Kiini Salaam - Ancient, Ancient

< A flapping sound echoed in Quashe’s ears. A dark figure dove and nipped the dip in her throat. She glanced back and saw a throng of fruit bats hovering close. She pressed her human-soft skin—impregnated with the double sweetness of her and her brother’s powers—against her crocodile. Her tough reptilian scales pointed to the sky. Another dark-winged figure swooped down and broke the skin at her elbow.

Quashe yelled at the top of her lungs. “Aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeee.” >

Sené rolled onto her side and struggled to her hands and knees. She crawled over to Na and pressed her cheek against his calves. A bout of dizziness swept through her. She settled herself against the earth and lay curled around Na’s feet.

< “Old One, I must go,” Laloro yelled upon hearing Quashe’s scream. “Quashe needs me.”

“Yes,” said the Old One. “Go to Quashe and bring her here, I believe she can help with Faru’s problem.” >

Sené nudged Na’s ankles with her charged hands. Her fingers massaged their way up his calves. She pressed her thumbs into the indentations behind his knees. Tears crept down her face. Her fingers shook. But she kept touching him.

Sené rose on her knees and kneaded Na’s thighs and buttocks. Her hardworking hands drifted up his spine, manipulating immobilized muscles. She spread her fingers over his back and raked her fingernails across his skin. She did not think of pain or pleasure, she wanted only to bring Na back.

< Laloro flew in the direction of Quashe’s screaming. When he reached the meadow, he could see Quashe’s huge crocodile crowned by a small mountain of bats. Laloro pointed his trunk at the bats and showered them with a plague. Bat skin bubbled and burst into flame. Laloro took a deep breath and blew the burning creatures from Quashe’s back. Quashe raised her beautiful crocodile head and looked up at Laloro, eyes glittering in gratitude. >

Sené stood, her belly brushing against Na’s back. If she closed her eyes, she could feel him shivering, ever so softly. She pinched his shoulders with little bites. Still Na did not move. She walked around to face him and stroked his forehead with thoughtful fingers.

“Come back, husband. Quashe doesn’t care about you.” She caressed his ears. “Na, please, return to me.”

< Quashe grazed Laloro’s warted skin with her snout and he almost burst from pleasure. She looked at him with new eyes. What had once disgusted her was suddenly quite useful.

“I hope…” she said in a quivering voice, “I hope I can call on you again.”

Laloro bowed. “I am at your service always.” >

Sené rubbed her lips against her husband’s. Her tongue darted out and licked Na’s lips. His body gave a slight tremor. She sent her tongue out again, this time to enter Na’s mouth, to moisten his dry gums with her saliva. Sené pulled Na’s lips apart with her fingers. She strained to pry open the barrier of his teeth. It had worked for Faru and Quashe. Why shouldn’t it work for her?

Sené took a deep breath and blew into Na’s throat. She blew the remembered delight of lying together in the grass, her thigh lodged against his crotch. She blew the memories of Na rushing home from the river to hold their new son, of the tickle of Na’s gentle questions about all the things the baby had done that day. She blew all the desire that had been aroused in her after Faru’s kiss. Finally Na began to blink. His tears sprinkled Sené’s face. He worked his lips into a grimace and spoke as if language was unfamiliar to him.

“Sené. Please, forgive. I’m sorry.” He took her callused hand in his and groped her knuckles with his lips.

< Deep in the Old One’s cave, old fingers dribbled honey in intricate swirling patterns on the floor. Faru lay, inert at one end of the design. When Laloro delivered Quashe to the cave, the Old One sprinkled brother and sister with cinnamon.

“Laloro,” the Old One said, “I am calling on my brothers to help. Please stay in the corner until they have safely gone again. You would not want to pay the price if you should accidentally crush one of them.”

Laloro backed away. The Old One rested one of his canes against his hip and pulled a tiny snail’s shell from the folds of his cloth. He blew out a thin, shrill sound, and a parade of snails slowly crawled into the room. The Old One took the lead, and his brothers followed, treading a circle around Quashe and Faru. The pace was slow, but the Old One’s powers were potent. With each shuffle of his feet, each undulation of his snail brothers’ bodies, Quashe’s wounds healed. Once the Old One and his brothers completed a full revolution, Faru’s powers slipped from Quashe’s body and returned to his. >

Sené and Na supported each other all the way home. Na stroked Sené’s arms. Sené squeezed Na’s waist. Na pulled Sené up the cliff when her belly became an obstacle to climbing. At the top of the cliff, Sené turned away from home, walking in the direction of Na’s mother’s dwelling.

“Sené, sweet wife, where are you going?”

“To get the children, Na. Did you not leave them with your mother?”

Na shuddered at Sené’s unspoken words. Her intonation reminded him that just that morning he had abandoned Sené and his children in favor of Quashe’s delights.

He took Sené’s hand. “They are safe with mother, let us go home and be new together.”

The cave was spilling over with the scent of Sené’s juices. Sené reached into the hanging basket and grabbed an armful of twigs. She dumped them onto the fire pile and kneeled to light a fire. Na stopped her. With her scent vibrating in his chest, he lifted her to her feet. Trembling, as if this were indeed new, he pulled her to the mats. With his free hand, he tipped two mats to the floor and unrolled them with his foot.

< Laloro flew both Quashe and her crocodile to the river on his great diseased back. Laloro watched as Quashe stepped into the river. The water swirled around her. Quashe paused. “Will you be there waiting for me? Perhaps we can feed together when I rise.”

Laloro could not speak. Quashe lifted her tail and slapped it hard against the water’s surface. Drops of water splashed Laloro’s face. He lifted his trunk and trumpeted a loud “Yes!” >

Na kneeled before Sené; he parted her cloth and stroked her bare belly. He pushed his chin between her thighs and kissed her moistness. Sené pulled Na’s head away from her body and looked into his eyes. There was a hard seed-thought hiding out in Sené’s newly juicy body, a dry little nugget of doubt that questioned Na, questioned her own sanity, suggested she had better use for her time than dabbling in fantasy—she and Na would never again be one. But the same scent that filled Na’s nose seeped into Sené’s pores. It drowned that dry little thought and lured Sené into her husband’s embrace.

< Faru, Faru bounding up the cliff.

Rocks flew away from Faru’s hooves as he rushed towards Sené and Na’s cave. Desire was once again his, but Faru was not satisfied. He could see the scar he intended to rip across Sené’s face. He would not kill her, he would do worse—he would kill anything desirable about her. Faru’s goat eyes flashed when he reached the entrance of Sené’s home. He reared up on his hind legs, ready to attack. But neither Sené nor Na saw him. They saw only the stretches of each other’s skin.

Faru’s anger turned to wonder. How could they be touching each other in that way? Faru dropped down to all four hooves. How could Sené be calling up such desire from Na? He suddenly felt as weak as Laloro accused him of being. He listened to the power of desire pounding in his blood. The same power Sené had held, yet she had not died when it was taken from her. She was moving, breathing, calling forth passion without Faru’s magic.