When I was inside of Tukaba, taking my pleasure inside of her willing and warm flesh, my entire focus was on the beautiful, red-haired woman who watched me with fevered eyes. I imagined it was her body beneath mine, except I knew she wouldn't lay there quietly the way a Caraican woman would do. No, I imagined someone like her would be writhing, moaning, and scratching at the dirt with her delicate fingers. I would have had to use my strength to pin one such as her down, but I would enjoy her complete surrender.
That thought alone had my shaft thickening, so I immediately tried to think of something else to quell its rise to glory.
Moira stumbled again, and I wanted to yell at her to watch where she was going. Her face was tilted upward to a pair of howler monkeys right above us, a small smile on her face as she watched them swing in the branches. I only glanced up briefly, and then turned my attention back to the jungle floor.
My gaze was keen--well trained--and in just a mere moment, I saw danger three feet from Moira's stride as she stumbled along. A bushmaster snake was slithering its way onto the path from her right and, in two more steps, she would be right on it.
My hands shot out, grabbing Moira by the shoulders and pulling her backward into me. She screamed in fright as the bushmaster lifted its head toward us. I forcefully shoved her behind me, and she went crashing to the path on her butt. Father Gaul and Ramon looked at me as if I'd lost my mind, but they didn't see what I did.
Certain death.
The bushmaster was defensively poised, its head hovering several inches off the ground. Without a word to any of them, I swung my machete through the air and alleviated the viper of its head, where it thudded softly onto the rotting leaves.
Reaching out to a large, wet palm leaf, I wiped the serpent's blood from my blade and turned to Moira with a glare. "You need to keep your eyes on the path, foolish chama de cabelos. Next time, I let the serpent strike."
She looked up at me with those mossy, green eyes filled with fear and contrition. Our gazes locked for a moment, but then I turned away and started walking down the path. Ramon rushed past me to help Moira from the ground, and our little expedition continued.
I reacted on instinct, saving her miserable life, and in turn, trapped myself at her side. In hindsight, I should have let the snake strike, then I could have hauled her lifeless body back to the village and been done with this foolishness.
We parted ways with Father Gaul and Ramon when we reached the Jutai. Moira and I continued north via dugout canoe, while Father Gaul went west to visit the Matica tribe, who was a sworn enemy of the Caraicans. There had been much bloodshed between our two clans.
On the second night after we had ported off the Jutai, I almost left Moira... so great was my longing to return home, back to the Caraican village where my friends and family revered me and I was happy. I went off into the jungle and contemplated what I would say to Paraila when I returned. I could tell him some lie, like Moira had changed her mind. Or that she had been eaten by a jaguar or caiman. With that story, I'd have to kill her and dispose of her body to get away with that, because knowing what little I did about her, she would have just tracked me back to the village.
Nothing I could come up with seemed to be feasible, but ultimately, I knew I would never be able to look Paraila... my father and teacher... in the eye and tell him I wouldn't respect his wishes.
Paraila begged me to go, to give this opportunity a chance, and I ultimately couldn't say no to the old man.
But I didn't go down without a fight.
For two days after Moira's arrival, we fought.
He threw everything at me, and when I still denied him, he threw more. I pointed out that he was an old man, and that if I left, no one would take care of him. I promised that I would go... as soon as he died, but he was proving to be just as stubborn as I was.
He even became cruel with me, showing me a new side to the man I'd called my father for so many years. Paraila told me that I truly wasn't welcome within the tribe. That he had insisted I stay only when he knew I had no other options, but now that he knew I had a family member back in the States that was eager to reconnect, he told me that he didn't want me around anymore.
That hurt so badly that I lurched out of his longhouse, kicking over a basket of cassava flour in my sorrowful haste. I looked everywhere for Tukaba, feeling the need to pound away inside of her body to ease my frustration and anger, but she was nowhere to be found. I thought briefly about dragging the goddess-like woman named Moira into the jungle and forcing her to submit to me, but I was smart enough to know that would not be acceptable by her standards. So with no means for release, I grabbed my bow and quiver, heading deep into the jungle to find something to kill.
Paraila later apologized to me for his harsh words and, over a quiet dinner, made a last plea that finally caused me to surrender.
"Cor'dairo," he had said, calling me "my son" in the old and almost extinct Caraican language. "Why do you fight me on this? This is not the life I would wish upon you."
"But I'm happy here," I told him while holding his hand.
"Maybe, but you may be happier elsewhere," he said with a much stronger voice than I had heard from him in a while. "What kind of life is this... struggling day in and day out for survival? Father Gaul says that where you are going, you will have food overflowing and many opportunities laid before you. What do you have here? An old man and his shrew of a wife."
"I have Tukaba," I said with a wink. "She makes me plenty happy."
"Yes, you have Tukaba, but she has many friends," he said with a sly smirk.
I grinned back at him because Paraila and I always shared the same type of humor. Tukaba was, indeed, a woman that shared the pleasures of all the single men in the tribe.
"You deserve more than this meager life you lead, and I want to see you have a chance at real happiness before I die."
"But Paraila--" I started to say, but he cut me off.
"No, Zacharias... son not of my loins but of my heart. I am begging you to go. For me... I am begging you. Give it a year and, if you wish, you may return. But for me... give it a chance and go with this new fortune."
I stared at him, noting the sheen of tears in his eyes and the surety of his voice. It crashed all around me that I could not deny this man anything... not the man who had raised, protected, and even given me love when my parents died. I owed him my life. I would do anything he asked.
So I agreed to go.
Chapter 2
Moira
I'm exhausted. Letting out a tired breath, I lean my temple against the backseat window of the cab. Zach sits quietly beside me, taking in the Chicago skyline as we make our way past the Windy City, en route to Evanston, about fifteen miles away.
To my home... where Zach will be staying with me for a while before making a trip to Atlanta to meet Randall. I'm on a summer break from my teaching post in the Anthropology Department at Northwestern University. I also took an extended leave of absence, at least for the upcoming fall semester, as Randall and I felt that Zach could possibly need my help for several months. But in truth... I'm flying by the seat of my pants at this point because Zach is not making anything easy on me.
Our plane flight from Brasilia into Chicago was relatively calm, considering how difficult it was for me to make it out of the rainforest with a reluctant travel mate. I had fought the heat, humidity, dehydration, the never-ending supply of gnats and mosquitos, a near-death experience with a bushmaster snake, and yet none of that was as hard as dealing with Zach's antipathy during the trip.
The man clearly did not want to leave his home with the Caraicans. After having spent eighteen years immersed in their culture... after having been adopted into their tribe and revered as a member, he had absolutely no desire to return to the States with me.
This was something I had expected was a possibility since he had lost his parents so very long ago. I had a feeling that Zach might not remember much of his prior life, and here I was... taking him away from the comfort and security of what he knew best. I had even told Randall, Zach's godfather who had arranged this entire rescue mission, that Zach may not want to return to his American roots. Randall was far more positive on that than I was, just telling me to do the best that I could.
Ultimately, I had nothing to do with Zach's capitulation to come. I stayed in his village for two days after my arrival, while his adoptive father argued with him mercilessly. He was very eager for Zach to take this opportunity to learn more about his own heritage. I'm not sure what Paraila finally said to his adopted son, but on my second evening there, Zach approached me and said, "We're leaving tomorrow."
Those were his first words to me. Despite the fact that we had shared a highly intimate experience that first night over the blaze of the campfire, when he fucked another woman while holding my gaze, he had not spoken a word to me until he informed me of our departure. His next words were no friendlier.
After saving me from a bushmaster that was perilously close to my leg, he had sneered at me, "You need to keep your eyes on the path, foolish chama de cabelos. Next time, I let the serpent strike."