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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Warrior, Healer, Goddess
by Zilber (zilber@poboxes.com
***
Kura had never known kissing before; but, oh, the
brushing and sucking of Larka's lips and tongue against
hers was intoxicating, so soft, but so burning hot. She
kissed back hungrily... (FF, 1st, rom, quasi-hist.)
***
Author's Note: Before you beseige me with complaints
about inconsistent use of "thou," please understand that
I'm using the archaic "thou/ye" distinction like the
French "tu/vous": "thou" is singular informal, while
"ye" or "you" is plural or formal. A shift from "ye" to
"thou" represents a shift to a more intimate speech
style.
***
(Northwestern Mesopotamia, circa 4000 B.C.)
I. Rescue
Descending from the hills to the plain, the oxcart
hauling Kura and the three other slave girls lumbered
and jerked along. Three horsemen, carrying spears, rode
beside it. The sun was very hot, and the girls were
naked, save for their loincloths. The thongs binding
Kura's hands to the cart cut into her swollen wrists.
What did the pain matter? She would be dead tomorrow.
Her thirst, though, was becoming increasingly
unbearable. She didn't dare ask the horsemen for water.
They had killed another slave girl earlier that morning,
when they saw her trying to chew through her bonds.
Kura thought she saw a glint, like sunlight on bronze,
from behind the boulder to their right. She heard a
whizzing sound. One of the horsemen made a strange yell;
it took her a second to realize that the thing sticking
out of his neck was an arrow. Blood was gushing out of
his nose and mouth as he slumped off his horse. A moment
later the air was filled with more whizzing sounds and
the rearing of horses and bloodcurdling cries and the
shrieks of the other slave girls. Kura shut her eyes and
huddled against the floor of the cart.
She opened them again as she felt her bonds give way. A
strange warrior, clad in leather breastplate and bronze
helmet, was standing over her, knife in hand. She
screamed and tried to scramble away.
"Calm thee, I'll not harm thee." Kura blinked. It was a
woman's voice. "I only was cutting thy bonds. Thou art
lucky to be alive. The horsemen slew the other girls
afore I could get to ye. I'm sorry."
Kura looked about her, and then wished she hadn't. The
other slave girls were indeed dead, their throats cut.
It was a point of honor with the horsemen to die rather
than let a slave escape. Kura's only consolation was
that the horsemen were dead too. And by the hand of a
woman. Kura had heard legends of such women. The
horsemen called them the amazuna, mothers of death.
"The peace of the Goddess be upon these her daughters,
and grant them rest within Her bosom," the woman
murmured sadly. "We cannot bury them, I fear. Another
party of horseman may come this way and we must be off."
The woman unbuckled her breastplate and her helmet,
tying them to the saddle of one of the horses. "I'm
sorry I have no extra tunic to give thee. The sun will
burn thy skin."
"I am accustomed to it." Kura studied the amazuna. She
was about the same size as Kura, slender like her, but
more powerfully built, and much older than the girl's
fifteen or so years; perhaps the warrior was about
forty-five. The woman had sharp blue eyes and coppery-
grey hair, close-cropped like Kura's own brown hair.
Kura was not sure how to address a woman warrior. "What
will ye do with me, my Lord?"
The woman's leathery face broke into a laugh. "'Lord?'
Dost take this old woman for a horseman?" More gently,
she added, "I'll do nothing with thee, daughter; thou
art free, to do as thou wilt. But I'll be taking these
horses and weapons back to the temple city. From whence
art thou? Where are thy kin?"
"Dead. All dead. My village was on the other side of the
great river, but the horsemen burnt it when I was a
child. The slew all my kin. I... have nobody." Kura
began sobbing. "I am as one already dead. I have been
dead for years."
"Calm thee, Goddess be with thee, daughter." The woman
was hugging her. "Thou art free of the horseman now. And
no harm shall come to thee while old Larka is with thee.
Wilt thou come with me to the temple city, then?"
Kura nodded.
"Dost thirst? Drink of this water skin. We will not come
to a spring until this evening."
"I've never ridden a horse afore, mother. I fear I will
be thrown off."
"Well, we will not be traveling at a fast gait: just
hold to the mane. But if thou art afraid, thou mayst sit
behind me on my mount and hold to me." Kura climbed up
and gripped the older woman tightly about the waist, and
they were off. Kura felt safe holding onto Larka. She
needed to feel safe.
II. Larka
"I am a scout for the temple city. We like to know when
the horsemen come down from the hills. I was tracking
thy party since this morning. My charge is only to watch
and follow, but when they slew that poor girl this
morning, my anger got the better of me. It was foolish
of me: if I had not attacked, the other girls might yet
be living."
"Do not reproach yourself, mother. We were all to have
been slain tomorrow, as a funerary offering for a
chieftain on the other side of the river."
Larka spat angrily.
They rode on. Kura, guardedly, told Larka of her years
of slavery in the horsemen's villages, cooking their
meals, cleaning their huts, being beaten daily,
surviving on the meager rations of a slave, stealing
food when she could. Unlike most of the girls, Kura had
not been raped by them. They had set her aside as a
"virgin," destined to be the mother of a chief's heirs,
or, as it turned out, a funerary sacrifice.
Larka told Kura of the temple city, ruled by the Goddess
Herself.
"Are there no men, then, in your city?"
"Aye, there are; we cannot do without fathers to our
children, now. But our men are not as the horsemen are.
Nor even, I venture, as thine own male kin were. Our men
serve the Goddess too."
"What is She like, your Goddess? The horsemen say She is
a demoness."
"She is good," said Larka solemnly, "and beautiful, and
kind. Thou shalt see Her thyself, when we reach the
temple. She dwells in the body of the High Priestess;
and it is thus that thou shalt come to know Her and love
Her. But She dwells in the earth too, and in the moon.
She is already part of thee, and has been since thou
wast born."
"I do not understand. My kin worshipped the Three Mighty
Brothers, as the horsemen do."
Larka spat again. "Speak not of those three, I pray."
With a wink, she added. "They turn my stomach." Kura
laughed, for the first time in ages. She had never met
anyone like Larka before. Kura was in awe of her; yet
she was not afraid of her. She remembered that she once
had friends... before the horsemen had come. Could Larka
be her friend? Would Larka care for her? She snuggled
more tightly against Larka's back. It felt good to hold
to her.
The sun was low on the horizon when they arrived at the
spring. Larka leapt from her horse, peeling off her
tunic and loincloth and plunging into the cool water.
"Come, daughter. Refresh thee in the water awhile afore
we cook supper."
Kura needed no further invitation. Tearing off her own
loincloth, she jumped in beside her, slaking her thirst
in the sweet water.
"Mother, let me wash thy back, I pray." Kura had been
admiring Larka's compact, sinewy body since they had
begun traveling, and now she could gaze at it and touch
it freely. Larka's face had softened considerably since
the grim events of that morning: it was a strikingly
handsome face, especially when she smiled. Kura wanted
to make Larka smile more. She splashed water on the
older woman's body, rinsing away the dust and sweat,
running her fingers over the taut muscles of Larka's
neck, shoulders, back, and buttocks. There were many
scars on her arms, and one fresh wound on her thigh.
"Mother, thou art hurt!"
"Just a scratch, from the spearpoint of one of thy
horsemen. It will heal quickly, and of its own accord.
Now, if thou wouldst see a wound, here was a wound."
Larka pointed to a long thick scar just beneath her left
breast. "I got this one fighting the horsemen on the
other side of the great river. Slashed by a bronze knife
as long as thy forearm."
"Will it hurt if I touch it, mother?"
"Nay, touch. Ahh, thy fingers are gentle, sweet one."
"I feel the beating of thy heart, mother."
"Daughter, sweet, dost thou... dost mean to touch me...
in the ways of love?"
"May I not? Thou saidst I am free to do as I want. This
is what I want."
She was cupping Larka's small breasts in her hands,
gently kneading them, stroking the erect nipples with
her fingers.
"Ahh, sweet one! When I came upon thee this morning,
thou wast like a frightened rabbit; but thou hast become
bold, sweet. Did I not tell thee the Goddess is part of
thee already? How didst thou learn of the sacred love
between women, growing up among the horsemen?"
"At night, I would touch myself thus, and dream of
someone to care for me. It pleases me greatly to touch
thee thus. Does it please thee, dear one?"
"Aye, it pleases me mightily, sweet."
"Even now, I fear that thou art a dream that I shall
awaken from, to my great sorrow."
"Sweet, there is no one more real than old Larka. Ah,
love, thy young breasts are so lovely. Such soft,
pleasing hillocks. Thy whole form enflames me."
Kura had never known kissing before; but, oh, the
brushing and sucking of Larka's lips and tongue against
hers was intoxicating, so soft, but so burning hot. She
kissed back hungrily.
"Love," murmured Larka, "open thy thighs to me, let me
give thee pleasure, and I will joyfully receive the same
from thee; so we will bond together. Ah, sweet, thy
young cunt is like a flower, opening to my fingers. Thou
art so beautiful, my love. This morning, thy brown eyes
were so sad, so lifeless, it tore at my heart to look
upon thee, dear one. But now thou hast fire in thine
eyes."
"Tis thou who hast kindled it in me."
As they kissed again, Kura's pelvis was thrusting and
shuddering against Larka's hand. Kura gasped with wonder
as Larka's thumb began thrumming her clitoris; the
orgasm welled up in her as Larka held her tightly.
Kura's mind was a rosy haze of pleasure, barely aware of
Larka carrying her out of the water and laying her upon
the soft grass. She felt kisses upon her belly and
loins. Something warm and wet and immensely pleasurable
was moving around and then in her cunt.
Oh, Larka's tongue was flickering over her clitoris,
lips were sucking on it. She gripped Larka's head
tightly, thrusting herself against the older woman's
face. "Mother," she screamed, "stay with me!" Then
another orgasmic wave crashed through her, more powerful
then the first.
She woke to find Larka dozing beside her on the grass.
"Dear mother," she whispered, kissing Larka's face,
stroking her flank. The older woman awoke with a smile.
Kura's fingers crept into the coppery tangle of Larka's
pubic hair, then slipped down between her legs, stroking
Larka's nether lips.
"Is this pleasing to thee, dear mother?"
"Aye, sweet love. Aaaah. Oh, feel how wet I am." Kura
indeed felt her fingers being coated with wetness. The
heady scent of Larka's nectar filled her nostrils. "Suck
my nipple, whilst thou touchest me... ah, ah, the
Goddess is filling me with Her sweetness!" Kura was
kissing her way down the amazuna's scarred belly. The
smell of Larka's cunt was doing something to her,
filling her with a thirst she had never known before.
She plunged her face between Larka's spread thighs,
burying her tongue in the abundant wetness, drinking
deeply as Larka came. At last, Larka closed up her
thighs and pulled Kura up beside her again.
"Sweet companion," Larka said at last, "there is a
sacred bond between us now -- a bond of love, strong as
the Goddess Herself. Even death cannot part us."
"I am well content."
III. The Raiders
After a supper of mutton jerky and millet porridge with
berries, the warrior and the freed girl soon fell asleep
in each other's arms, exhausted from the events of the
day. Kura awoke in the middle of the night, screaming
from nightmares, and Larka held her and kissed her till
she calmed down. They made love again. Larka gave the
girl her talisman, to ward off the nightmares. Just
before sunrise, they ate some cold porridge and berries,
packed up the horses again, and were on their way.
"We shall be in the temple by this afternoon, sweet one.
I'll rejoice to have thee meet my sisters. And I daresay
they will be glad of these horses as well."
They rode on for several more hours. Kura discovered
that, sitting behind Larka, she could easily slip her
hand underneath the older woman's tunic, to touch bare
skin. How she loved the feel of the rippling muscles of
Larka's thighs and buttocks, the soft tangle of her
pubic hair. Larka laughed that they'd lose their way if
Kura kept distracting her, but Larka's body was sending
clear signals that it didn't mind Kura's caresses at
all.
When the sun was high in the sky, Larka pointed to two
distant hills. "Thou may'st see the city between those
hills."
"Can the city be so big, that we can see it from here,
mother?"
"Aye, tis bigger than thy horsemen's villages, I
venture. With a wall of stone about it, taller than a
tree, to keep us safe if we are attacked." Larka went on
to explain how the wall had been built in the time of
their great-grandmothers. How a magic substance bound
the stones in place.
They rode on, nearing the city. Larka tensed suddenly.
"Sacred shit! There's a raiding party down there. Dost
see them, by that thicket of trees? How dare those
horse-fuckers come so close to our city!"
"And look, there are more joining them, in the distance,
coming from the city."
"Ah, no! Those are our priestesses, mores the pity. This
month is the festival of the serpents, when the healing
priestesses go out to dance by the caves. And they have
no warriors with them."
"The horsemen lie in wait for them."
"Aye. Tis good we have seen them first. The horse-
fuckers are but a handful, unless more are in hiding. I
must do battle with them."
"But, thou art alone... thou mayst be slain."
"Aye, love. I may. But I cannot let them harm the
priestesses. Thou must wait here. Wait till night. If I
do not come back, make thy way to the city as quietly as
thou canst. My sisters will receive thee."
"But, love, thou madest promise we'd be together,
always."
"So we shall be, sweet, even if I die." As Kura,
sobbing, dismounted from the horse, Larka donned her
helmet and breastplate. "Daughter, it is not easy for me
to go from thee. If I go with thy blessing, I shall
fight more bravely."
"Thou hast my blessing, mother. Go. And come back to
me."
Larka turned her horse and galloped off.
Kura paced anxiously, praying and weeping to the Goddess
that she as yet barely knew. Her fingers caught on the
talisman that hung round her neck. Larka did not have
her talisman! She must return it to her; she could not
let Larka fight without it. Mounting one of the other
horses, she grabbed the mane tightly and kicked its
sides, as she had seen Larka do. The horse shot off, and
Kura hung onto it, speeding toward the thicket, hoping
to overtake Larka.
Alas, Larka had already joined battle with the raiders.
There were five of them. Larka's arrows quickly felled
two. Then the other three were upon her with their
spears. Larka's bronze knife slashed one of their
throats. But one of the others thrust his spear into her
belly, piercing the breastplate, and she fell.
"NO!" screamed Kura. A volcano of rage erupted in her as
she galloped toward the surprised horsemen and flung
herself upon one of them. Wrenching the spear from his
hands, she buried it in his chest. A sharp pain tore
through her back. Whirling around, she caught the other
horseman by his neck and squeezed with all the fury that
was in her. She felt a sharp crack, and the man's body
went limp. She dropped him and ran to Larka.
"Mother! I-I... brought thy talisman. Mother, love,
don't leave me!"
But Larka's body was already lifeless.
IV. The Priestesses
Now is not the time for mourning, said a calm voice
within her. Place the body on thy horse and ride to the
priestesses. Kura, stunned, numbly loaded her
companion's body onto the horse. She did not weep. In a
short while she came to the cave mouth where nine naked
priestesses were dancing to the music of drums and
flutes.
"Mothers," Kura called out hoarsely, as she dismounted.
The music ceased. One priestess stepped forward, a
short, plump woman with long, wavy black hair, perhaps
thirty years old. "Who are ye, bloody maiden, and what
has befallen ye and that corpse?"
"I am called Kura. I was a slave of the horsemen, but
this mighty amazuna slew them and rescued me. We were
returning to the temple city, when she spied a party of
raiders lying in wait for you. She -- we attacked and
slew them, but she was... slain. She was called Larka."
At this, a wail went up from the priestesses and
musicians. "It is indeed the mighty Larka," cried one,
"I know her by her copper hair." "How did the raiders
come so close, but we had no omen of their presence?"
asked another. "She was our greatest warrior," sobbed
another.
The first priestess spoke again to Kura, "We owe our
lives to thou and Larka. Welcome, brave sister. I am
called Aina." The priestess paused, studying Kura's
face. "Larka's ghost hovers over thee, daughter. She
loved thee much, did she not?"
The numb strength that had held Kura together until now
suddenly slipped away, and she collapsed into the
priestess's arms, sobbing and trembling uncontrollably.
"I wish to be among those offered in the funeral
sacrifices for Larka!"
The priestess spat. "Thou dost not know our ways yet,
daughter. It would not honor Larka to slay one she
loved, nor any other living creature. But, daughter,
thou art badly wounded! Didst not feel this gash in
thine arm and back? Let me bind it up. Sisters, it is
not propitious to resume our dance today. This brave one
needs healing, for her body and heart. And we must mourn
for the mighty Larka. Let us return to the temple."
Kura did not have the strength to ride or walk, and the
priestesses carried her back toward the city on an
improvised stretcher. She was only vaguely aware of
entering the gates of the city, the bustle in the
streets, concerned faces peering down at her. And
everywhere, a wailing: "The mighty Larka is slain!" She
was taken from the streets into a dark room, and laid
down on soft mats. She slept.
V. The Goddess
In the shrine room of the temple, a very fat woman,
naked save for necklaces, armrings, and anklets,
reclined upon a pile of furs. Her black hair was plaited
in many tight braids. Aina, wearing a linen shift,
entered the shrine and bowed.
"My beloved Lady, let me kiss Your lips."
"Sweet Aina, gentle healer, I delight in thee." They
kissed warmly. "Now, tell Me of the girl ye brought into
the temple last month, the companion of Larka."
"My Lady, she is little better. Her fever has left her,
and her spear wounds have mostly healed, but she is very
sick of heart. She eats little. She speaks not at all.
She sits upon her bed and rocks herself. I fear she was
treated very cruelly by the horsemen. I fear her spirit
is broken. I feel Larka's ghost about the girl, very
strongly. But the girl wishes to die."
"Aye," spoke the High Priestess, "the spirit of Larka is
much distraught. She would comfort the girl, but the
girl is too saddened to hear her voice." She paused. The
air around Her began to pulse with faint blue flames.
"The girl is destined to be a great healer. Her destiny
is with us in the temple city." The flames subsided.
"Aina? Thou art much saddened to see the girl thus, art
thou not?"
"Aye, my Lady. I-I... care for her."
"Thou hast done well for her body, dear Aina; but the
wounds of her heart are too deep for thee. Bring her to
me, and I will heal her of her deepest sorrows. As for
the smaller sorrows . . . I believe that thy love, Aina,
wilt give this girl much joy in the years ahead."
"Aye, my Lady," Aina beamed, "thank You, my Lady."
A few minutes later, Aina returned, with four of the
healing priestesses, bearing Kura on a stretcher.
Setting her down, each of the priestesses bowed and
kissed the High Priestess. Kura's body was lean and
haggard, her eyes dull. As the High Priestess gave
direction, the healing priestesses removed Kura's tunic
and loincloth, and bathed and anointed her body.
"Place these lamps round us. Ye may leave us now, my
sweet healers."
Alone now, the High Priestess sat down next to Kura,
resting the girl's head in Her mighty lap. She massaged
the girl's temples. The air began to pulse with blue
flames again.
"Kura. Kura. Kura. Dost thou know Me?"
Kura's eyes suddenly cleared. "Mama! It has been so long
since... But... they slew thee, mama. How art thou alive
again?"
"Who am I now?"
Kura blinked. "Sunru, little brother?"
"Who am I now?"
Kura blinked again. "Larka, sweet love... how I have
missed thee!"
"Who am I now?"
"Why, thou art Kura. Thou art myself. How?"
"Who am I now?"
"My Lady. Ye are She of Whom Larka spoke... Ye are the
Great Goddess."
"Aye, daughter, I am. And I am all who have ever loved
thee, and all whom thou hast ever loved. Through them
all I have loved thee. Sweet Kura, brave Kura, despair
not." She kissed her. "Thou hast suffered much sorrow,
but I have much comfort to give thee. Sweet Kura, I love
thee."
"My Lady, I love You."
The High Priestess smiled. "Show me thy love. I long for
it." The High Priestess reclined on the bed of furs,
pulling Kura down on top of her. Kura kissed her, first
feverishly, then deeply, lingeringly, as
the High Priestess ran her hands over Kura's lean young
body. New life seemed to course through her. Kura had
never felt more radiant. She had never felt so consumed
with lust.
The body of the High Priestess was so soft, so lush,
beneath her. Kura cupped the High Priestess's heavy
breast in her hands, sucking the thick nipple into her
mouth. She was rewarded with moans of pleasure. Kura's
slender legs were intertwined with the High Priestess's
massive thighs. The High Priestess's hands gripped her
buttocks hard. Oh, Kura could feel the sweet heat of Her
cunt, the wetness of it against her loins. Kura humped
and bucked against Her. The High Priestess cried with
pleasure.
Kura felt her own pleasure rising within her, buoying
her up in dazzling sweetness, dizzying joy, then gently
setting her down on the soft, heaving body of the High
Priestess.
"Daughter. Dost thou know me now?"
"I thought... I thought you were the Great Goddess. And
so you are. And so I am also."
"And so is Larka. Dear daughter, her love is not lost to
thee. No love is ever lost. Dost hear her, within thee?
I will help thee to hear."
The High Priestess touched her forehead, and Kura was
suddenly able to focus within herself, upon the calm,
joyous voice of Larka. Daughter, sweet, the beloved
voice said, did I not tell thee death could not part us?
I watch over thee, beloved, always.
Tears of joy streamed down Kura's cheeks.
Larka continued, Thou knowest at last the love of the
Goddess, sweet one. Thou belongest in Her service, as a
healer. I had hoped thou wouldst become a warrior, like
me; thou art brave enough. But our city needs healing,
nor slaying. Thou, who hast suffered so much, will find
joy in relieving the suffering of others.
The High Priestess added, "Aina will teach thee the
healing arts. Learn from her, daughter."
"Aye, my Lady."
"Daughter, art thou hungry? Sup with Me." She called to
the antechamber, "Wertu?" A young man appeared. "Bring
us to eat, beloved. Kura, daughter, recline thou upon my
bosom, hold My hand, and tell me of thy childhood."
VI. Aina
The next morning, Kura left the shrine room, physically
exhausted by a night of nearly uninterrupted love-
making, but feeling inwardly radiant. She made her way
through the still unfamiliar streets of the temple
compound, toward the college of healers, where Aina
dwelt.
"Aina?"
Aina, brewing a decoction of herbs, looked up and
beamed. "Kura, daughter. Thou... thou art..."
"Alive again," smiled Kura.
"Aye, that. But what I meant was, there is a beauty in
thy face I did not see before."
Kura blushed. "Mother, I wish to learn the healing arts
from thee. But afore we start my lessons, I want to
thank thee for thy care of me." Kura hugged her. Neither
woman let go. Aina's mouth found Kura's and they kissed
deeply.
"Bless the Goddess! Beloved one, I am so glad to see
thee well!" Aina was crying.
Kura was flustered. Even after the sublime pleasure of
making love to the Goddess Herself, the sweet intensity
of Aina's kiss left her breathless. Within herself, she
heard the voice of Larka: Now here is a priestess who
knows how to kiss! Do not let this one escape thee,
sweet.
Kura kissed Aina again. Aina drew Kura down with her
upon the pile of furs that was her bed. Aina did not get
around to finishing her decoction until late that
afternoon.
VII. Larka
Many years later, Kura made her way from her patient's
deathbed back through the streets toward the healing
college. She was tired and heartsick, having stayed up
most of the night trying to save a woman who had eaten a
bad mushroom. Her emetics were too late: the poison had
already spread through the woman's body. But it was not
only this woman's death that troubled her: she would go
back to a cold, empty room. Her beloved Aina had died
the previous year, of a sudden stroke. Kura's healing
arts had again been useless. The voice of Aina spoke
within her: Daughter, it was my time to return to the
Goddess; I was ready to go. Do not reproach thyself.
Thou hast saved many lives.
Strange how Kura had not felt the voice of Larka within
herself for a long time.
A man, running up behind Kura, called out to her:
"Mother, healer, wait! What shall be done with the
woman's daughter?"
"Whose daughter?"
"Why, Filra, the woman who has just died. I am her
neighbor. The girl waits in my house now. The maiden is
much distraught. She has no kin left, she says. Alas, we
cannot care for her: we have five children of our own,
and my companion is lame."
Kura sighed. "Lead me to her, I pray. I will try to find
her a home."
In a corner of the room, a girl, perhaps fifteen, was
sobbing, her face buried in her cloak. Kura touched the
girl's shoulder; she flinched.
"Calm thee, I'll not harm thee. I am called Kura." The
girl looked up, startled. Kura was startled too, at the
familiar lines of the face, the sharp blue eyes, the
copper hair.
"Daughter," Kura stammered, "how art thou called?"
"I am called Larka," she sniffed. "I know you, mother,
do I not? I cannot tell from where."
"Beloved Larka, I have waited many years." Tears
streamed down Kura's cheeks. "Come to me, dearest one.
Thou shalt dwell with me, and I shall tell thee of
another Larka, a great amazuna who lived in the time of
thy grandmother. I loved her well."
The girl's eyes lit up. "I have heard of her. She was
the sister of my grandmother's companion. I was named in
her memory." The girl paused, apparently reflecting;
then she smiled. "I-I... hear my mother's spirit. She is
contented that ye have found me."
The girl rose and slipped her arm into Kura's. Together,
they walked back towards the temple compound.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 67