Wild Cat
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Wild Cat Ch. 01 free porn video
The brush was laid on the desk beside Juniper. It’s tarnished silver glinting in the twilight streaming through the door. A hand lay on her shoulder and turned her on the stool. Juniper gasped as she looked at herself in the polished silver of her mother’s mirror. The luxurious amber hair was piled atop her head, elongating her fine bronzed neck. Her cousins who waited upon her had used coal to darken her eyelids, and crushed beetles to redden her lips. This night would be the most beautiful of all.
She stood, feeling the fall of the fine blue muslin around her legs. Finally she had come of age to step up and fill her mother’s footprints. Tonight was her ceremony, to finally take the reins her father, the Chief of all the nomadic clans, had kept for her since her mother’s death sixteen years ago.
It had been so long since she’d last visited the tomb of her mother, out in the sands of the Sahara. She’d last taken the trip five years ago, when she’d begun her courses and by custom needed permission from her mother to become a woman. Normally, it would be a quiet family affair with her mother, sisters and aunts, but seeing as she had no sisters and her mother was dead already, she had to make the journey into the desert with her father’s younger sister and her three daughters to visit the tomb and pray for permission. Tonight, on the eve of her inauguration as the Clans Mistress, she would journey into the desert alone. Her aunt was now too ill to make the journey and the two cousins who had come were both heavily pregnant and were only able to get her ready. It was an unheard of situation that a girl as young as her would journey alone, but this was the capital of their land, nowhere was safer than here. Her three older brothers would walk her to the edge of the desert, but then no further. The Sand Lands belonged to women and they were not permitted to enter.
Juniper’s mind came back to the present as her father pushed aside the tent door and strode in, his men-at-arms following closely behind. He, too, was dressed in his finest clothing, knowing in a few short hours when she returned before midnight, he would be required to put all the woes of his realm upon her shoulders. She looked so young and so frail. But she must go to the desert, she must become her mother’s daughter and fulfil her destiny. He placed his hands on her shoulders and sighed. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then he put his hand inside his coat and pulled out a small blue-jewelled pin, pushing it into Juniper’s curls.
‘This was hers. I gave it to her under the stars on the night we first lay together. You are so beautiful, I didn’t think a beauty could eclipse hers, but you managed it. You do her proud.’ Tears came to Juniper’s eyes as she fell into her father’s strong arms, worn muscular after many years of being a warrior. They were sheep-people, true. But they knew how to defend themselves, and their property. The horn in the distance sounded the sunset, she stepped out of the tent.
All around her, her people stood in fealty. They did not bend their knee yet, but they knew it would be the last time they looked upon her face as a child. Juniper saw tears in the eyes of the women who had raised her, and a few of the men too, particularly Urik, a pale-skinned man from the north who had taught her how to fight and use a sword. Finally her eyes rested on her three proud brothers, standing together in a small group behind others. They all resembles her father in build, tall and muscular, though while the eldest two were of his colouring, dark skin and dark hair, the third one was like her, skin browned by the sun and hair as red as flames.
They represented the three most important aspect of nomadic life. The eldest was Hucbet, a Warrior like their father, he lead the Chief’s guard, the most powerful force in their society. The second, Zanet, was a successful shepherd, though his herds were currently nearer the Nile at this time of year. The third was closest to Juniper, Julep. He’d become an ambassador to another Chiefdom, and married one of the Chief’s daughters. She stood next to him now, also heavy with child. As Juniper approached, the crowd spilt. When she got to her brothers they were sedate at first, then Hucbet gathered her into a forceful, crushing hug.
‘We’ll get you there safely, little sister.’ He went to ruffle her hair, then saw the pin and lightly touched that instead, with a smile. ‘You look just like her.’ He turned away, knowing the rest would follow. The people of the encampment followed until its limits, then it was just the four of them. They set out to the west, in the direction of the newly-set sun to the desert, into the dryness.
Hucbet lead the way, while Julep and Zanet flanked her. She drew a candle from her robes, a crude thing of rolled beeswax, herbs and lavender and touched it to Hucbet’s leading torch. It was the only light she was permitted when travelling into the spirit world.
Juniper’s brothers stopped at the posts marking the border between the grasslands and the desert. This was as far as they were permitted to go. Her heart rose a little when she saw that the women of the village had wound two of the posts with sweet flowering jasmine, to guide her back from the land of the dead.
She kissed and held each of her brothers in turn, thanking them. Then she turned and sighed, taking her first step into the desert. Instantly she felt the caresses of the souls brush her ankles, hands and hair, but she didn’t allow herself to be afraid.
—————–
She clutched the post, sobbing and breathing hard. Everything was muddled in her head. She pushed her face into the sweet, pale blossoms. The light was wrong, it was too bright. She must have been with her mother for much longer than intended. She was supposed to welcome the dawn of her eighteenth birthday as a monarch. It seemed dawn had already come.
Juniper sobbed again and looked around more clearly, her mind clearing of the fug caused by the heavy herbs in the candle. Her brothers should be here to welcome her, but they were absent. The light she had thought was the sun rising did not warm the sky, but instead glowed ominously from behind the hill.
Stumbling forward, she scrambled up the gorse-covered dune. At the apex she stood, the wind whipping the skirts around her legs and the candle tumbled from her grip to be extinguished in the dust at her feet.
Before her, she looked upon chaos. The tents and caravans her people resided in were either ablaze or smouldering, and no-one was attempting to put them out. Dirty smoke rose above the ruined site and screams — women’s screams –echoed in the distance. As Juniper walked slowly between the fresh ruins, she was oblivious to the tears which tracked clear paths through the soot on her face. She felt disconnected, as if she hadn’t truly returned to the living world with her body, only her soul.
As she approached the great fire where her inauguration ceremony would begin, she saw bodies of her compatriots slaughtered, limbs hacked away, resting in pools of blood. By the great fire, her father rest, as if asleep in his chair. The chair this day she would take as her own. His head was slumped forward, as it did when he’d taken too much wine. She watched for a moment, praying for his chest to rise in a snore, but she knew it couldn’t.
In her shock, she noted the impossibility of her breathing as four arrows were lodged in his chest, pinning him to the simple ash-wood chair. Juniper sprang forward in attempt to rouse him. It was this wailing that caught the attention of the attackers.
They stood out of the glow of the ruined fire, their scarred leather armour streaked with blood. They paused for a moment, their feet crunching the last of the scattered embers before moving in.
Juniper didn’t resist much as they caught her, she was in too much shock to notice they weren’t friends. Only when they led her to the outskirts of the encampmen
t where she saw three cattle cages did she wake out of her stupor.
Inside each cage were people she knew. In the closest one she caught the eye of her cousin, heavily pregnant and bleeding from a large wound in her temple. Juniper yanked her elbow from the grip of the man who held her and rammed it into his face before her had time to react. He reeled away, clutching his nose as the blood poured between his fingers. His yelp caught the attention of two other men.
Juniper crouched low, as she’d been taught, and searched in the dry ground for something she could use. Her fingers closed over a thin, long stick which was barely visible in the faux-daylight of the burning village a little distance away. She raised the end, and when she measured the man on the right of the newest attackers was within range, she flicked it upward with force, aiming for his eyes. It caught him across the cheek and brow and he stumbled back, blinded by the blood from the wound she’s inflicted. The second man looked shocked, momentarily confused about how she’d injured his colleague.
In his moment of confusion, she stepped closer, within his range of attack, and brought the heel of her free hand up under his chin, snapping his head back. She slipped the dagger at his side from the sheath and flicked the thin switch up to strike him across the neck. It wasn’t enough to stop him, however. As she danced back, he came forward again, this time more wary of her movements. She relaxed her body, seeming surrender, which surprised him, causing him to stand slightly straighter.
Juniper took a deep breath and watched as he moved closer again, still cautious. He reached for her arms, intending to restrain her again, when she brought her hands upward, holding the handle of the dagger in one hand and pushing it with her other fist. It travelled under his ribs and into his stomach. He crumpled in front of her, pushing the blade even deeper, tilting his weight on to her. He gargled horribly in her ear, and she turned away from the noise. The hilt of the dagger became slippery as blood poured from the rent in his abdomen, so she released it. The hay men Orik had her kill never bled.
Juniper looked up, hoping that her escape was certain, but she realised she was surrounded by more men, including the two she had injured previously. With no weapon and the blood of a man staining her hands and coronation dress, she hung her head, knowing fighting would be pointless now.
Hester
- 07.09.2022
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