of nurture’s wildness: a novella (book 2, ch. 6)

by Tom Stuckey

VI

To say the woman of the tribe had not taken the news of Lisa’s surprising welcome well would have been an understatement. They felt levels of hatred and anger that most of them had not experienced before. Momentarily turned into cats, they circled her, their backs clearly up. Artemis was put in charge of her welfare; she didn’t like it, but she took her duties seriously, and with that Lisa was safe for now. Safe but unwanted, a thin line separating the two. Lisa was given a basket and led into the forest with a few of the other women and told what to pick. The relief she felt was like a sunrise after a long, cold night. She was used to not being liked by her peers; she was usually more beautiful than the women she was forced to engage with back home. Still, Lisa handled the hate with dignity and class. The women of the tribe moved quicker, picked more, and handled the forest effortlessly, but Lisa knew how to handle men. She would wait, then smile at the right time. She would show a bit of breast from under her short top, smell of a perfume that they had never conceived of before, and, when the time was right, she would home in on her prey…and feast. She knew she could not stay there amongst these angry women. Lisa knew that they would plan and scheme, find a way to take her down like a pack of wolves. She knew they would eventually succeed, if she let them. She knew that life was the same wherever she went: If she stayed still long enough, the wolves would always come.

“She can’t pick with those big, white paws of hers; she needs to go back to her hole.” The rest of the women laughed, but Lisa did not understand, nor did she care what words they had spoken. “I think she has a big gash, too, better watch she doesn’t suck you up.” They laughed even louder. There was a new dynamic for the tribeswomen to become accustomed to, one that threatened their quiet life, but threats always brought out the darker side of the psyche. Things were new and unregulated—western society had in many ways already come to terms with the fact that the small, fearful, petty survivor was ruling a lot of the show, but in this place, sacrifices had been made. It shaped the land and the people—love was almost unrecognisable—it worked from the moment it woke up ‘til the moment it went to sleep. Love hid away behind curtains, fake smiles, and the occasional orgasm. But, here, it had come to them, like a puppeteer, pulling them all up and down and every which way, having a ball.

However, they also could not understand what Lisa was saying when she began talking, “You can laugh; I know the looks. I am used to it. Many have given me the same look: part dumb ape, part rat. You will never know the loneliness I’ve had to endure; the people I’ve had to fight for my rights as a woman in streets that you also don’t know about. My loneliness would kill you all if you experienced it. I am not perfect, but neither are you, but I accept who I am. Now, I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do. First, I am going to fuck the memories of you out of your chief’s mind. Second, I am going to make him look at you with pity, because you will never be able to offer him what I can, not in looks nor in experience. I know things, can show him things you could never begin to comprehend.” Lisa picked a plant that she did not know, and threw it into the basket, and thought for the first time since her arrival that she might be on her way home, soon, to the world, and that was not a bad thing.

*Read Tom Stuckey’s next installment of Of Nurture’s Wildness (Book II) on September 2, 2025, at 6PM CST.

Photo of Tom Stuckey

BIO: Tom is a writer from Devon in England.  His work can be found at A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bristol Noir, Nut House Press, and Pulp Magazine. He is the author of The Canary in the Dream is Dead and The Sun Marches upon Us All. Learn more about Tom Stuckey at www.tomstuckey.com.