Passion in the Tundra

(See my post It’s fun to be bad for why you should not take this as a sample of my writing skill!)

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The two bronzed hunters shaded their eyes with their umqualats as they gazed desperately across the dusty, dry, deserted desert.

“I don’t unnastand,” said Oloquintia, “why we hatta stan’ guard here when dere a no danger.”

“It like I tell ya yestaday,” belaboured Olikontio lugubriously, scratching his broad manly chest with one hand and picking his teeth with the other, while leaning on his spear in a seductive fashion as he balanced on one leg. “De elders of our village say we mun stand, so we’s gonna stand.”

“But it’sa boring out here, I wanna do sumtin fun,” whined the first hunter in a voice that could cut glass but was the most beautiful sound that Olikontio had ever heard in his entire life. It reminded him of when he was a little bronzed baby boy, bouncing on his mother’s knee, and she used to sing him to sleep by the fireplace.

“Don’t forget,” he said, “our people are a brave race of warriors, descended from the very first tribe of people who lived in this area. For thousands of years we have farmed on the edge of the desert, living in a tightly-knit community with very strict laws. Our elders are selected on a rotational basis; every five months the fifty oldest people in the tribe are gathered together, and their teeth are counted by the shaman. Then the shaman throws the bones of divination, and whoever has the correct number of teeth as indicated by the bones is chosen for the tribal council. They then have the authority to change one of the standing laws of our society if they wish. But as you know, that last part is just a formality and the laws are never changed. One of the laws says that we must stand guard here, so that’s what we must do.”

Oloquintia lowered her head and looked at him through her long, curved eyelashes, and then stretched her slender yet perfectly-toned and not too muscly arms over her head so that her melon-like breasts pushed against the almost transparent leather of her fostinatto.

“Your so wise,” she drooled at him, “how did you get so many of the learnings?”

Olikontio smiled fondly at his companion and reached out to stroke her beautiful straight blonde hair which fell in waves to her waist like fields of corn.

“Because my father is the chief of our people, I am privy to all of his secret meetings.”

Suddenly, out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, before either of them had time to react, and while they were still gazing into each other’s eyes longingly and paying no attention to the sounds that had been coming out of the forest behind them during this whole conversation, with their spears held loosely at their sides, a tiger jumped out from behind a tree and killed them both.

Oloquintia woke up suddenly and screamed. “Oh my!” she said to herself. “Dat be a scary dream!”

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© Gloria Hanlon 2016 All Rights Reserved

Photo credit Tim & Annette 2004

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