In and out of consciousness, Trent had been hearing nothing but female voices.  If he'd been clear headed enough, he would have come to the conclusion that he was, indeed, in a Patriarchist village.  This was good news for him, of course: he was a strong, healthy, fertile male, the last evidenced by the children he'd fathered over the past years of his Wandering.  They would surely tend to his wounds, give him time to recuperate, then send a few fertile women to his bed to add some diversity to their village's gene pool...

..........

Peter heard the familiar, confident, and demanding voice of the village's Matriarch as he followed behind the women carrying the injured Wanderer toward the Communal Hut.  [color=tan]“What is going on..?  Why is a stranger here this late?”[/color]

"He's injured ... been attacked," Peter said, taking a moment to give orders to the Guard Watch's Captain to add bodies to the perimeter watch.  He looked to Caia, adding, "Man or beast we don't yet know."

They all entered the Communal Hut.  It was an interesting structure, a combination of "A" frame, log cabin, and teepee: it was round at the base except for where the front entrance sat in a straight section of wall, with a base diameter of almost 30 feet; then it rose at a steep angle -- a safety feature for the sometimes heavy winter snows -- to a height of nearly 40 feet.  The first Patriarchists of Tall Rock had lived in temporary huts while building this structure, and for years everyone had lived in just this one building.  But as the population grew and resources were increased, additional buildings were constructed.  Today, Tall Rock included the Communal Hut, six Home Huts, and eight additional buildings for stock animals, food stuffs, firewood, scavenged goods (for which a use was still unknown), and more.  

And, of course, the Breeding Hut.  Peter had never once in his 12 years as Patriarch been inside the Breeding Hut.  His sharing of his own Seed was done in his own bed.  No, the Breeding Hut was the domain of Peter's female counterpart, and he left the Matriarch to make any and all decisions about who used it, with whom they used it, and how often they used it.  

[color=tan]“Should we go ahead and treat him, Patriarch?"[/color]

The irony of the Breeding Hut and the relationship between Peter and Caia was, of course, that while [i]she[/i] made the decisions about which of Tall Rock's fertile women bred with the Wanderers who sometimes dropped in on them, [i]he[/i] made the decisions about whether they came through the gate or not.  The Patriarch of a [i]Patriarchist[/i] village was honored and respected by those who lived in his care.  However, there came a point in each Patriarch's life when his major contributions to the almost entirely female population -- his [i]seed[/i] and his security -- might be better provided by a new and younger male.  Truly, the only thing that kept the women of any Patriarchist village from killing or running off their Patriarchs one after another was that no matter what you thought of the man, the [i]next[/i] man could be even worse.

"Treat him," Peter said, quickly adding, "And ... if he lives..."

He didn't continue.  There was no need.  If the Wanderer didn't bleed to death in the next minutes, he would like die of infection in the next days.  The era of antibiotic pharmaceuticals was long gone, so long gone that the Patriarchists had no knowledge of them at all.  Peter knew that Caia's girls had quite an array of natural remedies for this, that, and the other ailment, but ... well, this man looked pretty bad, and Peter held little hope that the Wanderer would ever share his Seed with the Breeders of Tall Rock ... let alone any fear that the man might one day take his place as leader of the village.

Peter looked to Caia, giving her a knowing expression, then turned and departed.  There was nothing more for him to do here, and he had three ovulating women in his bed who were eager to perform their most important duty ... bringing forth new life in a world that had suffered such horrific dying.