[Askoga]: 89.Short Stories.The Kiss

The first part of this can be found at 89.The Ivory Man

She crouched low in a fighting stance, a deadly look in her beautiful grey-blue eyes. Her full, dark lips were spread in a snarl, to reveal startlingly white, sharp-looking teeth. Even as I shifted very slightly, and as quietly as I could manage, into a more secure hiding place, I admired her ebony skin, the way it flowed so well over her muscles. Muscles that could easily break my own bones, if I wasn’t careful.

As I watched her from my hiding place, she searched for me. Oh, she knew my general position, yes, but I was well hidden from view, and it would take a nose better than hers to pinpoint my location. She moved, carefully, keeping her front towards me at all times, her eyes flitting from place to place. There were a dozen places I could be hiding that she would be unable to see me, just in my close vicinity. I shifted position again, and her eyes flew back to the dozen places I could be. Damn, I’d narrowed it down.

Immediately, she made her way to a more defendable position, where she could watch for any sign of movement. From my perch, I admired her. I hadn’t meant to get myself into this mess when I’d come, searching out artifacts and ancient lore. I hadn’t realized that I might run into the living proof that these Makoan legends were true. Now if only I could let her know that I didn’t want to hurt her, without getting myself hurt in the process.

The problem, of course, was that she had projectile weapons—She was using a bow and arrow, but I knew she also had darts—and she would attack me before I could let her know that I meant no harm. Then something of one of the legends resurfaced, and I smiled. If I could manage to show myself as defenseless, but for my own bare hands, then according to legend she would be honor-bound to go with hand-to-hand combat, or give me one of her own long range weapons, to make it equal.

I did have a bow and arrows, but the bow was unstrung, and the arrows were carefully packed away, where I couldn’t get to them. So, very carefully, I dropped my unstrung bow to the ground. She started a little at that, and looked at the bow. Recognizing it for what it was, she flicked her eyes back up to me. I’d narrowed it down again, and for a heart-stopping moment her slitted eyes met mine, but then they flicked to a spot just above me, and I knew she still didn’t know my exact location.

Then she did something that made me feel only slightly better: she lowered her bow. She kept it ready, but she was recognizing that I was disarming myself of long-range weapons. Good. My next order of business was to drop my pack. That would be tricky, since it was still on my back. Very carefully, I leaned back slightly, and dropped my arms back and down, letting my shoulders relax. To my relief, the pack slipped right off my shoulders and dropped, near my bow. I sat back up and looked down at her, to gauge her reaction.

She was looking up at me, her eyes no longer completely hostile. No, now those beautiful eyes held some confusion. Also, they were unquestionably focused on me. She peeled her dark lips back in a challenging snarl, and her dark skin moved over her muscles as she shifted position, bringing her bow up once more to aim at me. Then she waited.

Because of the legends I’d studied, I thought I knew what she was waiting for, and I swung down from my perch and dropped to the ground below me. I deliberately swung myself so that I landed a little ways away from my pack and my bow. Then I straightened and showed her my hands, palm up, fingers spread wide. My poor heart felt like it would burst, it was beating so fast, and when she didn’t move, I nearly passed out.

But then, she dropped her bow, her quiver, and her small pouch of darts. Her eyes never left me, and I felt as though I was being studied like a specimen. Suddenly my pale skin felt heathen, my shaven face unnatural. My own hair was kept cut short, while hers, and all of her people’s, was let grow long. Hers was carefully plaited and tied with a leather thong, and that let the elegant bone structure of her people show well in her face. I felt so foreign under her eyes, and I understood quite suddenly how she must feel, this stranger, strange even in skin tone, invading her home.

When she was done dropping her weapons, she crouched, then suddenly leaped at me. I dodged her attack and swiveled around to face her again, thankful that my time traveling alone through the jungle had given me almost instant reflexes and muscle enough to ensure my survival in most cases. Again she lunged at me, but this time I didn’t have time to evade, so I lashed out with an attack of my own, bringing my knee up to connect with her upper chest, just below her throat. I’d been aiming for her midsection, but she’d launched herself at me more like a missile, and was aiming her own head into my stomach.

We continued to spar, neither of us gaining the upper hand, until one time I punched at her, and she sank her teeth into my arm, grabbing it also with one hand. Her teeth were indeed as sharp as I’d first thought. She removed her teeth from my arm, and, before I had time to react, had it twisted around behind me painfully. I grimaced, waiting for the killing blow I knew would come. But it didn’t come. Oh, she was still there, alright, I could feel her still holding my arm back painfully, but she seemed to be looking around. Was she waiting for something?

Then, unexpectedly, she released my arm. I brought it around before me, but didn’t move, waiting for her to do something, anything to me. I heard her moving around, and looked up slowly. She stood before me.

“Rise, man-child.” She said, perfectly understandable. Her voice was soft, and held a rich warmth to it. I rose, carefully, wary of her, and looked up to find her smiling, a closed-lipped smile. “You fight well. But you do not seem to know our customs as well as it seemed. Do you know what ritual you began?”

I shook my head numbly. I couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t killed me. All of my references indicated that after a one-on-one battle such as she and I had just passed through, the victor killed the loser. While I’d had no intention of killing her, I didn’t think for a moment that she would be as lenient.

“Hand-to-hand battles fought between two people who are strangers are requests for acceptance or friendship. Because you challenged me and lost, I have the right to deny you both. However, I shall accept your Kiss of Friendship, because you were a match for me such as no man-child I have met before now. You are welcome here.” Then she leaned forward, grabbing my shoulders, and kissed me full on the lips. It was a brief kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. Then she turned and returned to her weapons, to gather them up. She said over her shoulder, “In our language, ‘kiss’ and ‘battle’ are the same word. There are many similarities between them, especially in rituals such as this.”