The inside of the hut darkened as a massive form thrust itself through the doorway. Before her stood the giant warrior who had first confronted Larra at the stone phallus. He looked at Larra and then nodded to an old woman who had come into the hut behind him. She approached Larra and knelt before the lovely young woman. Larra stared at her with some apprehension as the old woman reached toward her genitals. Larra gasped and tried to move away, but she was caught and held by the other native woman. She was forced to allow the ancient female to probe her genital area. Larra started as she felt a finger inserted into her vagina. She blushed bright red at this latest indignity, rising slightly from her kneeling position. After a few seconds the old woman withdrew her finger and nodded to the massive warrior. She then left the hut.

The warrior grunted in seeming approval. He turned to Larra and in halting Swahili he spoke. "Tomorrow, you be taken to the place of sacrifice. We offer you to the gods. Gods be pleased to receive virgin sacrifice."

Larra’s heart left into her throat. The old woman had inspected her to determine her virginity. And she had been found satisfactory. Somewhat in shock, she wondered what her fate would have been if she had not been a virgin. Would she have been treated like Nancy and her head placed on a pole? Or maybe that was the way she was to be treated anyway.

She forced herself to remain calm. In a steady voice she inquired: "What is to be done with me?"

"Tomorrow we take you to sacred place." The warrior motioned with his hands, making the unmistakable shape of a phallus. "There you be opened to the gods so that your spirit may please them." Here the warrior drew his thumb along his abdomen.

Larra blanched. She was to be disemboweled. It would be a slow, cruel, painful death. She composed herself. "I am not of your people," she argued. "How can you treat a visitor to your lands so badly? Have your people no honor?"

The warrior smiled sadistically. "You enter our lands uninvited. You defile our sacred ground. You beautiful white woman make special sacrifice. Pleasing to gods."

With that the giant stooped and left through the low entrance of the hut. Upon his departure the young black woman continued her ministrations. She resumed washing Larra’s body, and upon finishing, rebraided Larra’s luxuriant hair. She then picked up an embroidered loincloth from where it lay folded on the floor and placed it about Larra’s hips. Strangely, this partial covering of her nakedness made her feel much more comfortable. Larra tried to stand, but the servant girl pushed her back down.

"I need to walk." Larra stated in Swahili.

The girl shook her head. It was obvious that she did not understand. As Larra once again tried to stand the girl placed a rope about Larra’s neck and fastened it to the center pole of the hut. Now she could not stand. Resignedly, Larra tried to find a comfortable sitting position.

The day slowly moved on. Larra rested, remaining ever vigilant, watching for the slightest chance to escape, but tied and chained as she was no chance came. More and more her soul became filled with a feeling of hopelessness. Eventually the day passed and night came. All the time she was attended by the servant girl. She was kept cool by being wiped down with a wet cloth and was fed at regular intervals. The rest and care were restoring her body, but at the same time the restraints of her bonds and the awkward position of her arms and torso resulted in severe chest pains and cramps in her arms.

Finally night came and Larra found herself falling into a fitful sleep filled with frightful dreams of torture and suffering. In the middle of the night she awoke in a state of alarm. The servant girl had left the hut when night had fallen. But Larra could now detect the presence of someone else in the hut. She could clearly hear the sound of male breathing very close to her. Suddenly, she felt a large hand cover her mouth and a rasping voice whispered in her ear.

"Missy, make no noise! No noise!"

Larra’s bodied tensed, but she lay quiet. Not that she had much choice!

"Me help. You come."

The hand was removed from her mouth and Larra was aware that the rope fastening her to the center post in the hut had been untied. She felt herself being pulled toward the back of the hut.

"Release my arms," she whispered.

Instantly the man’s hand was back over her mouth.

"No noise!" There was panic in the man’s low whisper. "Get killed!"

Larra kept quiet and allowed the man to pull her toward the back of the hut. It would be much easier for her to move with her arms free, and she had been able to determine that there were no locks on her chains, just two simple pins holding the chains to the amulets. It should have been the work of only a few seconds to remove them. Perhaps in the dark her rescuer could not see well enough to know how easy it was to release her. Or perhaps, he had some other motive. But she had no real choice. On the morrow she faced certain death, and an exceedingly painful and brutal death at that. What did she have to lose?

By now they were at the back of the hut. The black warrior was scraping at the back wall with the point of his spear. It seemed to Larra that he was making an inordinate amount of noise, but the village remained quiet. No one seemed to hear. In a couple of minutes he was through the back of the hut. Reaching toward Larra in the dark, he found her arm and pulled her through the hole. Outside, the village was dark and deserted except for a few native dogs that slunk into the shadows as Larra and her escort moved furtively past the silent huts. Evidently the curs did not regard her as an enemy as long as the black warrior was with her. Reaching the village gate, the warrior carefully pulled aside the thorn bush that was blocking it. A few seconds later they were both out into the African night.

A short distance from the village Larra halted, panting from exertion. She could not make any time with her arms so cruelly pulled behind her.

"My arms, please…" she gasped.

The warrior made no reply but instead seized the short rope dangling from the leather collar around her neck, and dragged her staggering up the trail behind him. Larra began to have grave apprehensions; this seemed less and less like a rescue and more and more like an abduction. But she knew that raising an alarm meant certain death. Trusting her "rescuer" seemed like a poor choice, but the alternative was probably far worse.

But why would he not release her arms? The pain in her shoulders, arms, and chest was now excruciating. Only her martial training and iron determination kept her going. She stumbled frequently and had to be pulled back to her feet. Soon her knees were bloodied and bruised. Her bosom heaved as her labored breathing attempted to draw in enough oxygen to keep her from fainting. Fortunately, the pace of the black man was rather slow, so she was able to keep up. She dimly wondered at this, but was in such intense agony that she was unable to think clearly.

Larra and the black man staggered into a small clearing in the center of which was a large flat stone about three feet high, eight feet long, and three feet wide. Fastened in the top of the stone were a pair of heavy iron rings. It reminded Larra of a large headstone or perhaps, she though with a shiver, a sacrificial altar. The light of the almost full moon flooded into the open space, clearly illuminating the stone and its surroundings.

Larra now recognized her black escort. It was the man whose knee she had injured in the rainforest battle where she had been captured. The man pulled her toward the stone. Dazed, Larra now realized what she should have known all along, that she was no better off with her "rescuer" than she had been as a prisoner in the hut.

As the powerful warrior was now dragged her toward the stone Larra noticed that he had a cloth bandage wound about his knee and that he was clearly limping. Why had she not noticed these details before? She realized that she had been so desperate to escape, and so tortured by the pain of her bonds that she had overlooked the obvious. Now her head was remarkably clear. She reasoned that the black man did not intend to kill her right away. If he had wanted that he could have killed her anywhere along the trail. He had brought her here for another reason, and Larra had a strong suspicion as to what that reason was. She broke out into a cold sweat as she contemplated what fate might await her.

Now Larra and the warrior were at the stone. Roughly the black man seized her shoulders and pushed her on to the large flat surface of the huge boulder. She gasped in pain at the increased pressure on her bonds. The warrior yanked her into a kneeling position and pushed his face close to hers.

"White witch," he rasped. "White witch put spell on me. Hurt leg. Must punish White witch. I take you. Destroy magic."

Larra called on all her training. She was filled with a deadly fear and close to panic. But panic would be fatal. In her weakened condition she would probably only have one chance. She composed herself and waited for an opening.

Suddenly the man’s huge hands were on her high, perfect breasts squeezing hard on the firm yet tender flesh. Larra cried out and her abuser gave a grunt of satisfaction. Then reaching down he tore away her loincloth and pushed her back onto the stone. Reaching down his hand cupped her pubic mound. Larra shuddered. She had never been touched there before! Pushing her legs apart with his knees, the warrior positioned himself between her thighs. Larra readied herself for the upcoming ordeal. She had to maintain control. It was her only chance of escape. Then the warrior did something strange. Instead of heaving himself upon her as Larra had expected, the warrior stood up, straddling her prone body. Slowly and deliberately he removed his own loincloth revealing a fully erect penis of massive proportions. He was deliberately taunting her, hoping to initiate a startled response in the young virgin. A cruel smile played on his lips. Larra had not seen many naked men and those she had seen did not have dimensions like this one. For a few seconds she could only gaze in awe and horror at the majestic male before her and then her trained reflexes took over. With all that remained of her failing strength Larra’s body uncoiled from the stone like the strike of a cobra. Resting on her elbows she drove her long powerful legs upward. Her arched toes caught the warrior’s testicles and slammed them flat against his abdomen crushing them completely. With a hideous scream that Larra was sure could be heard all the way to Kampala the huge black warrior doubled over, and fell off the rock, clutching his shattered testicles. Calling on her remaining strength Larra forced herself to her feet and leaped toward the shrieking, writhing warrior. He was in too much pain to avoid her and her well-trained feet struck once, twice, three times at the warrior’s exposed throat. His larynx crushed, the warrior’s screams turned to gurgles as he slowly died.

Larra collapsed to her knees, completely drained by the intense exertion. For a few minutes she knelt before her victim, breathing deeply, trying to collect herself. Then she struggled to her feet. Bright moonlight still flooded the open glade and Larra was able to locate the warrior’s spear. Kneeling beside it she managed to pick it up and carry it over to the stone slab. With a little bit off effort she was able to push the shaft of the spear through one of the heavy iron rings in the top of the stone. She then retrieved her loincloth from where it had been flung. The skimpy little garment was really nothing better than two strips of cloth connected by a strip of leather. Picking it up in her strong white teeth she draped it across the shaft of the spear. Climbing up on the stone slab she maneuvered her way across the stone. Grabbing the rawhide strap of her loincloth she managed to tie it to the shaft of the spear. With a little more effort she managed to secure the shaft to the other iron ring.

Now the spear was fastened to the rings on the stone slab with its point projecting beyond the edge of the slab. Crouching just under the spear point Larra attempted to push the pin from her shackles. This proved quite difficult to execute as Larra was forced to look over her shoulder while maneuvering from a crouched position. Again and again she tried to push the pin from the armlet, and she failed just as many times. The pin seemed to fit into the shackle quite tightly. By now Larra had been struggling with her shackles for over an hour. In her crouched position, with her arms pulled brutally behind her, she was once again on the edge of complete physical collapse. Even in the cool night air, her body was dripping with sweat. It ran down her back in streams. Larra realized that if she did not succeed soon, she would be too weak to continue. And then, with a clink, the pin moved! Suddenly Larra felt her arms swing free as the chain holding the armlet released. Weeping with relief, she collapsed on the ground.

For a few minutes Larra just lay there, sobbing. Then pulling herself together, she got to her feet. She was free! But now she had to complete her escape. It would be morning soon and her absence from the village would be discovered. In only a few hours she could expect dozens of warriors to be scouring the forest for her.

Quickly she gathered up her few possessions. She refastened the loincloth abut her waist and then used the warrior’s spear to cut the dead warrior’s much larger loincloth into four strips, each about eighteen inches long and six inches wide. By tying the strips to one another she was able to fashion a crude halter-top by crisscrossing the cloth over her breasts and tying it behind her neck.

"That’s better," She thought.

She now felt much more comfortable, especially as her breasts were still sore from the "massage" they had received from the dead warrior.

She hefted the spear. It’s seven-foot length made it seem quite unwieldy. Using a knife that the warrior had carried around his waist she notched the spear shaft about four feet from the butt end. Then, using the iron ring in the stone slab she was able to break off the last four feet of the shaft. The much shorter weapon suited her much better.

She then cut the remainder of the spear shaft in half and used the piece of chain she had been shackled with to connect each piece to the other by using a strip of leather from the loincloth to bind each end of the chain to the stick. Now she had crude, but she hoped effective nunchuka. At least it would be a weapon that the blacks were unfamiliar with.

Now she was ready, but which way to proceed? She really had very little idea of where she was. Fleeing farther into the rainforest might throw the blacks off her trail, but it would also get her more lost. She wanted to head back in the direction of Kampala, and that direction, she felt, was probably downhill. She knew taking that route would be dangerous, because it would take her back toward the warrior village, but she decided to take the chance. Wandering around in the rainforest looking for an alternative route would only lead to her succumbing to some tropical disease or poisonous insect or snake bite. Perhaps she could work her way past the village without being seen. The blacks would not expect her to go that way and it might throw them off her trail. Her mind made up Larra set out.

Larra moved off rapidly down the trail. She was hampered somewhat by the fact that she was wearing the sandals of the dead warrior. She had cut them down quite a bit, but they still flip-flopped on her feet. Still, it was better that walking barefoot. She estimated that she still had a few hours left before daylight. After that she could expect immediate pursuit. She would have the advantage of a few hours head start, but she also knew that her progress would be slow because she was not familiar with the terrain. She could also expect the black warriors to flood the direction she was most likely to flee. And she was certain that they would be expert trackers. Her best chance was to put as much distance between herself and the black village as possible before the pursuit began.

An hour later and Larra was past the village. However, the smell of smoke from early morning fires drifted to her on the morning breeze. She knew that it would not be long before her absence was discovered. Food and water were going to be problems. She had none with her and foraging for food would really slow her down. Going without water would bring her to a quick end. But, she had little choice. Sneaking into the village to stock up was simply not an option; it would almost certainly led to her capture. Her best strategy was to go as far and fast as she could and hope that she could find what she needed along the way.

She kept going steadily for three hours. After the stress and ordeal she had been through only her superb conditioning enabled her to keep going that long. With the tropical heat now approaching 80 degrees it was time to find a source of water. With some luck she might also stumble upon something she could eat as well.

The trail she had been moving along was on fairly high ground. She reasoned that if she moved downhill she might find some water at the bottom. The knowledge that this delay would allow any pursuers to gain on her did not matter. Without water she would collapse and escape would be impossible.

Ten minutes of gradual descent brought her to a languid pool surrounded by dense foliage. She went down on her belly and drank deeply from the shallow pond. After drinking as much as she could she immersed her body in the shallow water, luxuriating in its coolness. That would keep her going for another couple of hours. Food was another matter. There did not appear to be any that she could see.

"I’m probably surrounded by all sorts of edible plants," she thought, "but I’m too stupid to recognize it."

She started back uphill to the main trail. She understood that travelling along such a well-worn route was not the smartest thing to do, but if she deviated from the trail she was quite sure that she would get lost, and that would be even more disastrous.

Distracted as she was by the fear of pursuit, Larra was not oblivious to the wonders of the rainforest. The gigantic trees and the other flora that abounded everywhere never ceased to give her a feeling of awe. Walking along the forest floor was like being in some enormous green cathedral that went on forever. Lianas and other forms of vegetation festooned many of the great trees. Among the upper branches a huge variety of arboreal animals cavorted. Colorful birds shrieked and cackled. Monkeys leaped through the upper branches. Larra noticed that some of the monkeys seemed to be feasting on ripe fruit. Somewhere in those high branches was something that she might be able to eat, but it was far beyond her reach.

"Perhaps," she thought, in a flash of inspiration, "if I can’t reach the food I can get the food brought to me."

Larra bent quickly and picked up a rock from the ground. Throwing as hard as she could, she hurled the stone high into the branches in the general direction of the cavorting monkeys. She picked up another rock and repeated the action. And then another. By this time she had the monkeys’ attention. One of the primates tore off a small branch and hurled it Larra’s direction. This seemed to inspire the others and soon Larra was being showered with all sorts of vegetation. Included in the bombardment was a good deal of ripe fruit. Chuckling, Larra gathered up what she could and moved away from the onslaught. The monkeys followed her for a short distance and then seemed to lose interest.

Larra examined her haul. Most of the fruit was a mystery to her, but she had seen some of it being sold in the native market in Kampala, as well as being eaten in the African village where she had been held captive. She discarded the fruit she did not recognize and consumed the rest. There was more than enough to satisfy her appetite for the moment. She was a bit sticky when she finished, but there was no time to go back to the pond and wash up. She had to get on with her escape. She had no way of telling how close her pursuers might be, but she hypothesized that they were probably gaining on her. What she needed was some way to slow them down. She smiled; she had an idea.

* * * * * * * * * *

Seven black warriors trotted down the forest trail. The signs of their quarry were getting fresher. None of the fit young men had any difficulty maintaining a fairly rapid pace. A lifetime in the forest had made each of them into superb trackers. A bent piece of vegetation here, a broken twig there, a slight indentation in the ground, were all obvious signs of the passage of their prey. She was not far ahead now. They quickened their pace in anticipation.

Kabaka led the pursuit. His slim build and long legs gave him a speed advantage over the others. Soon he would catch up with the White Witch and then she would pay. He had been especially angered when he and the others had come across the body of Rukidi with his testicles and throat smashed. He would catch her and vengeance would be his!

Just ahead a thicket of bamboo invaded the trail. He slowed. It appeared that the White Witch had gone into the dense vegetation for some reason instead of staying on the trail. He plunged in the way she had gone. Two paces into the bamboo his feet kicked away a few strands of bamboo leaves that had been twisted into a primitive rope. This released a bamboo stalk that had been bent over close to the ground. It tangled in his feet and Kabaka stumbled and fell face first into a dozen sharpened bamboo stakes.

Following immediately behind Kabaka, Lulaklenzi saw him fall. His friend’s screams froze him in his tracks. Before him Kabaka was writhing in agony, his body pierced by several pointed bamboo stakes. Three of them had gone right though him. Kabaka struggled to free himself from the horrible trap and then shuddered and went limp. Lulaklenzi and the rest of the hunting party stared open-mouthed for an entire minute, before they moved forward and pulled their dead comrade off the bamboo spikes.

Superstitious fear and doubt plagued their minds. What kind of woman were they trying to catch? The White Witch! She had killed again!

Lulaklenzi spoke first. "I think we should turn back. This White Witch has strong magic. If we follow her we will die."

Chui, the chief’s eldest son spoke next. "Lulaklenzi speaks like and old woman. The White Witch set a simple trap and Kabaka fell into it. He was so eager to be first that he forgot proper caution." Chui was an impressive man. He stood six feet, eight inches and weighed over 260 pounds. When he spoke other members of the tribe listened.

Lulaklenzi felt shamed. Chui was right. Kabaka had been foolish, and he had panicked like a young girl. Lulaklenzi held his tongue. He would not be shamed again.

"We will continue, and we will catch the White Witch." Chui stated his deep voice booming. "She cannot be far ahead. If we pursue quickly, she will not have a chance to set more traps."

This made sense and the remaining warriors followed Chui in pursuit. Lulaklenzi, not so confident this time, brought up the rear.

* * * * * * * * * *

Farther up the trail Larra heard Kabaka’s agonized screams. "Good God!" she thought. Her pursuers were closer than she had imagined!

She redoubled her pace, and found that she was now in a more open area, travelling between a jumbled formation of large stone boulders. She moved among the huge stones. This would take her off the main trail, but the harder ground would make her harder to track. Also, if all went well perhaps she could stage a little surprise for her hunters.

Larra scrambled up among the boulders. The ground sloped considerably here so she soon found that she was several feet higher than the trail. Climbing atop a particularly large boulder, she lay down on her belly and waited.

Within a few minutes several black warriors trotted down the trail, their eyes on the ground. Larra saw that although they were following her trail, they were making very good time. Fortunately, they appeared intent on tracking her. Not one of them looked up. She counted six of them altogether. Five of them were bunched fairly close together and were led by a massive black warrior. The sixth appeared to be holding back. As the party moved past her the last man fell farther and farther behind.

Larra saw her chance. An attack from behind would probably prove very unnerving for her pursuers, provided she could execute it properly. As the last man passed Larra descended from her perch and moved in behind her trackers. Now she was following them!

Larra removed her sandals. She needed to be sure of foot and didn’t want to her ill-fitting footwear to impede her progress. She moved without a sound, closing in on the black warrior at the end of the line. Within a minute she was close enough to strike. The last warrior seemed a little slower than the rest. By the time Larra caught up with him he was a good 100 yards behind the others. Larra smiled grimly. No doubt her little trap had demoralized this man. Now he was to pay a high price for his laggard pace.

She was now within six feet of her prey, moving as he moved, all the time closing slightly. She had to execute her attack with precision and without a sound. She closed the remaining distant in two long strides and struck hard with her nunchukas, swinging the deadly weapon in a swift arc. The lighting blow struck the black warrior at the point where his neck met the base of his skull. The was a sickening "thwack!" and the man dropped noiselessly, sprawling in a heap at her feet. Following through on her attack, Larra drove the point of her shortened spear deep into the warrior’s throat. Blood spurted from the gaping would and his body convulsed as his lifeblood was drained from him.

Larra watched the young man die. Slowly she collapsed to her knees. She had never done anything like this before, and was overwhelmed by her own level of violence. It was one thing to defend herself against an attacker in open combat, but quite another to deliberately stalk and assassinate her victim. She thought back to the other men she had killed in the last few days.

"No, they were different," she muttered.

In those deaths she had been defending herself. Even the man she had lured into a trap had been killed because he was trying to capture her. But this last one… She felt a little weak. She could have just let him go, but she had hunted him like a wild animal. She felt a little weak; a little sick to her stomach. Her body was bathed in a cold sweat.. She remained kneeling for a full minute before she snapped out of her reverie. In a short while the other blacks would realize that they had missed her and come back. They would find the body, and they would find her if she did not high tail it out of there.

Quickly she crossed to the fallen warrior’s body. She retrieved his knife and a gourd containing water. Now she would no longer have to continually hunt for water while she tried to escape.

After putting her sandals back on she scrambled back up into the rocks. She reasoned that once the other blacks turned back they would moved back down the path to where they last had traces of her trail. If she kept above them and moved through the concealing boulders she would be able to pass them undetected and get ahead of them again. She was also counting on several minutes of discussion and a much more conservative pursuit once they found the body of their dead comrade.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chui was very angry. Somehow the White Witch had given them the slip. She must have turned off the trail somewhere. He barked out an order. And the five of them headed back. Five? Where was Lulaklenzi? Five minutes back down the trail and the question was answered.

For several minutes Chui and his four companions stood in shock around their dead comrade. There was much whispered discussion, as if they feared that the killer of their tribesman might be listening. Most of the discussion centered on the theme of turning back. "We cannot continue, Chui." stammered the oldest member of the group. "She is a sorceress. She will kill us all."

"No!" exclaimed Chui. "She is not a sorceress. She is a White woman. We can catch her."

"But you call her White Witch," came the reply. "You know she has special powers. She will put a curse on us."

"We will put a curse on ourselves if we do not catch her. The tribe will call us old women. We will be laughed at. I am going to catch her. There is a way." The other blacks looked at him. What did he have in mind?

"The bridge." he explained. If she is going this way, she must cross the bridge. We do not have to catch her. She will come to us."

With that Chui strode determinedly down the trail. Over his shoulder he shouted: "Go back if you wish, but I am a man, and I will catch her." With that he broke into a trot and soon disappeared around a bend in the trail.

The remaining warriors looked at one another and then without saying a word, they followed Chui, running hard to keep up.

* * * * * * * * * *

Larra kept to the high ground for about an hour. She guessed that by now she should be far enough ahead of her black pursuers to return to the trail. She had become quite thirsty and took a small drink of water. Better to conserve what she had until she was sure that she could refill the gourd. The sun was almost directly overhead and the heat was becoming oppressive. She really should find a place to rest until it cooled off a little, but that would mean chancing an encounter with her black hunters. Better to keep moving rather than risk capture.

She returned to the forest path and moved down it at a steady pace. Fortunately, most of the walking was downhill but by now the forest heat was almost overwhelming. Larra’s brief costume was soaked with her perspiration. "The humidity must be close to 100%." She thought.

She found herself sipping almost continually at her water gourd. Eventually she finished off her meager supply. Once again lack of water was a serious problem. She knew that if she became dehydrated she would be in severe difficulty. The trail, however, kept on going downhill, so sooner or later there should be water. Larra was now strolling through a particularly thick stand of forest. Here the foliage was so dense that at first she could not see in the dim light. Gradually, however, her eyes adjusted and she could find her way without difficulty. The transpiration of the thousands of plants dropped the air temperature considerably. This made for much more comfortable walking. Up ahead she could see a lighter section of the forest. It was like moving toward the end of a tunnel.

She emerged into the light. The forest seemed to end quite suddenly and Larra saw with a start the reason why. Before her yawned a deep chasm. Approaching the edge she saw the sides of the canyon were almost vertical. Without proper equipment there was no way that she could climb down into it. The trail now ran paralleled to the canyon. Larra looked back. Retracing her steps did not seem to make any sense. Best to keep following the trail and see where it led. She did not have long to wait. Fives minutes farther on the path veered toward the canyon and ended at the beginning of a rope bridge. There was the way across. It was at that point that five black warriors emerged from hiding only a few feet away. This time it was Larra’s turn to fall into a trap!