Redemption: Supernatural Time-Traveling Romance with Sci-fi and Metaphysics (7 page)

“Pot!” she says, pointing
excitedly as the woman takes a large lump of clay and begins to roll it out on
a wooden plate, using her fingers skillfully to form the sides of the pot. When
she is happy with the shape, the woman lifts the vessel carefully and places it
close to the fire to harden it, before reaching for another piece of clay.

“Show?” asks Mi eagerly, sitting
down next to her. The woman looks up and nods, passing her a lump of the soft
clay together with a wooden plate.

Delighted, Mi begins to copy the
woman’s actions, rolling out the clay and shaping it with her fingers.

“Not hard!” says the woman as Mi
tears the edge of the clay. She reaches out and pinches the gap closed and
gestures for her to continue. “Soft touch.”

Mi nods. “Soft touch.”

The woman watches, impressed at
how quickly Mi picks up the skill, working quickly and confidently.

“Good pot!” she says, as she
takes Mi’s work and places it by the fire.

Mi is alarmed at this attempt to
burn her creation and tries to snatch it away. “No!”

“Fire make pot hard,” says the
woman, placing it back next to the fire.

“Hard?” Mi frowns. “Like stone?”

The woman nods. “Like stone. Good
pot!”

That evening Mi enjoys using her
pot to cook some grain and vegetables for Bagra and herself.

~

Days and nights in the village
pass quickly for Mi as she busies herself settling in. One afternoon, as she is
helping the other women folk to make bread, Bagra walks over and sits next to
her.

“You know hunt?” says the older
woman. Immediately Mi is reminded of the hunt that took her precious Lu from
her and turned her world upside down. She shakes her head to dispel the
thoughts.

“Yes,” she says.

 
“Soon big hunt. Many buffalo beyond forest.” Bagra waves a
hand in the direction of the wood, indicating the plains beyond. “Feast, big
feast!”

“Feast?” say Mi, unfamiliar with
the word.

“Feast. Much food! We make ready…
come.” Bagra leads Mi to the tent where the empty water skins are kept and
sends her to the river to fill them.

As she is busily filling the bags,
she suddenly becomes aware of a sound coming from the direction of the forest.
Wild animal?
She keeps as still as
possible, while slowly turning to look. But instead of some dangerous beast,
there is a man there, practicing his hunting skills. With his spear held
steadily in his hand he looks so handsome and strong that Mi forgets what she
is doing. The bag she is holding slips to the ground, spilling its water onto
the grass. She stands up to get a better view of the man and steps onto a large
twig, which snaps loudly beneath her foot. The hunter turns his head at the
sound and his eyes meet those of Mi. Her breath catches as she stares at him.
Like my Lu,
she thinks. Certainly he is
powerful and noble just like Lu was, and yet in looks he is very different.
Suddenly self-conscious and confused by the strange feelings stirring inside
her, she hurries away, hiding herself in the rushes at the river’s edge.

As she glances down at the water,
she catches a glimpse of her face reflected in the calm surface, and is
painfully aware of how different she is compared to him and all these
smooth-skinned people. She looks down at her arms.
Too much hair,
she decides.
Mi
cut hair!

After filling the remaining water
bags, she hurries back to the village and dumps them by the fence. Going to the
place where the women are hard at work skinning a number of animal carcasses
with sharp, thin stones, she selects one of the sharpest and ducks into her
tent. Mi tests out the flint, running the edge downwards along her left forearm.
Despite the keenness of the blade, it isn’t easy to cut her thick hair, but she
repeats the action, trying to shave her whole arm. Unfortunately, after much
time and effort, some hair still remains on her arm and her skin is bleeding in
some places. As she wipes away the blood with a frown, she is startled by the
sound of muffled laughter behind her. She spins round to see Bagra standing in
the entrance to her hut, holding her hat over her mouth in an attempt to
conceal her amusement. Embarrassed, Mi drops the flint and quickly hides her
shaved arm behind her.

“Come, Mi,” says Bagra, beckoning
her to follow. She leads Mi to her own tent and, when they are both inside, she
picks up a couple of pots, one containing a dark-green powder and the other water.
Using a stick to mix a small amount of the powder with some water, Bagra leans
across and smears the paste onto Mi’s right arm. Mi looks at it, frowning,
before widening her eyes in amazement. The hair is melting away as she watches.
After a few moments, Bagra wipes off the paste with a piece of cloth, leaving
behind a patch of slightly red, but hair-free, skin.

“Red goes,” says Bagra airily,
then hands Mi the stick. “You do it now.”

When Mi finally emerges from the
tent, her face, arms, chest and legs are all completely free of hair.
Hair gone,
she thinks, feeling much
better about herself.
Smooth like tribe!
Look like tribe!
Her thoughts are drawn back to the man she saw by the
river and smiles.
Find mate in tribe!

~

A few days later is the feast to
mark the start of the hunting season. With clear skin, and a number of bright
flowers woven into her hair, Mi is in high spirits. Bagra has helped her to
make a dress using some of the special fabric made by the women of the tribe,
and as she slips it on, Mi feels beautiful. At the feast she keeps her eyes
open for the hunter she had seen by the river. When she finally spots him, Mi
finds him watching her.

He likes me
, she thinks.
No hair good!

As he catches her eye he smiles,
and she finds the shyness of that first meeting has been replaced with a
new-found confidence. She walks towards him and he gets quickly to his feet,
making his way to meet her.

“You dance?” he asks, but Mi only
shrugs at the unfamiliar word, so the man turns and points to a dancing couple
nearby. Mi smiles in understanding and nods her head, and, as the tribe sings
their hunting songs, the man takes her in his strong arms and they dance
together. It has been so long since she has felt a man’s embrace, Mi delights
in the sensation. At last Mi knows this is the place she has been looking for,
the new home where Wu can live in safety with her. Soon she will bring him
here. Smiling at the thought, she nestles against his chest, her arms wrapped
around his powerful body.

“Lu,” she whispers, the sound
drowned by the singing. “My Lu.”

~

In the morning the adult men
leave for the hunt. As she watches them, Mi is reminded of the day Lu left for
that fatal hunt.
No Zo here,
she
reminds herself.
No bad hunt.
Mi is
enjoying staying here with these friendly people, and it will not be long now
before she can go and fetch Wu to live with her. That will have to wait for
now, though, as the men set out with their food, water and weapons towards the
forest and the great plains beyond. It is not yet safe to leave.

Mi spends the morning grinding
seeds with some of the other women, enjoying the warm breeze coming from the
desert.

Wu like this place,
she thinks.
He come here. Grow big. Grow strong, like
Lu.
As Mi thinks of Lu, she feels a stab of pain in her heart, but it is
not as bad as it once was, and her memories of him are a great comfort while
she is apart from her son.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a
strange sound that drifts to her on the breeze, a distant scream like a dying
animal that causes the women to look up in concern. For a moment they hear
nothing, but then the cry comes again, louder this time before it is suddenly
cut off.

“Danger!” shouts one of the women
nearby, and Mi turns to see her pointing towards the desert. Mi stands up and
shields her eyes from the Sky God’s glare, peering into the distance. Suddenly
she can see them, men running into the village through the broken far side of
the fence. Men with weapons.

“Quick!” says Bagra, pointing
urgently to a nearby hut. “Arrows!”

Leaving their work, the women
hurry to grab the few bows that have not been taken for the hunt and begin to
fire arrows at the men. At first they fall short. The men are too far away,
though their war cries of “Hai! Hai!” sound alarmingly close.

“Look!” says Bagra, appearing at
Mi’s elbow. “Bad men come!” Sure enough, as she looks across the village, the
first of the attackers come into view. They are carrying wooden cudgels, spears
and flint axes, primitive weapons, but effective in close combat.

“No!” shouts Mi as she watches
one of the men drag a young woman from a hut by her hair and strike her a
deadly blow with his ax.

Bagra thrusts a bow towards her. “Take.
Shoot men!” But Mi shakes her head, unused to these strange, new weapons.
Instead she snatches up a large rock from a pile of flints and holds it ready.

The attackers are fast and very
aggressive in their hunt, and they are too many for the few women and children
in the village. They cut quickly through their prey, littering the ground with
their bodies. The air is filled with the sound of battle cries and the wailing
of the wounded. As they get closer, though, they come in range of the women’s
arrows and it is not long before the first attacker falls, struck above the
eye, the flint arrowhead bursting through his skull. But the supply of missiles
quickly runs out, and Bagra calls to the women.

“Run!” she says, a note of fear
in her voice as she gestures towards the opening that leads to the forest. “Run
and hide!”

Firing the last of their arrows,
the women hurry through the fence and down the hill towards the distant trees.
Mi is one of the last to go through and, as she does so, she glances back
quickly over her shoulder at the attackers. An elderly woman hobbles out from
behind a hut, a small child clutched in her arms.

“Come!” shouts Mi, but as she
watches as a large man jumps out in front of the woman and cuts her down with a
swift blow from his club.

“No!” shouts Mi and hurls the
rock that is still clutched in her hand. It glances off the man’s shoulder and
he turns to look at her. With an icy dread, Mi recognizes him. “No!” she shouts
again, though this time it is in fear and disbelief. As the man faces her, she
sees the three long scars on his cheek, the marks of a tiger’s paw.
No,
she thinks.
Zo here!
When their eyes meet she sees a look of triumph flash
across his face, quickly replaced by one of aggression.

“My Mi!” he roars, tossing his
club to one side and snatching a spear from one of his fellows. Mi turns, then,
and runs, terror spurring her on down the hill and towards the forest at a
dizzying pace.

Down by the trees, Bagra has
stopped to let the others pass.

“Hide in trees,” she says,
pointing up into the nearby branches. “Make no sound.”

Arriving shortly after the last
of the women disappear into the shadows, Mi is ushered in by Bagra.

“Hide, Mi!” says the older woman
and Mi runs past her. “Make no. . .” Her voice is cut off by a dull
thud and Mi stops, wondering what it is. Turning round, she sees Bagra gripping
a long stick that seems to be growing from her chest. At first Mi doesn’t
understand what has happened, but then she realizes it is a spear. Zo’s weapon
has passed right through Bagra’s body, sticking out a hand’s width from her
back. Mi hurries back to her and wrenches out the spear, but it doesn’t help. Instead
Bagra sags to the ground, blood gushing between her fingers as she presses them
against the wound in her chest.

“Go,” she says, her voice weak
and harsh.

Mi shakes her head. “No. You
live!”

“Go, Mi,” says Bagra again, coughing
and spitting blood onto the ground. “Go!”

Bagra’s head slumps onto the
ground and her hands fall limp by her side. A thin trickle of blood escapes
from the corner of her mouth and her eyes stare up, seeing nothing. Bagra is
dead. With tears in her eyes, Mi stands up, still clutching the spear, and sees
Zo staring from some distance away.

“Mine!” he yells, his voice
gloating as he taps his chest. The look on his face reminds her of the day
before
that
hunt, when he attacked
her as she came out of the lake, a look of desire and hunger.

Zo not kill me,
she realizes.
Zo take me.
This is what he has always
wanted, to have her as his own, as his slave.

“No!” she shouts, brandishing the
spear. “Zo not take Mi!”

“You mine,” says Zo, his voice
almost a hiss as he advances on her.

Quickly,
she thinks, placing the butt
of the spear on the ground.
Or he take
me!
She rests the other end against her chest pointing directly at her
heart. She knows what she must do.

“No!” shouts Zo, realizing her
intention. His face contorts with rage as he runs towards her. “You not do it!”