looked at him with new eyes. What had once disgusted her was suddenly quite useful.
“I hope…” she said in a quivering voice, “I hope I can call on you again.”
Laloro bowed. “I am at your service always.” >
Sene rubbed her lips against her husband’s. Her tongue darted out and licked Na’s lips. His body gave a slight tremor. She sent her tongue out again, this time to enter Na’s mouth, to moisten his dry gums with her saliva. Sene pulled Na’s lips apart with her fingers. She strained to pry open the barrier of his teeth. It had worked for Faru and Quashe. Why shouldn’t it work for her?
Sene took a deep breath and blew into Na’s throat. She blew the remembered delight of lying together in the grass, her thigh lodged against his crotch. She blew the memories of Na rushing home from the river to hold their new son, of the tickle of Na’s gentle questions about all the things the baby had done that day. She blew all the desire that had been aroused in her after Faru’s kiss. Finally Na began to blink. His tears sprinkled Sene’s face. He worked his lips into a grimace and spoke as if language was unfamiliar to him.
“Sene. Please, forgive. I’m sorry.” He took her callused hand in his and groped her knuckles with his lips.
< Deep in the Old One’s cave, old fingers dribbled honey in intricate swirling patterns on the floor. Faru lay, inert at one end of the design. When Laloro delivered Quashe to the cave, the Old One sprinkled brother and sister with cinnamon.
“Laloro,” the Old One said, “I am calling on my brothers to help. Please stay in the corner until they have safely gone again. You would not want to pay the price if you should accidentally crush one of them.”
Laloro backed away. The Old One rested one of his canes against his hip and pulled a tiny snail’s shell from the folds of his cloth. He blew out a thin, shrill sound, and a parade of snails slowly crawled into the room. The Old One took the lead, and his brothers followed, treading a circle around Quashe and Faru. The pace was slow, but the Old One’s powers were potent. With each shuffle of his feet, each undulation of his snail brothers’ bodies, Quashe’s wounds healed. Once the Old One and his brothers completed a full revolution, Faru’s powers slipped from Quashe’s body and returned to his. >
Sene and Na supported each other all the way home. Na stroked Sene’s arms. Sene squeezed Na’s waist. Na pulled Sene up the cliff when her belly became an obstacle to climbing. At the top of the cliff, Sene turned away from home, walking in the direction of Na’s mother’s dwelling.
“Sene, sweet wife, where are you going?”
“To get the children, Na. Did you not leave them with your mother?”
