The morning light pierced the tent flaps, rousing Sahari from a deep, dream-filled sleep. Her body hummed with renewed energy, the ambient spirit essence of the plains seeping into her pores like a gentle mist. She stretched, toes flexing against the furs, a satisfied ache lingering between her thighs from last night's fantasies. Refreshed, she rose and stepped outside, bare feet sinking into the cool grass.
Maria waited nearby, her red curls catching the dawn, freckled arms open for a quick embrace. 'Good morning! Ready for breakfast?' Sahari nodded, her English steadier each day, and they walked together to the central fire where the tribe gathered. Smoke curled from sizzling venison and flatbreads, the air thick with savory scents.
Taniel stood tall among the men, his muscular frame casting a shadow over the flames. He spotted them and strode over, pulling Maria into a tight hug. His lips met hers in a deep kiss, tongues brushing briefly as she melted against him, hands clutching his broad back while her toes splayed wide in the grass. Sahari watched, a flicker of jealousy twisting in her gut, but she swallowed it down. Blushing, she murmured, 'Hug... for me?' Taniel's dark eyes warmed, and he opened his arms. She stepped in, his heat enveloping her like a blanket. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close enough to feel the hard planes of his chest. Sahari shuddered, a smile blooming as his warmth chased away the morning chill. They lingered a beat longer than necessary, budding affection sparking in their shared gaze before pulling apart gently.
They settled by the fire, plates heaped with food. Sahari practiced her words, describing her water visions haltingly. 'River... sing to me. Mother show.' Taniel and Maria listened intently, nodding as the conversation turned to spirits. 'You'll thrive here,' Taniel said, his voice a low rumble. 'For water, seek my other mother, Mistia. She's the best.' He called her over, and Mistia approached, her lithe form graceful, eyes like deep pools. She greeted Sahari with a nod. 'I sense your bond already. I'll teach you—control flows from harmony.' Sahari's toes curled into the grass, gratitude swelling in her chest.
Maria piped up, 'Can I join? To learn the basics for when I get my contract?' Mistia smiled, and Mohova, nearby, chimed in agreement. 'We'll cover all—wind, earth, plants, lightning, water, fire, light, shadow. Whatever answers you.' Taniel leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to Maria's lips, then turning to plant a soft one on Sahari's cheek. Both women blushed, smiles tugging at their lips, the simple touches igniting sparks.
Taniel rose soon after. 'Hunting calls. We'll patrol along the bears path, check for any other predators—keep the herd safe.' The women bid him goodbye, watching his powerful stride fade with the men. Then, they headed to the lesson circle, where Mohova and Mistia waited under a spreading tree.
The teachers spoke of requests over commands. 'Spirits partner with us,' Mohova explained, her green tattoos glowing faintly. 'Protect their essence, and they lend power.' Sahari's mind flashed to her mother's lessons by the river—gentle coaxing, not force. She extended her hand, her tribal tattoos glowing blue along her stomach, arms, and legs, drawing moisture from the air into a swirling orb, then shaping it into a fish that leaped before dissolving. Pride lit her face. Mistia nodded and described flow and control through connection, not force, like water flows down a stream and connects through the control of the land, not the forcefulness of man. Maria scribbled notes on bark, absorbing the elements' lore: wind for speed, earth for strength, plants for growth, lightning for fury, water for flow, fire for passion, light for clarity, shadow for secrets.
As the sun climbed, the lesson wrapped. Maria turned to Sahari. 'What now?' Sahari thought, then grinned. 'Spear. Father teach fight.' Maria beamed, leading her to the workshop. Barefoot, their soles padded over packed earth, toes gripping for balance.
The workshop buzzed—Elias and Clara demonstrating to eager tribesfolk. Saws rasped on planks for walls, lathes spun for supports, latches clicked into place for roofs. Tribesmen nodded, hands steadying under guidance. Sahari and Maria veered to the spare woods, selecting a sturdy branch—firm, yet yielding. At 6 feet tall, Sahari's toned limbs demanded a 5-and-a-half-foot spear for mid- and short-range strikes. They carved the shaft smooth, chiseling a slot for an obsidian head from the parts box. Horse motifs emerged in the grain, swirling without hindering grip.
Outside, Sahari twirled the spear, sweat beading on her dark skin. She blocked an imaginary blow, thrust forward with precision, spun in a fluid arc, parried low. Flipping mid-air, she landed in a sweeping strike that could shatter bone. The tribe cheered, voices rising in approval. Many hunters of the men and women wanting lessons from her to incorporate into their spear skills. Sahari turned, breathless and slick with sweat beading down her skin, to Maria's clapping hands. 'Incredible! You're a natural born warrior.'
The day's toil left them sticky. They joined the women at the stream for baths, steam rising from heated stones. Bodies gleamed under water—curves and muscles on display. Maria eyed Sahari's powerful frame, tall and ebony-smooth. 'I won't lie, I'm a bit jealous of your strength and skill.' Sahari shook her head, lathering Maria's red curls and admiring them as they bounce around in her hands as she lathers them up. 'Your eyes like grass... hair. Like fire.' They washed each other, hands gliding over skin. Fingers traced butts, kneading firm cheeks; soaped feet, thumbs pressing arches and between toes; cupped breasts, palms circling nipples that hardened under touch; stroked stomachs and thighs, inches from slick folds. Accidental brushes sparked arousal—breaths quickening, pussies tingling—but they shared knowing smiles. 'I enjoy this... us,' Maria said. Sahari nodded, warmth blooming beyond the physical.
Dusk fell as they returned, dinner fires crackling to life. Sahari tenderized meat with rhythmic pounds, a wooden mallet thudding like her father's lessons. Maria stirred stews, adding herbs under Mohova and Clara's watchful eyes—sage for earthiness, wild onion for bite.
Taniel returned, dirt-streaked but triumphant, a fresh kill of deer slung over his shoulder. He hugged Maria tight, kissing her lips deeply, her toes curling into the dirt as she sighed into him. Then, to Sahari—a warm embrace, lips brushing her cheek. She sighed softly, smiling into the contact, his musk faint but stirring. Her mind wanders back to the image of her and Maria pregnant and welcoming him back from hunts like this. His loving caresses, kisses, and stares as they bear his children and care and support each other as sister wives. She blushes harder but smiles as she goes back to tenderizing the meat. Mohova and Mistia sharing knowing glances at the same look they shared over their husband Many Horses all those years ago as young maidens in love.
The tribe buzzed with tales of the day—progress in building, hunts yielding plenty. Sahari shared her spear skills and Mistia's guidance, words tumbling clearer. 'Water listen now. Shape easy.' Maria recounted elements, excitement bubbling. 'Can't wait to bond—help everyone.' Taniel pulled them close in a group hug, his voice proud. 'My herd will be unstoppable. But courtship first—trust builds the foundation.'
Dinner wound down amid laughter. Sahari gathered courage, her voice steady. 'Tonight... courtship? I join?' Taniel and Maria blushed, eyes meeting in shared heat, but smiles broke through—eager, welcoming. The fire's glow promised deeper connections under the stars.