Page 64 of No Questions Asked

Suddenly one of the young men flipped the other to the ground and tried to pull him toward the edge of the ring. The man on the ground struggled, but was dragged closer to the edge. When they were almost at the edge, the man on the ground suddenly came alive. His weakness had been a feint. He arched his back and thrust his feet squarely into the chest of his opponent, pushing him to the very edge of the circle. He teetered, trying to avoid stepping over the line. Just as he appeared to have regained his balance, his opponent bent forward on his knees and gave him a final push out of the circle.

Now the villagers cheered. The apparent loser approached his opponent and made some kind of acknowledgment before bowing in front of the shaman, who tapped him with the staff on his head. The loser returned to the suitor group, while the chief then took the young woman into the circle and presented her to the winner. She smiled widely, so perhaps it wasn’t as traumatic for the women as I thought. How would I know?

The assembled crowd chanted again as the victor handed the shaman his rock. I turned my head away because I couldn’t stand to watch the branding. Instead, I decided I would make my move the next time the attention was on the fighters.

At that moment, the tall girl slid beside me and slipped her hand into mine, squeezing it. I started at the physical contact, looking down at our linked hands. What did that mean? Was she trying to give me courage? Making me feel as if I weren’t alone? Or could she tell I planned to bolt? How was I supposed to know? I couldn’t interpret social signals in a society where I actually understood what people were saying, so how would I figure it out with people I couldn’t even talk to?

She tapped her chest and said, “Amana.”

Was she telling me her name? Just to make sure, I pointed at her and repeated in a questioning voice, “Amana?”

She nodded, so I pointed to myself and said, “Lexi.”

My name must have sounded strange to her, because she tried to repeat it, but it came out more like “acky” instead of Lexi.

Despite the friendly gesture, her standing next to me presented a serious problem. I didn’t know what she’d do if I ran for it. Would she alert the others? Would she let me slip away? It was probably suicide to plunge into the jungle in the middle of the night, but I was willing to risk it at this point.

To my surprise, she leaned closer to me, pointing at a young man with a jagged scar trailing down the length of his shoulder. I recalled he’d been watching her around the village, and she seemed to have reciprocated his attention. Then she pointed to the chief’s older wife and shook her head sadly, motioning at a brute of a guy who stood at the edge of the suitor circle.

It took me a minute to figure out what she was trying to say. “Wait. You like scar guy, but the chief’s wife, who is...your mother, I bet, likes muscle man over there?” I pointed at them one by one, until she nodded again, convinced I understood. She sighed unhappily.

Holy cow. I totally understood why she was upset. The shoulder scar guy was alotsmaller and was likely to get beat to a pulp by the muscled man. But Slash had taught me that being smaller than your opponent wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He always said that if you knew where to strike, and were committed to doing it, you could take down a larger opponent. I only hoped this held true for this guy.

Still, what was evenmoreastonishing to me was that this girl was having mother issues on her wedding day. A girl who lived in the middle of a rainforest without running water or a computer, had a wedding issue with her mother just like I did a continent away. Except her mother was rooting for a different suitor and she didn’t have the opportunity to make her own choice. But maybe this was a universal thing, and right now, my issue with my mother was a hundred times less troublesome than this one. Regardless, I felt even more connected to her, so I squeezed her hand in sympathy.

One by one the girls were called forward until Amana and I were the last two women standing. I exhaled in relief when the shaman pointed at her, motioning her forward. She gave me a reassuring look and released my hand.

As soon as she reached the spot outside the circle, the young man with the shoulder scar immediately stepped into the ring. The hulking guy took his time sauntering in, and then made a show of flexing his muscles. To his credit, the shoulder-scarred man didn’t back down or look impressed. No doubt it would be a fierce fight. I glanced at Amana, noticing her attention stayed solely on the man of her choice. I hoped for her sake he was successful in his match.

As both of the men shook out their arms and legs waiting for the shaman to thump his staff, I noticed Amana’s brow furrowed and her hands clenched nervously by her side.

Despite my intention to escape during this match, I couldn’t help but watch a little. The match began differently than the previous one. The smaller man with the scar clearly realized his disadvantage in size and refused to engage the bigger man directly. Instead, he used his quickness to stay out of reach. The bigger man stalked him, trying to pin him against the side of the circle. But the smaller man was able to stay just out of reach. I wondered how this would end. Both men showed great patience, and the match continued tensely with each waiting for the other to make a mistake. It was great cover for me because the crowd was so mesmerized by the match I’d be able to slip away and no one would notice.

I peeked over my shoulder. There was no one behind me or between me and the trees.

Time to go.

I started backing up toward the safety of the trees. I didn’t really know what came next, except there was no way I would stay in the nuptial lineup. I was already engaged to the man I loved, and I wasn’t trading him for anybody at this village.

I’d just reached the tree line, apparently unnoticed, when I heard the crowd roar. Glancing back at the circle, I saw two men lying on the ground, half in and half out of the circle. The young man with the scar was on top and had a huge smile on his face. Amana was jumping for joy.

Good for them.

Realizing this was my last chance, I ran for the trees. Unfortunately, I took about six steps before hooking my foot in the dark on a root and falling face-first on the ground. While I caught my breath and scrambled to my feet, I found myself being helped up by strong hands. When I got upright, I saw the chief looking at me with a worried expression on his face.

Oh, crap! Busted.

He looked me over to see if I were hurt. When he decided I wasn’t, he took me firmly by the hand and led me toward the circle.

No, no, no! This isn’t happening.

Amana had just received the mark on her face. She looked at me, beaming and holding on to the arm of her new mate. I was happy for her, but I was also seconds from throwing up. The rational part of my brain was calculating how many seconds it would take for me to grab a stick from the fire and brandish it at anyone who tried to approach me.

How could I stop this?

Oddly, the chief broke from the routine of the previous matches, and did something entirely different in regards to me. He launched into a long speech. I heard him say “a-muh-suh-ne” several times and motion toward me.

When the chief finished, the shaman came forward and stood inside the circle in front of me. For a long moment we waited, but none of the young men stepped forward. My spirits suddenly lifted.

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