Survivors VII

[aurelius]

Survivors VII: 31-35

 

31

 

We left Amare and Abari in the house—they were playing with the Babu toys together; it was kind of funny-looking: a muscle dad and muscle kid playing with toys.  We walked through the twilight toward the lookout.  My dad carried a torch.  It would be dark when he carried me back to the house.  He fixed the torch between two boulders near the entrance of the lookout.  Its light would help him get back to the house as he carried me.

 

“Now understand, Jabar.  It’s usually easy for any man to get his cock hard, but every man is a little different.  And you already know that I have mixed feelings about you getting bigger.  So it may not be easy to get my cock hard.”

 

“I think I understand, Dad.”

 

“And I guess I should tell you to use your hand on my cock before licking it.  Even Amare sometimes has to use his hand to get me started.”

 

We were toward the end of the lookout.  The light from the torch reached us, but we were surrounded by shadows.  They reminded me of every soldier who had made me suck his cock.  I wanted to do so much better for my dad.

 

We sat down, then my dad lifted up his butt and took down his snakeskin pouch.  I had guessed he had a good-sized cock—though not as long as Amare’s—but I didn’t expect it to be as thick as it was.  My dad lay back.  I took his cock in my hand.  I wanted to say something.

 

“You cock is thicker than I imagined.”

 

“It’s not as long as Amare’s cock, but I think you’ll find it gets long when it gets hard.  When we first got together back when I was his slave, he used to marvel at how long it got once it got hard.  He said it was ‘magic’!”

 

I smiled.  I started to rub my dad’s cock with my thumb and fingers wrapped around its width.  It started to grow.  “I like that—‘magic’!  I like the idea of my dad’s cock being magic.”

 

In the flickering light I could see my dad smile.  I took that as a good sign.  His cock got longer.  I kept rubbing slowly.

 

“Now you can start licking,” he whispered.  I could see that he had put his head back; he was enjoying this.  I wanted to give him more pleasure.

 

I hated sucking ever soldier’s cock I every sucked.  I was forced to do it.  There was no pleasure in it for me.  Now, with my dad, I wanted him to feel pleasure, and I wanted to feel pleasure as well.  I lowered my head toward his cock.  I admired it: thick and long: I was proud my dad had a good-sized cock.  I lowered my lips and licked it.

 

Of course it tasted salty—probably from sweat, but I also thought of the sea.  Yes; I would lick my dad’s cock and release the power of the sea; I would swallow my dad’s cum and take the dreams of the sea that my dad held inside himself.  I had my eyes closed; I guess I was constructing a dream—it was my dream, and there were no soldiers in it.

 

My dad’s cock got harder and longer.  I heard him start to breathe a little more heavily.  But I found out I loved licking his cock—probably because I loved my dad and wanted to show him how much I loved him.  But should I lick more quickly?  I decided I wanted to put as much of his cock in my mouth as I could.

 

This was the time, when I sucked soldiers’ cocks, that I got in trouble: I was young and my teeth would rub against their cocks and they hit me.  So I knew I didn’t want my teeth to touch his cock.  I didn’t think he would hit me, but I was afraid he would think I didn’t love him—and I did.  I decided to suck slowly, carefully, to take my time. 

 

My dad started breathing more heavily, and then he started groaning. “You’re doing great, my son!” he whispered.  I felt joy, great joy: I was making my dad happy!  I didn’t want to cry, but I think a tear may have fallen.

 

And then, suddenly, my dad’s cock got very hard; he started to push his cock up.  It went further into my mouth.  I was afraid I would touch his cock with my teeth, so I stopped sucking and went back to stroking his cock.  And then a few drops of cum appeared at the tip of his cock.  “Oh!” I said. 

 

I put my mouth back on the top of my dad’s cock just in time.  My mouth was flooded with his cum.  He shot once, twice—about five times!  I couldn’t swallow it all; the cum dripped from my lips.  But I swallowed all that I could.

 

And then I blacked out.

 

When I woke up I was in my dad’s bed—that much hadn’t changed.  But I felt so much bigger.  My arms were longer.  I looked at my legs—they were longer too.  And I had muscles in my legs!  And I had muscles in my arms—not as big as my dad’s, and certainly not as big as Garin’s, but I had more muscle than Abari—and I was once again taller than my little brother.  But most of all I noticed that I had muscles in my chest—I would no longer be embarrassed by a skinny body.  I rubbed my hands over my chest and I could even feel a low place between the two sides of my chest; I let my fingers go up and down that little trench a couple times

 

“How do you feel?”  My dad was standing with Amare at the table.  They both had little smiles on their handsome faces.

 

“I’m bigger!” I said—and the voice I heard was not the voice I had heard all of my life.  My voice was lower!  It wasn’t as low as Amare’s but it was lower.  It sounded, well, more manly!

 

My dad said, “Can you stand up?  After boys change, sometimes they have trouble standing up—they’re not used to their bodies.”

 

I tried to stand up—and I fell right back down.  “Yeah,” I said, “I can see that.”

 

My dad came over and offered me his hand.  “Thanks!” I said.  When I got up, I hugged him and said, “And thanks for all this, too!”  But I stayed in my dad’s arms for a while, looking around.  I loved being in his arms, and at this moment, I had a good excuse.  Then I saw that my head was near his head.  I wasn’t as big, but I was almost as tall!

 

And then I noticed Abari standing beside his dad.  “Jabar!  You’re so much bigger!  And you have muscles!”  Suddenly he ran toward me and threw his arms around my waist.  “My beautiful big brother!”

 

I looked down at Abari: as in other mornings, he was a bit taller, with a bit more muscle.  His muscles looked sleek; he looked too young to know how powerful he could be.  He looked up at me and smiled; I smiled back.  He was beautiful; I picked him up and hugged him tight.  Then I let him down.

 

“Well,” I said, flexing my arms, “only a little bit bigger than your muscles, my beautiful Abari.”

 

“What do you think, my love?  I think Jabar will be able to run as fast as Lateef!”

 

“I think you’re right,” Amare said, smiling.  “We will have two fast runners in the family.”  But then Amare looked at the cups on the table and said, “We need to have morning water.  Our other sons will be here soon.”

 

My dad actually had to help me sit down—I would quickly have to learn how to move my larger body, since we were going to the training field today.

 

“Can I come to the training field too?”  Abari said this so sorrowfully that I wanted to say “Of course!” but it was not my decision; it was Amare’s decision.  

 

“Yes, my son.  I think today we will all go to the training field.  Gareth and I will bring water.  My hunch is that Jabar will need extra water today.”

 

Indeed, I gulped down my first cup of water and asked for more.  My larger body needed more nourishment.

 

Soon we were walking down to the beach.  My dad had his hand on my shoulder.  He kept me steady; I actually stumbled once along the shore.  Lateef and Garin were already there.

 

 

32

 

“Wow!” said Garin.  “My not-so-little brother!   You must be taller than Lateef!”

 

“Yes, my brother, you are taller than me!”  Lateef gave me a hug.  It felt strange, being taller than Lateef; I had looked up to him since I met him.

 

Xander and Zuberi came down the hill.  “Look, Xander!  We have a bigger brother!”  “Yes, we do!”  I soon got pats on my back and hugs from Garin, Xander, and Zuberi.  I felt like I truly was a man.  I couldn’t tell if my dad was glad, or if he was sad.  He was smiling, but it wasn’t a joyous smile.  But when I smiled at him, he smiled back.  I guessed he wanted me to enjoy my new height and more muscle.

 

Xander and Zuberi had each brought a jug of water.  I was already thinking of asking them for a sip.  As we started for the training field, I could feel my dad’s hand touching my back now and again; if he thought I was getting unsteady, he was there.  I loved that about him.  I finally understood why Lateef had once said that sons had a special relationship with their dads.

 

And I did stumble a couple more times.  “Don’t worry,” my dad whispered to me, “Your new body will take some getting used to.”  But my stumbles were early in our walk.  The closer we got to the training field, the more confident I felt.

 

When we reached the training field, Xander raised two fingers and called for an Egyptian named Baniti.  He came right over, bringing three bows and three quivers of arrows. “Baniti knows all there is to know about archery.  Listen to him and practice!”  Then Xander put his arm around Garin’s big shoulders and said, “Come with me, my brother; I have a battle axe waiting for you!”

 

Meanwhile, Zuberi went off toward the spear section.  He met up with his friends, Kinya and Tabid; they greeted each other with hugs—their Nubian brotherhood.  

 

Our fathers sat at the edge of the training field; Abari started out in Amare’s lap, as usual—although he was already too big to be considered a child.  But as the morning went on, Abari didn’t stay seated.  He got up and wandered.   And I noticed either Amare or my dad running after him, to bring him back to the edge of the training field.  Abari didn’t look six; he looked older than ten; but in that bigger body was still a little boy.

 

Baniti was one of the few archers on the training grounds; there were only six: Egyptians included Baniti and Babu, when he got there; Nubians included Kashta and Dakka and Saati;  there was one Greek, Theron, who of course knew Xander: “I wish I had his muscles,” he said—although the way he said it, I wondered if I should tell Zuberi.  Baniti was a man of few words—but those words were clear and powerful:  “Archery is all about the head.”—here I heard Lateef mutter, “That fits!”— “You bring the bow up to your head; you line the arrow up with your eye; you draw the bowstring back to your ear; you aim the arrow—you need to remember to breathe—and then you let the arrow fly.”   As he said this, he showed us with his own bow and arrow.  When he let his arrow fly, it hit the center of the target.

 

Turning to us, he said, “It sounds pretty easy.  But you have to practice and practice so that it becomes second nature.”

 

We noticed that the other archers were all pretty good,  Their arrows always reached the targets, and several hit the center.

 

Lateef and I took up our bows and put arrows on the bowstrings.  We raised the bows, aimed our arrows, pulled back the bowstrings, breathed, and let fly.  We barely hit the targets—and nowhere near the center.

 

I decided to pull the bowstring back further.  And I thought I should raise my bow a little.  I didn’t think about the effects of wind or anything—I was just trying something.  But soon I was hitting the target consistently, and sometimes in the middle.  Baniti was impressed: “You’re doing well, Jabar!”  And Lateef said, “You’re using your new muscles well, my brother!”

 

Lateef and I went to retrieve our arrows.  When we got back to our position, I said, “I feel like I belong here, pulling the bowstring back with you at my side!”  I didn’t even wait to see if I had hit the target—I did, and near the center.  But I then turned to Lateef and said, “We need to learn to shoot faster, my brother!  I want to kill a lot of Egyptian soldiers!”

 

After an hour or so of practice, Lateef and I walked over to our fathers for some water.  “Jabar!” Abari said as he threw his arms around me, “you are really good at this!  And you are good too, Lateef, but my beautiful brother is a little better!”

 

“You’re right, my not-so-little brother!  I think Jabar has found his place in the defense force!”

 

“No,” I said, “We have found our place.  I want to stand beside you!”

 

As we sat down to have some water, my dad turned to me: “You were impressive out there, my son!  I hope you will bring your bow and arrows home so you can keep practicing.”

 

“I will!  And Lateef will bring his home and we will set up a target on the beach and practice until we are sure and fast!”

 

Soon Xander and Garin joined us.  Amare said, “I saw you practicing, my son.  It looks like Xander is a good teacher!”  Xander smiled: “There’s not much to teach—he’s a natural—my brother just likes to hit things!”  Garin smiled.  “I should probably learn how to use a sword, but using the battle axe is so easy!”  Here he looked at Lateef, who smiled and hugged his lover: “I want you to kill Egyptians and not get killed!”  “That’s what I want too.”

 

I turned toward Xander: “Did I see Aki practicing with you?”

 

“Yes!  He’s a good swordsman; he knows the khepesh backwards and forwards.  The other swordsmen are learning a lot.  And he knows how Egyptians train with the sword, so he told all of us a couple of moves that can guard against what Egyptians do!”

 

“Certainly you have several men practicing with swords.”

 

“Most guys want to kill Egyptian soldiers—and killing them with a sword is pretty satisfying.”

 

“I don’t care,” I said, “about being satisfied; I just want to kill a lot of them, and arrows seem to be a better way to kill a lot of Egyptian soldiers!”

 

Only then did Zuberi join us.  i turned to him and said, “It looked like you, Kinya, and Tabid were having fun.”

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “I admit it; we have more fun than we should.  But then there are fewer spearmen than archers.”

 

“Jabar?”  Abari was fidgeting with his hands again—a sign he was worried.  “I want to try shooting an arrow again,  I think I am big enough to shoot now.  Will you teach me?”

 

“Only if your dad says I can.”  I turned to Amare.

 

“Yes, he can try again. He’s a little bigger than he was last week when you came to the training grounds.”

 

“Actually,” Xander interrupted.  “I think I have something for our little brother.  Have you ever tried using a slingshot?  You can stand further away from the battle and sling little stones—very fast—at the Egyptian soldiers.  You can hit them in the head and they’ll fall down.  A friend of mine, Bomani, is a good slinger.  We only have about five slingers.  If you’re willing, I can take you to him and stay with you while he teaches you.”

 

“That sounds perfect, Xander.”  Amare was pleased. “And you can gather small stones from the same place where your fathers gather boulders for our lookout.  And we can make a pouch for your stones from the snake Jabar killed!”

 

Abari seemed delighted:  “Please take me to see Bomani now!”

 

 

33

 

It turned out that Abari was made for the slingshot: his smaller height and good muscles seemed to be a perfect match.  It took some time for him to learn how to sling the slingshot, but once he got the basics, he found a rhythm, and he started hitting his target regularly.  Bpmani was pleased, Xander was pleased, and Abari was all smiles:

 

“Look, Jabar!  I can sling stones and knock out Egyptian soldiers!  I want to knock all of them down!”

 

As our second day of training went on, all of us new members of the defense force seemed to have found our place.  Lateef and I started hitting closer to the center of the target—we even got compliments from the other archers.  I learned that Nubians are some of the finest archers in the world—that many Egyptian archers were Nubians.  Our Nubians had some mixed feelings about shooting other Nubians, but none of our Nubians wanted to be slaves again, either.  I still thought we should be faster: “I know I’m still new at this, but the Egyptians will have archers too.  In order to be effective, we have to be not only accurate but fast.  Does anyone have any ideas how we can do that?”

 

Baniti suggested that we form ranks and as soon as the front rank got off their shot, the second rank could come up and shoot—that way one rank would aways be ready.  I thought that was a good idea.  When we practiced it, it seemed we were a little faster.

 

Xander came over; “Should we take some time and practice with mud?”

 

“”What?” Lateef said.

 

“Some men have discovered that if they take mud from the pool and spread it on their bodies and their arms, arrows can’t pierce their skin.”  Baniti and Kashta nodded.  “Our potters have been making larger basins to carry the mud.”  And he signaled for a couple of young men to bring over a basin.

 

It was filled with watery mud.  “Spread this on your arms and body.  Then we’ll have someone shoot an arrow at your arm—hopefully they’ll only hit your arm.  Baniti—you shoot.  Can I have a volunteer/“

 

“I’ll volunteer,” I found myself saying.  I trusted Baniti; he was accurate.  If this would help us survive Egyptian arrows, then I wanted it to work.

 

“You’re a brave lad,” Baniti said.

 

“I trust you to hit my arm—only.”  I dipped my hands into the basin and soon was slathering it on my chest and arms.  

 

Xander said, “Now, walk away several long steps, and Baniti will aim for your arm.”  I walked away and stood still.  Baniti drew his bow back and took aim.  The other archers looked on with a mix of interest and alarm.

 

Baniti shot; the arrow hit the outside of my arm.  I felt the hit, but that was all—I felt no pain.  I looked down at my arm and wiped away the mud.  There was a thin scratch where I felt the hit.  “Look at this!” I said.  “The arrow hit me, but it only left a scratch.”  Other archers came around me, looking at my arm.

 

“OK,” I said.  “This works with Baniti because he’s always accurate.  But what about the rest of us—shouldn’t we practice with others shooting at us and see if anyone gets hurt?”

 

“But we can’t spare anyone getting hurt,” Theron said.

 

“But we’ll be more confident if we know the mud protects us,” I said.

 

Baniti spoke up: “I don’t want to lose any of you, but what Jabar says is right.  If we’re more confident and less afraid of Egyptian arrows, then we’ll take the fight to the Egyptians.  And since they will outnumber us, we need to be aggressive.  But I will only ask for volunteers: in even numbers, so that the shooter will then become the target.

 

Lateef was the first to volunteer—he and I were the first partners.  Then Babu partnered with Baniti; Kashta and Dakka also partnered.  That left Saati waiting for Theron to volunteer; he said he would wait to see how the rest of us did.

 

All the men put mud on their bodies and arms.  As before, we were instructed to aim for the arms.  We stood several paces away; I trusted Lateef not to kill me.  The archers fired.

 

Once again, only arms were hit—Kashta’s arm was hit more solidly by Daaka, but the arrow seemed to bounce off—a very good sign that the mud was working.  Babu also hit Baniti’s arm more solidly, and, again, the arrow seemed to bounce off, leaving only a scratch.  

 

“This is excellent!”  Baniti said. “If the mud leaves us only with scratches, we will be able to fight all day.  Saati, Theron?  It’s your turn to try.”  Theron grumbled, but he agreed to take Saati’s arrow.  They both put mud on their bodies and arms.  Saati shot—and just grazed Theron’s arm.  Theron said, “Did you miss me?”  “No, I didn’t,” said Saati, “Look at the outside of your arm!”  When Theron looked, and rubbed away the mud, he smiled.

 

Xander also smiled.  “It’s getting late,” he said,  “Before you go, scrape as much of the mud as you can from your bodies and arms and put it back in the basin.  We can replenish the water more than the mud.”  So we all gathered around the basin and scraped off the mud and put as much as we could back in the basin.  The two young men who carried the basin over, carried it back to the edge of the training field.

 

It had been a good day.   We began to gather to go back to our fathers’ house.  When Zuberi came over I said, “I hope you guys at the smithy are making a lot of arrows.  I think we’re going to need them.”

 

“Yeah,” said Lateef, “Baniti and Jabar have increased the number of arrows we can get off.  And we’re going to use mud to help us be more fearless.”

 

Zuberi smiled, “I’ve heard about  the mud.  Does it really make wounds smaller?”

 

“Yes, it does!” Lateef said, “What normally would be a wound is a scratch—and all of us can fight with a scratch.”

 

“Then I’ll see about getting some mud for us spearmen.”

 

“Already ordered,” Xander said.  “Our potter buddies are firing more basins; soon we’ll have mud for the whole defense force.”

 

“That’s great, Xander,” said Lateef.  “Make sure my bull of a brother gets some.  I imagine he’ll just charge ahead with that axe—the mud might keep him alive!”

 

“So you’re going to cover this magnificent body with mud?”  Garin lifted up his head and flexed his massive arms; he sounded less than convinced.

 

“To keep you alive, dummy!  I want you to come back to me!”  Garin smiled, dipped his head and said, “Well, then, OK.”

 

It seemed that Garin had found a friend for life—he refused to part with his battle axe.  Lateef said, “I wonder if that axe is going to take my place in bed tonight!”

 

 

 

34

 

As we were walking home, Abari excitedly told his dad about his progress with the slingshot: “I hit the target all the time!  And I hit the center of the target half the time!”

 

Xander said, “He’s a natural.  Bomani was very impressed.  We’ll have to get him some mud for protection.”

 

“I’ve heard about the mud.  We didn’t have that the last time the Egyptians invaded; I hope it will help.”

 

“It will,” I said.  “Lateef shot me and it only left a scratch.”  Here I showed my fathers the small scratch on the outside of my arm.

 

“Same here, when Jabar shot me,” and Lateef showed the scratch on the outside of his arm.  

 

“But,” our dad said, “You both are pretty good shots—what if someone is aiming for your heart or your head?”

 

“We’ll just make the mud thicker there,” I said.  It seemed that our dad was less than convinced.  

 

All of us sat down for evening water.  Amare spoke first: “We’ve been improving the lookout.  I’ve gotten another bed bag and taken it to the lookout.  I’ll soon be sleeping there—with Abari.”  Abari smiled up at his dad.  Even though he was bigger, he still liked sitting in Amare’s lap; in the lap of another man, it would have looked strange; with Amare, it looked natural.

 

Then my dad spoke: “ And I’ve gotten a heavy rope from the weaver; I’ll need some help tomorrow stringing it across the entrance to our bay.  I’ve also ordered a large gong for our side of the bay—if a ship comes into the bay, the gong should clang and wake us up.  In the meantime, you guys practice on the beach as much as you can—when you’re not at the training field.”

 

Lateef looked at me and said: “Jabar and I will be happy to help you string the heavy rope across the bay.”

 

Xander then spoke: “Is the gong at the smithy?  Do you think I can carry it back?”

 

My dad smiled and said, “I have no doubt that you’ll be able to carry it back. It’s only about this wide.”  Here he held his hands as wide as his shoulders.  “But you might want to take Zuberi with you so you can take turns.”

 

“And bring us back some more arrows!” I said.

 

“And some mud!” added Lateef

 

All this sounded very good.  But there was something else I wanted to know.  My dad figured it out; he came over to me and whispered, “Later, at the lookout.”

 

We were all tired.  After evening water, Xander and Zuberi did the goodbye ritual; then Lateef and Garin did.  Amare took Abari to his bed in the back of the big room.  My dad picked up a torch and motioned for me to come with him to the lookout.

 

Of course it was different following my dad to the lookout for the second time.  For one thing, I was bigger: taller, with more muscle.  And I finally felt more confident about moving my bigger body.  And it seemed my dad accepted the fact that I was now a full-grown man: I figured that what he was doing now was helping me to maintain my growth.

 

“Do I get to suck your cock every night?” 

 

“No; and we’ll see how this second night affects you.  Mainly, it’s to maintain your growth.  But some young men keep growing—like Garin.  Amare is sure that Garin is still putting on more muscle.  I visit Lateef about as much as Amare visits Garin, but Lateef hasn’t changed much in months.  And neither Amare nor I visit Xander and Zuberi any more.  I suspect that they get plenty of maintenance from sucking each other’s cocks.”

 

“Can I request something?”  I said this more tentatively than I wanted.

 

My dad turned and shined the torch light on me: “Can I guess?  Do you want to cuddle before you suck my cock?”

 

“Yes,” I said, feeling less like a full-grown man and more like a kid again.

 

“Of course you can.  I’d like that too.”

 

We chose a place near the end of the lookout, but not on Amare’s new bed bag. “I wouldn’t want to risk the chance of Abari finding a cum stain on his father’s bed,” my dad said.

 

I really loved snuggling against my dad.  I wasn’t a boy anymore—at least not physically—but part of me still was, and I loved feeling his big arm wrapped around me.  After a while I said, “Can we stay this way all night?”  My dad said, “No.  If we did I wouldn’t be a good dad.  We need to make sure your growth is maintained.  I’d think you would want that too.”

 

“I do,” I said, “But I also wouldn’t mind being a boy again.”

 

“And I wouldn’t mind you being a boy again, too.  But you are a new man—and you’re having a pretty good life as a new man: you and Lateef are developing as archers.  You couldn’t do that as a boy.”

 

“I know,” I said.  “You’re right.”

 

“I’ll make you this deal: if you’re still awake after you suck my cock, then we can cuddle some more.” 

 

“OK, but somehow I think you already know that I’ll fall asleep again.”  My dad just smiled.  So I went to work.

 

I wasn’t as tentative as I had been when I sucked his cock the first time.  I knew more about what I was doing.  And my dad wasn’t as tentative either.  His cock started standing up as soon as I put my fingers around it.  But I did try to take my time.  The problem was, I think my dad was already invested in giving me his cum.  I wanted to enjoy sucking his cock, but he wanted to give me his cum.

 

And—as I suspected—once I drank his cum, I blacked out again.

 

But this time I dreamt.  I was being carried by a huge wave in the ocean, and I was absorbing the huge wave into myself.  And as I absorbed the wave, I was becoming bigger, more powerful: my muscles were growing; I was growing taller.  Soon I was as tall as a mountain; then I was inside the mountain; I was under the waterfall near the power pool; then I was the water in the waterfall.  And like the waterfall, I could spread everywhere, I could be everywhere.  And then I was the ocean.

 

 

35

 

When I woke up I was on my new bed against the wall of the big room.  It was day.  I stretched and yawned.  I noticed my dad and Amare looking at me.  “What?” I said.

 

“You’re bigger,” my dad said.

 

“Yeah, you’re definitely bigger than Lateef now!” Amare said.

 

Abari came over to me:  “Look at your arms, my brother!”  I looked at my arms; they were nearly as muscular as my dad’s.  “Whoa!” I whispered involuntarily.  “I guess Lateef will still be the best runner in the family.”

 

“I’m not so sure,” my dad said.  “You need to go running with him, to find out.  But I imagine you can shoot an arrow farther than he can. And if you’re interested, you could probably throw a spear pretty far and even—“ here he winked at Amare—“challenge Garin for control of his battle axe!” 

 

“No,” I said.  “That’s not going to happen.  That would be a waste of energy and time.”

 

“My son—“ my dad said, “Always thinking about tactics.”  And he chuckled.

 

We sat down and had morning water.  Lateef and Garin showed up.  I got compliments from both about being bigger—although it seemed to me that Lateef was a little disappointed that I was taller that he was.  “Don’t worry,” I said.  “This just means you’ll still be the fastest runner.”

 

“I’m not so sure,” he said.  “You have good, muscular legs.  You may be a fast runner, but not a distance runner.”

 

“Maybe it’s time we found out?” I said.  Lateef smiled.  “Sure; and we can talk afterwards.”  “Yes,” I said, “I’d like that!”  But then I remembered; I turned to our dad:

 

“But we promised we’d help you put the rope across the bay!”

 

My dad smiled:  “You can have your run and then help me.  And maybe talk afterwards.”

 

“Deal!” I said.  Lateef looked at me as if I was turning into Garin. “What?” I said. “Is Garin the only one who can say ‘Deal’?”

 

“I give you permission to use ‘my’ word, my brother!” Garin said, and we all chuckled.

 

Lateef and I hugged our fathers and left to go running.  I had a stumble on the way up the hill and Lateef said, “Your body got bigger so you’re off balance again.  I should win this race easily!”  And he shot me a devilish smile.

 

When we got to the oval in the grass, Lateef turned to me and said, “A good runner always stretches before a run.”  

 

“But I’ve seen you start running without stretching!”

 

“Yeah; I know.  But I’m not always a good runner!”  He showed me how to stretch my legs in a couple of different positions—to the left and right, then front and back.  I tried to mirror everything he did.

 

“The next thing to know is how to pace yourself.  I can’t tell you about that while we run, so I’m saying it now:  don’t try to run fast all at once. I’ve run this oval many times, so I know how to start and how to finish.  You may want to start off fast—and you probably will—but try to hold yourself back a little.  The oval doesn’t look long but it’s long enough.  Understand?”

 

“I think so, but I’m also sure I’ll know better after running the oval once.”

 

“Like I’ve said before, you’re smart—and I love you for it!  Ready?”  I nodded.

 

We started.  I did have an almost irresistible urge to run fast.  I was making the grasses move as if I was wind—and I loved it.   I tried to keep it under control, but I couldn’t.  I ran ahead of Lateef—and kept ahead of him for the first half of the oval.  But then my fast start slowed and Lateef passed me on the second half of the oval. 

 

At the end of our race, I was panting a lot; Lateef was panting only a little.  “OK,” I said. “See?  You’re still the fastest in the family!”

 

“Maybe.  And maybe that was just your first race and you haven’t learned to control your pace.”  He smiled.  “Did you even try to control your fast start?”

 

“Yes, I did, but I couldn’t.”

 

“Well, we should race again to see if you can control your fast start and develop a stronger pace.  Let’s go again!”

 

We raced again. I controlled my start better and kept beside Lateef for the first half of the oval.  And I didn’t slow down as much on the second half.  But he still beat me—but not by as much.

 

“See?” He said. “You’re already learning.  If we had more time, I’ll bet you could learn to keep your pace and finish stronger than you did.  But we need to go back and help our dad.”

 

Helping our dad wasn’t all that difficult.  And neither Lateef nor I was all that tired from running.  In fact, I felt better after our races than I did before them.  Mainly, we held the big rope and let it out as our dad swam and carried the other end to the other side of the bay.  He tied that part to the bottom of a tree; then we took our part and brought it on land, tying it to a smaller rope which would be connected to a hammer that would hit the gong.

 

As we finished putting the rope across the bay, Xander and Zuberi showed up with the gong.  They both also had quivers of arrows on their broad backs.  And a couple of other muscular young men carried a basin of mud.  After the basin was placed on the beach near the house, the young men left.  Xander and Zuberi helped us place the gong and fix the hammer so it would hit the gong if a boat came into the bay.

 

“Now,” said our dad, “with more boulders in the lookout, and sling stones for Abari also in the lookout, I think we’re ready.”

 

“We need to be,” said Xander. “When we were at the smithy we heard a report from the boat: they had sailed to Crete to sell some ore and jewelry; they heard that the Egyptians were planning to attack us within the week.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing we got more arrows,” I said.