Flying/Fleeing Fiancée to Wild Warrior Woman

Just crawled out of an interesting trance…as follows.\r\n\r\nI was standing on a sand dune, looking out over an assembling regatta (?) of brightly colored twin prop planes. Old planes, stretched and stitched with canvas, some in wood veneer, all with open cockpits…all lined along the top of one dune, maybe 60 planes.\r\n\r\nI was dressed in garb that would date the experience to the early 1900. My dress was constraining, and hot, layers within layers, more stitching, too many buttons. The heat made my head spin, made the ground dance, and come alive in swirling, translucent patterns. I wasn”t thinking about much. Felt ”empty-headed”, not so much from the heat, but more from ”training”, or good upbringing. A man walked up by my side and took me firmly by the arm; his entire appearance and demeanor repulsed me. Entirely dressed in black, from top hat to hard-polished shoes, finished off with a black cane, and gloves. There was nothing to see of him except for his face…his stern, evil, grimacing face, and black shark eyes. He was upset with me (again).\r\n\r\nThis time something was different. I”m not sure what I”d done previously to this point, but he wanted nothing more then to kill me, but very sophisticated control of his emotions. He walked me down behind a fleet a cars, and trucks that had transported the mass of people into the middle of the sweltering desert, and I let him despite being in fear for my life…yet it was an odd fear…it wasn”t as strong as my need to get away from him for good, forever. So, the idea of him killing me felt more like a solution at the time. He got me alone, wrapped his gloved hands around my throat, and began strangling me slowly. For a good, long, enjoyable (on his part) while…he went on about how I was to behave if he “let me live”, how I had no say whatsoever in my happenings, and what he wouldn”t stand for once we were married. It was all very dreamy, until something overtook me………….and I kneed him in the groin. He feel to knees in the sand, dropping his cane, which I picked up and laid down hard against the side of his head knocking him unconscious.\r\n\r\nThen I ran like hell….which wasn”t so very fast in my get-up, on the hot, loose sand.\r\n\r\nI ran, an ran till I reached the runway where the planes were already moving slowly in precession, one behind the other…rolling along, readying for take off. I ran up on a crimson plane, oddly designed, very large, and open-concept. It had a cockpit towards the back that housed the pilot, and a two small rows of seating up front for passengers. The entire thing was (almost) grossly ornate, with gilding, and button-tuck cushions. The front seat had only man seated on a three person bench, the row behind held the owners…a man and woman. I jumped (more threw) myself onto the front bench and held on for dear life, to which the passengers were none to happy. They tried their best to ”reason” me off the plane, going on about weight capacity…but the pilot seeing me in tears gave in, just to get everyone settled again.\r\n\r\nI was ready to breath a sigh of relief, when I was spotted by my Fiances right-hand man, who was following along with the crowd and the planes that were slowly motoring down the runway. Obviously, he knew me well enough to know something was afoot…probably that I was alone. Next thing I knew he was mounting the plane as well, and attempting to wrestle me off of it…to which the passengers (my oblivious rescuers) were no help at all. I had a beaded purse hanging off my wrist. I noticed it when I took the cane that was still in my hand, and clubbed the maniac over the head with it, knocking him loose from the plane. When he feel back into the sand…he grabbed my purse, and the whole thing tore apart…sending tiny beads and a massive wad of cash into the air. (Maybe that”s what all the fuss was about?)\r\nEnough cash it appeared to completely take this guys mind off of my escape.\r\n\r\nWe flew for awhile, and still my mind wasn”t working, but the air felt good, the speed, the height, the excitement was good, and healthy, and so new to me. I remember thinking, “I”m an eagle” over and over again in my head, but other then that it was empty. Empty save for a tiny little thought that was building about “him finding me”, and how I was going to stop that from happening? We touched down in some grassland, where there was a small trading post, and refueling station. The goal was to refill, and head back from whence we came. I wasn”t going back of course! Anywhere, but back.\r\n\r\nThere was a large group of Natives, some on horseback, some on foot that were in the area buying and selling goods. I caught the eye of one of the native men, or…he caught mine. He walked around me several times, studying me closely. I didn”t care, but I didn”t take my eyes off him. When the plane left me alone at this base…I became of more interest to the other native men who had finished their business, and easing into downtime…began circling me as well, but with a very different energy. They poked and prodded at me like a circus animal, making loud barking noises to scare me, and watch me react. The circle got tighter, and the prodding a little more hand-happy. The first native man to approach me was now standing off on his own, watching with interest because I wasn”t reacting to any of it.\r\n\r\nI”m sure by accident I was knocked to the ground, and this seemed to wild the bunch more, as they moved in impossibly closer, and hovered over me like prey. My mind was still in some strange lock-down mode that limited me from reacting, but I was also still in full-on survival mode from the earlier happenings. I noticed that a knife was tied around the calves of each of the men, and without thought…I reached, and pulled one free, and took a long swing of my arm cutting three across their bellies. Surprise, surprise! Shocked me as well.\r\n\r\nThey all jumped back for a moment, but they didn”t stop. Just…regrouped. The ones who weren”t cut were laughing. The ones who were tried to get the knife off me, surprisingly with no luck. I managed to get a few more good stabs in; sloppy and non-mortal, and a few of them managed the same with me, but I didn”t give up. Eventually they decided to let me keep the knife. It was the original man eying me…who stepped up and took the knife from my hand, and lead me quiet, and bleeding to a horse. Next thing I was at the village.\r\n\r\nI was transfered into the possession of a group of women, who took me into a standing shack made of thin branches, laced together, and managed to half undressed me. It had the feeling of a shower house, but with no shower. More of a sweat-lodge. I stood off to the side watching the women chew up handfuls of bright green leaves. They”d take mouthfuls of water, and then spit the mixture on each other and themselves, and on the bed of hot rocks cradled by red hot coals. Lots of hissing and giggling going on. It wasn”t that I wasn”t fascinated by the ritual…I just wasn”t “there”. I think they thought I was a stupid white woman. I turned to walk out of the place, as they all took turns spitting on me as I passed. I was completely topless…I don”t think an acceptable fashion for the times, even amoung natives?!? I didn”t care. I walked out into the middle of the camp, and spied a lake…and started making my way to it. I just wanted to lie down in cool water and never get up.\r\n\r\nThere were lots of people staring, but no one stopped me. And, that man again…following me with his eyes….somehow protecting me I felt. Everything still feeling like a dream, what my eyes feel upon at the lake didn”t startle me, but made me feel more ill. There was a much smaller camp set beside the lake that belonged to a group of white men….cowboys maybe; more thugs. The men (maybe a dozen) were lined along the bank being serviced by teenage native boys, and a few in the water, on the rocks…were having sex with some teenage girls. It didn”t seem to be too much of a problem. The feeling I was getting was
that the natives didn”t interfere. To each their own, but I sensed something more perverse. I didn”t at all like the idea that these white men were corrupting these “natural” peoples, and into auto-mode again…(and topless) 😛 I picked up a leather tube/satchel thing filled with arrows (incredibly sharp, metal heads…pounded thin, and ragged). I assumed it belonged to one of the young native boys.\r\n\r\nWithout thinking I cinched it around my waist so I was carrying the arrow on my front. I grabbed one arrow in each hand; by then I was standing in the shallows in front of the men….who were more then a little shocked by my presence….and very much missing the point of why I was there.\r\n\r\nThe only thing they saw was tits…and more yelping and dog calling ensued, breaking up the sodomy that was going on. One got up to approach me, and I stepped up to meet him…shoving the arrow into his side as hard as I could! This changed the scene again…as all the men jumped to their feet. They were naked, and without weapons. As fast as they could scramble about, I was on them shoving arrows into whatever soft parts I could reach. I managed to wound four pretty badly, but again…not without being wounded myself. Since bags of arrows seemed to be the closest thing in reach…that”s what I got back. One shoved in my right breast, one in the right side of my shoulder, where it meets my neck, and one in my left side under my arm. That”s when a few native men (including my protector)…stepped in and broke it up. Again, I was led off…this time to a group of medicine elders.\r\n\r\nAs I moved in and out of consciousness…I saw sacred animals dancing around me in the dark, flames of a fire, smoke. I heard drums and chanting, and rattles. Then I surfed through a large chunk of time. I stayed with the natives…that was the way “he wouldn”t find me”. He didn”t find me. I also became somewhat of a local legend. The crazy white woman who can”t stand injustice. Several other episodes of me coming ”unglued” raced through my mind. I was respected by the elders as a warrior reincarnate, because I could wield any weapons without training or practice…because I had no fear for my own life. I gained the respect of my people. I never married, or had children. I mostly kept to myself…very quiet; always in contemplation. Always watchful of any signs of danger to anyone, and always ready to place myself between.\r\n\r\nThe last part of the experience was stranger still. In fast-forward…I watched the village change. I watched all the ”natural” natives become overrun by modern natives. The clothes changed from leather to denim, to synthetics. The tipi”s to trailers. The horses to cars. The sacred rituals into commercial pow-wows with vender”s and big-rigs, and side-shows.\r\n\r\nThe last confrontation I had was at one such gathering. I was wondering around feeling lost, and somewhat lonely, out of place…yearning for the natural way. I was walking behind two drunken native men who were following a group of teenage native girls from a dance group. They were calling out and harassing them in a manner that didn”t agree with me. I was an old lady by then. Invisible. I followed them for a time till the men grew more abusive…then I lifted up my shirt, and reached for a spread of throwing knives I had strapped across my belly, and I threw it directly, exactly into the neck of one of the men. No warning. No guilt, but gaining tons of reaction!\r\n\r\nThe crowd dispersed and the two men stood in shock…quickly trying to sober up. I began questioning them about their behavior. The got angry, and tried to move towards me, and each time they did…they got another knife stuck firm. I wasn”t trying to kill them…just hurt them; teach them some respect in a manner that might register. It was all broken up though, by two younger natives that came and ushered me off….trying to talk some sense into me…how I just couldn”t keep going around attacking people ”anymore”. The elders that were in the crowd smiled at me knowingly. I didn”t mind so much being patronized by these young men, but it wasn”t going to stop me from continuing my point.\r\n\r\n”Cunts. They called them “Sweet Cunts”. They said, “Boy, I”d like to get into those sweet cunts, and mess them up”…did you hear them? No one should talk to women like that! No one should talk to anyone like that when I”m around. I had to teach them better!” The boys just nodded in agreement and tried to keep from laughing…and I was thinking, “My days as a warrior are over. No one needs my wisdom anymore”.

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