Flowering. Approach. Part 24: Speculation
What consequences lie ahead?
Reader discretion is advised: This series contains death, violence, and sexual content. Flowering is not a lighthearted series. Flowering is meant for a mature audience. It is not my intention to mislead those who read it, thus misleading the perception of the series itself, leading your hearts astray.
Please, "take this lesson to heart." - LaRha and Wetah
“Xelu and Zaria would be taken as hostages. Knowing that a lot of men there are fathers, and how they would prefer the women to mother their children, their upbringing would be confining, limited, and harsh, but they would keep them safe.”
“The men would keep one another in check?”
“Just as the women keep each other in check.”
“Well, you are right about that,” she said. “If they’re not keeping each other in check, then they’re shaming one another into check.”
“Yep,” Wetah responded, “that sounds about right. The men will especially give one another hell for a wrong decision that negatively affects the group, and the tribe’s potential viability. No doubt, if they were to get a hold of me, they’d either kill me, torture me enough to get what they want out of me, use me to train the boys, or just have me working at my craft.”
“What do you think they’d do to Zephyr?”
“Well, he’s small, but not too small for his age. His health and appetite are well, and so is his physical performance. As long as he can follow orders without question he’ll be fine. However, if he were to pull a stunt like he did with the rock and stick the other day, then he’d have more than a scare to worry about. He'd be blessed if the worst he'd get would be an axe blade between his eyes.” Wetah sighed, “I know since I’ve seen worse before.”
“They wouldn’t cause such harm to him outright, would they?” She sighed, not wanting to think about such gruesome thoughts, understanding what he was really referring to.
“If anything I can see them using him as a scout. He runs fast, now he just needs to learn how to run far. He’s got great climbing skills. He needs to develop the ability to climb even when he’s tired. It needs to be as natural for him as walking is. He’s already learned how to feed himself moderately well, but we still have much to teach him about sowing seeds to harvest the fruits of his labor. He’s learned how to construct with his hands, just like me, but he still needs practice.”
“Do you remember when he made that little widget for you,” she chuckled lightly. “He was so excited, because he thought it was another piece in the step.”
“Well, he did help to shorten my crafting time. He made a tool that made it easier for me to construct things together. Sure all tools break in due time, but building one thing to facilitate the ease of construction in something else is immense.”
“A need you didn’t even know you had?”
“Yep, ingenuity. He gets it from you too.”
“I’m just glad that he sees what he can do, and takes it with stride. He has been learning a lot, especially from Xelu and Zaria. Though, I must admit, they make better grass baskets, but he does make better rope.”
Devising a plan for the worst case scenario, Wetah and LaRha wanted to make sure that what they were doing wasn’t going to frighten or shock the children, but mentally prepare them for the worst case scenario. While meditating on their thoughts in the afternoon day, Zephyr approached them.
“Mom, Dad, can I go to the forest to collect my traps?”
Wetah, opened his eyes, looked up, and rubbed his chin. “Hmmm… What the heck? Why not? We practically just saw that nobody’s living in that tipi.”
“Zephyr,” his mother started, “you’ve only seen a woman right?” He nodded his head ‘yes,’ “You’ve only seen the same woman, right?”
“Only twice,” he said proudly, displaying two fingers pointed upwards.
“Well LaRha, what do you think?”
“If she’s grabbed you before she’ll try to do it again. So, that’s what I don’t like, but you have gotten away once. I don’t doubt that you can outrun her. You’re starting to catch me, and I run faster than your father.”
“Hey,” Wetah said, “this isn’t meant to disparage me. It’s meant to see if he can enter the forest.”
“My answer is ‘yes,’ but on the condition that you return immediately. This means that you return before the grease jar drips six times. If you’re late I’ll go after you, dragging you out by your ear.”
Zephyr winced at the imaginary pain. She’s done it before, and he didn’t want to have her do it again. How she could extract so much pain out of a small body part was beyond him. Yet, he knew the seriousness of her concern.
LaRha continued, “If you see her again,” Wetah joined in, “run.”
“Keep your head on a swivel,” Wetah continued, “be in the forest, and not in your head. If you see a man who is not me,” LaRha joined in, “RUN.”
Wetah continued, “Run because one day, there may be a time where you may not be able to run away at all. There may come a day that no matter how fast you run, you will be caught.”
LaRha continued, “There is one thing that no person, animal, or wind can outrun, and that thing is,” Wetah joined in, “DEATH.”
LaRha continued, “The woman is not death, but she can be a tool for it.”
“A man is not death,” Wetah continued, “but he may be instrumental for death.”
They both finished, “Please, take this lesson to heart.”
Zephyr did a silent gulp, then steeling his nerves, he proclaimed, “I’ll return. I’ll return no matter what.”
“I love you,” his mother said to him.
“I love you too,” his father added.
“I love you as well,” Zephyr said. Then, after telling his sisters about his plan, and that he loved them, he entered the forest. Slightly afraid, but on high alert. It was as if the pressure of finding her was of utmost importance. He craned his neck to check the trees, he walked at an irregular pace to blend in better with the forest but to not be so traced by the sound of his footsteps, and he breathed through his mouth and nose to prevent his nostrils from whistling. He was in the forest, but he was acting as if he was trying to be hidden within the forest.
About the author
Thank You for stopping by. Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm a novice poet, fiction writer, and dream journalist.