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.