Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (5 page)

She wore next to nothing. More flesh could be seen than not. She wore a hip hugging animal hide close to resembling a loin cloth, and a bosom wrap that looked to be made of rabbit skin. Her feet were bound by much of the same, heavy under the soles of her feet, and wound up around her calves, knotted just below the knee. Her coloring, and the meager garbs she wore, did well to disguise her, hide her - make her blend into the forest colors if she chose to be invisible.

However, at that moment – she did not.

He was seeing her against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, and tall pine and fir trees. Before them, a meadow and then, a vast lake where she knelt. Even from the distance, hidden as he was within the thick foliage of the forest, he instantly recognized that she was lovely. He turned towards his horse and made the gentle sound for her name, *Nik-Nik* the clicking of his tongue off the roof of his mouth. She was used to this, walking gently, to lay at his side.

When he glanced back to Asiza, she had lain all of her weapons on the ground, right at the water’s edge. In her hand, she kept her dagger and glancing one last time around her and up into the trees, she waded into the lake.

There she kept her garments on, placing her dagger between her teeth she washed her hair and body – eyes constantly scanning. All that she did, she did in haste. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to get a closer look at her, he just had to. Deciding to pretend that he was a traveler, he rose to his feet with Nik-Nik following along. Taking her reins, the two, man and horse calmly walked from their place of hiding as if on the way to the market.

Asiza was immediately aware that they were there, turning rapidly in the water to keep her wide eyes on them. Soaked, she rushed from the water to kneel beside her weapons, her dagger was now gripped in her palm ready to defend herself.

“Whoooa whoa-whoa-whoa, jus’ passin’ by. M’pardon lassi, m’pardon. My horse needs to drink, so do I… if we may please?” He asked gently, watching her closely, she was tightly sprung and ready to pounce if he made one wrong move. Her amazing eyes darted from him to the forest he came out of, as if expecting more – he could see she feared a trap. “I’m alone… jus’ me’ and m’horse – needin’ water.” He carried on, moving closer to the water’s edge.

Broc made sure to keep a nice distance from her, but he stood much closer than the woods. He could see her full on now, registering every feature. This would be the first time in his life, the sight of a woman set all the nerve endings in his body to light and tingle. Like any man, he’d had his use of a woman when in need, but seeing her – was nothing like those times – this was different – she was different.

What he knew about her – finally had a face, a being, a body – living and breathing before him.

He was enraptured by what he saw.

She wasn’t willing to speak to him - keeping her focus, she watched his every move. At the same time, her eyes darted here and there, watching, waiting and anticipating.

His ears felt a strange popping.

His chest rising and falling with more intensity.

He noticed how the water ran over her skin the way he imagined his fingertips would. He couldn’t believe that such a woman was running around the woods, all alone and now, free. He watched the droplets pool and run down her face, catching on the top shapely ridge of her full upper lip.

She blew it off as if irritated by it. The sight of her wet skin caused a catch in his throat – luxurious, full of luster and sheen – the richest walnut.

For some reason, he realized he preferred darker skin on a woman. Maybe that was because he had been raised by women of darker skin. Or it could be that he watched his fair, white, Irish grandfather, love on his grandmother – the way a man does when he feels it to the core. She had been darker than the woman before him now. His grandfather had always been touching her skin, her face, like he couldn’t get enough.

As he stood with his eyes taking in the woman before him, it all began to make sense to him.

Her hair, went down her back in thick dark waves and twirls, dripping wet and heavy.

His mind stood in absolute objection to the plans they had for her – in complete opposition to it all, he realized it would be nothing more than a waste of a perfectly good woman. To do to her what he was being paid to do, did not fit right. The closer he eased, the further away she moved. Her movement to keep a distance between them gave him that ugly feeling in the pit of his guts again.

Grabbing all of her weapons and pouches she backed up and then stood her full height. The sight of her unfolded body, made his head fill with bees, buzzing to match the conflict of his soul.

His horse drank – he needed to turn away and do the same, but he didn’t wish to take his eyes off of her. She was wild and amazing – desirable beyond what any man could hope for. They’d tried to turn her into a fancy - to be sold to someone to rape, torture and abuse. If things went too far, to kill. Knowledge of that moved something in him - it was a sin to do that to any woman, but to do it to the one that stood before him was beyond his grasp to approve.

Catching and killing her – would be equal to him giving them his stamp of approval. Equal to saying that all they’d done to his ancestors, had been right to do. He would then, be as guilty and sinful as the Englishmen his grandfather detested – hated. He had to look away - he had to drink water – or she would know.

He sensed that about her.

She had instincts that she would listen to – and right then, he hated that he was after her for no good. After her for a bunch of men he would never be found enjoying the company of. No sooner had he leaned down to fill his water pouch - than she was gone. He heard her move like the wind rushing across the valley.

He didn’t jump to his feet - he only glanced up in the direction he thought she’d gone while still holding the pouch under water to fill. He knelt in place and prayed that her curiosity would have her hiding close by – close enough to keep him in clear sight. If he learned anything out of following her, she would hide perhaps up high and watch him. He prayed as he risked himself this way, she would not kill him where he knelt. If she was what they claimed her to be, evil – wicked - she would kill him.

Suddenly, he wondered had he gone mad, had he lost his mind? He was risking his life – she had a clear shot of him. He had no doubt that she could, but also – he knew that she wouldn’t. This woman was not what they built her up to be. He hadn’t believed it when they said it. She was no witch, no demon, nor evil – not in the least. However, she was most certainly – an enchantress. Already, he felt a strange type of spirit moving over him – and it came from following her, finding her. He decided that he too would bathe and unlike her, he would remove his clothing. He wanted her to believe that he was what he said he was – thus treating their encounter, nonchalantly.

Nik-Nik snorted a few times tossing her head in the air as he stripped down – telling him exactly what he had hoped was so, that the woman was still around – Nik-Nik could smell her presence.

Broc was pleased and thankful - no arrows yet flying his way. He was now convinced she would kill only those seeking to harm her.

Chapter Three

Asiza had scampered up a tree with only a little less agility than a monkey. She went high, to a perfect spot and leaning forward, carefully pushed aside a few branches to watch the man who had taken her by surprise.

She was angry at herself for letting her guard down but she’d needed to bathe and the area had been clear. Still, he could have been hunting for her, if so – they would have had her because her confidence had gotten the better of her. After so many days of hearing no one, seeing only a few natives here and there who didn’t see her, or rather, pretended not to – she felt at ease. 

Now… this man.

She watched him, miffed that he’d disturbed her peaceful world. The longer she watched, the more she settled on him being a simple passer-by. So, since she was comfortable where she felt safest, she was in no hurry to leave just yet – he wouldn’t know that she was still near, watching him. To her surprise, right there for the world to see, he stripped down to the skin. He was a big man – very tall – whipcord strong body. A body formed in a way she imagined God had meant man to look. Not like the soft skinned, pudgy man who’d bought her to service him. Just the thought of it had turned her stomach. She couldn’t help but remember his mouth on her, wet and panting, trying to touch her – trying to strip her while his friends looked on, coming close to touch her as well – surrounding her. She still wasn’t sure which one had reached between them and squeezed her breast, hard and painful – panting like a dog. That is when she had fumbled for her dagger while they circled her, groping, ripping at her garments. With lightening quick reflexes, she’d stabbed the mayor twice before he even knew that something was wrong.

The other two were so busy opening their trousers, groaning and touching themselves, that they didn’t catch on until she slit the mayor’s throat from ear to ear. It was the sight of his blood squirting out that made them look up.

As for the mayor, the two stabs had taken his breath away - he never made a sound except for the gurgling that bubbled from his mouth and throat.

Moves quick and patient, with precision, made her duck and spin out from between them coming up behind another, stabbing him in the side of his neck, right at the big vein where blood spurted out from him like a geyser. The other saw that she was killing them and tried to shout out for help while rushing at her. Asiza pushed the second into him – knocking him down so that he could see that she was going to kill him too as he struggled to get up – knocking the banker’s dead weight aside. His hands rushed out to grab for her - she sliced into them, cutting his wrists and forearm as well. Then, again, she went for the neck, slicing into one side, and turning she came back and sliced into the other. Blood sprayed from him catching her clothing, and still, she did not stop. She eased into a calm, blind frenzy. These were not humans, not men, nor animals – not even dogs, they were worse, they were demons - more harmful alive and better off dead. The blade came at them from every direction with her wielding it with ease of speed as if she were in a dance – elegantly slicing, jabbing, cutting and dismembering them. Asiza felt nothing but pleasure as she took out years of simmering misery and hatred on them.

Not until they'd stopped their terror filled screams, and flailing about with blood covering the floor, walls and dripping from the ceiling did she stand back, panting. Her hands were covered with it, running to her elbows where it dripped to the floor. Having had her fill of what she’d done - she stepped back out of the pooling blood and stripped down naked. Walking to a table in the room, she picked up the whip laying there, looking it over. They’d planned to use it on her – had she let them live to do so.

Nodding, she murmured, “Gone need this – this a good whip.” She stood a moment trying it out. After rolling it up, and with dagger still in hand, she started out with enough weapons to protect herself.

She made her way deep in the night to the cabin of one of the older slaves, naked and covered in blood.

The old man shook his head speechless. He wouldn't let her in, too much blood. Instead, he gave her an old sack to cover herself. Because he also hunted for the mayor, he passed her a bow and arrows saying, “Lawd pa’tect you chile – na’gone. Don’come back, neva come back heah.”

Her memory cleared to a foggy passing recollection and her eyes refocused once more on the big man. He was enjoying his bath – he had no shame, showing his didly-doo to the world.

She remembered her older sister Nashi, saying in her horrified sing-song way
, “Lawd’a’mercy wit’ they didly-doo – ever’one of’em wanna didly-you.”
Thinking about it, Asiza snarled from her perch, “Nasty beas’ – Lawd I know you make’em – but I’on like no mans – 'specially no white'uns. They evil… all’of’em.”

She’d seen enough.

She sat back and let the branch move to its original place, concealing her as she sat, combing through her hair - braiding it while still wet to keep control of it.

Moments later, with her things about her, she leaned forward once more, gazing through the branches at him. “Fool done made a fire, gone get hisself robbed or kilt,” she thought out loud. He wasn’t going anywhere and he sure wasn’t interested in her – he’d dried himself and was dressed. She watched him take two dead rabbits off his horse’s saddle, stripping the hides from them and prepping them for the fire.

“Bes’ scat.” Asiza murmured to herself, dismissing him from her mind. She searched the ground to be sure the coast was clear, keeping her descent gentle, her feet touched the ground. With her things hanging from her body, she set off at a trot to put distance between them. Her goal, to obtain a horse. Setting her pace at a steady trot – she moved with smooth agility through the forest, following the stream. As she ran, various choices of getting a horse went through her mind.

She could steal one, but that would put more folks on her trail, so that was out of the question. She could go to an Indian village for one, but she would run the risk of some brave wanting to keep her or trade her back to her master for a reward.

She could find and follow a wild herd for one, but to do that, she’d need to be on a horse, moving at their speed. Then, she would have to break it.