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They all wear leather waistcoats, and jeans. The one leading them toward us is older, and has the same stern look on his face that my uncle does. The man on his left has hair the color of corn, tied into a short ponytail at his nape, and the man on the other side is him. The man I saw this morning, the one who secretly visits me at the falls, comes to me when I have sweet dreams instead of nightmares about a man in a mask.
I don’t even know his name but I feel bound to him somehow. Unlike the others, he wears nothing beneath his leather, revealing a section of the impressive upper half of his body that I haven’t stopped daydreaming about since I saw it earlier.
His hair is almond colored and hangs long over his shoulders, it’s no longer wet like it had been this morning, it’s dried now, into thick waves that shimmer gold when the sun catches the ends.
Has he come here for me?
Excitement battles with fear as I watch him step closer, allowing me to study the handsome features of his face without the distraction of his nakedness. He has some stubble framing his jaw, and kind hazel eyes that right now are fixed so intensely on mine I’m struggling to breathe. I notice how they narrow into a scowl when Tawk puts a protective arm around my waist, tucking my body behind his to shield me.
“We come peacefully, brother,” the older man calls over to my uncle, who’s looking every bit as hostile as I imagined him to. Hating the outlaws is his passion, he’s always telling our people that they were sent from Malsumis, the God of Chaos, and how they chase mayhem for their entertainment.
They’ve asked him on more than one occasion for passage through our land but he refuses them every time.
“This is Jessie,” the man I assume to be their leader introduces the guy to his left, “and this is Troj,” he adds, tipping his head to his right. “And we’ve met before, old friend.”
Hearing his name seems to fill up an emptiness I wasn’t aware I’ve been plagued with.
Troj, just like the Trojan war and the warriors I’ve read about.
It suits him.
Before her death, my mother encouraged my adoration for reading. I’ve always taken an interest in the cultures and beliefs of others, and enjoyed historical stories. The story of Troy and the Trojan war was one of my favorites.
Troj is as close to a Trojan warrior as I’d imagine a man to be, tall, muscular with a fearless look in his eyes.
So why doesn’t he scare me?
Tawk’s grip on me tightens as if he fears I’ll be snatched from him, and I notice Troj’s jaw tighten and his fists clench at his sides. It’s the first sign of aggression any of them have shown since being here, and slight enough to go unnoticed by my uncle and his tribesmen.
“We are not friends,” my uncle reminds our guest, his accent coming out much thicker than usual.
“Maybe we will be once you know what we came here to offer,” the man introduced as Jessie speaks up, and the look he gives my uncle warns him not to disrespect his leader.
“There is nothing outlaws have to offer that would interest my people.”
“You ever heard of Ivan Cooper?” the older man asks, casually lighting up a cigarette. “I doubt it, neither had we up ‘til a few months ago. That fucker sneaks up on you like a snake lying in the grass.”
Some of the women gasp at his cursing, but either he doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care because he offers no apology.
“I’ve never heard of this person you speak of.” My uncle shakes his head dismissively.
“Why would you? You got your own little world happening here. But you will know the name well when he takes your land and builds his development all over it,” Jessie informs him.
“This land belongs to us, has done for hundreds of years. Ivan is no threat to this tribe,” my uncle states proudly, and is backed up by the grunts and nods of the men surrounding him.
“This is the proposal he will be taking to the next town meeting.” Jessie produces a piece of paper from his back pocket, taking a few steps forward to hand it to my uncle, who rudely snatches the paper from his hands. He glances his eyes over the text, before giving up his pretense and calling me forward.
“Shaniya,” he holds the paper out in front of me while keeping his cold stare on the trespassers. Troj’s eyes brighten ever so slightly, and his tongue slowly moves across his lips when I step out from behind Tawk and take the paper from my uncle.
Reading has always been the main source of disagreements between me and my uncle. Over the years, he’s confiscated books from me. He forbids me from teaching the children in our tribe how to read or write. And now, he requires me to read something for him. I struggle not to find amusement in the irony of that.
I scroll my eyes over the words, dread slowly creeping from my stomach up to my chest as I take in what they say.
“Well, speak up.” My uncle loses his patience with me.
“It’s a proposal to refute our claim on these lands,” I tell him, unable to believe what I’m reading. Our ancestors had settled here long before the town was even established. This can’t be happening.
“This is nonsense,” my uncle speaks sternly. “Our tribe has faced bigger threats than this. We will still be settled here in another hundred years.” Snatching the paper from me, he screws it into a ball, then drops it at Jessie’s boots.
