Page 20 of Finding Her Luck
Every village had its little community learning school where Dorsus' history, Peace River Laws, and basic skills were taught. All villagers chose their 'humble life'. Early settlers agreed to deny the evils of technology and industry. Instead of overwhelming, dangerous, industrious cities, village folk elected to live in the simple existence of small, self-sustaining communities. Teachers from the steel cities, sent by agreement, made sure that children knew about nuclear power, electricity, space travel, and thousands of conveniences available outside the Peace River in the 'real world'. To graduate from school Corrin, like all of Rivrtonn's young people, had to pass a knowledge test and sign a contract and make a vow, agreeing to Peace River Laws and 'humble life'. Without the contract, she'd have to go to the steel cities to live.
For all of that, she learned only a chapter's worth of information about the lands, peoples, and creatures outside of the Peace River and the modern city centers. She'd seen the maps. Most of Dorsus' three giant continents were claimed by Originals. After the last bloody Orki rebellion, the Peace was established. The Orki took back control of Dorsus and its air space from off-worlders. By Orki request, all recordings and history of them were wiped from human databases. No one alive now remembered how a primitive people, who lived a stepabove stone-age conditions, took control of their planet back from humans with planet killer weapons and space travel at their fingertips.
If she had lived in the cities, Corrin might have been able to find scraps of piecemeal, leftover information about the character and culture of the people who had kidnapped her. She might be able to find out if their war beasts had intelligence and emotional capacity comparable to that of a human mind. She might know more about what in the moons was going to happen to her next.
As it was, she only knew what Urku-ri told her.
And he wasn't talking.
They traveled in silence.
Stopped again.
Searnon got water. Corrin stretched her legs and waited to relieve herself. Frustrated with the dark gray beast of a male and confused by her own thoughts and emotions, Corrin kept her eyes on the ground.
Two males came over to speak with Urku-ri. He didn't want her to look? She wouldn't look at anything. Not him, not the moon cursed sky, not anything.
Without him and his irritating, unwelcome touching, she felt less feverish. Her skin still felt sensitive, maybe more so. Tight. Itchy. Swollen. When it was their turn to use the trench, with nothing else at hand, she used the blanket he'd given her to wipe down the mess flowing from between her thighs.
He watched her do it. Corrin ignored the bastard's prying eyes. Checking again to be sure that the wet slick wasn't menstrual blood. It was clear. Wet, slightly viscous, with a weird musky, sweet smell. Not blood, but twice as irritating.
She was never this emotional or conflicted. Not like this. Everything in her wanted to grab a stick and smack Urku-ri's bald head. This monstrous stranger came out of the forbidden lands, uninvited into her life, stole her from everything she knew, and dared to make her feel bad that she'd disobeyed him. Accidentally. He made her want to feel guilty for seeing out of her own eyes. He made her want to apologize. He made her want to bend over his lap and beg for a spanking.
She hated him.
They mounted up again. He put her between his legs. Here comes the punishment, she thought, steeling herself. Every muscle went tense, waiting for him to tie her wrists. Force her to her stomach, face down. Expose her bottom to the air and anyone who wanted to look.
Except no one would look. Since Searnon had picked her up in her mouth and taken her out of the meeting hall, no one saw her except Urku-ri. The other males did not approach her, speak to her, or look at her. When she inadvertently looked at them, or the other captives, she was corrected.
Every time.
Worry for self. Mind self. Not for Corrin.
And when the blonde moaned in the middle of the night, he said, "Not for Corrin. No watch unless invited."
She hadn't wanted to watch. Moons, the poor woman made so much noise.
Urku-ri never turned his head toward her.
Other than those who occasionally came to him with questions, he didn't interact with the other Orki. In fact, the only friendly interaction she had witnessed yet was around the fire pit, when the two that stayed awake played dice. All other times there seemed to be invisible walls around them.
In the village, everyone was in everyone else's business. They told stories about each other. Spied on each other to share the juicy details over tea the next day. Gave unsolicited advice. Tattled on each other. Had long monthly council meetings with the seven elected heads and the whole town, over how to punish children who evaded school, fishermen who went to the wrong part of the river to fish, and mercenaries who attacked other villages.
Autonomy. Individualism. Important to the Orki in a way she couldn't comprehend. When she asked how long it would take to get where they were going, he'd told her the name of each day for travel instead of just saying six days or five nights. Each day was its own, not to be dismissed, lost in a group, but valued for its precious moment in time. Each cloud, each star, each Orki warrior, an individual.
The Orki were concerned for themselves. Their role. Their task.
There must be some ambiguity there. Some crossover attention. Could people exist that way?
Urku-ri concerned himself with her. He watched her. Bossed her. Controlled her. Said she belonged to him. Named herredress.
By the moons, what did that mean, anyway? She didn't understand.
Her head fell to her chest, overwhelmed. Twisted up with confusion, her mind spun. With his stilted common and her inability to hear some sounds of his language, understanding each other would be impossible.
This was impossible. Awful. She wanted to go home.
Soon, they would take shelter for the day. The heated madness gathering inside her would pool, itch, and irritate.
