Her

She stands tall, taller than any man on the island. Many of the men love her. Some even worship her, but she is quick to say “I am no god, no goddess. I only do what I do because I can. For many years she has been here her beauty never fades it only grows.
The other tribes offer things to her but her loyalty stays here. Besides, what could they offer her that she could not take if she chose to do so? None could stop her none could stand in her way. She strides the beach side searching for evidence of the enemy. They try to take our land and we fight. We fight for honor, we fight for dignity and we fight for her. She has taught us how; she has shown us how to defend ourselves. But there comes a time when our true champion the fierce female warrior must stand and stand alone. Her beauty is only matched by her ferocity. She overpowers her foe, or foes. They fall before her might. Survivors are those whom she allows. As she turns and looks back at us she smiles as we watch in awe.
Her long hair whips around as she moves gracefully through the sea of adversaries. We for our part fight beside her, trying not to stare at her body as it twists, and turns.
I am always in awe as I fight alongside her. For I know that as she can move with a quickness to kill she can be just as gentle when she holds me. It may seem odd to others who have never been here but just as a mother picks up her young child she gently holds me in her hand her eyes gaze into mine. It seems that I should be afraid I’m like a doll in her grasp. Like a puppet to do her bidding. But she loves me, she calls me what I am to her “my little precious one.” I love to gaze at her, her beauty she talks and listens to me as I sit like a child on her knee. I am captivated she takes me in her hand and tosses me up in the air and laughs as she does so. I could die if she didn’t catch me but she is always mindful of my frailness in comparison to her.
Sometimes we play cat and mouse. I am always the mouse and she has to catch me. I run as I hear her footsteps chasing me. Our home is big so it is to hide. “Where are you my little one?” she says. “I’ll find you” she playfully exclaims. Sometimes she finds me and sometimes she plays sleep and when I come out of hiding “Gottcha” she says.
Never has anyone seen this; this gentle giant of a woman, never overstepping her boundaries although she could. Nothing could stop her if she decided to keep the village as her personal toys. We would live in constant fear, but we don’t she lives among us as a friend, a heroine, the only one of her kind. Even the women love her. Little girls want to be like her. Only the outsiders, those who would hurt us they must worry. My life as a “little one” is different than you may think, but we don’t worry about the thoughts of others we worry about each other and take care of one another.
I don’t know where she’s from but she is here and we are happy.