meeting me

My mother was a great beauty that is true. Many tribal leaders had come asking for her hand in marriage, many tried to take her hand. Those that asked were sent away, those that tried to take her hand left without theirs if they left at all. I was born under the flower moon and named Kawoni.

The boys teased me for not growing as they did. I eventually started growing but nowhere near their height. I was the same height as the girls in my village. The ones counting on me now. The ones I stayed with when the other boys went hunting. The boys called me soft and it was true, the **** of the animals they hunted filled me with great sadness. I trained in the ways of the warrior with my mother and father, learning the bow and the club and knife. Despite my efforts I was not good enough to defeat my enemy atsila.

Every year he defeated me, **** me to yield to his supperior abilities. Every year after our battle there was a feast, "the final feast". So called because the victors would share their food as a symbol of the peace and the defeated's promise to not fish, hunt, nor forrage in the valley for one entire year. And every year he would drink hardy and pull me into his lap and tell me I would be his trophy. He told me I was more beautiful with each passing year.

I walked to the creek beyond our borders, my face was much softer than the men in the tribe. Their chests were flat and strong, my chest was soft and bounced when I stepped. I prayed to mother earth and the sky father to help me save my people. "Don't let my people die!" I implored the heavens.

This year I met him in battle once again and once again in the field of battle. Atsila was tall, even among men. He stood a head above normal men which made me seem all the more small and frail. Not that he needed much help with that. My father handed me my war club, my mother checked my knife's edge. She knew it was sharp, she had sharpened it since fall when we last saw a deer. She was nervous, as was I. She knew, everyone knew if a miracle did not happen our tribe would end. Warriors need food for battle, so we could not even go to war again. "You do us proud." My mother told me as she handed me my knife.

"I'll try." I told her and turned around to face the music. The drums beat loudly as we each made our way to the center of the field. The warm sun beat down directly above us as we stood toe to toe.

"I wish there was another way." He told me quietly. He was bound by honor and tradition as I was. He was a mighty warrior but that did not mean he was not a gentle spirit.

"I know." We stepped back three paces each.

The drums stopped and we rushed for battle. Atsila swung hard with his club missing me by a hair. My club met his stomach with all my might. He was unfazed as he slapped the club out of my hands with his powerful arm and kicking me in my chest. First move in and I'm already down a weapon. Not a great start to this. Rolling from the kick I pulled my knife out of the back of my deer skin pants. I shifted my weight slowly on the balls of my feet prepared to spring in any direction. He swung again expecting me to move back or to the side as any sane fighter would do but I was ****. I sprung forward, his massive arms slammed on my shoulders but his club missed me, and I with my knife cut his side. I rolled passed him making sure he didn't catch me with my back turned.

When I faced him again he was grabbing his side, I had cut him deep. Not deep enough to end this but so deep he couldn't lift his club as effectively. He was an experienced warrior, he knew using the club now would ensure failure. He threw the club at me forcing me to roll once again, when I came back up he had his knife out. One for one. I started to feel hope but I had to push it down, I needed to focus.

We circled one another our knives at the ready drawing closer with each step. I slashed and he caught my skinny arm in his hand picking me up in his powerful hand. I dropped my knife in pain. "Yield." he begged through gritted teeth. He was strong and I was small but it still took all of his strength to pick me up with one arm. I kneed atsila in his cut. He screamed in pain dropping me to the ground. He had collapsed in pain,now was my chance! I took my hatchet and swung with all my might. He quickly grabbed my arm again as he stabbed for my neck.

The sharp stone point against my throat, it was over, one push and it was over. I couldn't reach his hand in time, i couldn't free my own hand. I had lost. And my people would die.