stoning.
Someone stood at her back, holding her upright while her wrists were strapped
by ropes and tied to the tree trunks. Her ankles were then bound and legs
spread. The abrasive cords cut into her skin when the ropes were pulled tight
and stretched outward to reach the trees.
Finally she caught her breath and lifted her head. Sledge
stood, smacking the leather whip against the ground. She cringed each time it
snapped the dirt.
Without warning he flung it across Wisteria’s bare tummy.
Searing pain tore through her flesh. A scream lurched to her throat. She bit
her lip to stifle it as tears filled her eyes but she couldn’t hold it in. Her
legs buckled, shifting her weight to her arms as she wailed in pain. And while
trying to keep her dignity by not begging him to stop, a whizzing sound sliced
through the air.
She held her breath but it was too late. The whip slashed
across the center of her thighs. She screamed and her head lolled forward.
“Leave her alone,” Ivy shouted.
Just as Wisteria raised her chin, Ivy rose to her feet,
stumbled across the yard and jumped on Sledge’s back, wrapping her arms around
his neck.
The clansmen quickly pulled her loose. The instant they
dragged her away the whip barreled across Wisteria’s tummy again. Her belly
jerked and her chin dropped to her chest. She wanted to die. The pain. She
couldn’t bear the pain. Warmth dribbled down her stomach and legs and she knew
it was blood.
“That’s enough! That’s enough,” Ivy yelled, drowning
Wisteria’s cries. “I’ll kill you. You have to sleep sometime, you grotesque
beast. I’ll kill you!”
Then the sound of clapping horses’ hooves stampeded into the
yard. Suddenly they halted, followed by dead silence. Not even a cricket
chirped.
No! No! For the sake of my soul!
The Barbarians!
Wisteria forced her head upright just as the clan women
emerged from their stone houses. The men stepped from the slaughter shack and
cautiously approached the fire pit, a few armed with spears. The women dashed
from the caves, merged with their husbands and huddled near the fire.
A tall man covered in fur pelts from his shoulders to the
ground dismounted from a huge black horse and stepped forward, only his
muscular arms showing. A large weapon was sheathed at his side and a bison
skull covered his head, resting on his shoulders. Not even his eyes were
visible through the headpiece sockets. He turned toward Wisteria, apparently
studying her for a long moment before his arm shot sideways, his finger pointed
at her body. “Free her!” he commanded, his voice a deep, thunderous echo.
Abruptly he spun on Sledge. Her clan’s people gasped and
stepped back. Sledge clenched the whip in his hand.
Four men donned in similar furs, each wearing a boar skull
to conceal their faces, jumped from their horses and quickly cut her loose. Her
arms fell limp at her sides and her legs buckled. Someone caught her beneath
the arms before she hit the ground.
“What has she done to deserve this punishment?” the man
asked, moving agilely toward Sledge as if stalking prey.
“What’s it to you?” Sledge shouted. Despite the valiant
front to hide his fear, Wisteria knew his insides shook. No one messed with the
Barbarians, including Sledge.
“If I find the reason sufficient, I just may kill her
myself.”
“No!” Ivy cried. “Please, she’s done nothing wrong.”
He spun around, focusing on her. “Then why is she being
whipped?”
The men sat Wisteria on the ground with her back propped
against a stoning tree. Through the pain-induced haze she spotted her sister
cowering behind their brother Shale.
“Speak,” the man shouted, his impatience evidently overrun
by irritation.
“Sh-sh-she,” Ivy stuttered, “kissed a tribesman not fr-from
our clan. It was innocent. She swore sh-she’d never do it again.”
The man stiffened and Ivy dropped to her knees and cried in
her hands as if she’d just sentenced her sister to death. “I’m so
Someone stood at her back, holding her upright while her wrists were strapped
by ropes and tied to the tree trunks. Her ankles were then bound and legs
spread. The abrasive cords cut into her skin when the ropes were pulled tight
and stretched outward to reach the trees.
Finally she caught her breath and lifted her head. Sledge
stood, smacking the leather whip against the ground. She cringed each time it
snapped the dirt.
Without warning he flung it across Wisteria’s bare tummy.
Searing pain tore through her flesh. A scream lurched to her throat. She bit
her lip to stifle it as tears filled her eyes but she couldn’t hold it in. Her
legs buckled, shifting her weight to her arms as she wailed in pain. And while
trying to keep her dignity by not begging him to stop, a whizzing sound sliced
through the air.
She held her breath but it was too late. The whip slashed
across the center of her thighs. She screamed and her head lolled forward.
“Leave her alone,” Ivy shouted.
Just as Wisteria raised her chin, Ivy rose to her feet,
stumbled across the yard and jumped on Sledge’s back, wrapping her arms around
his neck.
The clansmen quickly pulled her loose. The instant they
dragged her away the whip barreled across Wisteria’s tummy again. Her belly
jerked and her chin dropped to her chest. She wanted to die. The pain. She
couldn’t bear the pain. Warmth dribbled down her stomach and legs and she knew
it was blood.
“That’s enough! That’s enough,” Ivy yelled, drowning
Wisteria’s cries. “I’ll kill you. You have to sleep sometime, you grotesque
beast. I’ll kill you!”
Then the sound of clapping horses’ hooves stampeded into the
yard. Suddenly they halted, followed by dead silence. Not even a cricket
chirped.
No! No! For the sake of my soul!
The Barbarians!
Wisteria forced her head upright just as the clan women
emerged from their stone houses. The men stepped from the slaughter shack and
cautiously approached the fire pit, a few armed with spears. The women dashed
from the caves, merged with their husbands and huddled near the fire.
A tall man covered in fur pelts from his shoulders to the
ground dismounted from a huge black horse and stepped forward, only his
muscular arms showing. A large weapon was sheathed at his side and a bison
skull covered his head, resting on his shoulders. Not even his eyes were
visible through the headpiece sockets. He turned toward Wisteria, apparently
studying her for a long moment before his arm shot sideways, his finger pointed
at her body. “Free her!” he commanded, his voice a deep, thunderous echo.
Abruptly he spun on Sledge. Her clan’s people gasped and
stepped back. Sledge clenched the whip in his hand.
Four men donned in similar furs, each wearing a boar skull
to conceal their faces, jumped from their horses and quickly cut her loose. Her
arms fell limp at her sides and her legs buckled. Someone caught her beneath
the arms before she hit the ground.
“What has she done to deserve this punishment?” the man
asked, moving agilely toward Sledge as if stalking prey.
“What’s it to you?” Sledge shouted. Despite the valiant
front to hide his fear, Wisteria knew his insides shook. No one messed with the
Barbarians, including Sledge.
“If I find the reason sufficient, I just may kill her
myself.”
“No!” Ivy cried. “Please, she’s done nothing wrong.”
He spun around, focusing on her. “Then why is she being
whipped?”
The men sat Wisteria on the ground with her back propped
against a stoning tree. Through the pain-induced haze she spotted her sister
cowering behind their brother Shale.
“Speak,” the man shouted, his impatience evidently overrun
by irritation.
“Sh-sh-she,” Ivy stuttered, “kissed a tribesman not fr-from
our clan. It was innocent. She swore sh-she’d never do it again.”
The man stiffened and Ivy dropped to her knees and cried in
her hands as if she’d just sentenced her sister to death. “I’m so
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