Chapter 15 #2
“And when not needed,” I say. “I wonder now what he was really doing in the jungle. Perhaps he wasn’t hunting so much as meeting his friends from other tribes.
He was always more connected with the Dry than with the Deep.
Perhaps this was always the wrong tribe for him.
We will only be doing him a favor by casting him out. ”
There are many nods. The discussion goes on for a while longer, and Sprub’ex’s friends say the things in his defence that would be expected of them. But my words carry great weight, as usual.
By the end, the chief stands up. There is silence as he grabs a torch.
Then he speaks the phrase that casts Sprub’ex out from the Bradek tribe.
“By the will of the Deep, and the voice of this tribe, I cut Sprub’ex loose from us.
He is no longer carried by our name, nor sheltered by our huts.
Our platforms will no longer bear him. From this breath forward, he stands alone, and we will forget that he lived.
Let his name never again be spoken.” He plunges the torch into a pot of water, quenching it.
Then he throws it in a high arc into the dark ocean.
The Circle is quiet for a while. Then the men silently leave and go back to their work, or their huts.
“Harsh, but necessary,” the chief says as he gets up. “Spru- he is the first man we cast out in my time as chief. I hope there will be no other.” He walks off.
I get up and find Callie with the boys in their half-finished boat, talking about sails, rudders, and keels, and how there are many huge boats on Earth.
When she sees me, she smiles and stands up. “The boat is very nice, boys. When it’s finished, I want a trip with it. Just around the bay.”
She climbs up to the platform. “They’re good! It’s like your boat, but smaller. Maybe they’ll put a sail on it.”
I bend down to sniff her hair. “Maybe. And maybe there will be nets and a keel.”
“A very good boat, if it has sails,” Callie says. “The evening meal all done?”
“The man who tried to steal you was cast out from the tribe,” I tell her.
“Sprub-” she begins.
I quickly put a finger on her lips. “His name must never again be mentioned here. He is dead to us, and he never lived.”
She looks thoughtful. “I’m thankful that the tribe feels so strongly. Will the men hate me now?”
My first impulse is to say ‘of course not,’ but that might not be fully true.
I should tell her what I actually think.
“Some of them think that it was too harsh, and that he was tempted beyond his ability to resist, tempted by you. They say you have brought change to the tribe, and that the man was only trying to bring things back to the way they were. There are few who think this, and I don’t think they will hate you.
But this did not endear you to them. I will point out who they are later, so that you can avoid them if you feel that’s necessary. ”
“Okay,” she says easily. “I think it’s too dark to work on the net. And the village is quiet. The other men are in their huts?”
“Some are,” I confirm. “Some are working on small tools, some are mending their clothes, and the old men are talking about the old days. Not much happens in the evenings.”
“Someone’s in a boat,” Callie says, and points to a lit torch that comes closer from the mouth of the bay.
“Sometimes the splix run at night,” I tell her.
“When we expect the run, there’s usually someone out on the ocean with a line and hook, in case it starts.
If they catch a splix on the hook, they throw three more hooks in, and see how long it takes before they catch splix on all three.
If it happens fast, it means the splix run has started.
In the daytime, that’s not necessary. The splix are then very visible under the surface. ”
The canoe comes in, and one of the two men aboard climbs up to the platform, holding the torch. “No splix yet,” he says. “We’ll go out again soon.”
I give him a tight smile. “Don’t want to miss the run. And with you two watching, we won’t.”
“That’s the idea,” the tribesman says. “It will be soon now. I can feel it. The waves are flat, the current is strong. They’re on the way here, mark my words.”
Callie and I walk slowly to our hut, talking about splix, nets, and hooks. Inside, I light a torch.
Callie’s eyes widen. “Is that…?”
“For you,” I tell her with satisfaction. “I asked Carter’ez to make it. It can be changed in any way you want, of course. Or he can make other things for you. I think he enjoyed this. It’s a change from the loincloths.”
She takes the garment down from the wall and holds it up. “It’s like a loincloth, but much bigger!”
“You have more to cover than we do,” I tell her. “Like I said, this is his first try. You will need it changed, of course.”
She turns the thing around. “Just a couple of changes. This could be longer. And this may be too wide. I would like some pockets, too. But I could wear it just like this. The size looks fine. Oh, thank you!” She drops the piece of clothing on the sleeping platform and embraces me tightly.
I squeeze her firmly, enjoying the warmth, the softness, and the scent of her. “But there is more.” I disengage and pick up the next item. “See if you can hold this properly.”
She accepts the knife carefully. “Oh, this is beautiful!”
“Quite a normal tool,” I tell her. “A little smaller than most, but also lighter. You can tie it to a pole and make a spear when needed. How’s the fit?”
She grips the thin handle properly. “Good! I can hold it firmly.”
“We’ll get a belt and a sheath, too,” I promise. “It’s sharp.”
She puts the knife on the floor and embraces me again. “Thank you, Crat'ax. It’s wonderful.”
“Everyone needs a knife,” I tell her. “And there’s more.”
She looks up at me, the rims of her eyes a little red. “There’s more?”
“This one is not important,” I tell her as I find the item. “Not like a knife or clothing. But I had these, and I thought of you.” I hold out the necklace I’ve made of small sea shells, shimmering in green. “These are rare to find. I’ve been collecting them since I was a boy.”
“For me?” she asks, sniffling. “It’s beautiful!”
I place the necklace around her slender neck and tie it closed in the back, then straighten it so it lies right on her delicate skin. “Not like you.”
“Thank you,” she says again. “I wish I had something to give to you.”
“You being here is finer than anything I could make,” I tell her sincerely.
Her lips find mine then, soft and urgent, and the sweetness of her taste ignites me all over again. I lift her easily, carrying her the few steps to the low sleeping mat. The ocean laps steadily beneath the stilts, a rhythmic pulse that matches the blood roaring in my ears.
I set her down gently, but she turns in my arms, pressing her back to my chest. “Like this,” she whispers, voice thick with want. “From behind. I want to feel you deep.”
The request sends heat straight to my cores.
I have never had her this way, never seen her offered so openly.
My larger cock throbs, already leaking, while the smaller one curves eagerly upward.
I guide her to her hands and knees, palms flat on the woven mat, knees spread.
The sight of her like this, back arched, behind raised, the green shells glinting against her skin… it makes the world spin.
I kneel behind her, one hand smoothing down her spine, the other gripping her hip.
My larger shaft nudges her entrance, slick from earlier play and her fresh arousal.
The first push is careful. She is tight at this angle, and I feel every flutter as the ridged head breaches her.
She moans, low and broken, pushing back to take more.
I sink in slowly, inch by thick inch, until my hips meet her rear, and the smaller cock nestles snug against her clit, its soft tip already stroking with the slightest rock of my body.
The position lets me go deeper than before, deeper than she has ever taken me, and the way her walls clutch around my ridges makes my vision spark.
“Callie…” Her name is a growl as I draw back, then thrust again, harder. She cries out, fingers curling into the mat. I find a rhythm—long, powerful strokes that slap wetly between us, each one grinding the smaller cock firmly over her swollen bud.
She trembles, gasps my name, arches higher.
I lean over her, chest to her back, one arm banding her waist to hold her steady as I drive faster.
The angle shifts; the ridges catch perfectly inside her, dragging pleasure from her with every retreat.
Her body tightens and flutters, then clamps down hard as she comes with a sharp, keening cry.
Her inner walls pulsate so fiercely I can barely move.
The sensation shatters my control. I bury myself to the hilt, hips jerking, and release in thick, hot spurts that fill her completely.
My smaller cock twitches against her clit through the aftershocks, drawing soft whimpers from her until we both collapse, still joined, breathing ragged in the salt-scented dark of our hut.
“I love you,” I groan, and never have I spoken truer words.
- - -
Callie’s head lies on my chest, and her scent is in my nose. I’ve never been more in the right place than this. The happiness is so strong I wonder how long I can take it.
She stirs. “Crat'ax. I want to ask again.”
“Mm?”
“The platform that has no hut on. It looks like a cage. What’s inside?”
Deep damn it! I was hoping she wouldn’t ask about that again.
What did I tell her last time? “It has to do with worship of the Deep,” I tell her.
Well, it’s a half-truth. “The old men know about it. I don’t.
They’re closer to joining the Deep than we are, and so they care deeply about proper worship. I think we could do without it.”
“Something is moving inside it.”
I really don’t want to talk about this. “Mm. Probably they caught an olper. It’s said to be holy. Callie, what shall I tell Carter’ez to fix about your garment? In detail?”
It takes her a moment to reply, as if she has to make an effort to let go of the other topic. Damn that we ended up with that cage!
“I think I should show him,” she finally says. “So he can see exactly what I need.”