believed she was a goddess, and therefore believed she had some great powers. And what better way to obtain those powers, those abilities for themselves, than to partake of her…literally. What they’d done must also have been forbidden, for why else would they gag her to keep her silent?
Jane’s mouth was dry and she felt lightheaded. That they meant to drink of her juices in order to reap the same benefits seemed obvious, if not appalling and darkly titillating at the same time.
And now that she thought back on it—which she could be forgiven for not having done sooner—she realized that of the people in the village, she’d seen no one under ten years of age. No children, no babies.
Apparently the entire clan was in need of assistance in procreating. She just hoped when they were finished with her, she’d be released, not made into a sacrifice of some sort.
The thought nauseated her and she rose abruptly. Time to see if she could take matters into her own hands. At the very least, she must see Jonathan. Perhaps he would know something more, have some idea how to escape this place.
As before, Jane peered out the edge of her window covering. Sure enough, a man stood there, staring into the night. To her dismay, he seemed wide awake, for every so often, he paced a few steps then turned and walked back.
It was even less likely she’d find an opportunity to leave through the door, but, though weak-kneed and still quivering randomly, Jane was determined. At the larger opening, she managed to pull away some of the grasses woven into the bamboo frame and made a sort of eyehole. This gave her another idea—one that made her heart bump in excitement—but first she had to see what was out in the front of the hut.
Through the small hole she could see the blazing fire pit in the center of the village. It must be very late, for there weren’t many people standing around it, and the stars were high and bright in the sky. The forbidding jungle enclosed the small collection of huts, and Jane was once again reminded of the dangers that lurked within.
Escaping into the night, especially without a weapon, would be foolhardy at best.
Then she recognized Jonathan’s tall, slender figure standing near the shadows, only a few feet from her hut. He seemed to be deep in conversation with one of the tribal members; their voices floated in bits toward her.
The other man shifted and his face became illuminated by the fire. Jane recognized him as Cold Eyes, the one who seemed to be the leader—and the one who’d touched and fondled her brazenly in front of his people. The one with the flat, lascivious smile.
To Jane’s surprise, Jonathan wasn’t bound or restricted in any way. And as they talked, she saw Cold Eyes give something to her fiancé. Something like a parchment or a rolled-up piece of skin. Jonathan nodded, satisfaction evident in his demeanor. He unrolled the item and looked at it, then glanced up at Cold Eyes.
Jane felt weak as she watched through the peephole, disregarding the irritating tickle-scratch of the dried grasses against her face. What was he doing? What was this about?Something didn’t feel right. Jonathan was supposed to be a prisoner too.
You must do as they say, for both our sakes. Or they will kill me. Wasn’t that what he’d told her?
Straining hard, hoping to hear some of what they were saying, Jane pressed her ear to the hole. Her heart thudded so loudly it nearly masked the sounds outside…but now she was able to hear unmistakable snatches of conversation. In English . She could hardly breathe, and clung tightly to the door, listening with all her might.
“…brought her to you…” That was Jonathan; she recognized his clipped British voice. “…kept my promise…”
“…woman…indeed a prize…”
“…cannot tell anyone…release…”
“…map…Darkdale…”
“No, he does not…”
Jane had gone cold and numb. If she were a more fragile person, she would have
Jane’s mouth was dry and she felt lightheaded. That they meant to drink of her juices in order to reap the same benefits seemed obvious, if not appalling and darkly titillating at the same time.
And now that she thought back on it—which she could be forgiven for not having done sooner—she realized that of the people in the village, she’d seen no one under ten years of age. No children, no babies.
Apparently the entire clan was in need of assistance in procreating. She just hoped when they were finished with her, she’d be released, not made into a sacrifice of some sort.
The thought nauseated her and she rose abruptly. Time to see if she could take matters into her own hands. At the very least, she must see Jonathan. Perhaps he would know something more, have some idea how to escape this place.
As before, Jane peered out the edge of her window covering. Sure enough, a man stood there, staring into the night. To her dismay, he seemed wide awake, for every so often, he paced a few steps then turned and walked back.
It was even less likely she’d find an opportunity to leave through the door, but, though weak-kneed and still quivering randomly, Jane was determined. At the larger opening, she managed to pull away some of the grasses woven into the bamboo frame and made a sort of eyehole. This gave her another idea—one that made her heart bump in excitement—but first she had to see what was out in the front of the hut.
Through the small hole she could see the blazing fire pit in the center of the village. It must be very late, for there weren’t many people standing around it, and the stars were high and bright in the sky. The forbidding jungle enclosed the small collection of huts, and Jane was once again reminded of the dangers that lurked within.
Escaping into the night, especially without a weapon, would be foolhardy at best.
Then she recognized Jonathan’s tall, slender figure standing near the shadows, only a few feet from her hut. He seemed to be deep in conversation with one of the tribal members; their voices floated in bits toward her.
The other man shifted and his face became illuminated by the fire. Jane recognized him as Cold Eyes, the one who seemed to be the leader—and the one who’d touched and fondled her brazenly in front of his people. The one with the flat, lascivious smile.
To Jane’s surprise, Jonathan wasn’t bound or restricted in any way. And as they talked, she saw Cold Eyes give something to her fiancé. Something like a parchment or a rolled-up piece of skin. Jonathan nodded, satisfaction evident in his demeanor. He unrolled the item and looked at it, then glanced up at Cold Eyes.
Jane felt weak as she watched through the peephole, disregarding the irritating tickle-scratch of the dried grasses against her face. What was he doing? What was this about?Something didn’t feel right. Jonathan was supposed to be a prisoner too.
You must do as they say, for both our sakes. Or they will kill me. Wasn’t that what he’d told her?
Straining hard, hoping to hear some of what they were saying, Jane pressed her ear to the hole. Her heart thudded so loudly it nearly masked the sounds outside…but now she was able to hear unmistakable snatches of conversation. In English . She could hardly breathe, and clung tightly to the door, listening with all her might.
“…brought her to you…” That was Jonathan; she recognized his clipped British voice. “…kept my promise…”
“…woman…indeed a prize…”
“…cannot tell anyone…release…”
“…map…Darkdale…”
“No, he does not…”
Jane had gone cold and numb. If she were a more fragile person, she would have
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