1st 5 Pages October Workshop - Willis Rev 1

Name: Latrice Willis
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Title: THE WAYFARER'S CHAINS

The plucking of the linti's ten strings were complemented by the slow rhythm of the drum and a melodious voice. Mika’s arms moved in tune with the words, swirling and waving with each lyrical inflection. She spun around, thrusting her arms upward, and accentuated her turns with the stomp of her right heel. Mika leaped into a split, her arms up again as she landed. The only sound from the crowd was the shifting of bodies on the crudely built benches.

Mika stepped back, now in line with her two close friends, Lewa, and Malani. She scanned the crowd in front of them. It was an intimate group of just over thirty people, all family and friends. And sitting on a bench to her far right was one of the most important people in her life, looking right at her, giving her that smile.

That smile.

The same smile that distracted her in training. The same smile that was the reason for her jitters that night. She couldn’t let her eyes linger on him too long. How could she impress him if she just stood there? Mika’s face warmed up as she forced herself to look at her friends to get back on track.

It was time.

The voices of the crowd rose and hands came together as the drum thundered. There was a cheer with each leap, foot stomp, arm movement, and body roll from the three dancers. They made use of the small area between the crowd and the musicians, rotating positions so each one had a chance to be featured. Mika blinked at the sweat in her eyes. Lewa made a series of short leaps. Dust rose from the ground around Malani's frantic feet. The drums were getting louder and louder. Mika launched herself into the air one last time.

There was a final pluck of the linti strings and a softening drum roll as Mika’s feet hit the ground. She smiled through her heavy breathing as they received a standing ovation and whistles from the group. It was their first performance in front of the crowd. It took four weeks of practice, sore bodies, and a few missed meals, but their hard work had paid off.

Mika glanced at her friends again, giving them each a slight nod. Malani backed away, leaving the two girls alone. The drum started again as the crowd died down. It was time for the most anticipated part of the routine: the rutha battle.

Mika had been ecstatic when she and Lewa were asked to perform rutha in front of their tribe. The traditional martial art was usually taught to young boys. Mika’s mother, who learned through her husband, advocated for the girls to learn along side Malani. Their tribe leader was soft-hearted, and gave in to their pleas. In a matter of four years, both girls had mastered the complex moves which incorporated dance with swift arms, elbows, kicks, flips, and cartwheels.

Mika and Lewa faced each other. The sixteen-year-olds stood about five feet three inches. They were members of a Sanga tribe, one of the nomadic groups from the south. Like most southerners, each girl had plump lips, thick, tightly coiled hair, and dark amber colored skin. But what made Sanga tribe members stand out was their bright green eyes and hair, the color of malachite.

For that night’s performance, Mika pulled her hair into a ponytail of tiny braids, adorned with beads. She spent all morning painting tribal designs on her headband. Lewa parted her hair into twelve thick braids with large white beads attached to the ends. They wore matching sleeveless cropped shirts and matching shorts. Three rows of blue and brown beads were attached to each side of the shorts.

Mika and Lewa rocked back and forth, putting one foot behind the other. Mika exhaled, and balled up her fists. Lewa gave her a knowing look and mouthed the words so quickly, she almost missed them.

“You will win tonight.”

Mika shook her head at her friend’s silly words. Though they started training at the same time, Lewa was slightly better at reading her moves. Mika was going to put her all into that night’s match, but she was a realist.

"Amijo!" Malani shouted. Lewa made the first move with a spinning kick aimed for Mika’s right shoulder and chest. She felt Lewa’s leg brush her hair as she ducked, and retaliated with her own spinning kick at Lewa’s shoulder. The series of kicks between the girls continued; a move that would make the average person dizzy. That was the choreographed part of their routine, simply for the crowd’s own pleasure. Once Lewa backflipped away from Mika, they would have to rely on their own abilities to win the battle.

The girls fought furiously, grunting, and yelping with each hit. One-handed cartwheels and flips targeted the upper body, and sweeping legs were directed towards ankles and shins. Mika's elbow clipped Lewa's chin, but Lewa got her right side with a knee. They had only been fighting for three minutes, but the girls began to slow down as their bodies grew fatigued. Mika noticed Lewa actually moving slower than usual that night. Her kicks and elbows didn’t have exactly the same fierceness as they did in training. Mika decided to take advantage of her friend’s sloppiness.

It was time for the take down.

She dove feet first, opening her legs just enough to envelope Lewa’s left leg. With the slight twist of her body, she used her weight to pull Lewa down to the ground. Lewa groaned as her back hit the dirt.

"Mika bota!" Malani declared Mika the winner. As Mika bent down to help Lewa up, Lewa gave her a mischievous smile. She narrowed her eyes as she realized why her friend’s movement had been so off.

It was because of the promise she had made to Lewa earlier that day.

“You’re gonna win tonight,” Lewa had told her a mere two hours before they were to perform. “He’ll see how far you’ve come in training. He’ll be impressed, and will have to listen. Tell him how you feel. This is your only chance. You win, you do it tonight. Promise me.”

“Sure,” was Mika’s dismissive response. It didn’t actually occur to her that Lewa would lose on purpose that night.

Now, as the girls limped away from the crowd with their arms around each other,  a mix of anger, happiness, and nervousness came over Mika. Anger for Lewa’s lack of effort in their match in order to give her the win. Happiness for Lewa’s sacrifice so she could look good in front of everyone. And nervousness as she realized what her winning meant.

That night, Mika would have to tell him she loved him.

"Mika! Lewa!" Mika’s mother, Alaya, pushed her way to through the group. "Come on girls. Let’s get you taken care of." Many people outside their tribe assumed Alaya was actually Mika’s sister. They were the same height, but Alaya’s green eyes turned slightly upward on youthful face.

Alaya led the girls to a pair of cushions near the food table. A small, overturned box with a large ceramic pot of ootuga paste, gauze, and flat string were set up next to the cushions. She anticipated slight injuries, and had the foresight to prepare the area for them.