The Northern Tribes

2

 ***THIS section contains material that may be triggering. Contains unwanted sexual advances***

We lose 3 more people in the wet conditions. We can hear them getting berated by our captors, the tribesmen yelling to keep pace. If we're close enough we can hear the weapons being used on their bodies. And then if we dare, we glance back to see their bodies lying in the mud, a pool of red spreading out around them, swirling in the rain.

We walk and walk and walk and walk. Forcing one foot in front of the other. Forcing the blood to squish between our toes and our muscles to burn and our hearts to pump faster, harder. We walk until we can't anymore. And then we walk some more... or we die.

The tribesmen only want the strongest of us. They value strength in their slaves. They value strength in everything. But we are still human and we do still have needs. So, finally, they let us get some sleep.

Towards the end of the fourth day, they stop our monotonous march and let us rest.

"Sleep here tonight!" a heavily accented voice calls out. I don't know where it comes from but I don't care. Those of us that still have living family or friends cuddle together to sleep, but those are the minority. It seems they prefer us to be alone. So like most others, I curl up by myself to sleep, taking shelter near a boulder. I am soaked, exhausted, and utterly disillusioned with life. We fall asleep quickly, as if we are afraid our cruel captors will have a change of heart and make us march through the night once again.

My dreams are nonsensical. I see my father, only he doesn't look like my father. He looks like an old mountain man. He beckons to me and I follow him through a small desert without a word. When we reach an oasis he gives me a toothless smile and gestures to a tree the likes of which I've never before seen. I give him a questioning look and he laughs in return. Only, it's the laugh of a tribesman. He throws an axe in the trunk and the tree begins to bleed bright red blood. I watch in horror as he continues to laugh.

I open my eyes to darkness, a hand on my face has pulled me from my much-needed slumber. When I focus my attention on the horrible face looming in front of me, I realize it's the tribesman that has been charged with my captive section. He gives me a wicked smile and raises a finger to his lips. I watch in bewilderment as his crooked smile turns into a look of concentration and he pulls my hips towards him.

I only realize what is happening after he glances up at me with a lustful gleam in his eye. He clasps a large, dirty hand over my mouth as his other hand seeks the inside of my inner thigh. I struggle for a moment before his thigh-hand disappears and I feel the bite of a sharp blade on my neck. In the darkness of the night I see his disgusting smile widen as he slowly lets go of my mouth and moves that hand back to my thigh.

It only takes a moment for his hand to creep upwards on my thigh, continuing with his nefarious and lecherous plan. But he underestimates me. I scream and knee him in his genitals. And before the knife blade can do anymore damage he is ripped backwards off of me. It takes me long moments to process what is happening.

A large tribesman with long dreadlocks pulled into a bun yanks my captor upright and gives him a hearty punch to the face. My accoster falls on the ground, clutching his face, blood sprouting between his fingers.

And then almost all the other tribesmen are on him, yelling at him in their native tongue and imparting on him their fists. Us captives are watching in astonishment, for this is the only time we have seen them turn on each other. And after a few long moments, the yelling and punches cease altogether. And we all see him. Out of all the tribesmen we have encountered, this man is obviously the leader.

He has a shaved head and a few more tattoos than the others. All the tribesmen seem to have at least one tattoo. And although he isn't larger in size than some of his comrades, they seem to be most weary of him. The other tribesmen leave the pervert in a pile on the ground as the leader approaches. The shaved-head says something to him in their native language. But it is in a dark tone that sends chills down my spine.

And the words are apparently just as scary as the tone because the man who tried to violate me grabs a dagger from his belt and lunges for his own throat. But instead he is met with the force of their leader, who grabs the dagger and knocks him out in one fluid movement. If it wasn't so terrifyingly graceful and powerful, his display would be quite unbelievable. He looks around at us all as we stare back in disbelief.

"Back to sleep," he barks at us in his heavy accent. And everyone else complies. I lie back down but watch them. Although I'm utterly exhausted, I'm shaking and wired. I know I will be unable to get any more sleep.

While unconscious, they tie his hands together roughly. It seems he is now a prisoner as well. I wonder what the leader said to him to make him so scared he would try to take his own life. I try to ponder it but quickly lose interest. My thoughts wander to days ago, when I was still living normal life in my village, surrounded by my friends and family. It seems like a whole lifetime ago. The memories seem like some beautiful dream. Even the bad memories don't seem so bad anymore.

When the sky begins to get lighter and the colors of the sunrise swirl on the horizon, the tribesmen rouse us from our comfy sleepy spots and give us small pieces of food. We eat without hesitation. And when we begin to march again, it's much more difficult to get moving. Our bodies are extra sore from inactivity.

So we lose another 4 people, including 2 siblings. A brother loses his sister and cannot bear to live without her, I suppose. He rushes our captors with a pained scream and tears in his eyes. The scream bubbles from the depths of his soul and the look in his eye is one that welcomes death. He knows he can't win. He is dispatched quickly. I begin to wonder if there will be any of us left when we arrive.

But soon my thoughts are addressed when we begin to meet other tribesmen on the trail. Although unconcerned with us, some toting children or large baskets, they have the tattoos of the tribeslands. And soon we can see the top of a huge wooden gate above the trees in front of us.

As we get closer and get more surrounded with tribesmen we can see the huge stone wall surrounding what I assume to be their southernmost stronghold. I'm not sure when we entered the tribeslands, but now we're here. There's no turning back. This is our future. The Northern Tribes.