Read The First Tribe for Free Online

cried.
    Dasheen swung up behind her and readjusted her position so she was lying over his massive thighs. “Your Mother of Life has been left in your dark jungle and rocks,” he said, not bothering to hide his contempt. The tribe of beautiful slaves had been denied to them because of their ignorant belief in fantasy and spirits.
    Sabra felt the hand not gripping the reins rest on her bottom. Her fur skirt had risen up, exposing her pale globes to the sun. Dasheen caressed the smooth skin, staring with building passion at her round cheeks. Mindful of the sun’s burning effect on the girl, he called out, “Mount up, Kirabi. Let’s get our captives into the shadows.”
    Sabra stared at the grass moving aside as the banta kept to a slow steady walk. There was a slap of leather against the creature’s neck, and soon it was gliding in a blinding run. She was grateful the beast rider kept his hand on her bottom, occasionally gripping the hem of her dress to steady her. The banta had a smooth gait, and she found herself rocking against the man. The soft leather of his breeches and his thick thighs kept her somewhat comfortable.
    Soon, she was seeing small rocks and brush, and Sabra realized that they were approaching the far forest on the other side of the meadow. She turned her head and could barely make out the land of the Vastara on the horizon. “Be well, Chabil. Be happy,” she whispered.

Chapter II

    Sabra heard raspy, guttural voices, and she turned towards the sound of strange accents. It was not the deep resonance of the Kirabi nor the lilting roll of the Vastara. She had an awkward, sideways glance at strangely built people who were quickly and efficiently preparing a campsite for the beast riders’ return.
    At last, the banta slowed to a walk, and then it stopped before a small crowd of the sturdy workers. The man pushed her forward onto the saddle while he dismounted. He gripped her arms again, sliding her off the banta. Sabra was grateful to feel the dirt under her feet. She stood still in the man’s grip while he used his other hand to unsaddle the beast and remove its headgear and reins. “Feed,” he ordered, and the banta glided off at a run, back towards the meadow.
    “You have really tamed a banta,” Sabra said, not able to hide her awe at the discovery.
    “As you will be tamed,” Dasheen chuckled.
    One of the hunched-over workers picked up the gear and walked off with it. Sabra stared around the campsite where other beast riders were dismounting. She was dismayed to see that none of the first or second season gatherers had escaped capture. Most were standing much as she, in shocked silence. A few were still crying. Sabra found her thoughts not so much preoccupied on her own predicament as that of the Vastara who would have to forego the first season harvest. The tribe would be hungry in fourth season with only the nuts and fruits of the forests to assuage their appetites.
    She wondered if the beast rider would have her gather food for the Kirabi. As a commoner, it was her only skill, so it seemed to make sense to her. Sabra looked at the pelted, hunched people that were arranging the campsite, and she watched the stacks they had unpacked. There was an abundance of vegetables from what she could see, far more than her tribe’s gatherers collected for the year.
    Sabra studied a sliver of light piercing through leaves overhead. It was almost dark and she was rested. Sabra was certain she could accomplish the long run across the meadow. Without his banta to ride and chase after her… the banta. He sent it to the field.
    Dasheen noticed her longing gaze towards home. “The bantas act as sentries at night, and mine has scented you. He will use his hooves to kick and beat you back to me,” Dasheen warned. He was rewarded with her gasp.
    Sabra longed to ask why he had captured her. It was obvious they had plenty of slaves to gather food. An uneasy feeling came over her, and she looked around at the