A Jungle Full of White Roses

Amber’s POV again

Deban sleeps like a rock and rumbles like a volcano. There are no better terms to describe him. His hot breath pours down my neck, into my hair, steady, heady, more welcomed than the steam from the vents, bathing me in the scent of salt and ferns. Occasional rumbles from his chest shake my own body. I suppose this is what sleeping next to a tiger…or a bear…a bald bear…would feel like. His nostrils shake and widen with each breath. I notice occasionally his eyes flutter underneath his eyelids…I wondered what does he dream of?

“Urp,” rumbles out of his stomach, as suddenly the smell of the forest floor is washed in the smell of swamps—of fetid dirt and frog…yes the scent of frog was quite strong. My grove of ferns became a swamp.

“DEBAN!” I exclaimed, gagging, attempting to crawl from the bed, tumbling over Deban and pulling him off the bed. Deban was half dazed and half in bed as he came to, blinking wildly. He belched again, wincing, it probably tasted as bad as it smelled, and licked at his teeth. He winced again. His throat rumbled at his own discontentment. He stumbled pass me out of the cave and into the jungle. I followed behind him, only to discover he had disappeared into the jungle flora.

I stood there in the jungle, all by myself…a serene feeling came over me. My arms and neck were still warm from Deban’s embrace. My legs…more particularly between my legs…ached dully…yet the pain was an enjoyable remainder, a beautiful rapture in a portrait of serenity. The jungle was quiet in the morning, I realized. It was so quiet I could hear the winds through the trees, and easily I could hear the winds of down the ocean shores—I could not even hear the winds of the ocean when I was by the ocean! I did not even know they existed! Slowly I strolled among the soft paths, I could sense the wakening earth around me.

The moment was shattered by the sound of stream of urine hitting a flat rock.

“YAH! Ambur!” Deban exclaimed. He had glanced over his shoulder, not noticing at me first, but then the moment he saw me, he startled, just missing urinating on his own foot. His face was the brightest shade of red I have ever seen it…red and glistening as freshly fallen blood. I believe my face was the very same shade of red. Deban finished. Somewhat embarrassed he approached.

He paused before me, scratching behind his head…the jungle was fully awake now.

Deban was lazy that morning. I do not mean he lounged around like a common lizard, bloated on the gifts of the jungle, but he chose not to show me any more scenes of the jungle…anything that did not involve an amount of considerable travel. He seemed very content, as was I, to take in the gifts the earth bestowed upon his people. Near the cave he showed me a plant, about as tall as he is high…around six and a half feet. Its leaves were thick and dry appearing and at first I thought it was some form of a bay leaf tree. Deban ran his fingers among the leaves. From the bushes heavy, hard leaves and dried seed pods a cacophony arose. I followed the sound, the wake of his fingertips on the leaves.

Deban snapped a leaf off. He folded it in half, the folded it again, crushing it. A peppermint smell rose from his fingers. He used the leaf to scrub at his teeth. He licked at the oils on his canines then tossed the leaf away. He plucked another from the branches, crushed and placed it in his mouth. Between his back molars he thoughtfully chewed on the leaf, before spitting out the green mush and then a glob of green spit into the leaf litter. He plucked another leaf, gently he crushed it between his fingers then offered it to me. The wave of his breath that rushed over his hands smelt very much like mint…with a chilly bite to it.

Nervously I took it and placed it on my tongue. Its taste was acrid, stronger than any mint from back home. The back of my tongue felt numb. Forcing myself to do so, I moved the leaf over to my molars and crunched down on it, releasing a burst of peppery oils, and then I moved it over to my other molars and desecrated it even more. I had never been so happy to spit. My mouth felt numb for a moment…then it felt like I exhaled the first air of winter. The taste of mint washed away the brackishness of sleep. Deban chuckled at my expression…my shock at the taste. He blew his breath on my face. I blew my breath back at him, our breaths mingled; the scent of mint was strong for just a short moment. As the last whiff faded away our lips touched. I enjoyed the taste of the mint from his mouth more than the taste of it in my own. Our kiss was long, and that told me he felt the same the taste of my mouth.

Our lips slowly moved away from each other. As Deban pulled away, my fingers gently slid along the length of his jaw. The tears came, burning up from my nose and out my eyes. My one hand pressed into my forehead as each sob rocked my body. Deban held my hand, the one that touched him earlier. He held it tightly in both his hands. He understood what the tears were for. He pressed my hand against his lips. I felt coolness, at first I thought it was the herb carried from his breath onto my hand.

Tears ran down his snout and onto my hand.


We returned to the cave. Deban did not let go of my hand. He held onto to it as he trailed behind me. The heat of the jungle was intensifying. In my home the intensification of such heat leads only to storms, here, it leads only to more heat. At the mouth of the cave, my hand, slick with sweat, slid from his. We both slid as well. Deban fell back, I fell forward. We caught ourselves and looked at each other. The realization of our foolishness…our immaturity….suddenly came and left us respectively. I walked into the cave, Deban slowly followed behind me.

Young foolish lovers…

I dressed in the cave, and nearly tripped over my broken hoop…forgetting that it had broken. Silent, Deban slit the pocket the hoop was sewn in and eased out the broken sections. He sat on the floor, holding the broken sections on the hoop in his hands, looking up at me. Unconsciously he pressed the broken parts of the hoop together, making a full circle. I ran my fingers over the smooth edge; fitting them together like a puzzle…I ran my fingers over the rough knuckles of his hands. My eyes met his. I pulled away and walked towards the mouth of the cave. I closed my eyes, shutting my lids on the tears, I walked away. Deban remained on the floor, gently tapping the hoop together.

It was a lonely trek back down to the village. It was midday and the forest had fallen asleep on me again. I wanted to sneak back into the village and quietly sit back in the female’s hut, hide in the shadows, curl up in the shadows and hide myself from this world, not the world of the Notadrach, but this world, the world where my happiness…what people would think would lead to my ultimate happiness…was the established marriage to a man I did not know…the world where the happiness I discover for myself and want is denied on that basis that happiness cannot be found with “savages” with “not like us” “monsters” in the “uncivilized” jungle. I want to spend my last two days here, cuddled in the shadows, holding onto my pillow…onto my blankets…hold onto my world, onto my dreams, what makes me happy.

My depression did not last long…no…it did not magically change into happiness…no, it evolved into something far more worse.

“What have you done to your dress girl?” Preacher Sade exclaimed from behind me. “Have you given your body to one of those creatures? Did one of those creatures force himself upon you, and ruin your dress? I did not see you last night? Where did you sleep?”

“I slept on the mat by the fire of Lanala’s hut,” I answered. “It was cold. She gave me several blankets.”

He looked prepared to strike me. “Then you should have put on more clothes on your body! What happened to your dress? It is not proper for a dress to cling to a woman’s body like that! You are advertising your body like a common street whore! These beasts won’t stay off you!”

“Then they are no different from the men of the ship,” I answered walking pass him, “no different then the men of my world.”

“Hold your tongue woman! If you do then you do not have to worry about your pretty face being broken. A woman who shuts her mouth, keeps her mouth,” Preacher Sade following behind me. His angry steps stomped behind me, and he stomped down on the edge of my dragging dress, nearly tripping me.

“Did he fuck you like a dog?” he asked me, grabbing hold of my shoulder. “I know he fucked you like a dog…and you let him fuck you like a dog. Whores on the street are better women than you. Dogs are better than you! At least dogs only let other dogs fuck them.”

I jerked away. His grasp was so strong that it tore the shoulder of my dress.

“You know girl you can redeem yourself, just to let you know. Only the power of God will make you clean again,” he hissed at me as I hurried away. “You should stop looking for him, I believe your friend has left you. If I have had half the mind I’ll check to see if you’re clean before you’re handed over.”

“My cleanliness is between me and God, not you,” I said.

“Any man has a right to know if a woman is clean,” he hissed.

I looked at him. “Her husband does, but you are not my husband and you do not ‘own’ me.”

“We will see about that,” I heard him mumble.

There were Notadrachs lumbering around. He dare not strike me. He desired to his, it trembled like an eager puppy, it flushed red with blood, the veins were stiff, almost erect in his tight hand. Sailors, carrying pith, walked passed. Preacher Sade walked away.

I found sanctuary in Lanala’s hut. I changed my dress quickly into a light green dress. I picked up my old dress and tossed it into the fire of Lanala’s pit and watched it burn. It made me feel clean and empty at the same time…which was strange to me, here, I felt so many odd feelings so many contradicting feelings at the same time. That dress I wore the last time I saw…touched Deban, but I burned the touch of Preacher Sade, I burned his words…I damned his words.

I gazed out the window as the dress, its form still recognizable in the flames burned. The ship was finished, and the crew was waiting for favorable waters. The winds were not good, Captain Marius said. He said we could get blown off course. Yes, we should leave now…right now! I would like that, to be lost forever, physically. Yes, but mentally, I have been found. I do not want to lose myself again in this marriage. I would rather die that suffer that loss. Like an explorer who finds ancient treasure, I cannot part with my great find. I love it too much, it is too important, too precious to me, even if others do not see that, even if others wish for me to cast it in the trash. I would rather float aimlessly in the ocean than be tied to a bed.

I sat in the bed and looked up at the ceiling. I was lonely, people went on with their lives outside the cottage, I could overhear the human men, I could hear the bickering of Stark and Kip. It woudl be nice if they would stop by, or even glance in the windows. I felt so alone. Captain Marius stopped by. He stood in the doorframe…leaned on the doorframe looking at me. We were leaving in two days he said to me. It only echoes in my mind…hollow.

“Two days—two more nights,” he said, “you’ll be off this hellhole and in a nice mansion with your new husband, you’ll make a good wife and have a good life. Just think of this as just a rough start, Amber.”

He smiles, he leaves. I stare at the ceiling. He does not smell the smoke…maybe he does, he acts like he does not, he ignores it…but to him it may smell of just smoldering ashes…to me, a forest caught between to hellborn wildfires.

It rained hard that night…very hard like marbles striking the roof. The rain scraped away the thin layer of dusty skin on the earth, it revealed the rocky bones underneath it, the clayish muscles. I listened to it as I lay in bed. The fire had gone out hours ago. Lanala had fallen fast asleep, too deep asleep to even be aware of the cold. The fire was too far gone to even be stoked back into the existence. The last of the embers burnt out hours ago. The air is heavy with the smell of mud and rain…it is the only smell, over powering the jungle and the ocean…the sky forcing itself on the earth and sea.

Lightening crashed. I heard a tree fall in the distance…the acrid smell of leaves and fire raced to me, then collapsed at my face, under my nose, dead. I sat up I walked into the room by the fire pit. Lanala was fast asleep on her cot. I picked up a lantern then I picked up my umbrella. I walked out into the storm.

It was a hard, vicious walk up to the cave. I walked in my bare feet. In my shoes I could not feel the smooth, worn, but narrow path. Each step into the earth I welcomed, it covered my naked feet, protecting them from the freezing rain and air. I was nearly blown off the path into the forests several times, slipped on the slick soil twice that amount. Scarcely into the venture I was given the choice by the winds to either keep my umbrella or my lantern, I had chosen the former because it had performed very poorly in this weather. With a woomph the umbrella was yanked from my hands. The wind beat on it like a drum as it rolled down the path and that echoed through the jungle before the jungle swallowed it up.

Only a hundred paces from the cave the wind decided to go back on its deal and the tarry pith of my lantern was blown out. It took me nearly thirty minutes, to navigate my way through the fallen branches and sharp rocks before I found the mouth of the cave. It was dark, but towards the back of the cave…its throat, there was a fading orange glow. Deban was awake. He nearly jumped out of skin when noticing me standing there, just at the edge of the firelight.

“Ambur?” he asked standing up…looking at me with the same disbelief and fear as the man who sees the drowned apparition of his lover while mulling over her death.

“Yes, it’s me,” I answered and so did the water, the rivers of rainwater, dripping off my form. He rushed over to me. He hand touched my sodden, cold hair. I felt the warmth return to my cheeks immediately. His fingers…rough…scraped away the water on my face. They worked down my brow, down my cheeks to my chin, which he gently chucked.

“Oh Ambur,” he said softly and led me to fire and a soft mat.

I exchanged my sopping wet clothes for a soft dry blanket, toasted by the fire and warmed by Deban’s body. Deban wrung out the copious amount of water from my wet clothes with his strong hands and hung them close to the fire to dry. He heated up a large pot of water. While the water heated, he sat beside me, position himself so that the one arm that supported him was behind him and my body was curled up in the nook between his arm and side.

In the cave, the storm felt far away. The rain could not be heard, the thunder mere dying drumbeats. My body began to feel warmer as time slowly passed. I lightly pressed my face against Deban’s pectoral muscle, listening to his heart beat, the rumble of his lungs, the workings of his intestines. The pot began to whistle. Deban removed it from the fire. He poured some water into a cup and sprinkled in several dried herbs. He offered me the steaming cup which I gladly took. I breathed it in, I could smell the leaves of the bush Deban showed me earlier that day. A taste enforced that thought. I could taste other herbs and spices as well. A few cloves and the stamina of a flower floated on the top of tea. I took another sip. My shivering insides stopped.

Deban poured the hot water into a wooden basin. He sat down beside me. He pushed away a portion of the blanket covering my feet. He spoke lightly, as he observed my muddy, cut up feet. He placed a piece of cloth into the steaming water. He wrung it out then rubbed my ankles with it, removing the splattering of mud. He worked into my heel, massaging it between his thumbs. His palms slid up to my toes. Between his fingertips he gave each toes individual attention…massaging the bottoms of them, working his finger between them. He poured warm water over my foot, removing the remaining dirt. He set the foot down and went to work on my other foot.

After cleaning my other foot, he did not set it down. He took the heel in his hand and began to tickle it with his claw tip. His other hand held my other leg down to keep me from kicking out at him. The last few drops of tea splashed onto my skin.

“Deban!” I exclaimed.

He did not stop; all my cry did was make his claw tip move up to the pad of my foot. His grip on my ankle tightened. I pushed the cup out of the way as I leaned backwards. I began to laugh and laugh and laugh until my lungs and stomach could give no more. As I thrashed about, the blanket was pushed up to my shoulders. Each exhale pained me and when I felt at the point of fainting, Deban let go of my foot. A somewhat proud Deban lay down beside me, watching me frantically suck in air as my stomach trembled and cramped from the hysterical laughter. He ran a finger down the center my stomach, feeling its trembles. He kissed my belly, just below the ribcage… then moved down another inch, and kissed again at the flesh. His tongue delved into my navel. His eyes the entire time were focused on mine.

He kissed below my navel then pulled his head up from my skin. I only inaudibly squawked. He positioned his arms so that my thighs were resting on his shoulders. He repositioned his shoulders again, so that his one hand rested on my stomach, the other stretched out to rest on my breast. The tip of his tongue pressed against my center…as if it was knocking on my “door” wanting to be let in. I sucked in air then breathed it all out. My hands searched and found the blanket.

His tongue ran the length of me before parting my sex. It was an odd feeling…it felt wonderful, but I never knew that there was such a skill as that. I never knew that a man could pleasure a woman…never knew there was pleasure for a woman…never knew that there were other ways than just a man’s member to give pleasure to a woman, and that he was willing to take the time to give her pleasure. A part of me thought it was crude, it was primitive for Deban to do this to me, only beasts would do such a thing to a woman, or consider doing such a thing…or want to taste a woman…but each wave of pleasure that flowed up washed those thoughts and misconceptions away.

He forced his tongue deeper into me, now the tip of his snout pressed against the bud between my legs. Each time he moved his head, he rubbed against it, and I felt my legs kick. His one hand lightly stroked…tickled…my stomach, while his other hand squeezed my breast. He pulled his tongue out of me. My body was responding to his affections, and lubrications were beginning to make it difficult for me to feel his tongue. His tongue flicked over the bundle of nerves again and again. My knuckles were turning white as I gripped the blanket. His right hand, the one that gripped my breast, pulled away from it, I felt his finger enter me. He pushed and pulled in and out of me, causing those special muscles to open and close…to beg.

“Ahh…uh…ahh,” I murmured as shot of pleasure hit my brain. My body released on Deban’s hand, covering it with a silvery sheen in the firelight. He pulled away from me, rubbing his hand on his pants. He chuckled. He has taken my breath away twice tonight!

Deban sat up, I sat up too, right beside him. I pushed a semi-dry tendril of hair behind my ear. I put one hand on Deban’s pectoral muscle. His heart thumped quickly. My one hand remained on his chest while my other wondered down his chest to his stomach below the band of his pants. I felt the tip of his penis. He was turned one by he had just done…he enjoyed it! I unbuckled his belt and pulled it from its loops. I tossed it against the cave wall. Deban watched me curiously. I worked his pants down his thighs until his organ was fully visible. Deban was a little startled.

Nervously I licked the tip of his organ then quickly pulled my head away. I have never done this before…I didn’t know if I could…or even if it was right to do. I licked the tip again, this time lingering. Deban’s hand searched for mine. I placed my hand around the base of his organ to support it. I licked around the tip (to get used to the taste of it) of it again before fitting my mouth on it. Deban just watched.

I prepared myself. I will not discuss on matters of my own perversity but I have known of this as another way for a woman to guarantee a man pleasure. I faintly knew of this measure, and only knew that “whores” performed it. The thought of a common street whore and my own uncertainty on just what to do caused me to halt. I sucked, then it all left me…I continued.

“Mmmm,” Deban murmured. His fingers scratched at my shoulders.

My fingers played with the flesh of his member, feeling up and down the veins. I removed my mouth from his tip then gently licked the length of his organ. Deban’s face was flushed a contented shade of red. I relocated myself so most of my upper body was supported by his lap. My one hand cupped his testicles; the other ran up and down his shaft. I placed my mouth on his tip again.

Deban’s hand rested on the back of my head, his claw tips pricked at my scalp. My thumb massaged his testicles. I continued. I tasted a bit of salt that seeped from the tip of his organ. No reaction from Deban told me that this was not the climax I was waiting for. I wondered if I was doing it right. I let the more primitive thoughts of my mind lead me, what I wanted to do, what I had the inkling to do, to taste or touch, I did.

Deban moaned…then loudly snorted.

I should have known better when Deban climaxed. I knew the force of his seed when it entered my body…I just didn’t remember it until his seed shot into my mouth and down my unprepared throat. I also did not realize just how powerful that force is!

I immediately began to choke, spitting out the globby white substance. Deban...sweaty, messy, dopey, and embarrassed…scratched behind his ear with a self-conscious smile across his face. I hacked again, spitting up even more of his salt. Deban crawled over to me. He wiped away my face…but didn’t look me in the eye. He chucked me under the chin and brought me to eye level. He pulled my mouth to his. He covered up our embarrassment with affection, only a few patches of blushing left on our faces spoke of it.

I giggled and Deban managed a huge grin. It was all forgotten in that moment. I sat on Deban’s lap, my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck. He pulled his legs up so that his thighs were pressed against my back. My chin rested on his shoulder. My sight was the cave wall and the flames that danced along its rough surface; my music was the crackling of the fire and the faint echo of the unexpected rain on the bones of the earth. My back toasted with the heat of the fire, my stomach warmed by Deban’s chest and belly, while his arms braced me. The cave smelt of spice, sweat, salt, rain, and ferns—of bodies and affection…many different forms pulling together, mixing together to make a heady brew. My fingers brushed Deban’s shoulders, down through the smooth skin, down the bumpy smooth patches into the rough, ragged edges of his many scars…rubber with sand paper…rapture tearing through serenity.

Each rough spot was a lightening strike in marble…a crack in glass…something comparable to a static shock. It popped at my fingertip, scuttled up my nerves, popped at my lips...the silky feel of metal then the burst of electric.

The palm of his hand rubbed my spine. He lowed softly…he knew what I felt at my fingers. I wonder what they look like now…I wonder if he could feel me feeling them. Preacher Sade forever marked him…he was marked twice. I wonder what his people would say when they see those marks, inflicted marks by Preacher Sade. Would they alienate him? Would they strike out in revenge at the next boat full of humans who have the misfortune of becoming beached on their little cove? I felt the bumps and grooves on his once smooth back. He was imperfect, so I was…fractured and scraped.

I removed my hands from his back. I pressed my finger on the scar bent over his shoulder, like some figure whispering venomous rumors into his ear. I kissed it and pressed the side of my face on that shoulder, against the rough scar, against the smooth white skin. Soon the feeling of the scar melted into the feeling of warmth between our bodies and was nothing more. I watched the flames dance on the water, the shadows of the flames dancing on the rough surface…a ghostly shadow puppet show.

Deban stroked my hair. His head rested on my free shoulder. His breathing grew more and more shallow with each passing moment. He was soon asleep. I remained awake, fitted into his lap, while he fitted around me.

What brought me to this cave? What made me leave Lanala’s house and travel through stormy weather? What makes me want to turn my back? To hiss and spit and fight? What makes me do this? What makes me dissatisfied and anxious? My stomach churns. Am I making stupid mistakes? Have I gone mad? I am damning myself or fooling myself? What have I gotten myself into? Is this a way for a woman to act? Is this what I want?

Deban answers with a soft snore.

It is enough.