Together they swim back.
Chapter 2
“You can’t carry me all the way back, Ahote,” Kimani protests when he lifts her once again.
“I have claimed my prize,” he retorts, ignoring her and continues walking back towards the village, past the boats, horses, and towards the main lodge.
“Ahote, your tribe will never accept me,” she sniffs and struggles against the way her body reacts to him. Lean, roped muscle, tempts her, and she is in awe of him. Waterlogged, she’s thankful for the heat from his embrace.
He stops walking, shocking a small gasp from her. “Does someone else hold your heart, Kimani?”
Steel blue eyes flash in her mind, but she crushes that dream. “No, but…”
“I have planned to claim you for two springs, little butterfly. They know you have my heart. I will deal with those who hurt you.”
“You weave a beautiful dream, Ahote.” She says and laces her fingers through his damp, black hair. He starts walking again, desperate to get her back and make his claim before he takes her and runs.
“Dreams are the soul’s way of showing us the path. You will trust me, Kimani.”
She laughs softly and lays her head on his shoulder.
“I will try, Ahote.”
They pass the canoes, grass field and horses to the center of the village where the tepees are set up. The slowest part of the river backs up to the camp. Most of the lodges are set close together, creating a circle which allows the women to help look after the youngest of the tribe. The tribal celebration is still going strong when they return. Cheers erupt when Ahote appears carrying Kimani. The warriors surround them chanting, and the drum beats grow stronger. Hoots and chants encircle them, Kimani blushes and buries her face in his neck.
Ahote squeezes her gently, and his laughter rumbles through her body. He throws his head back and howls, shocking her and calling his brothers. Ahote’s father, Chief Sumac hears the call and moves to his sons’ side. The braves from his tribe surround them returning his chanting and dancing. Kimani tenses until she looks into his eyes. Passion, determination and a promise of peace.
Chief Nashoba lifts a hand bringing the clearing next to the massive fire to a standstill. Kimani trembles as her Father walks towards them. He stares at her injured face, and his eyes grow grim.
“Ahbe’?” she whispers the Shoshone word for Father.
“You will walk with me,” Chief Nashoba declares.
“Ahote, release me.”
“Never.” His arms tighten around her. “The Wolf Clan welcomes the daughter of the Great Chief Nashoba into their tribe. I will honor and protect her all the days of my life.”
Kimani gasps and stares at him in shock.
“You will make your offer in my lodge.” Her father replies and walks away leaving them standing in disbelief.
“Kimani will come with us and get cleaned up,” her Mother asserts.
Anger rips through Ahote, and his arms tighten around her. He’s not ready to give her up. His father’s hand on his upper arm reminds him of his duty. Slowly he lowers her feet, surrendering her to her family.
Kimani watches until Ahote enters her father’s lodge, followed by his own Chief and Father. Her stomach cramps as the others pull her away. The drums start again, followed by music and laughter as the celebration continues.
“Kimani, we must get you changed and to your Father’s lodge,” Mitema says, pulling her away from the crowds to their tepee by the trees. Warmth envelopes her as they step inside. Nashca hurries to grab a second dress, made of white buckskin, a traditional dress worn for weddings.
“Not that one,” her mother warns. Both girls stop moving and stare. Mitema ignores them and pushes her gently on a half log used for a seat. “Your hair is wavy. I love the way the firelight dances on it. I always have,” she sniffs and begins brushing it. If she sees the wound on her head, she doesn’t mention it.
“Bia” Mother, “what is happening? I don’t understand.”
“I know, daughter. Your Father will explain.”
Nashca helps her dress in a traditional pair of leggings and an orange buckskin dress beaded with white shells. Both women stop moving when they see the bruises on her body. Mitema’s head drops to shield her tears.
Slowly, she helps her dress and then guides Kimani through the night towards her father’s lodge. It is a massive tepee built large enough to house thirty members of the tribe at a time. Smaller tepees surround it, but it is distinct because of the design. The horses painted by her hand race along the buffalo hide. She smiles at the image it represents. At night with the flames flickering through the tan leather, the black horses seem to race across it.
Nerves flutter in her stomach, as Nashca tucks her arm through hers in support. Mitema stops short of entering. The flaps are closed meaning no one can enter, but they can hear.
Ahote’s voice shouts in anger and the voices of the men inside rise to meet his. The flaps are thrown open, and Chief Sumac steps out, followed by his warriors. Ahote is among them, and he is flanked on both sides by his brothers. Each guide him quickly past Kimani, and he refuses to look at her.
Her heart sinks like a stone in the river. “Ahote?” she murmurs. He stops walking to turn back and look at her. With a grim look, he turns away and walks on with his tribe.
Mitema announces her arrival and steps back to wait for the council members to exit the lodge. All who pass, refuse to meet Kimani’s eyes. What could she have done to deserve such treatment?
“It’s going to be alright, Sister,” Nashca whispers and guides
