The firepit in the center of the village became a stage. Flames hissed and snapped, casting long shadows that made the onlookers seem larger than life. Word had spread quickly—two men, one woman, and a story that was not theirs but belonged to everyone now.
Katrina stood on the edge of the crowd, her pulse a wild drum in her chest. The beads around her neck felt like shackles. The air was thick with dust and smoke, the voices of villagers rising in a chorus of anticipation.
Eddie’s eyes never left hers. They were bloodshot from travel, rimmed with exhaustion, but the intensity in them burned. Come with me, they seemed to plead, though his lips hadn’t moved.
Lemayan broke the silence first. He stepped forward, tall and unflinching, his red Shuka flaring in the firelight. “You come here uninvited, stranger. You bring shame into our home.” His voice carried authority, drawing murmurs of agreement from the crowd. “I came for her,” Eddie said, his voice hoarse but steady. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
Gasps rippled through the villagers. To speak of a wife that way—publicly, in defiance—was sacrilege. Katrina flinched, torn in two. She wanted to silence them both, to undo the choices that had led her here. But fate gave no such mercy.
Lemayan’s lips curved into a cold smile. “You think love is ownership? You left her in Spokane, in a life of smallness. I gave her the world.” He turned, gesturing to the people, the plains beyond. “Here, she is part of something greater than herself.” Eddie stepped closer, fists clenched. “You didn’t give her the world. You trapped her in yours.”
The crowd stirred uneasily. Some muttered, some nodded. The clash was no longer just between two men—it was between worlds. Then Lemayan’s tone hardened. “If you want her, prove it.” Eddie’s heart pounded. “What are you saying?” “A test,” Lemayan said, voice rising with ritual weight. “Strength for strength. Man for man. If you win, you take her. If you lose…” He paused, his eyes gleaming. “…you never leave this place.”
The crowd roared with approval, stamping feet, clapping hands. The duel was not new here; it was tradition, justice, entertainment all at once. Katrina’s blood turned to ice. “No!” she cried, shoving her way between them. “This is madness. I’m not a prize to be won.” But neither man moved. Their eyes were locked, the fire reflecting the storm between them.
Eddie’s chest heaved. He had never fought for sport, never sought violence. But in that moment, looking at Katrina—beads heavy on her neck, fear etched into her face—he knew he had no choice. “I’ll fight,” he said.
The duel began at dawn. The villagers gathered in a wide circle, chanting low, the rhythm of their voices pounding in Eddie’s ears. Lemayan stripped down to his waist, his body gleaming with ochre, muscles taut and ready. Eddie faced him, smaller, less imposing, but fueled by desperation.
The first blow came fast. Lemayan struck, his fist landing hard against Eddie’s jaw. The crowd roared approval. Eddie stumbled, tasting blood, but steadied himself. He swung back, catching Lemayan’s ribs with a sharp crack. Gasps rippled through the onlookers—few had expected the outsider to stand his ground.
They circled, the air electric, fists flying, bodies colliding in a blur of dust and sweat. Every strike Eddie threw was powered not by skill but by memory—Katrina laughing at the bend, Katrina singing in church, Katrina saying yes beneath the Spokane sky.
Lemayan was stronger, but Eddie was relentless. At last, Lemayan drove him to the ground, pinning him. The crowd cheered, the chant swelling louder. Katrina screamed, pushing against the circle of bodies holding her back.
Katrina stood on the edge of the crowd, her pulse a wild drum in her chest. The beads around her neck felt like shackles. The air was thick with dust and smoke, the voices of villagers rising in a chorus of anticipation.
Eddie’s eyes never left hers. They were bloodshot from travel, rimmed with exhaustion, but the intensity in them burned. Come with me, they seemed to plead, though his lips hadn’t moved.
Lemayan broke the silence first. He stepped forward, tall and unflinching, his red Shuka flaring in the firelight. “You come here uninvited, stranger. You bring shame into our home.” His voice carried authority, drawing murmurs of agreement from the crowd. “I came for her,” Eddie said, his voice hoarse but steady. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
Gasps rippled through the villagers. To speak of a wife that way—publicly, in defiance—was sacrilege. Katrina flinched, torn in two. She wanted to silence them both, to undo the choices that had led her here. But fate gave no such mercy.
Lemayan’s lips curved into a cold smile. “You think love is ownership? You left her in Spokane, in a life of smallness. I gave her the world.” He turned, gesturing to the people, the plains beyond. “Here, she is part of something greater than herself.” Eddie stepped closer, fists clenched. “You didn’t give her the world. You trapped her in yours.”
The crowd stirred uneasily. Some muttered, some nodded. The clash was no longer just between two men—it was between worlds. Then Lemayan’s tone hardened. “If you want her, prove it.” Eddie’s heart pounded. “What are you saying?” “A test,” Lemayan said, voice rising with ritual weight. “Strength for strength. Man for man. If you win, you take her. If you lose…” He paused, his eyes gleaming. “…you never leave this place.”
The crowd roared with approval, stamping feet, clapping hands. The duel was not new here; it was tradition, justice, entertainment all at once. Katrina’s blood turned to ice. “No!” she cried, shoving her way between them. “This is madness. I’m not a prize to be won.” But neither man moved. Their eyes were locked, the fire reflecting the storm between them.
Eddie’s chest heaved. He had never fought for sport, never sought violence. But in that moment, looking at Katrina—beads heavy on her neck, fear etched into her face—he knew he had no choice. “I’ll fight,” he said.
The duel began at dawn. The villagers gathered in a wide circle, chanting low, the rhythm of their voices pounding in Eddie’s ears. Lemayan stripped down to his waist, his body gleaming with ochre, muscles taut and ready. Eddie faced him, smaller, less imposing, but fueled by desperation.
The first blow came fast. Lemayan struck, his fist landing hard against Eddie’s jaw. The crowd roared approval. Eddie stumbled, tasting blood, but steadied himself. He swung back, catching Lemayan’s ribs with a sharp crack. Gasps rippled through the onlookers—few had expected the outsider to stand his ground.
They circled, the air electric, fists flying, bodies colliding in a blur of dust and sweat. Every strike Eddie threw was powered not by skill but by memory—Katrina laughing at the bend, Katrina singing in church, Katrina saying yes beneath the Spokane sky.
Lemayan was stronger, but Eddie was relentless. At last, Lemayan drove him to the ground, pinning him. The crowd cheered, the chant swelling louder. Katrina screamed, pushing against the circle of bodies holding her back.
