Free The First Tribe by Candace Smith Page B

strode towards his mother’s tent, turning once to see the crowd of loud beast riders. His troop was having to fight and push to keep them from rocking the cages. It was no wonder, if they thought they would have a chance to take possession of one of the captives.
    Sabra was terrified, and she followed Anali’s pleading eyes while she stared at Masan. Eventually, there was a ring of Kirabi she recognized from their travels, surrounding their cage with their arms folded across their chests while they kept the crowd at bay.
    Dasheen did not have to go far. His mother, joined by other women trainers, was leaving the meeting tent and walking swiftly towards the commotion. “Mother.”
    “Dasheen,” she responded without looking at him or slowing her step.
    “What is this I have heard? After traveling north in the early chill, harvesting for the tribe, and a successful capture, we are to be denied our possessions?”
    Marel did not slow down, and she answered her son in a dispassionate tone. “All possessions belong to the tribe, Dasheen. It is up to the leaders to disburse them.” Marel had anticipated her son’s anger. She, herself, would have been outraged to have a hard fought prize removed from her grasp.
    “This is not how it has been done,” Dasheen argued.
    Marel was approaching the cages with her friends. She was as curious as the other women to see the Vastara captives. “Call for a tribunal,” she suggested over her shoulder, ending the conversation. Marel clapped her hands and the women gripped their weapons while the raucous Kirabi men silenced. “Move it,” she demanded. “The captives belong to us until the leaders decide their placement.”
    The men moved slowly away, deciding on the chances of overpowering the women. More Kirabi females were approaching the wagons, all armed and dressed in their leathers. The pera skin vests barely concealed their breasts, and large nipples, taut with excitement, were clearly outlined. Their tight breaches were slung low on their hips and exposed flat stomachs and the rippled muscles of their torsos. It was only their appearance that was seductive, and they dressed in this fashion because they knew the distraction to the men would be an advantage for them. It was not for the alluring promise of sex.
    Dasheen had walked around her, and she watched closely to see which was the captive he had chosen. By the frightened woman’s pleading gaze at her son, she quickly discovered it was the flaming hair. Wide green eyes stared fearfully up at her son, and Marel narrowed her eyes on him. “She has not been compromised, Dasheen?”
    He spun around and glared at her. “No, she has not been compromised. We have upheld the Kirabi laws.” The insinuation was clear in his tone. He was indeed outraged at the leaders decision, and considered that they were not upholding their end of the bargain. He would never learn the role that his mother played in the turn of events. Dasheen turned back to Sabra. If he had known there would be the possibility that he would lose his prize, he might not have denied himself.
    Although he intended to seek out his father before calling a tribunal, for now it seemed the best he could do would be to follow this unfair turn of events. He did not want to lose his chance to claim his siren back by falling into disfavor by rash actions.
    Marel met the eyes of the other women, and they carefully noted which woman their son had chosen. To further the men’s anger, they had decided to personally train the slave their son desired. The men were so distraught and angry with their held passion that it was several days before the first beast rider noticed that the Vastara beauty he had chosen was selected by his mother to prepare. It was Jarung who figured it out, by a tragic turn of events.
    Marel waved at the Fisba to follow her, and the lumbering beast towed the cart behind her and the three other women. Sabra gripped the back bars of the cage, staring