conserve supplies until he'd recovered enough to
formulate a rescue plan. Whatever that meant... With no recollection of who
he was, where he was from, or how he'd gotten here in the first place, that
might prove difficult.
Ninsianna signaled she
was leaving to fetch more water. She gave him a stern look, pointing to the
floor and pulling the blanket to his neck, and made the universal hand at the
side of her head to signal sleep. It appeared they shared the same underlying
body language. Mikhail nodded. She touched his cheek. Reassurance she would
be back, he hoped, before she exited the ship.
His head hurt.
Everything had a surreal glow. Sleep gladly took him once more.
~ * ~ * ~ *
~ * ~
Chapter 8
February - 3,390 BC
Earth: Crash site
Ninsianna
Ninsianna crawled over
the rubble which blocked the crack out of the great sky canoe and worked her
way down to the stream which thankfully tumbled down from the hill where his
sky canoe had partially buried itself. As she walked, she spoke her thoughts
aloud the way one might speak to a close friend.
“He's so emotionless,
Mother. As though he possesses no fear!”
A shadow fell across
her path. She glanced up, just in time to see an enormous golden eagle swoop
into the stream in front of her. An omen! A positive one, for eagles were
sacred to her people. It dove beneath the surface, wings splashing water
everywhere, and came up carrying a nice, fat fish. Ninsianna laughed as the
eagle effortlessly carried its squirming dinner up into the sky.
"Yes! I agree!
He must be a formidable warrior! Now if only he could remember his own
name!"
She'd seen such
amnesia before after a warrior had suffered a blow to the head. Usually a few
hours passed and then the memories would return, although Mikhail (she said his
name several times and decided she liked the way it rolled across her tongue)
appeared to be unusually lucid for someone who couldn't remember his own name.
Perhaps he'd misunderstood her question? Or was he withholding information?
She reached the brook, swollen with water from the late winter rains, and
kneeled.
“Thank you, goddess,
for giving me this pure water,” she sang. She scooped up a handful of water,
faced the east, and offered her first drink to the earth as an offer of
gratitude before filling her water skin. In a land with scant rainfall, water
was sacred.
She saw her own
reflection and realized that she was covered in blood. His blood.
Leaving on her shawl so it would get clean, she waded waist-deep into the
stream and kneeled in the spot where the eagle had snatched the fish only
moments before, just deep enough for her to float. Ducking to wet her hair,
she didn't hear their approach.
“Ninsianna … come
here!”
She flipped back her
wet hair and frowned. Jamin … and the entourage of young warriors who
perpetually followed him. There was no way she was going back to the village
with him! Not now. Not ever! Especially now that the goddess had sent
someone better to take his place!
“No,” she said.
“Leave me alone. I will not marry you!” The will of the goddess filled her
with bravery. She turned her back, signaling she wished to have nothing more
to do with him.
“She's willful for a
forced bride!” Siamek elbowed Jamin in the ribs.
“I don't think she
likes you anymore,” Dadbeh teased.
Firouz began to slurp
like a dog. Ninsianna didn't know what the gesture meant, but it made Jamin
shake with anger.
“I'll show you, woman,
who is in charge of this tribe!” Jamin splashed into the water after her.
Ninsianna stood her
ground. The power of the goddess surged through her veins like a bolt of
lightning. Never before had she felt so bold, so powerful.
“You are NOT the
chief of this tribe, yet!” she shouted. “And I will not obey you!!!”
On the banks of the
stream, the other warriors laughed and