What th...?

Nothing wrong with me
One - Something's got to give
Two - Something's got to give
Three - Something's got to give
Now
Let the bodies hit the floor
Push me again
This is the end
Skin against skin blood and bone
You're all by yourself but you're not alone
You wanted in now you're here
Driven by hate consumed by fear
Let the bodies hit the floor
~Drowning Pool

I am aware of a lot of what goes on among the harigga, more than most believe. Being blonde is not an automatic reduction of intelligence, nor is remaining unvocal sometimes about what I think or feel. Someone very wise told me long ago to pick your battles. If it the outcome has no purpose to you then do not engage the warfare. It is simply an act of frivolity .. a waste of time and energy.

When I strolled in to the fires, I stumbled on the aftermath of a blood coup. I have no idea what nasty parasite has gotten into the water barrel lately or maybe there had been a Kataii raiding party and they had stolen all the basic problem solving skills. Now it really does not matter to me what nor who or even why the center of the harigga had come under attack from within ... what mattered was who was there and had been made part of it all. For the moment I was embarrassed, not just for myself but for the Tribe, for Him and I hadn't even been there for the melee.

What I saw now upset me enough. An angry Ubar getting his own water, women visably shaken and it takes a lot to shake a Tuchuk woman, having to rise from their seat to fill their bowls. Were there any other slaves there? Yes, but instead of getting up to see to the others she was wrapped in a blanket of ... well it was not concern for anyone else. I had to bridle my own aggravation. There had been enough public confrontation abounding around the fires for me to add to them.

There is as much depth to what he does not say as to what he does. I noticed who was and was not there as well. Pieces were beginning to take shape when he told me to pay close attention to the women there. I spent the rest of the evening following his command to make sure they had everything they needed and or wanted nearly before they realize it themselves. It didn't warrant being told to, I would have anyway.

I do not remember anyone, free or slave alike that coddled me when a freewoman aimed a spearpoint at me and said my days were numbered. That simply set the parameters of expectations. I surpassed them. I didn't get all wrapped up in myself or a snuggly blanket when the Mistresses wagered over who would get my eyes. Harsh as it sounds that is actually something to be proud of ... a sign of affection that they care, else you are merely sleen bait .. done .. kaput ... end of story. And what about when I was made the lowest of the slaves to serve an unscarred warrior while my heart was crumbling into a million slivered pieces? These were not my thoughts then, they are the ones that fill in the spaces after, the whispers of chaos and the furies. What had saved me during those hardest times was the love and concern of the very women I went about serving that eve. They opened their hearts to me and wrapped me up in them in private moments, helping heal and pushing me up to the sky and out onto the plains themselves to make me live .. to make me thrive. It is a debt I owe them because they taught me how to be Tuchuk. I gave from deep inside in hopes that it would bring the smallest of smiles back to those beautiful faces.

Nothing of seeing to the women present had anything to do with me or any other slave. It was about making sure that the guests at "his" fires ... at "their" fires ... at "my" fire weren't ill at ease or feeling traumatized by what ever had just occured. This was my home, the fires were my living room. These were my loved ones, my family, the people that meant the most in the world .. strike that ... in the universe to me. I silently agreed with the Master, when he spoke to the other girl. Get over it. My thoughts seeing the kaiila Mistress have to get up and get her own drink with a slave near by drinking tea to soothe her nerves was ... Get a grip, get up, get giving. My feet were racing to them, hurrying to see how I could be of help.

Was there any reward, any luxury acommodations included in a gift package? Did I win a prize for it? Did you expect me to say no? Sorry, You better bet there was. I won the sweepstakes with the gentleness of their smiles, the tinkling sounds of their laughter and the calming of the evening while they relaxed. There was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow with the cup of my head against his thigh and gentle spoken ... well done bell, to feel his pride return. These things were not precious because I expected or wanted anything in return, they were treasures because I hadn't. I just wanted each of them to feel at home in their own living room. Why shouldn't they be?

Something else was wrong though, something beneath the facade of being leader, commander, protector, peace keeper. I heard it in the far away voice of the man when he looked over his fires, at those he cared for, and offer, "Try and get some sleep". What the ...? Then it all fell together and there was nothing I could offer, nothing I could say or do that was going to help soothe ... anything. I could only step humbly off my silent little soapbox and help sweep up the pieces.

Some like it hot

Stars appearing, the shadows are a-falling
You can hear my heart a-calling
A little bit of love will make everything right
I'm gonna see my baby tonight
All my love, all my kissing
You don't know what you been a-missing, oh, boy!
~Olivia Newton John


Leave it to me to mistake one Master for another and offer congratulations to the wrong one. It became lost amid the humor of the evening though much to my contentment. I was well on putting my fourth free person to sleep in the middle of a serve when Papa Kur rolled through to the fires. He was lamenting his need for fun just as I managed to settle in next to him but not before I checked to see if he was still awake. "greetings oh great and mighty warrior" seems to incite the man to riot. Next thing I knew I felt a raxxberry on my belly and was swatting at him playfully. There is a secret amidst that about my being ticklish. So far those that knew it had remained mum on the subject.

Through the laughter I asked point blank how other girls manage to swoon and fall over passed out when he does that? Typical Tuchuk arrogance .. did I want to find out, swoon and fall over in his lap? I was as full of it as he was. There was a bit of insolence in my voice when I cast him a coy look and touted, "I'm saving all my kisses besides if I fainted I might miss something." On top of assuring me with that winsome smile of his that he would be a considerate gentleman to make sure I was good and awake he toyed the question of just .. who .. I was saving all of my kisses for?

If there is anyone among the whole entire tribe that does not know the answer to that by now please step forward. Come on ... Don't be shy.

Between the query if there was any more blackwine left I was busy answering ... both questions. "He is tall ... dark ... has a lot of scars ... as arrogant as only a Tuchuk warrior could be .." How many tribal men did that fit so far? ... "but he loses me and wanders off to go find me when he has too much paga." There was the clincher. I was prattling off about needing to find those bells again when he stole a series of kisses off the tip of my nose.

Ever try holding a wild kitten over a pan of water? I could only groan that he really did love me didn't he? I did what any good red blooded Tuchuk girl should at a moment like that. I fell over his arm ... passed right out. I would have gotten away with it too if my curiosity hadn't gotten the better of me to peek. He told me to hurry off to see if there was any blackwine left. But I told him I couldn't .. I was swooning. A threat of new raxberries had me scrambling up and on my feet in a flash.

I did have to wince a little when the women began picking on poor Master Polunu and he defended himself against my ealier faux pas with a loud .. um firm .. "I AM NOT mated!" The women were in the process of matchmaking to solve that delemma and even I had to grimace with the choice they came up with ... oh no not Mistress Mable ::shiver, shudder, cringe :: I don't know exactly what it was he mumbled about women .. that included slaves in the mix but the glint in his eyes was ... well it was sort of cute, if you get into that 'I could strangle you all with my bare hands' dark gleam.

Papa Kur likes his brew hot .. the hotter the better much like the women in his life. I'm probably luke warm by comparison to the rest .. a bit more on the sweet and creamy side but he finished off his drink and hefted me ... kicking and twisting to allude and evade ... up on his shoulder. There wasn't going to be any escape from that grasp so when he said wave, I did. Storming beyond the fires and on between the wagon rows he had to have looked very much the part of the conquering hero.

It was just past the fifth row that he bent to set me to my feet with a tussle of the golden locks. It was not respect for me or for my avid affections to remain faithful to one man that parted us on our separate ways, it felt more that it was his deep respect for the man I cared for. The man raised ever higher in my esteem.

Pocket Stone

She feels the lumps in the heart fall
she rose up in the back
She hears the scars scream out from outside
And she whispers sometimes about this
But the colors mix together to grey
And wake me up
Oh, when it comes down in your loving
Oh, well then baby its right
You say you think you are nothing
No one else will do it for you
Reach up and grab hold of the sunlight
When you are waiting for whats right
Youre holding on your heaven
Wont leave you, yeah...
And the colors mix together to grey
Wake me up, wake me up, wake me up
To grey.

I dreamed of him.

How long had I been on this journey? ... two forevers and a million times as many days and far more nights than memory would allow. I'd come so far and still felt so distant. The ache culminated with a fierceness, pounding in my chest. Now I was there, for a moment, for an ihn. The slither of my arms wrapped around him. The statue, still, immovable, immobile, ungiving. A patina of melocholy dripping away as I pressed kisses against the scars of his cheek. So tender, so poignant. My fingers slid over his flesh, caressing it in mine. Stark, motionless dance. The cool of my skin soothing the fire, dampening it. Igniting mine in glorious flames. My heart breaking open, accepting, infolding. Flesh molding around him and taking him within. So cold ... so cold, chilling and thrilling with every touch. Melting, melding, crumbling. I could feel the shards of granite beginning to break away, exposing the sinew beneath. Folding back the layers one by one. It was all so deliciously cruel. Tantalizingly smorgasbord feeling the beautiful blue trace every touch. Staining porcelain lavendar. His fever becoming mine. Pressing closer, wrapping around it like a cocoon, enveloping, heated chills racing through me. Sensitive, raw, tender. Breaths labor ... filling, brimming to the surface so laden with emotions. Cavernous echos of sweet nothings, whispers cried in agonizing clarity. Crushing grasps to glide in delicate grace. Lines of silvered white dancing beneath my touch, rippling, giving, healing. Crimsoned washes ran in blushed puddles. A balm, a salve ... magic potion oiling, gliding, glistening its way to recesses. Weeping into wounds. Gasping war against the inevitable. Scalding in overflow, shivering, shattering screams of silence. An arch to reach the new plateau, lifting, rising higher into a new realm then silencing for the last time. My fingers frozen in eternity ... sculpted. I broke open and he spilled out.

I dreamed of him and woke seizing in a breath.

Disruption

For as languid as the Tuchuk can stretch out at the fires, when they are on the move they can be as quick as lightning. It took a double step to try and catch up with that long legged Ubar. Deciding to cut him off at the pass, I opted for a short cut between the wagons. Nice little ambush it would have been too. Instead I ran full speed into a wall. THUD. A tall, wide, thick wall with tree trunks planted at its base. Definitely rang my bell and sprawled me back on my bottom wondering who and why someone would erect a behemoth barrier in the middle of the harigga. It took a full ehn or two to realize I'd run slap into a Master, a really big one ... standing there minding his own business, or so it seemed. Apologies were not sufficient for having disrupted whatever thoughts he had been so deep in. He had to know where such a pale little wisp was going in such an all fired hurry.

You guessed it, he got one of those run on long winded sentences ... "Well see, there is a Master that used to be my Master and he had called my name looking for me as he was walking into the darkness and I was hurrying to try and catch up with him to ..."

"To what?" I may not have been able to see the scarred cheeks but his amusement dripped from that resonating bass voice. He was making no move to move and I could not exactly back up and go around. "Tooooooo seee what he wanted of me?" Was that a safe enough answer? A girl cannot presume, you know, even if he had whispered in my ear earlier in the eve a vague description of what he wanted.

Nope. That was not going to cut it. "What do you think he wanted of you?" Well it wasn't to be sung to sleep. That was a direct quote mind you. The laughter rolled through the ends of the wagons, sort of reverberating off the sides and echoing as it escaped down the lanes. I could only imagine at this point that my prey was doing much the same. It only took one hand to pick me up so that my feet dangled horts above the ground and a massive paw swatted at the dust on my chatka. Owwwwww. After settling me back on my feet, he sent me off with a hand print on my tush. "Then Harta girl."

I wanted to tell him I was in the process of doing just that when he became a barricade but enough time had passed that the paga the other Master had been drinking would be reaching a crescendo. Time was wasting. I only spun around once to look back and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Screeching to a halt, I stared at the tangles of rich red hair then ... at the tow headed waif I had missed seeing earlier, standing next to him. She was a fragment or maybe a figment straight out of my dreams. I reached up to rub my eyes and when I looked again ... they ... were gone. But by then so was the man I had been trailing.

If the skies thought putting up roadblocks ... even ones as big as a wall would keep me from him, I was still determined to prove them wrong. I was simply going to have to be more stubborn than ... well more stubborn than a Tuchuk.

Articulate

Beloved, they want to know:
Did I reach up to You,
or did You reach out to me?
And they want to know:
What is real touch?
How can I explain
we pour into each other?
Ivan Granger

It isn't often I manage to make it to the fires and when I do, it is a treat for me. I try not to be very intrusive but this night I decided to shoot for the stars. A simple silent gesture asked if I could sit behind him on the platform and a simple silent gesture afforded me the priviledge. How precious it felt to be allowed there, close to him once again. Of a whole gathering around the fires, I knew nothing of most of the evening except the feel of my breasts pillowing his head, my body his cushion to cradle against. I had remembered those first nights of being with him, how his touch had played the response of my body as if it were a fine instrument. A glide along the skin prickling it to a dampened rise of the fine down, rippling it as his fingers disturbed the serenity of the porcelain statue ... bringing it to life with just his whim. He gave me taste of that once more when he took my hand within his. There before everyone gathered, he manipulated my fingers in a way that was far more intimate than wanton sexual release, for more intense in its dominance than a whip could ever have created. Chaste in that it was nothing more than the lift of my hand exploring it down to my wrist, iniquitous in how it made me feel.
Much as the strands of leather used to harness the power of the massive kaiila, his fingers became the guidance to move mine. He led, I followed. Such connection was intoxicating, maddening, thrilling. I watched in fascination, I felt each tendon, each muscle's reflex .. response as he placed pressure on my wrist, my palm, my thumb. I watched as he moved my fingers to a ballerina's pose, the joints curving and stilling when he had them just as he wished them. He held them frozen as if they belonged to a doll. Does the marionette feel as I did? Does she know the exquisiteness of the moment? Unlike her, the dance was far more complete in that I felt it everywhere, to my very breath, my pulse, the curl of my toes, waving, swaying, bending to his will. He had asked me once of my thoughts of a man taking his woman right there at the fires, in front of any and all gathered ... was this not the same in its way? Was it not ... indulgent exhibitionism. He was selfish, he was cruel, he was tender, he was demanding and exacting. He was unabashed and unashamed. He was all of the man I had fallen for.
He displayed his own trust as well. The line of artery lay exposed beneath my chin, there for the simple bend of my head to sink my teeth into. I felt it beneath the ridge of my nails however brief he allowed the touch. I felt ferral needs rise and the yearning to cut the spike of a canine deep into it, to taste his pulse, to feel mine matching his. Did he exposed me as slave before the fires or simply what everyone including myself already knew? I was a passionate woman ... I was his. There were moments I wanted so much more, to whisper along the shell of his ear an invitation. Instead it was the low growl of his voice against mine that made me want to cry out what his touch made me feel .. not simply the sexuality of it, not just the sensuality of it or even the delectable interconnection that I yearned for so deeply with him again. It was purely the response of being all woman. He wrote poetry in the motions, he wrote prose on my skin. My restraint at times bit my teeth into the tender flesh of my own lip. Despite all that he provoked ... it was his lead and I .. gave in to it.
In doing so, so much more revealed itself. His skin beneath the allowance of my palm was scalding hot, fevered. It made my own flesh feel like an ice bath against it. Letting my skin cool his again and again in the night air before he used it as a soothing compress for his own. I could tell he forgot the wrappings along his chest until my fingers probed gently to see how far it covered. The wound encompassed his heart which cut through me and quickened my breaths, thudded my pulse. I tried not to let my concern show. There before everyone he had allowed me this tidbit of knowledge and none else knew. None cared, none noticed. I felt as if my own heart broke open and spilled out for all to see, for him to see its exposure. When he rose to speak to the visiting spex, I felt as if I had been plunged into the icy cold of the stream without him. It warmed to a glistening fiery heat when he called my name and turned to walk into the darkness. I rose to go with him.

Soooo?

Don't wanna wait til tomorrow,
Why put it off another day?
One more walk through problems,
Built up, and stand in our way,
ah One step ahead, one step behind me
Now you gotta run to get even
Make future plans, don't dream about yesterday,
hey C'mon turn, turn this thing around
Right now,
hey It's your tomorrow
Right now,
C'mon,it's everything
Right now,
Catch a magic moment,
do it Right here and now
It means everything
Miss the beat, you lose the rhythm,
And nothing falls into place,
no Only missed by a fraction,
Slipped a little off your pace


When I drifted off to sleep, she was there, the little flaxen haired muse I was always searching for. I couldn't see her but I knew ... I knew she was leading me once again. In the past it had been through garden paths or stucco walled cities with pebble stone streets and men in white robes with incense burners. The trails always leading upward through attics and stairways. It was not the multi-layered voices of chaos or the furies showing me the past and whispering in my ear all the things that I did not wish to see when I was awake, the places, the faces I'd withdrawn from, trying to escape.

Instead, it was a serene little scene of the plains, level, even, flat as far the eye could see to the cliffed walls I remembered passing in the caravan on the way to the harriga. Little fluff tailed frevets squirreling away nuts, lizards lazily turning one eye then the next, vigilantly watching. It was the feel that was most important .. peaceful, enclosing like an embrace. Everything was just as it should be. All that disturbed the portrait of calm was one large wooden door in the middle of .. everything.

I walked to it, then around it before I returned to where I'd found it and lifted my hand for the handle. Did I feel trepidation? My heart was racing and my skin covered with a fine shimmer of dew but it was not fear nor was it anxiety .. just an unknown. Was this the door to where I was going? Was it my subconscious telling me what I expected of the future? The handle turned in my palm and I half expected to hear the eery creaking of rusted hinges but there was only a whisper of wind as the casing let loose the panel and I stepped through.

On the other side was a beautiful vista of the plains, serene, level, even, flat as far as the eye could see to the cliffed walls I remembered passing through in the caravan on the way to the harriga. Everything was just as it should be and the door was still in front of me. I walked to it, then around it before I returned to where I'd found it and lifted my hand for the handle.

This time there was no need to turn the latch and an understanding began to warm through me. I turned to walk back to the harriga, knowing that there was always another door that would open but it would always lead me ... right back to where I needed to be.

It wasn't such a bad dream to have.

Burning Sands

With nitroglycerine dripping off our chins
and elbows sliding off the bar,
we speak and breathe and charm our way
under trains and between cars.
I’m drinking whatever you’re buying
if you’ve got enough left to see it through
I say we soak ourselves to the bone.
I’m not going home unless it’s with you.
Kickstart the night
and drown the world facedown in a loud song.
Let’s start a fire
and let the scorned drink to things gone wrong.
We won’t appreciate these days until they’re all gone.
We never recognize what’s right.
So here’s to thing gone wrong.
I need some kind of savior to pull me from this seat.
From the people, from the smell, from the price, from the heat.
From the way they purchase hope with their last of change,
while they try to look different,
but they’re all the same.
I got one more song left on the jukebox and then I’m all yours.
I got two left feet so tired of standing,
let’s hit the door before we hit the floor.
Kickstart the night
and drown the world facedown in a loud song.
Let’s start a fire
and let the scorned drink to things gone wrong.
We won’t appreciate these days until they’re all gone.
We never recognize what’s right.
So here’s to thing gone wrong.

Red Sky by morning, travelers take warning ... Red Sky by night, travelers delight. Its an old saying that the evening conjured up in my thoughts. The sun refusing to submit to the night was consuming the plains in radiant shades of crimson and scarlet. From my perch atop a wagon, I watched the battle rage on. Shifting, sifting colors dazzling the sky and the sands in amazement. There was a point where distinction between the the sky itself and the plains was indistinguishable and the sands appeared to be lit with flames. It was frighteningly beautiful.

Why did he come to mind and seem to loom there so intensely? Curling my arms around me, I settled my chin on my knees and simply gave in to the imagery. Nothing was as I had thought it would be or even could be. From the first moment I had dreamt of the larl, nothing had seemed to go right. The end justified the means in some ways. Life among the tribe continued just as the stars lit the night sky. It was hard to remember before that and just as hard to put things into place any of the after but I willed myself to. From the pierce of my fingertip along hardened flesh to the deep desire to rip it open and climb inside, every little moment began to swell in my mind. The soft flutter of movement against my chest and the bit of down left behind. The good, the bad, the words, the feelings ... I let them come unhindered. It hurt, it ached, it burned, it soothed. It seemed intensely important ... to remember.

Nest

Sleep my child and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night;
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night.

Angels watching, e'er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night.

When I returned from my morning rituals, I found the wagon ransacked and ravaged. From all evidence it wasn't a raid but more the look of a young warrior in a hurry to gather his things. Everything was kept neat and tidy but excitement and enthusiasm would make even what was right before his eyes ... hard to find. The dust had settled by the time I arrived leaving behind a small treasure I'd not seen in many hands. Curling it into my palm, I just closed my eyes for a while.
I'd overheard Vao speak of journeying south to drive the last of the kaiila here. It was logical that the men had left camp on that venture ... men plural meaning that Me Too had been allowed to go with them. Once upon a time, I had wanted to make that trip ... to see what lie beyond the horizon of the wagons. Now, I was oddly pleased that I wasn't going. I wanted to be here, perhaps want is not the right word ... needed ... desired .. felt right? I spent the afternoon putting things back where they belonged ... I just wasn't sure at the moment where that meant as far as I was concerned. One last look at what felt like an empty nest before I tied the bit of tattered down back into the ends of the silvery strands. I closed the flap on the wagon and went about the rest of my chores singing some little lullaby I remembered.

Swirl

Vao sent me to build up the fire and make something to eat while he and the other kaiila Masters settled in with botas of paga and fermented milk. Each time I glanced to the horizon, one of them would find something for me to fetch. "They' on the other hand were in extremely good spirits, toasting to the glory of being ... men ... in a man's world.

There were wagers about just how much peach fuzz was on Me Too's rump or the size of his ... I went off to find another bota rather than let any of those visuals seep in. It was still going strong when I returned. There was more than I wanted to know about each man's preference in women both free and collared. Though some of the more raucous discussions bantered while I was off seeing to the bosk steaks. Vao mentioned it might be time to find the boy a slave and Keska motioned my direction saying he already had one. I am not sure if I should have been elated or insulted when Vao shook his head and said he meant one for the boy's furs. They almost fell over laughing just seeing the look on my face and I piped in quickly ... "Shouldn't he at least have a few scars before .. THAT .. happens?"

I don't care much for being laughed at especially when I am feeling vulnerable so I grew quiet as I usually do. A swirl of other thoughts drifted my attentions as I stared into the flames of the fire. I began to realize that I was never going to see that poochy little lower lip or the pint sized toddler playing catch up with the other children again and it left an odd sensation inside. I was proud and sad at the same time. One thing I knew for sure, the little boy I first saw was gone. I don't know now what he will be like when he grows older but I didn't have the fears I originally spoke to Cana and tried to speak to Fonce about. Nor did I worry about how well he would fit in anymore. He would return to the harigga probably swaggering with the arrogance of passing the beginnings of manhood.

My daydream was disturbed when I felt the kaiila Master's palm cup my chin and turn my focus to his. He told me that it was time to turn loose. I hadn't thought I'd coddled Me Too. I had just been trying to watch over him but the men sort of made it understood I had. Well technically they said that it was time to wean the boy, no matter how nice a bota it came in. I will leave the actuality of that conversation to your imagination.

I was grateful the topic changed and wound up learning a great deal about the different kinds of kaiila that were native to this world. Those of the plains ranged from a rich golden color to a sleek khol black and were strictly carnivorous. I knew this from helping both Cana and Vao among the herds. There was a different breed farther north in a place called the barrens where the pelts tended to be more the roan red.Those were herbivores, surviving on whatever grasses they found. I found interest in another variety that could be found in the desserts though they had wider foot pads and could live without water for longer periods of time. That ability and being able to eat both meat and vegetation they made good pack animals for journeys across the sand dunes. There were bets offered on which were the best to own but no one seemed willing to ante up against a good Tuchuk mount.

I ended up dozing off, curled up on the edge of Vao's fur though I woke the next morning all nestled in beneath it in Me Too's wagon.

Desert Sand Beasts Savages 35 Tribesmen 70-71
Southern Plains Kaiila Tribesmen 70-71
Red Barrens Savages 35

Shadows

Between the idea and the act falls the shadow


Among the kaiila clan there is and always will be a controversy as to when it is best to begin saddle breaking a mount. Some say as long as 4 full envars before a kaiila is ready and some say as soon as a little over an envar. Had Me Too been the size of a grown man I would have said it was better to wait but the boy was small and his weight would not be more than the creature could hold comfortably. Both Orachu and the boy were chomping at the bit to ride ... yes the pun was intended. Still I was reluctant but it is so easy to get caught up in that youthful excitement and worn down by the constant please, please, please. I gave in. Keska did have to lean against my knees to keep me on the fence rail while Vao, who was far more experienced than I was in this area, took the lad in hand.

When Me Too mounted the gear on the kaiila I think we all held our breath .. waiting ... watching. I felt that sting along my lashes when he slid into the saddle as if he had been born there. The cheers that the men let out pierced my ears and made me laugh. My own little hands were thundering together.

After a few lazy paces in a circle to grow accustomed to each other I began to relax and enjoy the show. What I was not prepared for was the snap of heels in the stirrups to spur the kaiila into a run. I stood up on the rail trying to call him back and Keska tugging at the back of my chatka trying to get me to sit back down and ... chill. I was watching in horror as a jerk to the reins stood Orachu straight up on his hind legs and with the suddeness of the stop, the boy went sliding right off the back side of the beast flat onto his back. Strong hands had to press me to the rail to prevent me from jumping off and running out there.

Me Too lay motionless and there was nothing I could do about it ... not from here. Vao was calling to the other kaiila hands but Rusty had already leapt to his own kaiila and was tearing off across the plains leaving a pillar of dust snaking into the wind. When he arrived where the boy lay, he merely leaned down over the side of his beast to extend a hand to the child.

There was the boy I was caring for ... coming back to life from the dead, or it seemed that way from where I was anyway. He was holding out his own hand to be scooped up in front of the kaiila Master. Once settled in, the man re-created the exact same event. Rusty's beast stood just as Orachu had except that ... it was controlled instead of happenstance. Me Too's arms flew straight up to the sky with a cry of excited triumph and off they rode into the horizon. Orachu practiced the elongated stretch to the sky a few times himself before tagging along behind like an obedient little sleen pup, reins trailing off the pommel.

Keska's hands lessened their death grasp so that I could settle back on the rail trying to figure out what the ^%$# had just happened. Vao walked back over to where we were with one of those vulo eating grins of his even when I began going off about knowing that I shouldn't have allowed all of this as well as the new tirade of him letting the boy just ride off like that with the other Master. His voice was soothing and gentle much like the way I spoke to Me Too when I wanted him to learn something he had trouble understanding. Maybe it was the use of Me Too's favorite nickname for me that got my attention. "Lina ... there are some things you will never be able to teach him." The adrenaline rush and my own frustration had left me aggravated and I barked a retort. "What .. to be Tuchuk?" At first the man's laughter irritated me to no end though what he said left me pensively silent. "No little one, you have done well teaching him that. What you can never teach him ... is to be a man."

a boy and his ...

I promise I'll feed him and clean up after him and take him for walks .. can I keep him .. can I ... can I huh? Pleeeeeeeease!

How could so much exhuberance come from one little tiny guy? It seemed that Orachu was the salve needed for a weary little soul. The next few hands were filled with every detail of caring for another creature and the bond between the boy and his kaiila grew strong. A few of Me Too's best friends seemed put out that he wasn't as eager to run and hunt and dig with them as he had been before with the reasoning that he had to .. Orachu this ... Orachu that .. my kaiila .... my ... my ..my how he took his responsibilities serious. The frustations when there was something he felt bigger than he was had begun to evaporate with less and less coaxing to just try and see if he could, rather than give up or let his anger get away with him.

I found myself sitting on the top of the fence rail more often simply watching as the boy took the reins of his new found obsession ... literally. I didn't need to promise Cana that the boy would be appreciative of such a gift. The smile, the youthful determination not only to catch up to his peers but to surpass them was evidence enough in itself. Now and then I sort of felt a bit left out myself when I would hear .. I can do it myself .. watch Lina .. watch what we can do! But overall there was this sense of pride that swelled inside my own chest. I began to understand some of the things that Cana had spoken to me about, not just for Me too but for myself as well.

Keska would come perch against a post next to me, keeping eye on the lad and commenting at how natural the boy took to the beast. Rusty and Vao began to sidle up to the fence as well urging him on with those raucous sleen whistles or a shout, the kind only men can do and get away with. The kind that could be heard all the way back to the harigga. It had become a priviledged window seat to a new life unfolding.

Für Sie

Rarely do I pay any attention to the conversations that banter about the fire and that morning wasn't any real exception. They were talking about some of the fur that had flown about the encampment the past hand. Nothing that needed my attention or provoked my interest. I'd been helping beat dust from the pelts that circle the fires so when I returned with an armload I kept two out for those gathered. Metal to a magnet, I am always drawn to him and knelt next to his side. It was just an offering of furs for warmth on a cold morning but the acceptance meant a great deal from them both. Being sent for a morning meal was icing on the cake. A mention of the place the healer had spoken of drew a brief curiosity while I was seeing to something to eat for the spex.
Places.
I'd begun to pay a little more attention when people spoke of other cities, gleaning what I could of them in the conversations without being intrusive. I was learning of what lie outside the beautiful plains we lived on. The witch's smile met mine when she noticed my interest and left me wondering if she saw it or felt it. I did pick up on the mention of her mate's sudden overprotectiveness and later the subject of chocolate covered eyes came up. Maybe it is just something women are intuitive about. But back to the eyes, they seem to be a special luxury and it made me remember she had wanted mine when I first arrived. I felt a bit special myself for her covet of my own after that. I promised to see small furs delivered to her wagon at least a few before she left for her trip.
By then he had moved to his furs using the one I'd offered to brace against. It isn't that he is any more handsome when he is relaxing, it is just this ... this .. feeling inside to see him that way. Vicarious transferance? Put a little dance in my strides and one of those light hearted songs on my lips while I went about seeing to the others. Yes, it did. The woman I'd been serving had drifted off into day dreams and I told him that I thought it was only him that I put to sleep or just long relaxing thoughts. It touched me when he said .. long .. very relaxing thoughts. I was in an almost sappy mood when he began his series of questioning. This time they were more a curiosity than a thirst.
Had my new responsibilities helped? Helped what? Me? No. I mean yes in a way. That emotion laden napsack remained tied shut this time to say I enjoy the creatures, the work is hard but can be rewarding. It was in one of those long winded high pitched run on sentences that I told him about the fire breathing ebon monster. He was laughing when he said that it was good to see me thrive. Then I went and did it. I said 'thank you' for letting me serve the kaiila Mistress. "You are slave .. you will serve whatever is given to serve but if it is something that causes you to thrive so much the better." There was that reminder again only this time it had come from him. I kept quiet rather than ruffle any fur. When he rose later to go, my gaze followed naturally. I asked very simply if I could find him later to ask questions.

Skills

"Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither." ~ C.S. Lewis

"Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither."
Stopping by my usual haunt of the practice fields held a bit of surprise. Instead of the boys all lined up for their lessons, several Masters and Mistresses were there for a little target practice. Girlies against the guyses. I put 2 lizards on the feminine side as a wager. This time I had three so I was confident.Chay had one of those I was going to tell you something looks instead of that you are lucky I let you live one and Kam had that big arsed grin. Meta wriggled her fingers at me, lian smiled but kept busy filling quivers. Makes you feel all wanted.
Meta was whomping up on Master Saresh with a vengeance. You could see the pride written all over her. The Master on the other hand was not taking his defeat well. A missed shot by Mistress Chay no doubt had to be due to a crooked shaft. That woman could pierce a gnat's tush if she decided to but it would prove to be a lesson on skills as I watched her score fall a bit further. Though when her mate seemed to notice she was a bit off the mark, she slid her arms around his mid section and used his bow to hit a bosk eye. Straightened that shaft right out, I tell you. Enough in fact that they left not too long after that, but not before Kam called for some blackwine from one of the other girls. I fell in step with Maive and we served the old fashioned way ... in tandem with the vessel and drink first and the condiments second. I was a bit rusty and Maive bless her heart seemed to just glide into her spot like she was a natural even if the look on her face said ... I have NO idea what I'm doing.
It dawned on me though that since the boys were not at the practice field, that I didn't know where Me Too was. Master Rook was going to tan me if I lost him. He wasn't at the wagon, or at the clan fires. I got that panicky feel as I began combing through the rows calling for him. An old worn boot, blackwine mug and a cooking ladle sailing by later accompanied admonishments to be quiet and find somewhere else to be yelling before one of the Mistresses pointed toward the outer wagons. Well don't you know that boy was sitting on a fur at Master Gideon's fire like he belonged there. I went to fussing at him immediately for giving me such a scare. It provoked a tirade from the lad that made the worn out boot throw look like a pebble toss. He glared at me and shouted that I was not his mother and he did not have to answer to me, not to Cana and not to Master Rook either. The rest was silenced when Mistress Ula fwapped him up side the back of the head and told him part of respect earned was respect offered. The soothing tone of her voice turned to me asking me to let Cana know that Me Too would be at her wagon ... working off his disrespect. He may have begun to argue but all it took was just one of those looks ... you know the one ... from the Mistress and he sat down real quick and got quiet.
The old saying goes that great minds think alike but maybe I learned that it takes skills to think just different enough to make it all work.

Destiny

Some of the path I'd walked through life had been chosen for me .. some I'd broken from the reins to venture on my own, nowhere in any of it could have been foreseen that I would be here on a new world among such a passionate people trying to form a future. Would it be easier to simply turn loose completely and accept what was being told to me .. that the boy was my destiny. Why could I not feel that this was what and where my life's purpose was? Here was where I belonged, that I felt deeply about but as what, doing what? Life felt like a wild run away kaiila. How could I steer its course without a bridle and bit? How could I alter it without dampening the wonderous spirit that made me love being here? How do I live within the fate? Each question only provoked a newer one and none of them provided any answers.
Why was it that the interior of Ramza's wagon came to mind and haunted me, haunted every step that I took back to the wagons of the kaiila clan? I had never even seen the inside of it but he had told me once what was there, painted on the wall within, the beautiful murial of russets, browns and sienna's. It was his favorite place. The place that he had felt ... yess I knew what he felt and why. I had told him that day of my own favorite place, not the one I had spoken to Fonce of ... being next to his side but the first one I held close to my heart ... the treehouse. Just as Ramza had spoken with such burgeoning emotion of his mother's home, that one place had felt most like mine.
My beautiful blue world so far away, it weighed on me now in a place I kept secreted. I didn't dare look up at the blue of the sky because instinctively I knew that the flood of tears would begin and I wouldn't be able to dam them up again. I grew stronger here on the plains but I grew harder as well. They would not see me break. I'd allowed Fonce to see them for just one brief moment and he had said it was not my tears that he wanted. I'd looked at the end of my fingertips, still damp with the exposure of my frailties, of being a woman, of feeling emotions. Then held them up to the air and let them dry.
Why had all of this come to mind here .. now .. this moment as if it had waited in the shadows in precisioned ambush? Destiny. Those words made my teeth grit hard and my eyes glint in narrowed slits just like the they had the day Fonce first spoke them. Destiny had been my father's word. Destiny was when he made decisions for everyone around him that would benefit him .. not the one the decisions were made for.
'Leonette, you do not know what you want. The trusts have been established, and you WILL marry Charles just as it has it has been arranged. You will be Mrs. Charles Randall 'Skippy' McMasterson. It is your destiny. You should be happy.' Even the gold embossed monogrammed invitations had been chosen for me.
I had escaped for a few hours then in the recluse of the treehouse just as I did when I was a young girl. It was there that I felt Edmund. I felt his first awkard kiss, his long clumsy arms trying to fold around me and hold me to him. It was where I heard his heart beating even more fiercely than mine. The treehouse was where I had opened the official letter from the Armed Forces that said that Edmund was never going to sit in that treehouse with me again. It was where the tears fell and bathed the floor in rivers of sorrow.
Bell, you will serve the family of the boy you have chosen to look after. It is your destiny. It is not many who have been given such knowledge, you should be glad to know what yours is.
Why was it that those memories haunted me now? Simply because, I needed to feel those awkward arms encircling me, I needed to hear the words of reassurance that said that everything was going to be alright ... and just as it had been then, it was the same now. They were not going to be there. I was alone.
For the first time in my life, what I felt for the painted man that brought me here bordered on an emotion I had never known ... and my eyes glinted a fiery red and narrowed to near slits. I tried to erase him with a rise of my hand in the air. I wanted to erase him from my memories, from my thoughts. I wanted to erase any more influence he may over my destiny. I didn't want to dream anymore.

Canto Alla Vita

We are chameleons, and our partialities and prejudices change places with an easy and blessed facility, and we are soon wonted to the change and happy in it. We do not regret our old, yellow fangs and tushes after we have worn nice fresh uniform store teeth a while. ~Samuel Clements

Sometimes you can look forward to a moment so much that you play it out in your mind a million times what you would say, how you would move, look, feel, see. It has been so much a part of you that you know it by heart or just want to. I had done this thinking of how it might go when I next saw him. I was walking the high bank of the stream intending to wet the leather I'd been working on when I saw him sitting on an overhang above the edge. For a moment I wondered if he heard the race of my pulse as part of the roar that surrounds him.

He makes me smile. I can't help it. No matter how many times I had gone over this moment, it all just faded away when I put the bucket down and just went to him. It wouldn't be until I thought back to replay it all over and over again that I would even realize that blue was there. I knew it but I didn't know it. He was all that mattered.

We were doing that 'After you My dear Alfonse' scenario in a way while he seemed to relax a little. He asked why I'd come and I showed him the braided pieces of the halter and bit. I love his questions most of the time, they drive me crazy just as easily. I almost chuckled when he began the endless barrage of them. The explanation that the tack wasn't for Cana as he first thought but mine from a wager provoked him to ask what I was going to do with them. The plans for bringing them back to usefulness and learning how they worked seemed logically understandable though the more profound reason I simply offered quietly. In time I wanted to learn how not to need them.

Can't lie to you, nope, I took time to just look at him, to drink him in. He has changed in many ways as well. He looks healthier, not so much like the lanky youth I first met. Still so few consider how young he is and I could see the man emerging more fully in his physique, in his mannerisms. Life has been good to him since I left and that created a guilty twinge inside. It was not the only way he affected me and let me assure you he does. I doubt there are many women among the harigga that could say he doesn't make something inside them go pitty pat ... somewhere.

I didn't think that my nervousness was visible until he said we both seemed like we were sitting on needles. That was when I left everything I had thought of saying behind and just began talking to him. It's been so long since we've talked, he seems like a stranger. Perhaps it is because we never took the time to actually get to know one another much before I'd returned to being a camp slave. I can't remember just sitting and talking to him as we did that morning. So many times I felt that selfishly screaming voice inside saying ... hear me, see me that I just hushed it now and relished that for this moment, for right now ... he did. It was nothing at all like I imagined.

For all of the queries he posed and the probing within me, I could hear all he didn't say. There was no anger, there was no defensive frustrations, just a calm quiet, now and then a chuckle of his own and ohh his smile. How very different than some of the times we have spent together. I've never known anyone that made life feel so intense as he does. I enjoy being close to him, it is my favorite place to be. As long as it isn't too close? Should I have shouted to the skies at the top of my lungs that I could crawl inside him and hold on so tight that nothing could drag me out without one helluva fight? I wanted to be far closer than ever before was all that tumbled out. What had changed that I wanted to be there now when it seemed as if I didn't before? It didn't seem like the time to go back to the beginning and dump out a whole bucket of squiggly emotions about larls and dreams and things I didn't have any understanding of to be truthful. The bottom line was that all the reasons I'd left were simply mundane, too mundane to even mention. Part is that the plains, the Tuchuk, this way of living isn't so new and foreign to me now. Part is that I have made mistakes and have learned from them.

Each new question seeped with pain but this time I refused to withdraw. I refused to do more than be right there next to him, to talk with him, to answer them honestly, openly regardless of how raw some of them felt. I'd never thought I held anything back from him but that exposure proved just how much I had. I didn't realize I'd had such trouble letting him see so many of my frailties. He thought I had trouble seeing his. His? Oh sweet plains, he didn't know that all I saw was a man I cared for deeper than I had ever cared for anyone or anything in my life. No, how would he know? How could he?

If there was nothing else that came of those few moments of being able to talk with him, I wanted, needed him to know that I have never regretted caring for him. He was never a mistake. No tumbling over the wall, no sailing over it and knocking it down, just lifting one stone off another. One that should not have been there.

All the rhetoric about how I take him with me everywhere I go, in everything I do, that in my heart I am still his, seemed so little to offer in the end. It would have sounded empty and shallow to me if someone had been telling me these things without showing me. He stands on his decision that I have chosen my destiny. Didn't he ever feel strongly enough about something to stand and say .. 'I do not agree'? Maybe I should have told him that ... I had. Instead I found myself agreeing that it does little good. Even though I don't care for the words ... destiny ... fate, he does. I respect that he feels very deeply about them.

I had heard once that the greatest strains on relationships can be categorized ... family, money, sex or religion, in my case childish stupidity should be tagged on the end of that as well. No matter what had separated us in the beginning, we have differing opinions about something very important, as close to religion as you can get being Tuchuk. It may be semantics, maybe I only want it to be so simple. I want to know what destiny means to him. I want to understand. I'd like to hear his feelings, his thoughts and not just because I have a vested interest.

When he slipped from this world to walk the realm of dreams, I wanted so badly to simply go with him, to throw off the reins and bit that held me back and just reach ... reach through the mists and grasp his hand, I whispered to him.

Walking away from that little hilltop, I wasn't breathlessly trembling with excitement. The smile played gently along the edges of my mouth belied a heart filled achingly full and a head that had an altogether new tumble of thoughts, questions and a quest for Amor Fati.

Where the Wild things Are

If we could talk to the animals, learn their languages Think of all the things we could discuss If we could walk with the animals, talk with the animals, Grunt and squeak and squawk with the animals, And they could squeak and squawk and speak and talk to us.

No one had asked why I wanted the gear and I am not sure I could have answered in a way that would have been sufficient. Most assumed they knew, that it was for Me Too or those that I'd spoken to of the massive kaiila I'd seen thought I had this hair brain scheme to catch him and ride him. None of these concepts had anything to do with my reasoning. It would only be later speaking with Fonce when a glimpse of it would be revealed and he did not press.
Slowly the pieces of leather had begun to take shape beneath my fingers. I felt driven to rip the bit and halter apart and start them over again, studying the how and why of them as I began to put them back together. It wasn't perfection that I was seeking but understanding of their precise purpose. Different imageries raced through my thoughts as I put the halter over my knee and moved my leg by use of the instrument until I could feel both the guidance and the mastery of it. They were still two separate entities to me. The bit raked into my shin, creating a deep line and circles began to appear on each side of my calves. I used these pieces before hundreds of times in my life time, guiding equestrians through paces, shows and more numerous events without ever giving it any thought. Not once had I considered what it felt like to the beast, how pulling on one rein created the movement I desired from the animal, or how the animal knew and understood what was expected when the leather drew one direction or the other. Now I wanted to know. For a brief moment I even lifted it to force it between my teeth. The cold steel spreading the flesh of my mouth painfully to be accepted and the tug from side to side forcing movement to occur closed my eyes so that reaped every nuance from it. What was it that transpired between rider and mount that created the fluid motions .. the symbiosis?
I did picture Hakan in my mind many times while I worked the braids until they almost looked new again though it was never with the tack. They were fleeting however, despite the breathtakingly beautiful imaginings of the wind and world itself speeding by. When I closed my eyes it was a far different scene that unfolded in my mind, over and over again. I could see the extension of my fingertips waivering in mid air against an unknown and a silohuette beyond that I could not reach. Reach ... reach ... that one thought kept coming back to me amidst the jungles in my mind but never seemd to gel. There was something tangible there that I could not curl my fingers around, couldn't close my thoughts around. Then for the spanse of just one iota of time I could see the tips of my fingers from the other side.

Orachu

Beast of the shadows

Wading from the stream, I went straight to Cana, kneeling at her feet. While she awaited my approach, she told the healer that she'd been simply horrid as a child. That is something I can't picture but when Falon asked her ... why, we all cracked up laughing. I grew more than serious when she motioned to the foal and told me she wanted me to choose a name for him. He was to be a gift once he had a name. Such gift, she gave to me in this honor. Her gifts often carry lesson to them and I'd grown to listen to them. Ones that to this moment have helped begin to shape me. Every line of my body and face went into silent query if I could go to him.

She began telling the history of the young kaiila while I let him take in my scent and began getting to know him. He had spirit but beneath the will there was a longing too that became almost immediately noticeable. He balked to the probe of my hands at first but soon stilled to the exploration. He had been born just before the move and she said the fact he had survived said much for him. I listen for the pearls of wisdom that the woman offers, finding more depth than the surface level much of the time. So when she said the ones that live in spite of all things being against them, often make the best and most loyal beasts, that they often live long happy lives, like Brute had. I not only paid attention but I took her words to heart.

The inspection of the colt though was not very different than the appraisal of a slave. The tone of muscle, the health of the animal, his teeth and gums as well as ears and claws were carefully checked. His demeanor and attitude among the list.

The women spoke of Master Kam's kaiila which brought the memory of the day before. I added gently that he would be our Orachu, the beast of the shadows, the protector. Cana thought that was a perfect name for the foal and when I looked back at him, it did seem like a fitting title. Orachu was to be Me too's mount. I felt a touch of guilt that the boy did not have what most boys his age already have. I was not his mother but I still felt the responsibility of his needs. So I met their gaze at first suspiciously or maybe not daring to hear what they were saying. If anyone can bring the shimmer along my lashes, it is usually Cana that can bring them almost to the surface. I couldn't find voice for a moment then in a cracked whisper I tried to tell her that the foal would be a fine mount for him and the would be honored to accept such a gift. It was with deserved respect that I bowed my head to the woman. I would ensure he understood the value of such an offering.

She had more for me to do. Someone would need to care for the beast as well as teach Me too about him. We both spoke at the same time. I was asking if I could be allowed, she was saying she had hoped I could find the time. She knew me pretty well as evidence in the smile she offered. Having the same train of thought was something I had grown used to with the physician and had to laugh doing it with Cana now.

The woman knew too that I'd been out among the rest of the herd, getting to know them, letting them get to know me. She'd noticed and said I had a way with them. In fact, she had gone so far as to tell the others of the clan that I would be spending more time among the kaiila. Those words felt like a gift as to me as well.

I mentioned the saddle and bridle I'd won in the wager, though they needed a lot of work. There wasn't chance to ask if I could keep them though it seemed they would remain mine since there would be new tack and a saddle waiting in the boy's wagon. The ones Cana was offering were in addition to the set that Falon had given him. The boy now had two sets and he would not just be outfitted now but as he grew as well. Was this pride the same as what a blood mother felt for her children? I just embraced her without even thinking. It was accepted and she whispered against my ear ... "He is lucky to have you and I am so very happy to see how he flourishes under your attentions."

Cana has given me most, she has a belief in me. I agree with her that sometimes she sees things that others do not though it was a great source of pride that she had seen these things in me. "I know you will never disappoint me." I can still feel the strength in those words.

When it all caught up with me and I managed to find my voice again, it all came out in a barage of chatter. A million questions all rolled up into one that made both women laugh. Among that was my concern about Me Too's frustrations, his anger and the lashing out without thinking, that he had so much inside that had no outlet. Cana held my gaze, so much unspoken communication is carried in the depths of those eyes. In that quiet tone of hers, she explained that learning to care for another would be a help.

When the conversation turned to match making among the two women, I told Orachu no one was immune and they would do the same for him one day but not to worry, they were pretty good at it. He still balked.

Before I led the young foal away, I heard them speaking of needing a pure black stallion for breeding. That was when I told the kaiila Mistress breathlessly about the ebon archangel I'd seen. She knew that one ... his name was Hakan. It means fire.

Treasure Hunt

Even before I opened my eyes I could feel the gaze boring down into me. As I lay there, I realized it was not one set but several. The count unknown at first just a bit daunting to know that I was being watched while I slept. Willing them away to return to the more peacefulness of a dream had no effect.

Me too's enthusiasm to start the day early roused me to prepare jerky and botas for what felt like half the tribe's youth. It was more like five in truth but the energy they could put off magnified head counts. It was my own fault. I'd told them the tale of Merlin the haruspex of the great Ubar Authur and now they were pinging off the wagon walls getting ready for treasure hunting. It wasn't a sword set in stone they were after but magic bones. The kind that can bring the dead back to life or at least prolong it a little longer. Not exactly the moral of the story I had hoped but it was better than the last time they went on an archaeological dig and wound up filling buckets underneath the wagon with broken pottery, worms and baby snakes.

It is impossible to go back to sleep after having experienced the ripple effect of an expedition with this magnitude. The few extra ahns before I had to begin my chores could be spent working the leather of the halter. The cold water of the stream would shrink it so that the weave of the braiding held stronger.

When I arrived, the healer was already there sifting through the myriad of stones in the stream for ones that could be heated and used for healing compresses. I forgot all about the halter for a while to help find just the perfect size, shape and dimensions she needed.

Spending time with Falon is always enjoyable. The exchange of small looks and shared conspiracies came natural now, always resulting in a mirrored grin. I explained that the search for power and magic wasn't to turn siblings into urts and other critters but a way to keep fireflies alive longer so they could go fishing. It was a guy thing, that one track purpose only they had logic for. I had tried to tell them to put more holes in the top of the jar but believing this was an ancient pyre site that held mystical wonders they could unearth was more fun.

A query about how her grandfather was doing reminded me of what Fonce had said. They were grown men capable of taking care of themselves but concern was something that seemed inherent within me. Would I always worry? Was it so wrong to feel this of those that mattered most to me? It wasn't that I didn't think they were made of the finest steel. Even the sharpest quiva is sheathed in leather to keep it sharp and clean.

Falon's stories always fascinated me and I listened to them with a childlike thirst for bedtime tales. Her family is such a wealth of histories woven together. They have been so many places, done so many things. It was always like opening a collection of short stories to talk with any one of them. She spoke of a place I'd never heard of .. Schendi where vines grew strong enough, long enough and high enough to be part of Jack's epoch with the giant. There were caves and secret pools of water hidden in that place that let my imagination run vivid. It was a place I had never been on any world. Didn't I sound like a universal carpet bagger? It had been an altogether different search for power that had sent the Noir children to such an exotic place. Safety, protection from someone with a design to use them to cause harm to her grandfather. It all stroked a far fiercer response from me. I knew I could strangle the life force from any who tried to hurt anyone of my tribe with my bare hands. There were more poignant moments within her recanting while she spoke of the closeness they shared, she and her parents, her brother and sister, touching the longings I had inside.

There was a promise that if the boys found a chest of jewels I would see she got her share. After all she had been the one to inspire the venture Me too was off on. They wanted to know how fish remained afloat and thus the reason to go fishing unveiled itself. I'd told them that Falon more than likely could explain the inner workings of anatomy even in aquatic creatures and that was when they somehow got the bright idea to find a way to keep the fireflies alive. Tah dah, now you know the rest of the story.

It was hard not to notice when Cana approached. One, she is such a dynamic woman that you naturally look for her addition in touching moments, two she was leading a gleaming roan foal. Now there is an awe inspiring vision. She'd heard tidbits of the conversation and immediately wanted to know what kind of treasure we were hunting for. You have to understand that these two women tend to provoke an excitedness in me when I get around them both so my answer came in one long winded run on sentence that by now they were accustomed to. I lumped it altogether ... stones, crowns, jewels, magic bones and family. We were all in agreement the last one was by far the greatest and most priceless of them all.

In the midst of telling me she had a chore for me, Cana did put the heart of the matter of the fish into perfect Tuchuk logic ... they float because it is their nature. Now why didn't I think to tell the boys that. I think I tried that but got that endless series of 'whys' and decided to let them find out on their own. Cana said filling their bellies created a brief stay of those but rest assured they will come right back to the beginning.

But back to the chore she had for me. Motioning to the young colt, she said I was to choose a name for him. I didn't know it but she had been on her own treasure hunt.

Metaphor

The woman gave me a ride back to the camp. We've spoken enough times together I knew she had something she wanted to talk about. I did too. There was something burning inside me that I needed someone to talk to about. The one person I really felt would understand and be able to talk to about it was the one person I couldn't talk to because it always tended to be a fiery conversation. See what I'm talking about?

She on the other hand was always open to talking to me. She brimmed with so much excitement now that she seemed to vibrate. We got the courtesies quickly out of the way. I'd been worried for her during her convalescence but I'd stayed at the outer wagons to help where needed most in her absence. I'd made a new medical pack to replace the one lost during the storm and se said she would see it filled for me. In exchange I offered to look after Mysterie for her.

I went straight to the point after that, medical supplies was not what was on her mind. I was right on target. It all came spilling out, climbing the wall and tumbling right over the other side. I listened to the breathless words of having surged beyond apprehension to speak openly of what she felt within, having exposed it, held it out to the light. I was so proud of her for having found the courage. Did she get a response? Not really, she said it had just been a long talk of the mechanics of love. She felt there were no rules when it came to love. If she had asked I would have told her how very much I disagreed with that concept but she began to recite her own rules in a rote fashion without realizing that she even had them. She was willing to accept both the wonders and the imperfections of another. I had to ask was she truly willing to accept the everything part as she had stated even if it might be beyond her imagining? Everything, I reminded her is sometimes far more than we can handle. The more that tumbled out, the more I felt my heart sink inside. I ached inside with the knowing that so many simply did not see, so many did not understand. I obviously don't have the all answers but I had this thread ... of what ... hope?

Now and then I would look back to where Kam had remained at the grove. I could see him shatter the bowl that held the life silencer against the tree. It seemed like a punctuation mark of a sort. I grew quiet for a little bit, merely brushing away stray wisps of my hair that had blown across my gaze making them mist over with the sting. I know she misunderstood when I began to talk to her about the saddle and the tack. It would feel like a change of subject, believing it was uncomfortable for me to talk about another woman's feelings for someone I care so deeply about. She offered some of her old gear for my use and I was appreciative of the gift. The topic led to touch on what I had stored up inside, what had me so fired up, breathless and was chomping at the bit to talk about. I began to paint a portrait of what I had seen. A magnificence with such fire in his soul he seemed to be aflame. He had looked right through me to the very depths of my soul and had set it ablaze as well. I was scared, I was excited at the same time. I had watched as it galloped away and I wanted ... I ...

What do you want bell? Could she comprehend what I was explaining? I didn't know but I tried. I wanted to experience it again. I heard in her words understanding but at the same time we spoke of altogether different planes. She offered her insights to what she thought I was speaking of ... the rawness and freedom? He breathes fire was my reply. Sounds like he took your breath away and drew you into him, to let you taste what he sees.

Yessssssss.

You saw something in him that you hold deep within yourself or something that you wish to feel for yourself? Both, all, everything. I want to run with him, breathe fire as well as feel that breath again. I thought she understood when she spoke more of my own thoughts .. that rawness that fills your your senses, that spirit unbridled, untouched, free.

I almost fell off the mount when she said she saw it in her own kaiila. I don't know if she caught the dry tone when I told her it is a very different wall. It was not one I wanted to climb and topple over. I wanted to sail slap over the top of it and kick it tumbling down behind me.

To the Horizon

Some steel wool had done wonders for the rusted bit I'd been working on. Although it was still dinged and dented, the surface had taken on the silver finish of it's original luster. I was rebraiding the bridle at the fires when one of the Mistresses came for blackwine. I've seen her a few times now so she is not unfamiliar to me. I'd just finished seeing to a hot morning meal of eggs and tarsk strips for her and answering questions of who I was and where I came from, when Master Kam made his way to the circle. The simple fact that he wished nothing this morning was enough to tell me that it was time.

Everyone within the kaiila clan knew that his kaiila had served a long and wonrously rich life but the weariness of age had begun to incapacitate the animal. His suffering was our own and we actually felt it within. It was natural to ask if he wished someone to go with him. I didn't know if a slave would be allowed such an honor and yes, to me it was. More, he gave me option of settling in the saddle before him or behind him on this last journey with his best friend. I chose to face the wind, teasing him about the view never changing from the back. Not that it isn't a nice view, mind you. Was it my way of soothing, helping heal to add humor? The taunts were light hearted and he took them that way.

The ride was one that will stay with me for as long as I am able to access it in my memory. I took in the plains from the eyes and heart of a magnificent beast, savoring every precious glory of them. I saw them for the first time from the ferral stand point of being .. being animal, being a base creature and I saw them as they would be if this were my last availability to inhale them. I will always owe Brute for showing me this wonder.

Kam had chosen a beautiful little outcropping, like an oasis. Falon joined us the dutiful grand daughter so devoted to her family. A tree so rare out here stood looming the little grove as shade from the burning rays of the central fire, a shelter from the winds and in my mind a companion for a warrior of many battles through the ages.

I kept constant watch on the Master while I built a fire and we all broke bread together in a manner of speaking though for the Tuchuk that is jerky. That holds a significant meaning to me going back to former beliefs. Brute indulged in not one but two bowls of paga. The first held the elixir that permanent dreams are made of. While each of us said our farewells, I told Brute the tale of Orachu, the shadow rider, our protector between this world and the next. I wove the story of his life, his triumphs and his majesty. He would be the beginning and end of many tales of courage and honor.

For as fierce and staunchly unflinching as men of the tribe can be, they have a capacity for a gentleness that is an unfathomable depth as well. The Master's hands so skilled at taking life, bestowing torturous pain the likes many can not begin to understand now rested against the pulse of the mount that had been with him through the best and worst of times for more than two decades until it ceased. It was done. The patina of the man never cracked though the turmoil of emotions unseen beneath the surface seared through me. I watched as the wind caught dust and a few dried leaves to swirl as if Brute's spirit touched us all one last time before he charged into the skies with vim and vigor and renewal of an old soul. I felt him as he raced to the horizon and on ... on to the beyond.

Kam chose to walk back to the camp alone and I could remember that tidbit of the two chiefs. It was part of the gift.

Insider

Before continuing on to the rest of the day's chores, I try to catch a glimpse of Me Too, Wily and the other boys at the practice fields. Watching the weapons Master impart the lessons of life as a Tuchuk warrior to them adds more respect for both his skills and the potential that each of these boys had. This right of passage into manhood, most of them took very seriously. Sometimes too seriously and the bottled up strive into warriorhood can boil over the surface into fisticuffs. I know that Me Too has a lot of catching up to do and the frustrated anger seethes just beneath the surface a lot of the time. It is why Master Rook's devotion to him means so much to me. He held a firm rein on him, coaxing the man within him out and perhaps can leave a sense of honor that I've seen missing within him. I wonder if it will be enough.
Then it is on to the pens. Exercise for the kaiila is not much different than for humans. It takes time and moderation to build stamina. I'd been allowed to walk some of the mounts, warming muscles, allowing them to expand their lungs and excelerate their heart rates. We walked, I talked, they listened. We spoke of the plains and its beauty, the harshness of this life though it had wonders yet to unfold.
Lyric could be a bit temperamental at times, at least with me, having little to add to the conversations except an occasional huff. The cream color twins, Curds and Whey, that isn't what Cana named them, it is just what I tended to call them, anyway, they were usually agreeable but they would get sidetracked easily. Whey liked to lick my hair, like Brute does, giving me a unique up do on the side. She never seemed to mind my snort and hurried rub, to try and paste it back down. She was patient, when I got through she would fix it again. Curds had something to say about everything. It was either a squeal, a chirp, a wheeze or a whinny as his two cents worth especially when he was trying to root through my pockets for treats. Mind you, I don't have any pockets so that made for some wide-eyed moments and a swat followed by an immediate ...'cut that out!' Wager was the most affectionate of the bunch, she liked having that little indention beneath her ear rubbed. Leaning into my hand would sort of veer our direction a time or two and I could have sworn that she almost thumped her hind claws. Wager was the collector of most of my secrets. Who would she tell? Cana already knew most of them, not all but definitely the majority.
Two of the other colts have just gotten their rings. The rest of the kaiila seem so proud of them, even if they are still a bit haughty about it.

Touchtable

It is in the early part of the mornings I savor that place between awake and asleep. Drowsed smiles linger on my lips for as long as I can wring an ihn out of it. It is the part of the day when my surroundings affect me more significantly than others. That is the time I feel most feminine, most affectionate, most ... everything including sensual. Breathing in the crispness of the morning air, feeling the caress of the first real stirrings of a breeze only to have the touch of the central fire warm my skin brings one of those long indulgent sighs. In the reflection of the stream, I took a moment for self assessment. At first I barely recognized the image I saw there.

Not quite the porcelain doll that I came here as. I'd taken on a honey coated glaze like a California girl from the warm days of the summer all the way down to the sun bleached platinum of my blonde hair. The shock white streak was no longer as noticeable though it had taken on a silvery hue.

I knew women once that would pay fortunes to have the chisel that came naturally here from the hard work and day to day living. No way was the kalmak raven first made for me going to fit now, not even if I added a strip all the way from swell to swell although I still ran my fingers over it now and then with a reverence for all that it could have brought out within me. My hands had what my grandmother called character. They spoke of knowing the feel of the world around me, the nails no longer the delicate smooth cresents but a slight taloned curve. Useful, purposeful. It wasn't a childlike waif that returned my gaze from the surface of the stream but a beautiful, self assured woman, one that was relishing the life she led, one that still had a lifetime ahead of her. All in all, what I saw wasn't so bad. At least I don't think it was.

I had begun to create structured routines that provided a frame for me. It was perhaps the one good thing I could remember of my father, the strict adherance to organization. It was where I functioned best, having parameters that were clear cut, unchangeable ... a solid foundation. Now where the lines in the sand were unclear, the habits helped stabilize. It gave me a feeling of being able to stretch out, unfurl, grow. Those parameters may be as wide as the plains but knowing that they were there was comfortable.

Early mornings were my time. I usually spend the time out among the herds gathering dung or fetching water away from everyone else. Not thinking, not creating a vortex of jumbled concepts, just waking, just savoring the sights of the bosk, the grass and watching the sky for sign of what the rest of day held. Sometimes opportunity would offer a chance for blackwine at the fires with those closest to me. I think I savor those times most. The bantering would often set the tone of the day, the laughter and the smiles or pondering some philosophy of the stars and the bosk that would continue on to the next task at hand what ever it may be.

This time when I touched the surface of the water, the ripples it created no longer distorted the image I could see.

Double or nothing

Everyone knows that wagering with a slave is sheer sport. There is nothing she can bet that could not be had for the simple command of giving it, so it had been purely for entertainment that Keska had taken my challenge. I'd not prayed to my God since coming here, rather adapting to the concepts of the Sky, wind and grass of my people but I did whisper a request for luck from ... something.

It was a race, a lizard race that we had anted up for. Pretty much like an armored gatch marathon only using prairie lizards instead. The rules? No rules, just the first across the finish line to be the winner. As soon as the reptiles were set on the line, Keska's took off like a flash, mine was licking the air to see what little tasties were near by. I waited for what felt like an eternity and his racer was half way down the track before I bent over and snagged the creature up by its midsection and winged him like a frizbee over the line carved in the dirt.

Now this did not settle well with him and he was screetching about that not being fair but the other men reminded him that he agreed, no rules. I was the proud new owner of a saddle. Now it wasn't the finest saddle among the harriga, in fact it so direly needed repairs that he never really felt he was losing anything. Still he wanted justice for such a blatant display of trickery.

Double or nothing .. alright then, line 'em up again.

No rules?

No rules.

Both lizards were settled in on the starting line and turned loose. There was new found pride as mine tore off in a more hurried attempt to make it to the end. Guess his last flying lesson had ... encouraged him. I waited, watching Keska this time. Sure enough he bent to pick up the critter thinking he was going to sail him over the far end as I had. I had to cover my mouth to hide my merriment when he stood holding nothing more than the tail, still wriggling in his grasp. The look on his face was priceless and it got even better when my lizard sort of wandered over the finish line then flicked that forked tongue in the air in lazy triumph. I now had some rusty old tack and a frayed blanket to go with it.

I was still trying to still my racing heart as I gathered everything up and began hauling it back to the supply wagon I slept under. It was a start.