Unnatural Instinct: Amazon

27.

'We're not going to be any help. Men aren't meant to fight wars.'

I bite my tongue.

'We just don't have the strength or ability,' speaks another. 'Our bodies aren't built for it.'

I fold my arms against the urge to rush over and slap some sense into him. I knew it was going to be hard convincing them all. What I didn't expect was how angry I would feel. I feel so helpless. Time is slipping away.

The men and children have journeyed a hard several hours from the camp and now they're stopping to rest before darkness falls too deeply. Throughout that time, I've tried to find allies who might be willing to join me, whispering in their ears, pulling them aside into the privacy of the trees to make my arguments. I try not to make the entire camp know. I don't need enemies.

Usually it's easy to pick those who are lost causes—but not always. It's the ones who glare at me with a hatred that's shocking. Who would have thought I could receive such rage from my own kind? For God's sake, how dare I demand respect! How dare I fight for sexual equality! It's all so infuriating I could claw my fingers into my eyes; I could bash my head against a tree.

But most of all, how dare they let those they love die!

Shereen is a Godsend. He knows everyone personally. He knows who might bend. If I didn't have him, I would have gotten nowhere and the surprisingly large group of men wouldn't be sitting before us, listening, debating.

'What's wrong with protecting our children? It's an important job,' speaks another man, his young toddler sleeping in his lap.

I'm about to respond when Shereen steps in. 'It is an important job. We're not saying that it isn't. But we have plenty of perfectly capable old folk who can take our place. Besides, we know the odds. Use your logic. If our women fail, where do you think that leaves us? There's no doubt the enemy will catch up with us. What would you prefer? Dying alongside those you love or suffering at the hands of the enemy? You're not fools. You know what they'll do to us.'

The men look at each other fearfully. The small clearing fills with whispers. I rake my fingers through my hair as I suddenly recall Grippla. I'd rather die than let that happen again.

Our argument seems to be working. I can see it in their faces. But a good chunk are still not convinced, frowning into their laps or shaking their heads.

One stands and walks away, throwing over his shoulder, 'If you're smart you'll know your place!'

A short silence follows his remark as he disappears into the trees.

'I want to help,' an older but perfectly able-looking man suddenly speaks. 'I don't want my wife to die. But I just don't see how I can be helpful. I can't fight. I can't even run.'

'What do you mean you can't run? You look perfectly fit to me.'

He shifts awkwardly on the rock he's sitting on. 'I'm too ... manly.' Several men nod in understanding.

I frown and scratch my head.

'He means his balls keep getting in the way,' another answers for him.

The older man agrees. 'I have large ones and they bounce and rub painfully against my thighs. I can only run a short distance.' He raises his eyes to mine. 'You have big ones. Don't yours hurt?'

'No!' I stare at him, uncertain whether he's joking or not. Then I look at the rest of the group and see the seriousness in their faces. I look at Shereen, dumbfounded.

He shrugs. 'That's why we have rapas, but we still run the risk of rupturing them.'

Several men wince.

'Rupturing them? Where the hell did you get that from? Your balls aren't going to rupture!' Everyone just looks at me, and I suddenly realise what's going on. I can't help but drag my hands down my face. This world is too much like Earth.

And it's utterly infuriating.

'Your balls aren't going to rupture,' I say, trying my best not to burst out into despairing laughter. 'It's a myth perpetuated by women to repress you. I can say from personal experience that your bodies can handle it. You are more than capable of running. You're more than capable of doing anything!'

The older man looks doubtful but the others turn to each other as they murmur. Something is changing in the air. I can feel it. I glance at Shereen, who is smiling.

The men talk with each other for a few minutes before they slowly quieten down again. A hush falls as they turn our way.

'Well?' asks Shereen.

I hold my breath.

'I want to do it,' a voice says from somewhere in the back.

'Me too!'

'We need to try something.'

'I can't lose her.'

'We've got more to lose if we don't.'

They all murmur in agreement.

I could almost drop to my knees and sob. Things are finally going my way.

There's a lot to do and only a short time to do it in. The following day, as the rest of the clan continues with their journey, those of us who want to turn back hang behind. It's no longer a secret anymore. I can no longer hide it. It's inevitable that everyone knows what's going on.

Fights break out between those who support the plan and those who resist. Tears flow between family members, young and old, as they say their goodbyes.

'I'm still not sure this is a good idea,' Shereen admits to me as he watches a young boy scream for his father. 'Like I said: I'm not sure how helpful we're going to be. My inventions ...' He shakes his head. 'Besides, no woman would want this of their men.'

I huff. 'I don't care what they want. And your weapons are going to work. You need to start having faith in yourself.'

Once the rest of the tribe has vanished we get to work preparing Shereen's bolas. And it's not just the bolas we have at our disposable. We've also got machetes, spears, clubs and axes, anything and everything that will help us win the fight.

It makes me hopeful, and yet I can't help but notice how nervous the men are. How awkward they look handling their weapons. The spears are too long, the axes too heavy. Everything is designed for and by women.

Four days we have to get used to them, to train, to develop plans and strategies. It's an impossible situation. Shereen is right: we're probably not going to be much use.

But damn it to hell, we're going to try.