The Chieftain’s Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

her. At first, it did not bother Ishara that she was being left alone, but the longer she went socially neglected, the more she started to yearn for her home and family.
    Pulling her legs up to her chest, she hugged her arms around her knees, staring across the camp, watching mothers with their children as they prepared to go to the river to wash. She always thought it was strange, the relationships between mothers and daughters, mostly because she did not understand it. Ishara never knew her mother. She had died from fever when Ishara was just a few years old.
    From behind her, the lock to the cage popped opened. She did not hear Mechan approach. He stood by the bars, staring down at Ishara like she was an animal, a discarded pet. Forgotten.
    She looked up at the Manahotchi chief, and without missing a beat, she sneered. It might not have gotten her out of her prison, but Ishara did not want Mechan to think for a second that she had settled in her new place as a slave.
    “Come. We’re going to the river.”
    “You will go alone,” Ishara snapped back, pushing herself toward the back of the enclosure.
    Mechan reached into the cage and forcefully plucked her out, standing Ishara onto her feet beside him. “We’re going to the river.” With a tug, the chieftain started to walk, dragging her along.
    “You will let me go. I am the chieftain’s daughter!”
    The Manahotchi chief only grunted and continued his way to the river through the broken, bare trees that stood like skeletons, reaching up to the hot, unforgiving sun. Ishara scanned the unfamiliar landscape. In Oolani, their trees were green and filled with life and movement. “Why are your trees dead?”
    There was another grunt, but no answer.
    Ishara asked again, “Why are your trees dead?”
    “The land is dead.”
    “Why is your land dead?”
    Mechan stopped, jerking Ishara to his side. “The land is dead because of the sun drought. It is only a matter of time before the Oolani land becomes barren as well.”
    Ishara laughed and shook her head, “Oh no, our land will not. Your land is probably dead because you don’t have any respect for the spirits. I spit on your land.” To emphasize the point, Ishara pursed her lips and spat into the dust.
    Mechan’s eyes never left her when she walked way, but be it from her defiance or the way she swung her hips when she walked, she did not bother to find out. She wanted him to watch her and remember that she’s from better blood than that of a slave.
    “Your defiance is remarkable.” The chief caught up to her, then held back a branch of a fronded tree, allowing Ishara to pass without having to manipulate herself around it. She found it strange that the master should make way for a slave, but she chose not to comment on it. “Did your father forget to teach you respect?”
    Ishara dug her bare toes into the dirt, refusing to go any farther. “Don’t you let any words about my father come from your lips.”
    “I’ll do as I please, little one.”
    “You will not do this.”
    “I’ll do as I please.” Mechan let the branch go and it flung back furiously, leaves breaking off and flurrying down into the dirt. If Ishara had still been standing there, she would have been laid out for days.
    She didn’t want Mechan to see that he had hurt her. She felt guilty that she took pleasure from this barbaric man, the man who had given the command to enslave her and her tribe’s women. Now he had the nerve to insult her upbringing, wounding her with his words and callous attitude. “And you? How well did your father raise you? You are a weak man. Other men fight your wars while you hide in the shadows, waiting for your slave women.” Mechan did not hesitate in his step. Ishara’s barb didn’t faze him, angering her even more. “And how have you raised your son? He is angry and vengeful. Heartless. I’ve watched him beat some of the women before he put them into their pens. How do you explain