Chapter Three
Ma’ki was always a little happy when he was coming back from the hunt. It happened not only because he could see his parents and his sisters and the whole tribe, but because he could catch glimpses of the one who was destined to belong to no one and everyone at the same time. His happiness was always short-lived, the anger taking over again, and he could not wait for the next hunting party. Each time, he hoped some boar would strike him down and tear him apart with his tusks, but it was never meant to be. He always fought for his life whenever he thought of him. Ay’len.
The first huts were in sight, and he saw a silhouette hunched over what looked like a melting pot. Approaching, together with the other young men, carrying their prey on the cart, he sensed the smell of herbs. Who could do that so early in the morning, except for the tribe’s healer?

He could recognize that beautiful long hair anywhere. What was Ay’len doing so far from his mother’s hut? Maybe he was taking care of someone wounded. Ma’ki tried to remember who lived in that hut and shuddered when he remembered that man. He never hunted with Aka’do, because he was older, but also because he despised him. The man was cruel and killed animals he could not eat, only for his amusement. All the respectable hunters tried to stay away from him. And now, Ay’len was taking care of him? Alone?
He tried to draw the healer’s attention by laughing and shouting his victory with the other men, but Ay’len remained with his eyes cast down. He let the others walk in front of him, and stood behind.
“Hey,” he called softly and only then Ay’len raised his head to look at him. The healer’s eyes had dark circles under them, and his face was pale.
“Are you ill?” he asked, trying to approach.
“Stay back,” Ay’len warned him, and Ma’ki stopped. Was the sick man down with something that could get caught? That could be the only explanation for Ay’len’s harsh tone. The healer rose and went inside the hut.
Ma’ki waited, but Ay’len did not return. Angered and frustrated, he turned on his heels and left. Damn you, Ay’len, why do you have to be the one for me? He knew his father was right; he knew he had to take a wife and have children. But he could not let Ay’len; his dark eyes, filled with tenderness and kindness, his long black hair, his rosy lips, his smooth skin, they were always on his mind, never leaving him alone.

Not once he had woken in the middle of the night, wanting nothing but to go to him. To place his head in the healer’s lap, to kiss the hands smelling of herbs, and lay with him on the same cot. His dreams were getting darker as he aged. He also dreamed of Ay’len’s naked body, something he could only imagine now. He thought of kissing the full lips, biting them until he could taste blood, he wanted to bury himself inside the other man’s body, and these dreams were making him wake up covered in sweat, filled with shame. So much shame; Ay’len was to be cherished, not to be soiled.
He entered his parents’ hut, where he still lived, as he was yet to find a wife. Seeing Kaa’sa there, hunched over some sewing work, he blinked in confusion.
“Kaa’sa,” he called.
The woman raised her head, and Ma’ki was met with the same dark eyes as Ay’len’s. They were not only as beautiful, but they looked as tired as the healer’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked a sudden sensation of danger gripping his senses and making him tense.
His father entered the hut. Ta’yee threw him a curt look.
“Kaa’sa stays with us,” he said.
“And Ay’len? You left him alone when he moved from Ma’iala’s hut just to stay with you?” he almost yelled at the woman.
He expected the proud woman to yell back or even slap him. Kaa’sa was known for her hot temper. But he did not expect to see her bursting into tears and rushing out the hut.
“What happened, father? Why …?”
His father sighed. He gestured for him to take a seat and listen. As his father was telling him about the recent events, his face was growing darker.
“He is not to be soiled!” he roared. “You just gave him to that dog?”
“Son,” his father’s stern look stopped him. “Ay’len made his choice. And saved us all.”
“And who saved him? No one?”
He knew it wasn’t right for him to do that. His father had tried, and if Aka’do had killed him, it would have been a disaster for the tribe. But the pain in his heart knew no boundaries.
“You were all there, all the men saw this, and you didn’t stop him from taking Ay’len?”
He stormed outside; he could not breathe. His Ay’len … he had longed for him for his entire life, and he now was bound to another? He moved as he was drunk, going straight to Aka’do’s hut. He was going to bleed the mad dog, made his guts spill, and he was going to take Ay’len. The healer was his!
He pushed the door without thinking, taking Ay’len by surprise.
“You are not welcome here. Be gone!” Ay’len yelled at him. It was the last thing he needed, for Ma’ki to see how low he had come to be.
Ma’ki took him in his arms, ignoring his shouting. He embraced him, caressing his hair. “Come with me,” he dragged Ay’len after him, but the healer didn’t follow.
“This is my home. I will not leave,” he said stubbornly.
Ma’ki could not believe his ears. He turned abruptly. “What? You want to live here, with that dog?”
“He is my husband. I chose him,” Ay’len spoke, trying to look defiant, and praying inwardly that he would not burst into tears and beg Ma’ki to save him. It was not right; he had to save the others, no one could save him.
“No, you didn’t,” Ma’ki shook his head. “You had to,” he smashed his fist against a wall, startling Ay’len. “Don’t tell me you were dying for him to touch you with his dirty hands!”
“What’s done it’s done. I do what the tribe wants.”
“The tribe? Who’s the tribe?” he threw Ay’len a dark look.
“All the men, women and children,” the healer said, taking a step back. Ma’ki was angry, and he was afraid.
Ay’len nodded and tried to move towards the door. A strong hand stopped him, pushing against his chest.
“Am I the tribe, Ay’len?” the young hunter asked, his menacing voice making Ay’len tremble. He nodded again in agreement, not knowing what Ma’ki wanted.
“Then I want you,” Ma’ki caught him in his arms and pressed his lips against his.
Ma’ki’s breath smelled of mint and clover, and his mouth was hot on Ay’len’s. Lips and tongue coaxed his mouth to open, and he let the hunter kiss him, taste him, and he tasted the man back. His clouded eyes opened slowly, as Ma’ki was letting him breathe. For a second, they both felt whole; Ma’ki, no longer angry, Ay’len no longer scared.
The healer blinked, and suddenly realized what Ma’iala had meant about him being capable of hurting Ma’ki, and Ma’ki hurting him back. He pushed hard against the man’s chest, forcing him to take a step back.
“No,” he shook his head. “I have a man. Leave, Ma’ki,” he tried to sound determined, but his words came out as a plea.
Ma’ki was staring at him, looking lost and hurt. “So, this is it? This is your life?” he gestured around.
Ay’len nodded, casting his eyes down.
“Any man can have you? But not me?” the hunter added, his anger growing.
“It’s not like that!” Ay’len cried out.
Ma’ki face became clouded and dark again. “Yes, it is. You’re soiled already. Why does it matter who touches you?” he spoke with bitterness.
“If you are so disgusted, why don’t you leave?” Ay’len demanded, his heart breaking. Ma’ki was the only man he loved, and now he was nothing to him. “Leave! Leave!” he yelled, and the hunter left, leaving his only true love behind.
Maki knew what he had to do. It was his right, even if he had to fight Ay’len and make him see.
Ay’len saw no sign of Ma’ki over the next days. From time to time, his feet made him rise on their own accord, trying to force him to go to him. He had known all his life his love for Ma’ki was forbidden, and he had tried to keep the other away. The dreams of spring were gone, and he had no right to stand between the man and his destiny. Ma’iala had been adamant about it.
“Don’t go near him again, Ay’len. Let him be. You will only suffer”, the old woman had told him on more than one occasion. As he had grown, he had understood, and after Ma’ki had squashed his flower, on that unforgettable night, he had come to the decision to listen to the woman’s wise words.
Now he was soiled. From all the tribesmen, he had been taken by the lowest of the low. He no longer had the right to look at Ma’ki, or dream of him. He was certain that any feelings Ma’ki might have had for him were now gone because he had been touched by impure hands and forced into the carnal mire Aka’do represented. He was dirty, unclean, soiled.
He had to forget how to cry. If he was going to survive, if he was going to keep his wits, he had to grow stronger. His duty for the tribe had been instilled by Ma’iala in him from a young age, and it was the only thing in his life that now mattered. Any hopes he might have had to keep Ma’ki close, he had to squash and throw away.
As the days went by, his fear grew. He knew his husband was soon to return, and he had managed to tend to his wounds. He had never explored that offensive part of his body before, as he had been taught to be pure. But now he had to think of ways of preventing the wounds and the pain from happening again.
Alone, in the dark, he used, at first, his own fingers. The flesh was tender there, slowly giving in, allowing him to treat it with a special poultice he had made. The bad sensations gave in after a while, and now, when he was touching himself, he started to feel something new, … akin to pleasure.
At first, he was ashamed. But as he continued to dress his healing wounds, he found sensations he could not have thought possible. He stopped each time, hating himself for feeling something he was not allowed to feel.
His sharp mind was telling him something; his intimate parts could be touched without the pain. Hesitantly, he began to experience with various concoctions, soon enough realizing that when the inside was becoming slick enough, there was no more pain. Even more, his pleasure grew.
He chose not to succumb to the temptation; he was, however, a bit relieved, to have found a way to go through the ordeal of having his husband grunting on top of him, without so much pain.
When finally, the door to the hut was pushed to let the terrible man in, he was as prepared as he could be.
Aka’do was carrying a large deer which he dropped at his wife’s feet. He was covered in dried blood, and he looked even wilder and scarier than usually. Ay’len had his back against the wall, trying unconsciously to get as far away from him as possible. The man grinned and moved closer to the healer. Ay’len spoke first.
“Are you hurt? Take off your tunic so I can look at your wounds,” he almost pleaded.
“It’s not my blood, wife, don’t worry about me,” he showed his sharp teeth and captured Ay’len in his strong hands, forcing his mouth on his. “The damn hunt was going on and on when I could barely wait to come back to you,” he murmured as his mouth descended on the delicate neck, to bite and scratch the sensitive skin. “Take this off, and go sit on your hands and knees,” he pushed Ay’len roughly. The delicate man looked at him with dread in his eyes.
The healer quickly obeyed, trembling. He had to do something and fast. Aka’do was staring at him, his eyes filled with lust and madness. Ay’len’s long hair fell to one side, exposing the beautiful curve of his back.
“This is the prey I want to hunt,” he spoke, approaching his wife fast, getting behind the naked, compliant body, ready to strike. “I’m going to take you like an animal, sweet woman.”
“Wait!” Ay’len almost screamed, looking over his shoulder, and he managed to stop the man who already had his tight grip on his smooth back.
“I told you not to push your luck, Ay’len,” Aka’do snarled.
“Just a bit,” Ay’len pleaded and quickly reached for the concoction he had made especially for this. He took as much as he could with his fingers and used his hand to make his entrance slick.
His husband stood still, perplexed. “What’s this? It smells nice.” He sniffed around Ay’len lower body.
“It’s … something I made. So … I can … please you more,” Ay’len whispered quickly.
With a laugh, the man grabbed his buttocks and pushed inside in a single move. Ay’len let out a small cry, still feeling the sting and the pain, but he was right; it was not as bad as before. Aka’do started to move inside, grabbing a handful of the beautiful hair, and forcing Ay’len to arch his back.
“So, my little healer did something so he could take me,” Aka’do teased as he pushed inside, slamming his body against the smaller frame.
“I thought that if I can take you more, you would like it, too,” Ay’len spoke with difficulty, as his entire body was shaken with every move the man made.
“Good boy,” his husband moaned and released himself into his wife’s compliant body. He let Ay’len’s hair from his hands and slumped on the cot, next to Ay’len, who also lay on his belly, trying to fight back his tears. The pain in his body had been bearable; the one in his soul had been as bad as he remembered.
A hard hand grabbed one round globe and pulled apart roughly. “If they could only see you,” he heard the cruel laughter. “My seed pouring out of you like this … I am above them all, pissing on their fears. Nice trick you pulled there. It was better, but that’s why you’re the healer, I suppose.”
He dragged Ay’len’s body close to him, smelling the healer’s hair. “So pure, so beautiful … and you are all mine”, the cruel satisfaction was clear in the man’s voice.
The only thing that eventually stopped Aka’do that day from taking him repeatedly was hunger. He reluctantly let Ay’len go to bring some food. The deer had to be roasted for a lot of time until the meat got tender and good enough to eat; Aka’do could eat it raw, his sharp teeth a weapon he could rely on. Biting on Ay’len’s naked shoulder, as the healer was trying to get dressed, obviously tired and spent, he spoke.
“I will let you cook it how you want so that you can eat, too. I promised you that you would eat well. Now fetch the food and come back immediately. I want more of you.”
He had to beg for food on top of everything. But he had to struggle with shame every day now, so it didn’t matter anyway. Most people of the tribe felt guilty and pitied him, which was why no one protested whenever he went to ask for food.
After his husband had been satisfied, he let Ay’len rest. He had to go drinking with the other hunters, to celebrate the successful hunt.
“Sleep, then take care of the deer. After that, there will be more of me in you,” he joked, as he left, and Ay’len just felt relieved to be able to fall asleep.
Aka’do met the other hunters gathered around the fire. They were half drunk, and they were telling stories, embellished by their imbibed imagination. He did not notice the dark eyes following him, as he took a seat among the others.
“Do you want to hear a story about a hunter and his prey?” Aka’do shouted, to draw everyone’s attention to him. His words had the desired effect, as the others turned towards him, ready to listen. “The hunter is me, and my prey is your precious healer,” he laughed, drinking his cup bottoms up. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he smugly continued. “He’s like a scared deer when I go near him, and just like a deer, he freezes when I attack him. He takes me in without a sound, and I can ride him like an animal until I’m done,” he gestured by grabbing his manhood through his clothes. “You maggots, that one had to be mounted, but you all feared some old witch’s tales. He was ripe for the taking; I just had to come along and make him mine,” he continued and threw his cup into the fire.
The low growl made everyone froze. In a split second, Aka’do was on the ground, fighting hard to pry open the hands cutting off his breathing. The others hurried to intervene, to take Ma’ki off him.
“You mad dog! He was not to be soiled!” Ma’ki struggled against the men taking him away from Aka’do.
The man coughed a few times, but he talked back. “He’s mine. I fought for him. Didn’t your dear father tell you how I almost made him one head shorter? I spared him only because my sweet wife insisted. I won’t make the same mistake with you.”
“You didn’t fight everyone for him! You didn’t face me!”
Aka’do rose, smiling. He was pushed back by the others, as he tried to get closer to Ma’ki. The young hunter was holding his head high, his dark, thick eyebrows making his eyes appear even blacker in the faint flickering of the fire.
“You think that stubble on your cheeks makes you a man?” Aka’do asked from his place.
“Why don’t you fight me for Ay’len?” Ma’ki provoked him, still struggling to break free.
“I don’t see why. Ay’len is my wife now. He chose me. Do you want to come between a man and his wife? If you had been a real man and wanted him, you would have done it. You would have taken him. But you were nothing but a maggot, just like the rest. Ay’len needs a man, and I am the man for him.”
Ma’ki’s eyes were shooting daggers, his anger boiling. “You’re nothing but a coward. You fought an old man so you could soil Ay’len. You waited for all the strong men to be away, to strike, like a hyena.”
Aka’do seemed to ponder for a bit. “Do you really want to die so badly? So be it. Why don’t you, men, leave us to settle this once and for all? This one here obviously wants to bed my wife. I won’t have it, so let us fight.”
There was a ruckus among the men, each one yelling something different. The grave voice of the tribe’s chieftain made silence.
“What is going on here? Ma’ki”, he turned towards his son. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Aka’do did not fight all the other men who wanted Ay’len. He should not have him.”
Ta’yee’s face clouded. “Ay’len chose Aka’do, you have no right …”
“No right? I have all the right! I should have fought! Ay’len should be mine!”
Ma’ki’s sudden confession caused murmurs to break out everywhere. The young hunter continued. “I respected your laws. I knew I could not have him! I did what you asked of me, father! And you just handed him over to a man who does not only soil him, but also scares him and breaks him, and turns him into nothing! I will fight for Ay’len because I want him! I’ve always wanted him! Only him!”
Ta’yee felt every word pouring from his son’s mouth like a dagger through his heart. He had always suspected something, but he had hoped that the passing years would convince his son to take a wife and have children, and finally, forget about the beautiful healer. Now all his hopes were dashed, and everyone present knew what Ma’ki thought and wanted. If he had only been strong enough to defeat Aka’do, nothing like this would have happened. Ma’ki could not have thought of disrespecting the tribe’s rules, and Ay’len would not have been soiled. But he had been weak!
“Silence, Ma’ki,” he boomed, hoping to get some sense in his son. “If you provoke this man to take his wife, you are banished! We won’t have something like this happening in our village!”
“Chieftain,” Aka’do intervened, a cruel smile on his thin, colorless lips. “Let your son fight. He is right. I did not fight him for Ay’len.”
Ta’yee felt the sky crashing down on him. The man was not known as a mad dog for no reason. He was planning nothing less than killing his son, only to satisfy his hunger for blood. “Aka’do, what’s done is done. We cannot disrespect …”
“So, you’re hiding your son behind you … You’re weak, and your son is weak. Don’t talk to me about rules. If you want to save your son so badly, have him kneel in front of me and ask for forgiveness. I might just forgive him.”
“No!” Ma’ki yelled. “Are you going to shame me, father, by forbidding me to fight? Let me spill the guts of this mad dog!”
The men behind him were agreeing, emitting deep sounds.
Ay’len was hurried from his husband’s hut by one of the tribeswomen.
“Hurry, Ay’len. They want to fight for you!”
“Who? Where?”
He was dragged, still half asleep, to the place where the hunters were still arguing. He saw Ma’ki, and his heart trembled. He was pushed next to his husband, who was standing with his arms across his chest, staring down at the chieftain’s son.
Ta’yee spoke, upon seeing him. “Ay’len, talk some sense into your man. He wants to fight my son for you.”
The plea in the man’s eyes was evident for the healer. He understood quickly by the words being shouted around what was going on. “Husband,” he talked, touching Aka’do’s arm gently, “I am your wife by the tribe’s law. You don’t have to fight anyone.”
Aka’do grabbed him with one mighty hand and held him close. “Don’t try to sweet talk me out of this, wife,” he said menacingly. “Go talk to the boy. Tell him why he is going to lose his life.” With these words, he pushed Ay’len towards Ma’ki.
The healer had to gather all his strength to look Ma’ki in the eyes. He spoke, not letting his feelings show. “I don’t want you. I have a husband. Don’t fight, Ma’ki, or you’ll be cursed.”
The only answer was a bitter laugh.
“Don’t waste your life, your bloodline.”
“Waste? I’ve wasted enough, Ay’len,” he hissed. “I’ve wasted all this time you could be mine. I’m wasting no more time.”
“But I do not want you!” Ay’len almost yelled. “Go find a wife, have kids …”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Ma’ki spoke proudly. “I’ll kill that mad dog you now call husband, and I’ll make you mine, just the same as he did.”
“I won’t be yours!”
“Why? Do you want to throw yourself into the river? You won’t do it because the tribe needs you. I’ll kill your husband, and then you will come to my hut, sleep on my furs, eat the meat I hunt. You will be mine!”
“You cannot soil me!”
“You’re already soiled! It no longer matters!”
Ay’len felt like crying. Ma’ki was going to die, and he could not stop him.
“Have you forgotten everything Ma’iala told you? Everything your father taught you?”
“I don’t care about old tales! I only want you! If I cannot have you, it is better for me to die!”
Their fight was cut short by Aka’do’s laughter. “Let the boy die, Ay’len, if that is what he wants. Come, now, I promised I’d be in you again. Let them prepare the fight and let them prepare for mourning,” he grabbed him by one arm and dragged him along.
This time, the chieftain decided to postpone the fight for two moons, hoping to turn his son around. But Ma’ki chose to lock himself in silence, refusing to talk to anyone.
He was in front of his father’s hut, carving with his knife into a piece of wood, a gloomy expression on his face. He had one thing on his mind now; he cared not about the world passing by. He heard a small rustle of clothes, and then the voice he knew and loved so much.
“Meet me tonight, by the river, when the moon is above the trees,” the quick whisper demanded, and Ay’len was gone, as fast as he had come.
He had cleaned himself thoroughly to wash away any sign of his husband from his body. His decision was taken; there was no shame left in him, and it was the only way to save Ma’ki. Forgive me, Pala’ka, for not knowing what to do, he whispered to the wind, praying for Ma’ki to appear.
The sound of dry leaves being stepped on let him know someone was approaching. His heart was beating fast; Aka’do was sleeping soundly, thanks to one of his concoctions he had hidden in the stew, but what if it was someone else, other than Ma’ki?
He drew a sigh upon seeing the man he loved in the faint light of the moon. He hurried to him.
“Ma’ki,” he embraced him, and the man held him in his arms.
“I knew you did not speak your heart,” Ma’ki caressed his hair. “Don’t worry, Ay’len, I’ll free you from that beast. We’ll have a hut, only for the two of us, and we will be happy. I …”
Ay’len pressed his delicate fingers against Ma’ki’s lips to silence him. “You cannot win, Ma’ki. That man … he will kill you. Think of your parents, think of the tribe.”
Ma’ki pushed him away, in anger. “Is this why you wanted to meet? To tell me to dishonor myself?”
“No!” Ay’len cried out.
“Then why?”
Ay’len slowly grabbed the hem of his dress and pulled it over his head, allowing Ma’ki to see him naked, his skin caressed by the moonlight. “Do you want me, Ma’ki?” he whispered, and he could sense the other man’s tension.
“Yes, I do, Ay’len,” came the strangled whisper.
“Then come take me,” he offered and opened up his arms.
Ma’ki approached him carefully and touched the smooth skin of the healer’s chest. His hand traveled down, on the lean abdomen, descending on the unused sex. Ay’len gasped. He barely touched himself there and did so only when needed. A new, foreign sensation, pleasurable to the core, was unfurling in his belly, making him tremble with unknown feelings.
The young hunter was slowly caressing the hairless sack and member, attentive to Ay’len’s reactions.
“Do you want me to take you now?” Ma’ki whispered, and Ay’len almost let out a cry. He had never wanted anything more in his entire life.
“Yes. You can have me anytime you want”, Ay’len feebly talked. “You don’t have to fight, Ma’ki. When Aka’do’s gone, or late at night, like this …”
The pleasant touch stopped, as Ma’ki stepped back. “Do you think I want a whore?”
The word felt like a slap.
“Do you think I want to feast on that mad dog’s leftovers? You think so little of me!” Ma’ki was angered. “You think so little of you!”
Ay’len felt feverish, naked, bereft of that sweet touch. “Don’t fight for me, Ma’ki,” he pleaded. “I am already soiled, I’m not what you deserve.”
“That is not for you to decide. You will go back now, and wait for the tomorrow’s fight to end.”
“No, Ma’ki, I cannot let you!” Ay’len hurried after the hunter, feeling desperate. He took the man in his long arms, and Ma’ki turned to grab him in his strong embrace.
“You will let me, Ay’len. You cannot stop me.”
“I won’t come to you if you kill Aka’do,” Ay’len continued to try.
“Then maybe I should ask you again, Ay’len, as I asked you that day, at Ma’iala’s grave,” a knife was pressed suddenly against his throat. “Do you want to die? Because only death can take you away from me,” he spoke heatedly.
Ay’len felt tears falling on his cheeks. He pressed the man’s knife harder against his skin. “Then kill me now, Ma’ki,” he said between sobs, and he was pushed back again.
“Do it yourself, if you dare,” Ma’ki’s voice was frozen. “Go drown in the river, leave me! It is death or me! Make your choice!”
With that, he turned and left, letting Ay’len cry out his suffering and despair.