A Jungle Full of White Roses

AUTHOR’S NOTE. Now for something totally different. This is told from Amber’s POV, to clear up why exactly she falls for De’Ban. Based roughly on the some of the actual marriages practices that took place from the 1700s and early1900s, also roughly based on stories of women who were kidnapped by Native Americans, and chose to stay with the Native Americans after they were rescued because of their much fairer treatment of their females. Sade is not Christian, he is a religion similar to Christianity. This is not an Anti-Christian piece. It’s a smutty, science fictiony piece.


The ship will be seaworthy in three days. I am not exactly thrilled of the prospect of becoming the wife of Count Earle Saude-DeChavaux in a few days time. My eagerness and repulsion is now equivalent to the night my father received the letter of the passing of the Count’s wife. I have no memories of the Count, but he had seen me when I was just a poppet, scarcely two. He left for Lost, this continent, to farm sugarcane for rum, with his first wife. He scarcely communicated with us, other than sending us seasonal and holiday gifts of rum and fruitcake. When I was sixteen my father received a letter from the Count. His wife had passed away, and he was now very lonely in his estate. The women here he claimed were an uncouth and harlot-ish lot, leaving him even lonelier in a massive estate surrounded by sugarcane fields. Forty-five years my senior, he desired a young woman, with soft eyes, soft voice, soft touch, and an even softer disposition to accompany him. For three years they, my father and he, negotiate via letter and a representative from his local estate.

It repulses me as I climb up the mountain paths, just how quickly the trunks of the forest would become the confine walls of a bedroom. I grumble as I walk. My notadrach companions…the two male companions of Deban…Stark and Kip look down at me, when not tossing remarks at one another. They chuckle, one slaps another, and once again one of them finds themselves either in a ditch or rolling down the hill. They are not the best body guards in the world, but they do not guard my womanhood with such ferocity it is confining and discriminating. I felt comfort with the two. Kip, with a squawk was sent down the hill as Stark, his skin as dark as the children’s, quickly overpowered him. He was truly a bully in sense of the words, but possessed an odd form of gentleness and respect I would never had truly expected in brute of the human world. Kip appeared to be the more intelligent to the two. He was far more talkative than Stark…though his prattling drives the two of us insane it seems. I think he has been attempting to teach me his language, but he becomes easily distracted, whether it is by Stark or something else.

We were halfway up the mountain. The two cut off into the woods, as they were to do, so that not to give the direction of Deban’s hiding spot. I am quite sure that they themselves did not know of the spot’s exact coordinates, but if Sade ever dare attack me, they were in vicinity of rescuing me, and if not, the elderly female Chuka and Deban were close as well.

It did not take me long to find the hideaway…or hear Deban among the smooth tree trunks. He was singing. I spotted a glimpse of his whiteness…white as horse fur…through the forest green. He was laying down on a patch of loam and ferns, singing and twirling a vine around a thick finger, one leg over the other. I hid behind tree trunk. He paused, and then kept singing. I looked back at his spot…he was gone. The vines shook, sending a shower of dried flower petals.

I heard nothing...not a footfall… not a breath…not a leaf crunch or stick break. There was a sudden “vhoom” as Deban flew through leaf litter at me, taking me immediately off my feet and sending me, and himself, into the leaf litter. It was amazing with such large feet, a notadrach was capable or near silent movements…like a cat or an owl.

I was unharmed, albeit Deban succeeded in snapping the hoop of my hoop skirt…and knocking the wind out of me. It was the loud snap of the skirt that caused him to stop his playful assault and climb off me. Quickly long strings of notadrach words burst from his mouth…pure terror. As I burst into laughter, his fright subsided, now that he realized it was my skirt hoop…not a bone that had snapped soundly.

I stood up, wipe the dirt from my dress, slightly annoyed at the dirt on it. It was a good dress, how on earth the notadrachs managed to remain so clean was beyond me. Deban remained squatted down beside me, elbows resting on his knees, observing the damaged skirt. The bell skirt did not twirl but wobbled sporadically. He attempted to fit the pieces together, but it was in vain and finally he stood up and wiped the dried moss and dust from his thighs. He apologized.

I chuckled. The vines and fallen branches, the plant life of the jungle, caught on my dress, broken or not, it was an everyday occurrence. I removed my other dress, the busted hoop, the tights, and the corset, leaving only my slip, it was unspeakably hot today, Deban, dressed in a pair of light fabric pants and no doubts, looked very comfortable. Since my dress was already ruined, there was no reason for me to wait to undress in the cave and hang it up.

The elderly female was in the cave, burning sweet smelling resins. She looked at me, dusty, and Deban, with my clothing over his shoulder and a blush across his face. She mumbled, shook her head, and returned to her business. Deban hung my clothes up. He took hold of my hands and led me back to his bed. He held a finger up…stay. He pushed down my eyelids with his finger tips. He smelt of wet ferns.

I heard him searching among his belongings. He shouted something to Chuka, Chuka snapped back, I heard him rush away. Moments later he was back. He spoke to me. I opened my eyes. Deban offered me a necklace. I took it in my hands. The band of the necklace was soft, smooth metal, I am not sure what it is, but I was amazed at its craftsmanship. These people amaze me daily! The charm was a jade snail shell, much like the one Deban offered to me.

I squealed like a little girl receiving her first doll. I put both my hands around Deban’s neck. I feel that I am a distinguished young woman (though many may argue such now in the environment I am currently in, and my liking to such an environment), but upon receiving a gift, such a beautiful and finely made gift, years of good manners simply melted away.

Chuka grumbled at the firepit. I put the necklace around my neck, Deban straightened it

Deban and I shared a quick kiss. He took my hand in his, just so gently holding onto my wrist. His hand was rough, obviously, bearing soft pads like that of cat that too bore calluses of outdoor labor. His hands however, were not too rough, too violent like those of the sailors, and was not the sort of roughness and did not bear the coldness of the hands of Preacher Sade.

We went into the forest again. Deban had something to show me. I wonder if he spends his hours without me searching for locations to show me—the miniature waterfall with the little gold fish, the rocks coated in moss, that when hidden in the shadows glowed in shades of orange-yellow and ghostly green, the hollow rocks that rung like bells, the many ruins that dotted the land, the bones of a dragon (or some similar creature) jutting from rocks. Yes, he showed me all. I took in all. He watched me, the expressions on my face were for his own pleasure. I wish to show him my world. I wonder how he would react to carriages and horses, mansions and electricity, fruit orchards and bedrooms with silk sheets and velvet pillows. I suppose he too would be as surprised as I am for this world. A tinge of sadness struck my heart. I would not see that world again either, unless my new husband proves to be kind and allows me to visit my homeland, and another tinge of sadness strikes my heart, I know if I was to take Deban to my world he would not be accepted, definitely he would not be accepted by my people with the same amount of warmth his people showed me…yes, he was a person, his people were persons. I wish my people were to realize that.

The walk was long, the path rough and stony as we traveled even farther up into the mountains. My feet were ill prepared for the walk, and I supposed the outcome would have been no better with my boots on. Deban went down all fours, allowing me to mount him and he carried me up (instead of his earlier behavior of simply picking me up—I think he understood how much I disliked the air flying up into my knickers—or at least understood my dislike of him slinging me over his shoulder like some sack of potatoes, I suppose he liked the feeling because the females of his people were big, not in fat or robustness, they had all the femininity of the female sex, they just happened to be a bit larger than the males, and probably not capable of being lifted over the males’ shoulders). I rode piggy back style. The ride was enjoyable, bumpy, and Deban show no strain, no stress.

I saw what I believe was smoke pouring from the rocks first—white as clouds, white as the flesh on Deban’s arm. It was not until we were up on the bend did I realize it was steam. Deban set me down on earth, it felt gritty like sand, but brittle. It was paler as well. Deban picked up a clump, cracked it between his fingers and licked his fingertips. I picked up a small clump, and realized it was salt, light yellow with various soils and minerals. He picked up several clumps and placed them in a pouch around his waist, most like for the witchdoctor Chuka, or perhaps for his own personal usage.

“Ambur,” Deban said. He gestured over his shoulder…this way. He smiled in a welcoming way, not hungrily, not sadistically, not as if to feast on my flesh, but the smile he gives when he is prepared to show me something that will take my breath away.

A blast of warm steam was what greeted me as Deban disappeared.

“Waaa!” I screeched. Not what I was thinking of! My slip was soaked, it clung to me. Deban chuckled before pulling me away from the steam vent. He brushed my hair from my face. I wish he would not tease me. Unlike me, he was dry. I playfully slapped a wet hand on him.

The steam cleared, and a pool in grey stone appeared in the hot mist. A hot spring, well, this land is full of surprises. Deban squatted down at the water’s edge and placed his hand in the water, then splashed a handful at me. I squealed, knowing it was not scolding hot but thinking it was.

“Deban! You peasant!” I screeched and kicked water at him.

“Ya’ha Ambur!” he answered playfully and tossed more water at me. He darted away as I chased after him.

I kicked water at him every time he paused to throw water at me. I supposed if there were points in the game, Deban was the one to win early on during the game, but as the game wore on, I chased him around the pool, he began to slower, or perhaps I grew more bold, and I began to splash him more and more, splashing him before he had the chance to splash me. Then in a thick cloud of steam, white as cotton, I lost him. He appeared from behind steam shrouded rocks and prepared to blitz me, much like he had in the forest, but I had grown wary of his tricks and stepped out of his way.

“Ah!” he exclaimed as he rolled into the hot spring.

I did not see his dive into the hot spring, but judging by the amount of cussing that rose from the steam, it must have been epic. I found a spot at the spring where I could easily enter the water. I hung my slip out on a rock. I swam out. Deban, nude, was squatting down at the edge of the pool, wringing out his pants and complaining in Notadrach. I laughed at him. Immediately he pricked up.

He prattled at me angrily.

I laughed. “You deserved it you worm.”

Deban dove into the water, splashing me in a tsunami of water. His dive was fruitless, as I was already wet, and fully prepared for what he was going to do. He bobbed up only a few feet away from me. He stroked at my hair…he was obsessed with it…and gently picked at the necklace he gave me around my neck. He smiled at me, not with a childish smile as earlier, not with a smile of hunger, just a happy content smile. I touched at the whiteness of his arm, I found as fascinating to me as my hair was to him. I wonder if he had human in him, I wonder if the human blood in veins gave him the soft whiteness and the blue eyes, gave him the short stature. I wonder if he was the child of a woman much like me and a male much like himself, I wonder if their relationship was like ours, or was it like the warning legends told in my land? Was he the child of a female of his race and a male of mine, seeking to rid himself of manly aggravation?

I wish to ask him, I wish to speak his language, and understand it, to hear the words that come from his mouth. They flow so smoothly, even more than my own tongue from my mouth. But then I think that perhaps it is for the better. The words are so beautifully, I know what the mean when I look into his face, and maybe if I knew what he said to me, it would be nothing more than the dribble in romantic novels. They flow so beautifully, like the nightingale’s song. No one knows what it sings, but everyone loves the song.

We swam in the hot spring for many minutes. Deban swam, I floated about on warm water and thoughts. He did not bother me, leaving me in thought, though he glanced over. I thought of what brought me here, and my original thoughts of my future and past life. I was just a child, the daughter of a merchant, who played in a mansion, a jail of straight wood and windows, of color paintings and no plants, with a garden of straight bushes and geometrically placed flowers. I dreamed of marriage since I could remember, dreamed of the man I would wed when I was in my teens. How my father sent the many young men away who wished to marry me. When I turned nineteen, I realized I was not to be wed, and would remain an old maid, but my father had other plans for me, to marry the count, and gain much money and much respect. I thought of my terror of lying with the old man, my thoughts of Preacher Sade attempting to force himself upon me, my terror of this land…of the woman ruining monsters, of blood hungry insects, of rains and storms, heat, and dirt. The thoughts and terrors of months ago.

Now here I am floating in warm water, care free and nude, with one of those “creatures”, one of the creatures—those persons—who had become my lover, my teacher, my student, my guardian angel, my protected. Deban tickled at my face with his clawed fingertips.

“Ambur?” he said gently.

“Yes Deban?” I asked. He spoke me, I supposed he was asking if I was okay, since I have said or done little. I sat up, shaking water from my shoulders. Deban swam behind me, his fingers parted my hair. He began to evenly plait my hair. There was very little to do other than swim, and I believe we have had enough of swimming now. Deban finished plaiting my hair. I felt his lips on the back of my neck. I turned around and put two of my fingers against his lips and pushed him back against the edge of the spring.

“It is my turn, Deban,” I said somewhat forcefully. There are things I wanted to do and feel, and I have felt boldness growing in my chest, and today, I felt it has blossomed.

I do not know what lovemaking with a human man would be like, being a virgin when Deban made love to me. My parents gave me little facts on such a matter, knowing it was improper to speak about such with a girl. I was told to simply lay on my back and let my husband have my body—his body—not my body. It sounds and sounds like it feels very cold and yet very damaging, like a ewe tied down to the ground to be fed upon by a wolf.

Love making with Deban was something I never came to fear…even the first night we made love. It is foolish to say things merely happened. I will admit I was harboring affection for the notadrach, his blue eyes, his white skin, his gentle voice and blush. The thankfulness of him saving me—intentional or not—from losing my maidenhood to Preacher Sade, overflowed in the waterfall. After it was all said and done, a sickness had rose in my gullet. Then he brought me my clothes, then he covered me, then he sat beside me, he spoke to me, his eyes met my mine, he was worried about me, he wished to speak to me…a connection I wished and wanted so desperately. He did not make love to me and roll over to sleep, content and fed.

Deban leaned back. I sat on his lap, I kissed at his lips, catching his bottom lip. I kissed at his throat, he seemed to enjoy that, and it was only mere seconds until I felt the rumbles of his breath against my lips. His hands cupped my buttocks, then ran up my spine. I was assured he was content, I sat up a bit more and put my arms around his head, pulling his snout and face into my bosom.

I exclaimed as Deban immediately became aggressive. His tongue ran between my breasts, licking up between the space, then up my breast bone and throat. His kissed down the moistened streak of my chest. He wasted no time in smother my breasts in his affection. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, the rough tip of his tongue rubbing it and the movements of his mouth working it into peaked existence. The other nipple was not ignored and expertly he gave the same treatment, pulling away with a loud popping sound.

I felt the hardness of his member against my leg. I pushed him back to the edge again. He found a ledge to sit down on. We kissed. His hand worked down between his legs, and he held his member in his hand, holding it straight up. For a few moments, we did not focus on each other, but the task at hand.

I heard only barbarians make love with the woman on top. I did not feel barbaric, I still felt like myself…like myself…not the person my parents wished for me to be, not a womanly thing…just me. It took several moments for me to position myself…the gestures and movements more like two people, laden with packages, trying to untangle themselves in a narrow hallway.

“Ah!” I exclaimed when I finally felt the first bit of Deban enter me. I slid down on him.

The first few moments of lovemaking between Deban and I was full of sharp pains. Each time I moved down a bit on him, a sharp pain ran up from my loins, then I would feel the muscles…muscles I never knew I had until the night Deban and I joined…contract tightly around him, then loosen, and another wider bit of himself would come in. The pains would become a very welcomed fullness, wholeness I always wished to feel, yet, never felt before. With each time we made love, the pains diminished, but the desired for that fullness, the touch, remained strong. Deban was quiet, just letting me work, his one hand was in the water, his other resting on my arm for support.

The last bit of him entered me, my soft cry told him that. Both his hands rested on my thighs, holding me in place. I sucked in my breath, my lower regions contracting and craving. I pulled myself to Deban and we kissed. I pushed back down on him again then pulled myself up…trying to get used to the rhythm of working my hips. Deban repositioned himself slightly, so that I was elevated above him. His hands moved, so that they were not resting on my buttocks. He began to work his hips, using his hands to help maneuver me. I began to work myself into his hips and leaned forward to grip onto the edge of the spring. His mouth latched onto my right nipple. His eyes closed, at peace, I watched.

Deban began to grow even stiffer, harder, his thrusts intensified. That welcomed burning sensation began building again. Deban pulled away from my breast, his attention, fully engrossed on our hips.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, feel one hard push, from him…his orgasm, my quickly followed suite, just scarcely a nanosecond later. He filled me up with his seed, and his member was slick with my own fluids. I wonder if I could carry his child? I wonder what would my future husband say, what my future husband would do to me and the child if I had bore such a hybrid?

Deban sank into the water, only his face remained above the surface, a contented grin his face. My hands still gripped the edge. Dirt was under my fingernails. Deban’s hands remained on my hips. He slowly began to sink. I went down with him.

I chose to spend the night at the cave. Deban was startled at my choice when I did not leave. He was worried I was going to have to travel in darkness, but once he realized I was staying there, his nervousness melted away. Chuka however did leave with the bag of mineral rich soil. Deban explained to me, the best he could and I tried to understand the best I could, that it was meant for pregnant females to eat to provide nutrition for their young. Perhaps I should have taken some for myself.

We went hunting through the forest during the last threads of daylight. Deban caught two large frogs at the stream—twice the size of a bullfrog of my land. I was startled to see them. He cleaned them out of my sight thank goodness and cooked the back part of the frogs over an open fire when night fully over took the jungle. I was hungry and tried a bit of meat. It was odd tasting…chicken with a swampy, cold aftertaste, but it did not stopping me from eating more. We had gel from coconut…nata is what Deban called it, for dessert. He pulled the blanket from his bed and beckoned me to it. I crawled into the bed and he crawled beside me, like husband and wife or siblings cuddling for warmth.

When he put his arm over me, I thought we were going to make love. For a brief second when his flesh touched mine, I wanted to. His other arm wormed under my head, my head now resting in the nook of his elbow. The tip of his snout rested in the nook of my neck. The smell of wet ferns assaulted my nostrils. The fragrance comforted my jumping heart, and I was simply content to do only this lay here…my thoughts and dreams of a gentle glen of emerald and jade of moss and grey stone, of fairy musicians and starry lights, of the smell of cleansing rains—to lay in that glen with my lover to merely lay and enjoy simplicity and balance.

Tears fell from my eyes knowing it could never be.