wasn’t aware that she was watching him. But he had maintained his humanity nonetheless, which wasn’t an easy thing to do in his circumstances.
She pondered the feelings he evoked in her as she waited for him to have sufficient time to pull on his trousers. After a while she stepped out from behind the rock again. “You didn’t need to get out.”
Jonathan paused, his arms in his shirt sleeves as he held the rest of the shirt in front of his chest self-consciously. “I didn’t know this was your pool. I’m sorry.”
Atsila laughed. “It’s not my pool. I come here to swim occasionally but the pool doesn’t belong to me or anyone else. We are all free to use it if we wish. I just tend to use it more than others as I spend more time in this part of the forest than many of the other villagers.”
“Oh…still, I’ll leave you in peace.” He lifted his arms to draw his shirt over his head and she gazed at his torso, the ridges and dips of muscle shifting with his movement. There was no denying his body was that of a warrior’s, hard and defined through countless hours of exertion. As he stooped to retrieve his shoes, she noted he avoided looking at her.
Curious, she moved forwards and touched him lightly on the arm, causing him to quickly stand up straight again at the unexpected contact. “Jonathan, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.” He looked awkwardly at the shoes he held in his hand.
She continued to stare at him and then it suddenly clicked. “You’re still embarrassed I saw you without clothes on.”
He glanced up at her but neither confirmed nor denied her statement.
“You’ve seen the Cherokee men. Sometimes they wear very little. They are not embarrassed by their bodies. Our bodies are natural and to be respected.”
“I understand that, but where I’m from…well it wouldn’t be considered polite to be seen without a shirt on in front of ladies, let alone have them spot you swimming naked.”
Atsila smiled. She had heard the term ‘Southern gentleman’ before. No doubt Jonathan was a prime example. “I know it can be difficult adjusting to customs and norms that are not your own. You shouldn’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. However, I want you to know that it doesn’t offend me or make me uncomfortable when your body is on display.”
Jonathan grimaced slightly. “It’s not the sort of thing I want to display in front of you.”
“Why is that?”
“Well…you tended my wounds…you must have seen the scars…” His voice trailed off.
“Yes. What is it about them that bothers you?”
“Well they don’t bother me as such, but they’re not attractive for women to look at.”
She smiled again and took his free hand. “They may not be deemed attractive for Western women to look at. Do I look like a Western woman to you?”
“No, you’re the furthest thing from a Western woman I’ve ever known.”
What looked like sadness passed briefly over his face and there was an odd note to his voice which caused her smile to falter on its way to a cheeky grin. However, the look was gone so quickly and replaced with a neutral expression that she would have missed it completely had she not been looking directly at him.
Not sure what had made him sad but wanting to offer him comfort, she squeezed his hand gently. “In your army, am I right in thinking that war wounds are a sort of mark of honor?” At his nod, she continued. “It is the same here. Our warriors do not hide their scars. They are signs of experience and survival. They tell a story just as well as any of the elders do when we’re gathered around the fire. You should not hide your story, Jonathan. It has shaped you into the man you are.” Assessing him for a few seconds, she uttered quietly “Will you show me your story, Jonathan?”
He didn’t move and she could see the hesitation in his eyes but after a few moments he sighed in resignation and removed his shirt. While she
She pondered the feelings he evoked in her as she waited for him to have sufficient time to pull on his trousers. After a while she stepped out from behind the rock again. “You didn’t need to get out.”
Jonathan paused, his arms in his shirt sleeves as he held the rest of the shirt in front of his chest self-consciously. “I didn’t know this was your pool. I’m sorry.”
Atsila laughed. “It’s not my pool. I come here to swim occasionally but the pool doesn’t belong to me or anyone else. We are all free to use it if we wish. I just tend to use it more than others as I spend more time in this part of the forest than many of the other villagers.”
“Oh…still, I’ll leave you in peace.” He lifted his arms to draw his shirt over his head and she gazed at his torso, the ridges and dips of muscle shifting with his movement. There was no denying his body was that of a warrior’s, hard and defined through countless hours of exertion. As he stooped to retrieve his shoes, she noted he avoided looking at her.
Curious, she moved forwards and touched him lightly on the arm, causing him to quickly stand up straight again at the unexpected contact. “Jonathan, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.” He looked awkwardly at the shoes he held in his hand.
She continued to stare at him and then it suddenly clicked. “You’re still embarrassed I saw you without clothes on.”
He glanced up at her but neither confirmed nor denied her statement.
“You’ve seen the Cherokee men. Sometimes they wear very little. They are not embarrassed by their bodies. Our bodies are natural and to be respected.”
“I understand that, but where I’m from…well it wouldn’t be considered polite to be seen without a shirt on in front of ladies, let alone have them spot you swimming naked.”
Atsila smiled. She had heard the term ‘Southern gentleman’ before. No doubt Jonathan was a prime example. “I know it can be difficult adjusting to customs and norms that are not your own. You shouldn’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. However, I want you to know that it doesn’t offend me or make me uncomfortable when your body is on display.”
Jonathan grimaced slightly. “It’s not the sort of thing I want to display in front of you.”
“Why is that?”
“Well…you tended my wounds…you must have seen the scars…” His voice trailed off.
“Yes. What is it about them that bothers you?”
“Well they don’t bother me as such, but they’re not attractive for women to look at.”
She smiled again and took his free hand. “They may not be deemed attractive for Western women to look at. Do I look like a Western woman to you?”
“No, you’re the furthest thing from a Western woman I’ve ever known.”
What looked like sadness passed briefly over his face and there was an odd note to his voice which caused her smile to falter on its way to a cheeky grin. However, the look was gone so quickly and replaced with a neutral expression that she would have missed it completely had she not been looking directly at him.
Not sure what had made him sad but wanting to offer him comfort, she squeezed his hand gently. “In your army, am I right in thinking that war wounds are a sort of mark of honor?” At his nod, she continued. “It is the same here. Our warriors do not hide their scars. They are signs of experience and survival. They tell a story just as well as any of the elders do when we’re gathered around the fire. You should not hide your story, Jonathan. It has shaped you into the man you are.” Assessing him for a few seconds, she uttered quietly “Will you show me your story, Jonathan?”
He didn’t move and she could see the hesitation in his eyes but after a few moments he sighed in resignation and removed his shirt. While she
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