FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Meta note: The story is based on actual anthropology and a little hypothesizing, but mainly, is a reflection of my opinions about gender and sexuality. It also contains my first female main character, ever. Let me know how that works out in the comments.)

(Content note: there is a hint/threat of genital mutilation in here, but it doesn't actually happen. Just letting those of you very squicked by it know.)

For the Good of All

Serina couldn't sleep. She had not gotten much sleep for the entire month she had been married to her new husband, Hanar -- but not for the normal and happy reason. In fact, she had been avoiding him somewhat, because she was terrified that the herbs to protect her would not work -- in spite of the fact they always did.

She waited until she heard her mate's breathing slow, before she carefully got up from their warm bundle of GDF blankets and animal skins, and crept out of the tent. She went where she always did: to the small tent, with a hole in the top, which all others were forbidden to enter without her permission.

She knew the book was written in a time lost, before their collective memory began. She knew it contained a warning -- though an especially cryptic one. But that was all her mother had told her about it when she was young. You will understand, she had said, when you become the Shamaness. But she did not, and her mother could not help her now. She was gone.

She picked up the hide-bound book -- which all others were forbidden to read or repair -- and read the poem, yet again:

Heavy words are said never on good days; when those memories of strife held within your gaze

draw up to the mind thoughts from far below. Things you know none must forget lest all turn to woe.

When you find a mate, you must intervene; give him not the child he wants unless you have been

to see the wizards; down before them knelt; asked them for your chosen child 'fore your fate is dealt.

You can find them quick; they are not concealed. Jump to them with Giant wings riding boots of steel.

If you do not heed, the advice herein, terrible things from this book He shall then begin.

Vashi turns to Vasha, Hachi turns to Hachan; All the plants and animals say it's spring; and then

Life Takers shall wax, Life Givers shall wane; half the tribe shall lose their place; envy e'er shall reign.

You must take good care for your child is key: She must use this ancient book to keep all happy.

Do heed my advice: Her road you must take. For the sake of all the tribe, blood lines must not break.

She read it several times, believing that the meaning would simply come to her, like the visions of old. It did not matter that such visions seemed impossible; she needed one, or the terrible things would happen. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. And she knew exactly how everything would play out.

After a long time, like she often did, she closed the book, and wept on the ground, as she saw the dire consequences coming to pass, rushing before her mind's eye. Consequences she felt powerless to prevent, and selfish to risk. Consequences that Hanar could not understand -- and no one else could know about, for then they would bring them about.

Fortunately, it was not long before her eyes ran out of tears. And after staring at the half moon through the tent flap, and deciding that inspiration would not come tonight, she returned to her bed, exhausted. Only after that did she fall asleep.

***

The next morning, she did not get up until the sun was halfway up the sky. And by the time she ran over to the Chieftain's tent, Ahan was on his way out. The healer grinned his mischievous grin at her, half way between a gloat and a sneer. "Serina," he replied airily with the shortest of head bows -- which, given her position in the tribe, was not respect at all.

But she let it go without comment; she was in no mood to deal with him. She wanted to deal with Chieftain Kalan.

She found the grizzled male -- one generation older with fur greying fast -- staring at the ceiling of his ceremonial tent. "I thought you would be here, Grandmother," he stated without moving his eyes.

Now that, she thought with a smile, was respect. "The spirits kept me awake," she said calmly -- it not being far from the truth.

"They seem to have been doing so more often since you married my son," he remarked, a smile entering the very corner of his mouth.

"They tell me not to have children, lest I bring bloodshed to the tribe. And it is not easy on me -- or him."

He smiled knowingly. She did not. "I do not jest," she emphasized sternly.

His smile faded. "I see you don't. Just like your mother did not, for a time. I will certainly wait on grandchildren for the Good-of-All. Now, I presume you want to know what I told Ahan?"

"Please." She sat down.

"There was not much. But as always, Aha took many words to say it," he answered with that same knowing smile. "He continues to believe it unfair that the males keep us fed, and watch our neighbors, while the females get the titles."

She sighed. "Protesting yet again. I hope you were unmoved."

"I told him what I always tell him."

"Thank you," she yawned. "I don't see why he will not just leave us, if he finds our ways so unjust."

"For the same reason you will forgo children. He believes just as strongly as you, that it will be for the Good-of-All. Besides, he would be unhappy without his friends, who wouldn't leave with him."

He paused a moment, before reflecting, "I remember when they just pulled the tents down; now, they want to pull the whole sky down onto our heads, it seems."

She at last smiled. He didn't know how right he was, she thought.

"I hope you will not listen to them," was all she said.

"No... but I will not always listen to you, either."

It was disappointing to be reminded of, but she couldn't argue with him. She knew that her secret knowledge had given her a very unusual way of seeing things, and he seemed to have a better grasp of more earthly matters. His long experience, and having been elected so many times, gave him a very good sense of what brought his tribe together -- and what would break it apart.

"Another thing," suddenly added Kalan, "what if I told you than Ahan will give his protective herbs to his son, rather than either of his daughters?"

She took a deep breath, suppressing a rush of rage -- and fear. The idea that his sons would be getting the herbs which only would affect female bodies was a political statement indeed.

"I will speak to him about that. That thing is not so little as it might appear. Thank you, Father Kalan."

She bowed to him, he bowed to her -- both to the other as if the other were superior -- and left.

The moment she stepped out of the tent, she shouted in her commanding voice, as if to a child, "Come here, Ahan!"

The healer, talking to three other males a stone's throw away, ignored her.

She marched up to him, and in spite of the fact that she was an inch or two shorter than he, slapped him in the face.

"Ahan!" she snapped, "you heard me!"

This made him turn at last, clenched teeth, and rubbing his aching cheek. He looked for a moment like he would hit her back, but he didn't. Knowing Ahan, it was probably because of her similar muscle, rather than her greater social stature.

"I did not hear you," he snapped, "over the loud voices of those who I prefer talking to."

"Of course you didn't," she retorted, "because whenever males speak to each other, it is about females, and then the blood goes from their ears to their dicks."

He glared at her for a moment. And then smiled. "You need not worry, because the moment you show up, everyone's dick loses blood but poor Hanar's."

"As well it should," she replied, matching his smile as she got his to disappear. "Now are we through insulting each other, and sowing the discord that I am here to try and prevent?"

"I suppose so, because you have obviously failed."

"Not yet. Because I am here to instruct you that herbs should be given to females, as they always have been."

"I have always and will continue to do so," he replied cordially.

"But not when the mother dies first. The father must give the herbs to his daughters, not his sons."

"Why does that matter?" he asked.

"Because everything must pass to the daughters first. This is the most important example."

"If this is for the Good-of-All, why does it matter to whom the father gives the herbs?"

Just as she was about to answer -- that it is the daughters that use them, and denying them would be unjust -- she stopped. He would ask, in his ignorance bordering on malice, to see why that is, and would not take no for an answer. Saying that would require opening the book for him.

"Because if we do not, everyone will suffer in the generation that follows. Our ancestors have said so."

"And their spirits talk only to you, don't they," he replied with a wry smile, "must be hard to hear, having all that company in your ears."

"I do not have to justify myself. I stand upon not only tradition, but thousands more years of experience than your foolish healing tricks. So do not speak of that which you do not understand."

She walked away, not listening to whatever he answered. She knew that no matter what he said, she would not be able to answer it calmly.

***

The next night, as everyone gathered around the fire, her plan was to scare everyone. She felt that she'd had no choice; it was her best weapon against Ahan that she had: popular support. With two males helping, and some thistles from Ahan, she told a story from the book -- which she had embellished slightly, but not by much.

"This story comes from a distant time -- when Our Kind were much different. They were not only often at war, but they were also at war within themselves. It is a warning against all those, who seek to behave For The Good-of-All. Listen, and Learn."

Once her incantation was over, she stepped back, and the two males stepped forward.

"Hey, Amach!" shouted the taller one.

"What, Scorch!?" shouted back the shorter, clearly portraying anger.

"I her that Tikal is interested in you! Well, her father wants her to marry me!"

"Who cares what her father thinks!"

"Everyone! It is the Law of Our Age!"

"Then I challenge you! To the pain of thorns!"

"As you wish!"

The taller got the two long leaves of thistle, each spanning across his palm. He handed one leaf to the shorter, as everyone watched.

And then, as they exposed their genitals from behind their split breeches, every male in the audience got nervous at the same time. They went from tense to shaking as both males pulled back their furred foreskins, and placed the spiny edge of the thistle gently into their slits.

She watched every male in the audience wince, squint, look away (only to look back), or grab their female companion. Even many of the females had clenched jaws, as they tried to imagine the pain.

"This shall be the ultimate test of love!" exclaimed the taller.

"Indeed! He who draws through the most thorn is the most masculine of them all! Are you ready Amach!?"

"I am ready, Scorch!"

"Then let us begin! For Tikal's heart! One!"

She watched even Ahan, with all of his bluster, look like he was inches from a cliff.

"Two!"

More lovers embraced.

"Thr--"

"Stop!" she shouted at the last moment.

The males, as had been instructed from the beginning, dropped the thorns, and the entire group of more than 200 sighed in relief.

"Stop," she repeated, returning to her story telling voice, and standing behind them, "it is a waste. A waste of everything. Nothing at all is to be gained from it.

"You shall not show your loyalty, nor trust. You do not ask her opinion, or even try to change it. And worst of all, even the 'winner' shall have her, and then be able to do her no favors when they mate!"

The actors, as planned, looked sorrowfully at the ground.

"There is no winner from this. Neither of you, nor her. The Good-of-All is worsened by such idiocy! Is it possible to believe that this was once practiced!? By our people!? Is it possible to see what they saw, before they touched those plants!?"

She looked around. "I know every single one of you males saw it. All of you. Some of you were almost ready to stand with them in judgement, and 'accept' Tikal as a 'gift', weren't you? Well, give it not a second thought. For the Good-of-All. That is the lesson for this night."

The two males bowed; the audience slowly got up, many still shaking; and Serina returned to her tent.

She laid down in bed, sighed, and tried to relax. She was quite upset that she'd had to use something so dramatic. The fact that she had no choice did not matter. She had caused emotional pain in the process of her lesson.

When Hanar came in, she hugged him and whispered, "I'm sorry," eyes threatening to tear up.

"It's okay," he reassured, and held her. "I understand why you did it."

She just breathed in and out quietly for a while, as her mind cleared. It was so easy to do that with him holding her; so easy to lose all of her problems in his smell, his strength, his love.

"I wish I knew what my mother knew," she whispered to herself.

"Is there nothing you can tell me about why you sneak out at night?" he asked gently.

She was about to despair and answer no, when she had a thought: why not tell him? What was the reason?

"I would love to tell you," she whispered to him, "but... it's... difficult to understand." She didn't think she could say it aloud.

Fortunately, he did. "It's because I am male, isn't it?"

"It's not your fault," she begged.

"I know. But why isn't it yours? What is so terrible that not even the husband of the Spiritual Leader must know it?"

"That... if we do not heed the wisdom of our elders, the tribe will be ruined."

"I don't see how having a child could affect anything, at all. Why us?"

"My mother said she did the same thing with me. And her mother before her. It must be done every time, ..."

"-- or what?" he asked. She noticed him getting a little more intense in his questions. "What happens?"

She pulled back a little, and looked him in the eye, as they lay next to each other. "You must promise me not to speak of this to anyone. I know how friends have no secrets."

"I'll have one. I promise," he answered with a kiss.

It was such a simple, warm kiss. It spoke more about love and trust than a thousand words. And she couldn't help but smile after it was broken, short though it may have been.

"Because... the males with the thorns will get their way."

This revelation did not anger Hamar; rather, it perplexed him. "What?"

"If my daughter -- or son," she added, "cannot do what my mother has done, then Ahan will win, and the Good-of-All will come to an end."

But as she said the words, something occurred in the back of her mind. Not a complete thought; just the sense that one was back there, and she needed to find it.

"I see," was all he said.

"The Good-of-All is what I protect, with all of my secrets. Secrets which, if everyone knew them, they would argue. Ahan would read the entire book, and use his bag of tricks to convince everyone it was all just words.

"You must not tell anyone. Because otherwise, he will find out. He will." She looked sternly at him.

"I understand," he reassured, hugging her again, "I understand."

And in return, she kissed him. And for the first time in some time, actually managed to sleep through the night.

***

The next morning, she went not to see Ahan, or Kalan, but rather, on a long walk. She had awoken with an idea, and suspected that it would hold a key to the puzzle.

With a whispered promise to return to her new husband, she left as the sun rose, before almost anyone would notice. It was an errand that, were she to say it aloud, sounded silly. But she knew it would work: go to another tribe, and ask to see their book. The Ghanada tribe was the nearest one, and half day's walk.

Serina did not wear too much unusual, but made sure that what she did wear was quite ceremonial, so that no one would question her claims of stature. She knew that the elders knew her, but most of the tribe did not, and so she needed something to signify she was respected by someone. This was especially true, because this tribe was run by males.

She did not remember any particular dream that the spirits had given her. Rather, she had come up with a rather mundane idea, compared to the visions she had read about. It was clear to her that what would happen, were the warning not heeded: Ahan and his friends would be taking over. But the reason was unclear; until, that is, she woke up and had this particular thought.

She had walked many steps, lost in thought and navigation, before she heard voices. They were male voices, clearly, and they sounded jovial -- rather like Ahan and his group. But if they were from another tribe, she knew, she had to be more careful.

She covered the sound of her approach, as if they were dangerous animals she was hunting. It was an area with enough trees that she could get closer and closer, moving between them with skill and silence.

She got within hearing distance, and listened.

"-- can't do that," was saying the tallest one. "We have standing, too."

"We won't very long if the Chieftain finds out," said a second.

"I can keep that from happening," pointed out the third.

"You can, but you won't. You'll have us killed to save your own skin!"

"Untrue! How dare you!"

Silence.

"No," he continued, his voice somewhat higher than the others, "we are all in this together."

This seemed like a good group to talk with, she thought. Outcasts are often much less rigid than those with influence. So, she quietly walked around the side of the tree, standing in plain view, and said nothing.

"If we are going --" The tallest male with the high voice stopped cold, as his eyes focused on her. The other two looked over at her also, and their brief examination quickly turned into glares.

"What do you want, witch?!" demanded the shortest -- who was about her height.

"I am the Spiritual Leader from Kalan Shawat," she stated politely, but firmly, "and I wish to speak to your Spiritual Leader."

"You are speaking with him," he replied coldly, "now what do you want?"

"I wish to see your Ancient Book."

He suddenly smiled viciously. "Surely you jest," he caustically answered.

"Your tribe has granted this privilege to my mother in the past," she fabricated, "so why not me?"

"Hah! That's because she and I had a deal, when she was younger."

She suppressed the smile at her correctness; he knew it was a lie, and was taking the bait. "Which was?"

He strode toward her, getting uncomfortably close. She didn't know if he was trying to intimidate her, but she stood her ground. She certainly would not be intimidated.

"It was that she could look in my book, if she would pretend to be wife, and pleasure me."

He reached toward Serina, but she slapped away his hand, teeth gritting. "You lie," she snapped.

"Then leave us."

As she was about to say no, she remembered something important: every male who blustered, like Ahan, could be cut down by nothing more than words. They were afraid of her, in a way, because of what she represented. They were so adversarial, needlessly, that she felt justified in exploiting that.

"What if I knew what was in it already?" she asked instead. "Would you let me see it then?"

"I told you the only way you could see it."

"Because I think you are lying. You don't want to treat me like your wife, because your wife would get angry with you."

"I don't have a wife," he replied with an evil smirk.

She pounced. "Oh really!?" she exclaimed in mock surprise, "at your age!? Why not!? Surely you must have had someone who you cared for so dearly --"

"Enough!" roared the taller, stepping between her and his suddenly shocked comrade. He looked down and glared at her. "If you are trying to say something about Our Spiritual Leader, then say it!"

Only when he stepped into view, and blocked her view of the other, did Serina notice that the two of them had something in common. "Tell me," she said, undeterred, "why do you have that same piece of jewelry on your ear as he does?"

This got him very upset. "Nevermind!" he roared, "Leave us!"

"What, you don't want to make the deal, where you penetrate me? Or do you not like females?"

His answer was that, without further provocation, he took a swing at her with his fist.

She dodged it, and then kicked him in the crotch.

He bend over, and then collapsed on his side.

"First you insult us!" roared the shaman, "now you assault us! What do you want, you witch!"

"I want. To see. The book," she repeated with a snarl. "It's you males who are too stupid to understand me. Just let me see it, and I will not visit you for an entire year or more."

The tall male got back up, and glared at her. "I want revenge," he said to her.

"No, she is a Spiritual Leader," grudgingly snarled the shaman. "We can't, or all of them will fight us, and if they win... and turn us into the mindless creatures that their males must be."

He sighed. "You can see it, but only for a short time. And when I say leave, you leave."

She nodded. "And if you say leave too soon, or touch me again," she threatened just as calmly as he did, "your entire tribe will know that your friend -- perhaps Very Dear Friend? -- was beaten by a female."

"You can't let her do this to us!!" the friend shouted.

But the Shaman was calm. "What other choice do we have?" he asked coldly. "The best thing for everyone is to get her to leave. And that means letting her see whatever by the Shit of Mahashan she wants to."

Serina had to grit her teeth harder than ever to keep from smiling.

She was ushered -- with all three of them surrounding her, seeming to believe she had another trick in mind -- to the edge of their camp. They then walked quickly, and in a way that was very careful, to one of the tents on the outer edge. The Shaman and His Friend went in with her, and from a nest of blankets, drew a leather book. This one was in much better condition than hers.

"Here. Do your reading, and be quick," snapped the shaman.

She sat down, they sat with her, and she opened it and started flipping through the pages.

She knew that their tribes had a lot in common, There was once a time that they were the very same, but things had changed since. She was hoping to see what had changed... and if her poem, if present, was correct.

Reading the actual book, she found it quite similar, indeed. Many of the stories were identical, but the order was different. But when she slowed down her skimming a little and read the margins, the results were quite different. Instead of when a story should be told, or a change in wording, the notes were far more ominous.

"The End of Civilization!" the book warned about one of the stories she cherished. Others, while less dire, insisted upon a similar theme: "The Past and not the Future"; "The Female Eye is Clouded"; "The Author was probably female".

As she read, the words came back to her memory:

Vashi turns to Vasha, Hachi turns to Hachan.

She was sure: this transformation was what it was warning about. That the female spirits would become male at the whim of the editor's pen. Her tribe, should she fail, would become like theirs, because the spirits would decree it. That Ahan would win, were he Shaman.

She suddenly looked up in surprise -- and found her eyes laying on the nose of the Shaman.

"Are you here to read the book, or judge us, witch?" he asked sharply.

"I am judging you no more than you judge me," she coldly replied.

He shut up.

Eventually, as the book wore on, the fidelity of the copy started to collapse. The stories began to diverge quickly starting about half way through -- to ones that she had never read. And they were all about war -- and males fighting it, and the females being quiet and prizes to be won in exchange for great deeds. One of the first stories that went missing? The "tale of thorns" which had been acted out yesterday.

She did her best to keep the grimace off her face as she thought of the next words in the warning:

Life Takers shall wax, Life Givers shall wane; half the tribe shall lose their place; envy e'er shall reign.

It was not the males who would take over, but warrior males. Strength became a virtue; brutality became heroism; and if you weren't strong, then you were something to be won or lost. Unless, apparently, you were a Very Dear Friend of the Shaman, which she saw nothing about in her skimming.

"If you have something to say," interrupted the shaman, "then say it." Only then did she realize she was wearing an unconconscious look of disgust.

She wiped it off her face. "I will not judge," she repeated.

"You already are. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me what you are looking for, and I can help you find it more quickly."

She knew it was an attempt to get rid of her, but it was technically an offer, so she responded without malice. It took her only a moment to decide on something specific. "I would like to see the wisdom that teaches you to be suspicious of me."

He immediately grabbed the book from her, and after closing it, and splitting pages down the middle three times toward the end, he turned one or two more, and presented her with at poem. It seemed to be the very opposite of hers. It began:

Myrina, Myria, Myrna, Holis, Holar, Holame, We shall have one set of them, not the other names.

"All of your shamans have been male?" she asked.

"Each adopts a son, and teaches him."

"Adopts? No inheritance?"

"Otherwise, it would be a matter of time before 'The End of Civilization'. We know your ways will change, sooner or later, because you insist on inheritance."

And that was the sentence that made the idea leap into her mind. She closed the book. "I am finished. Thank you. May I leave?"

"Please do," he replied without a smile.

Once she had left their sight, she knelt on the ground, and gasped, as a wave of fear washed over her. The words echoed in her mind: just a matter of time...

She laid there, thinking about the ending:

You must take good care for your child is key: She must use this ancient book to keep all happy.

Do heed my advice: Her road you must take. For the sake of all the tribe, blood lines must not break.

If she could not produce a female child, then it was all over. But she didn't know how, and Ahan would certainly not aid her. He would sabotage the effort, if it were possible for him to do so. But, she had no choice: she would have to have a child, and just... hope Vashi would be good to her.

After a long time of staring up in the sky, and silent begging, she was about ready to return home... and try it.

***

"Outside, love, outside!" gasped Hanar.

She tried, but was a little too dizzy. At least he managed to get out of the way, before she threw up on one of the GDF blankets. And once she started, she wouldn't be stopping for several minutes.

"It's been a week now," he sighed, "and we can't wash those. I'm taking you to see Yared."

She felt so miserable, she gladly relented. Besides, it was not fun seeing Ahan gloat and tease her, and if she could get away from Ahan and his crude remarks, all the better. She hated feeling this way, but she still felt she knew what was going on.

That very day, Hanar and two of her sisters in law -- one of whom had children already -- took her to the GDF aid station. It was most of a day's walk, and no one got to eat on the way except her. She knew they had eaten extra food before leaving, but it was hard not to feel sorry for them.

When she was carried to the steps of the aid office, and Hanar knocked on the door, she felt suddenly weak and vulnerable -- unusual for a female of that tribe. It unnerved her, and made her wonder what would happen next.

The door opened, and a rather tall, male hyena in a standard grey uniform opened it for them. Serina was carried in, around several corners, and placed in a bed in the hospital area.

Much to Serina's pleasant surprise, the hynea spoke directly to her. "What ails you?" he asked kindly -- though with a clear accent.

"Just my child... I want to see someone about her."

"Any problems?" he asked.

"Throwing up," she answered.

"I think she'll be okay," added Hanar's elder sister, "but she wanted to see you."

"Let's take a look --"

"Have a female do it," snapped Serina -- before she forgot about the GDF, and added, "please?"

The hyena just nodded, walked out, and a feline nurse walked in. Serina was examined by her, and found to be in good health. Nothing seemed to be wrong.

"One last thing," Serina asked, "I need to see... someone."

"Who?" she asked kindly.

That she didn't know. Who were the wizards?

Instead, she asked the next best question. "Did my mother come to see you?"

She looked unsure. "Let me check our -- writings," she answered, choosing the right word.

Hanar bent down next to her. "What is this about?" he whispered.

"I want to make sure she is healthy," Serina answered, "that we both are. Trust me." She left the subjects in the 'both' ambiguous. To let him think she and her daughter, but in reality, she and her husband.

When the nurse returned, she wore a somewhat suspicious look. She looked nervously at the others, before answering slowly, "yes... she did. She was flown out to Base 29, in fact."

"Do you know why?" asked the perplexed Hanar.

"Yes," said the nurse, with a nervous look at Serina.

Serina suspected why: to go and see the Wizards.

"Hanar," she gently directed, "I would like you and your sisters to wait outside." She gave him an extra firm look. "Please," she added, once again.

They all stepped around the corner, and once they were almost out the door, Serina asked, "I would like to know whether I will have a son or a daughter."

"The only way to do that, I'm afraid, it to have Doctor Jared give you -- a picture through the skin that will let him examine your child."

"Very well then," she sighed, "please get it over with."

"It will take about -- one tenth of the daylight left," she pointed out. "Perhaps your family should come back inside?"

"Very well. Just, don't let them see the answer."

"As you wish."

Unfortunately for her expectations, the procedure was quite humiliating. Doctor Ken, over her silent objections, ran her pelvis through a giant spinning disc, so that the computer could reconstruct an image. The machines were strange, with noises, lights, and areas where one could view anything. The Doctor, while sympathetic, was male.

It was almost more than she could stand. And when he finished, she shooed him out of the room for a couple of minutes, to cry. No wailing, just silent tears; tears she was too strong for. She was unafraid; rather, her body seemed to be reacting beyond her control, and it said something terrible had happened. That strange male was seeing her... like this.

But, the result was a picture that he could rotate in any direction on one of his projection walls. And this led him to conclude: her child was male. Already upset from her embarrassment, this was not as much of a letdown as it should have been.

"Well... I need to see the Wizards, I suppose."

He was about to ask what that meant, when the nurse came in, and explained to the doctor something unintelligible. It wasn't her language, it was much shorter than that. Something caught her ear sounded like a sentence at first, but it turned out to be gibberish: "S-R-Y translocation remeosis".

She let them talk, and then, the doctor did some tapping on the screen that was showing the 3-D model, and words came up. The nurse walked out, and the Doctor asked, "would you like to have it done tonight?"

Something jumped into Serina's mind; something sudden and sinister. A sense that, if she didn't get it done, it would be harder to explain.

"Yes," she answered.

"Then you will have to leave over night," he said as he tapped regions on the screen. "You had best convince your family to return to your tribe."

She nodded. "Call them in."

It didn't take much convincing, between her and the nurse, that she would say overnight. She mentioned nothing about the fact that she would be leaving; just staying overnight, and that she wanted only her husband by her side.

And that was all it took.

***

Serina's late afternoon nap was interrupted by a strange noise outside. Right on cue, the doctor came over to her bed, and asked, "have you ever flown before?"

"I'm sorry, repeat please?" she asked, certain he had misspoken.

"Have you ever flown? In the air?"

She knew that the GDF had such technology, but knew nothing of it, having a tribe that was blessed by not requiring constant rations. The concept, as a result, was less mysterious, but still quite frightening.

"No," she answered with a small shake in her voice.

"Well, it may be... upsetting," he said.

The nurse, at the same time, came in and asked her husband to lay down on another bed.

"Why?" he asked, "I am fine."

"You must be laying down to be carried," she explained.

As he laid down, a female in a heavy jacket walked in, and said something to the doctor.

"What?" asked Serina.

"She will be flying you there," answered the doctor, "but she does not speak your language. Someone who does will talk to you when you land."

She sighed, and said, "very well." And felt somewhat more confident in her chances that a female was operating the machine.

Still, that did not make her happy when the nurse and the pilot slid a platform underneath her, picked her up, and carried her outside toward the sound. As they opened the door, only then did she realize just how loud it was: a tremendous whirling, flapping, and churning generated by a huge spinning metal pole at the top of a fairly lightweight machine.

She yelled, "what are you doing?!" but they did not answer. The two of them then slid her platform into one side of the machine, a long glass dome being the only thing between her and the ground.

When she tried to get up, they deftly grabbed her arms and legs, and put them into restraints along the edge of the bed.

"Don't do this!" she shouted, to no avail. Then, when she saw through the glass, her husband being carried around to the other side where there was an identical boot, she yelled, "I love you!" But he didn't hear her either.

She felt trapped, as her breath seemed to build up under the glass. She was terrified that she wouldn't survive this trip. She just recited the words in a whisper to keep from screaming:

You can find them quick; they are not concealed. Jump to them with Giant wings riding boots of steel.

And then, suddenly, the spinning poles got louder and faster. The entire machine began to vibrate, as around her, a tremendous wind picked up. She grabbed onto a handle in reach of her locked arms, and tried not to scream as her heart pounded.

And then, after that sudden, terrible moment... gravity shifted, and she watched the ground fall away. And then, instead of falling down, she started falling backwards a little, as the machine rose and tilted forward.

She cried. This was not what flying was supposed to be like. It wasn't like those dreams where she was free, and could dance about in the clouds. No, this was almost the opposite. She was trapped in a noisy, vibrating cage of metal and glass, just watching the world beneath her rush by, faster and faster as time went on.

And it was made worse by the fact that the terrain seemed so alien from this height. It rushed by so fast, that she knew not where she was, all of the trees and clearings, hills and valleys, smearing together into what seemed like a tiny island. Its land was small, ill formed, and uncharted.

As the sun began to set, however, she looked up into the sky. It was nothing like a dream, she knew, but if she just concentrated, and thought of the words that were in that great book about flying... she could almost imagine it.

In her imagination, she turned the wind whirling around her into a feeling on her body. She turned the vibration into a cosmic hum, the feeling that can be experienced only when one is in touch with the Earth. The mighty power of life itself, coursing up, through what a scientist might call the fabric of space...

And as she stared at the sunset, the orange hues of the massive orb scattering their rays across the purple clouds, creating sparkles in the sky; raining them down upon what seemed a very dreary forest as if it were trying with all its might to enchant it... it was beautiful.

And it was not long after she had this thought, that she started to drift downwards.

That unnerved her, but what unnerved her more was that they seemed to be approaching a rather tall building at an astonishing speed. She was helpless to change it, so she just closed her eyes for a moment... until she couldn't resist looking.

She saw that there was a giant H on the top of the building, and that the pilot was pivoting toward it. Furrs in uniforms the size of her finger were rushing toward it, getting ready to receive her. Several were carrying all sorts of equipment on trays and racks, like she had seen in the GDF aid office.

Sure enough, when the helicopter touched down -- with astonishing gentleness -- and the sounds and vibrations died down, the platform she was bound to, restraints included, clanked and then slid out. She was put, still on her back, onto a cart, several furs around her all trying to wrap something on her arm, or run a wand over her forehead.

She tried to ignore it, and was able to until the band around her arm started suddenly squeezing, hard. "Too tight!" she yelled over the sound to whichever was in charge. She couldn't tell.

A different female looked over from above, and answered the only thing intelligible. "It should be that tight. Relax, and it will loosen in a moment." Her accent was different than the doctor, and similar to the nurse.

Serina put up with it, and sure enough, it loosened again. Once her husband got up and stood, visibly shaken by the entire experience, he was walked with her, several steps behind the cart as it was pushed.

***

She was taken into a room, with at least a window, and much less medical equipment. The female german shepard who could speak her language was there -- her only guide, she felt. They seemed very intelligent, but were entirely opaque and difficult to emotionally understand. Perhaps that was why they were called Wizards.

At least, Serina thought, her accent was not as bad, and she seemed to have a larger vocabulary, including made-up words to convey complex ideas.

"If you agree to it, then what we will do," she explained, "is embed a tiny organism within your baby. It won't hurt him, but it will change the way he develops, and turn him into a female."

That made her stomach knot, and her husband look down at her in surprise. "How... dangerous is it?" she asked, hoping for an answer that didn't scare him.

"We have done this many times before," she answered with a calming voice. "Out of 100 times, it works 95. If it does work, then 1 time in 5, she cannot have children without our help."

That seemed like a reasonable risk, particularly as the entire future of their tribe hung in the balance. But as she was about to speak, she found her husband looking quite worried.

"What is it, my love?" she asked.

"I would like to speak to her alone, please," Hans said with a little edge to his voice.

She looked at Serina, who nodded for her to go.

Once she was out of the room, Serina turned to Hans, and before she could get a word out he growled, "Aren't you worried about this?"

"Five in 100 is not very much of a risk."

"I think one in a hundred is a risk! This is our child we are talking about here! This is about that poem, isn't it!? What did it say!?"

Of all the times to bring it up, she thought. But, she wasn't going to lie to him anymore. "It said, I must have a daughter, not a son. If I don't, that is what will bring about all the trouble. They must fix that for me."

Hans seemed shocked. "They... are going to alter our child!? Like the hand of Vashi!?"

"I am less worried about the future of our entire tribe if I don't."

Hans suddenly got a very sharp look on his face. "You keep saying that. But you don't say why. You don't explain yourself. You just insist on risking the health of our child, for something you won't tell me about! Now I want you to tell me what this is, or..."

She glared back at him. She asked just as sharply, and more calmly, "...or what? I will divorce you if you don't agree, and then you will have no hold over me."

He took a deep breath. "You are doing a wonderful job at convincing me that Ahan is right."

She looked up at him with a glare, shocked. "You really think so, don't you? You don't see it happening, do you!?" It was hard for her not to start crying. "You really think that, because you disagree, you should get to tell me what to do with my baby!

"And in my case, it's for one reason. But if that is a bad reason, then it can't be real. What about another reason? What if she doesn't want to have one? What if she fears death? What if she does not want to have children with this male? And why wouldn't one lead to the other?

"But the reason doesn't matter! It is MY baby until it is born! Then it is ours! That is the natural order! It is my body! Ahan wants to take that away from me, to make him decide!

"And when you get mad, just like Ahan and his wife, you reach for the mantle of power. The child should be yours. The child shouldn't have this done. Next, Ahan will say: I can't divorce you. And then, Ahan decides what happens to his wife, and she is no longer sentient! Don't you see how it all fits together!?"

Now he looked just as stunned as she was a moment ago. And that look was enough for her to continue much more calmly.

"If you really, really, think that, then I'm going to divorce you now, painful though the thought is, to save this tribe. To save my daughters, and their granddaughters who will become nothing but possessions to be owned by males, once the wisdom in my books are forgotten."

Silence fell. Hanar looked down at her.

"Oh my Very Dear Husband, I don't want to be mad at you. I don't want you to leave. I just want you to understand the way that nature made us... to understand why it is that I hold onto what I do. And why it is so essential. To all of us."

Hanar nervously asked, "and this is what the book told you?"

"Not only that," she answered calmly, "but I have seen it in the Ghanada tribe. They almost attacked me before I could speak to them, because I happen to be female."

Hanar nodded, and sighed. "I am having trouble seeing it all," he answered, "but I have not read your book." He paused a moment before concluding with a weak smile, "I suppose we are having a girl."

She smiled, and hugged him when he reached down to let her. That was all she wanted to hear.

Serina pushed the button, and the female translator returned. "I am ready when th doctors are," Serina stated.

"Very well. It will only be a couple of minutes."

***

Several months later, Serina was a mother. A mother of a young daughter, who she named Nima, normal in every respect. The odds had come out in her favor.

The GDF doctor had said Serina should be proud of her. And she was. But it was not just her who was changed. Hanar was gentler than she had ever seen him, once their daughter was born. He seemed to spent every minute he could with her, dropping anything and everything with the slightest excuse. Chieftain Kalan let him, for he understood, he said. It would fade in time -- but Serina wished it would continue on forever.

But the most dramatic thing of all was that Ahan seemed to finally lose. Serina was awoken one morning to shouting, going on right outside her tent. She got up, deciding it was another dispute she could settle, only to discover that it was Ahan, and his wife-to-be.

"Serina!" she snapped at him, "you would not BELIEVE what he has been saying to the males!"

Serina smiled. "Forgive my disagreement but, yes, I would," she replied wittily. "And I think it is time that something were done, don't you agree?"

"Yes! I think he should be banished!"

That seemed to strike more fear into Ahan than Serina had ever seen before. Something that, were he merely gossiping, would not be a fear. No, with this suggestion, Serina had decoded the real meaning of her argument: Ahan had done something to deserve it. Something that left a physical or mental bruise.

But the flicker of terror only lasted a moment. "If you banish me," snarled Ahan, "you will be banishing many others! They will follow me!"

"Then so be it," replied Serina. "The more males unfit to be good husbands who leave, the better. We must speak with Kalan right away, so that he can begin issuing the decrees."

Serina saw Ahan following her, a more and more nervous look on his face, as they walked to the Chief's tent. But soon, when more males joined him, it seemed almost like a slow-motion chase of Serina and Ahan's wife, Sasha, to the Chief's tent. And when he stepped out of it, he was understandably perplexed.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I believe," stated Serina, with a brief glance for confirmation at the wife, "that Ahan should be banished."

The Chieftain gave her a knowing smile. "You do?" he asked.

"For a very serious offense," she emphasized, furrowing her brow to indicate that this was not just another complaint.

"Very well, I will listen." He got out his ceremonial blanket -- and the moment he did, others came to watch. They knew it was important; that he was sitting in judgement at this moment.

"I will explain," began Sasha. "You see, he..."

She took a long pause. Serina gripped her shoulders. "Be strong," she whispered.

"He tried to... impregnate me. And when I wouldn't let him, he beat me."

Serina nodded gently -- giving nothing more than a clenched jaw to Ahan. Not even a look. He was undeserving of a look.

"When did this happen?" asked Kalan.

"Y-y-yesterday, after dark," she answered, voice cracking a little bit.

"Show him your scars!" called one of Ahan's friends from the back of the circle.

Serina ignored him, and looked at Kalan, to make sure he would be ignored as well.

"Ahan," he stated calmly, "what have you to say for yourself?"

"She's lying," he stated without the slightest trace of emotion. It seemed, Serina thought, his friends gave him strength.

"Why would she do that?" asked Kalan in the same tone as before.

"Because she and I have been... unhappy, and she thinks that by banishing me, she can get another male."

Serina was quite surprised -- as was his wife. Serina, however, was much better able to deal with the shock. The wife just sat there, silent, eyes looking up at Kalan, and silently begging.

"Why wouldn't she just deny you marriage?" asked Kalan.

Ahan thought a moment. "I don't know," he stated calmly.

"You don't know that... but you know she is lying?" Kalan asked -- his tone finally signaling the sharpness that Serina had been waiting for.

"You understand, Chieftain," he stated, still remaining entirely neutral.

"Well this is a problem," he stated, a little more edge leaking into his voice. "Because it's clear someone is lying. And the two choices I have are to believe that either that Sasha is lying, for what reason you don't know... or that Ahan is lying because he beat his wife and thinks that he can trick me. And should it be Ahan who is lying, I think that banishment is definitely a worthy punishment."

Kalan sat for a moment, and closed his eyes. Serina held her breath. If there was justice, she fervently thought, then he would banish Ahan. There would be nothing else he could consider...

"I have decided --" Kalan paused, and turned to look at Ahan, who seemed to be holding his breath as well. And with a vicious eye, he decreed, "you are banished. Leave by noon, or you will be killed. And never return to us.

"And before any of you say a word," he growled to his friends, "understand why. Understand that this is not about Ahan. Understand that this is about right and wrong. About lying and beating your brothers and sisters. And understand that this strong penalty is for the Good-of-All. Anything less for a penalty would be the end... of all of us."

Serina smiled -- but only for a moment, when she saw Sasha looking more worried , not less. Once again, she gently touched her shoulders.

"Now be gone. And may you find your own place in the great plains. For you do not belong with us." The chieftain then stood, and turned his back to him.

And then, one by one, those gathered around them began to do the same. Even the males who were friends of Ahan one moment before did so, some more slowly than others.

But none hesitated more than Sasha; it took a whisper of assurances that this was the right thing, before she did.

"Please, Sasha!" Ahan begged. But she stood firm.

"Dathin! Jamain!" Silence answered.

And then, with a sound that almost made Serina look, to see him crying, Ahan slunk away. A full twenty five paces were counted out in the mind of the chieftain before he turned back around to look at his tribe. And he turned to Serina, and smiled.

Are you happy now? said his eyes.

She smiled back. She was not happy so much as relieved. For even though Ahan was gone, she still had things to do. Not only to handle his friends, but also to comfort his wife -- who would now be married to no one.

It was a small comfort -- but one that made her look forward to a future for her daughter. Perhaps her task would be a little better than Seria's, she thought. It made her think of the day when she would have to face down her own Ahan -- and learn about the poem.

The End.