Stretch and ...

Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of live and the seeds of change were planted
Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous but
I took a heavenly ride through one silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life
I took a heavenly ride trough our silence
I knew the waiting had begun
And headed straight... into the shining sun

Pink Floyd

It is time to stretch and .... Come to Life

Thus begins the third journal for the little golden larl.
Plains Dreaming

Sweet Skies

When you feel so close to some resolve,
You say the things that you're standing for,
Don't let your courage get dissolved,
'Cause it's then that the fear grows,
And you've got to find your balance,
You've got to realize,
You've got to try to find
what's right before your eyes, oh.
And if you find you're fallin',
And all your grace is gone,
Just scream for me and
I'll be what you're falling on
~Finger Eleven


I had hoped the dark recesses of my favored haunt would hold some answers for my fevered mind the following night. No matter how many pebbles I tossed over the bank into the darkness below, the plunk sound of their landings offered nothing in return but the notion they created ripples on the surface. The songs regardless of how softly I sang them held no soothing. Over the ahn I had turned my face up to the stars that were visible through the clouds ... searching ... for something when I heard the unmistakable scritch of taloned claws against stone. This was not the soft foot falls of one of the women but of a rider.

Adrenaline pumped through my bloodstream with a distinct headiness and I began reaching down my shin into the side of my boot where the bone dagger was hidden. Trying to find focus of the shadowed silhouette, my song faded lightly then began to change to a delicate lull like a serenade. I judged the distance back to the camp wondering if I could sprint that far, fast enough to evade whoever it was that was approaching. When I looked back, the light of the moons found grace enough to illuminate the warrior. I felt like a voyeur on a personal moment as he lifted his face to the sky. He spoke prayers in silence and I wondered for that moment if they had been anything similar to my own. There was no hurry to his movements while he turned those dark hues down to the water simply watching the ripples that my tiny stones had made. It was as if they reached out for him.

How was it that this vision could wash away the pain and anger as if it had never happened? How was it that I could forgive the hurt and fill the air with some whimsical tune in a matter of ihns? His settlement along the small outcrop of rock next to me meant that I had to shift forward to make room. We spoke for a bit of songs and the stars and if I wished on them that night as I usually do. His mount held my interest for a few moments and I asked what its name was. He never did truly answer. Instead he told me to ask the creature. I was put out that it had no response to my obvious charms but it was merely a matter of getting to know me. I was sure of that.

I should have risen and left even when he pointed out that it would not have appeared proper should someone happen by. There would be many things when this night was over that I could look back and say .. I should have this or that ... but I stayed because it was where I wanted to be. It had been my hand that breached the distance to touch his chest .. no matter how innocent the act had been meant. When he drew me closer I was certain that he would hear the roar that was deafening my ears. I tried to say something but it came out more like the sound of a child .. he had made us closer. I needed distance, I needed air. Would I like to get closer? I pulled away so that when he let go his hold, I fell flat on my bottom at the edge of the embankment.

I studied his hand when I drew it away from my cheek. It was laden with the evidence of a man that does not shun his responsibilities, that is no stranger to pulling his share within the Tribe. How fair and small mine seemed against it? Touching the creases with my fingertips, I was already putting all of this night to my memory. I flung his hand back to his lap while I scathed him for wishing nothing more than to sate his curiosity of a barbarian .. that it was not because he cared for me. How much closer he came as his breath washed over my features ... he was curious, yes, ... curious of every part of me. He didn't find this a bad thing. All that I could say came in my own half whisper was that I too was curious of him and didn't feel it was a bad thing either. Why did my head translate that he meant my heart and mind? A rake of his cheek roughly against mine set it afire with heat.

When he stood and turned away, I tried to find my footing and stand up as well. I was much too close to the edge by then and I felt the sand crumble beneath my boots. What a silly sight I had to have been with my arms flailing the air until my bottom made contact with the stream bed below. Was there a moment of altered deja vu? I have to hand it to the warrior. He went all heroic on me and jumped in to save me. I felt light as a feather as those arms circled around my waist and snatched me up from that icy chill. Leather against leather straining in every humanly possible meld ... that nearness was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Not how either of us would have wished the moment though perhaps we both needed an icy bath.

It was then my hand ceased removal of the stray droplets that had dotted my face and was left covering my mouth ... spellbound. I studied his features, his scars, the lines of his jaw and his eyes. Ohhh ... those eyes. I heard him speak of thirst as they came closer and I felt the warmth of his mouth touch against mine. Reaching up to trace the cool of my fingers along his cheek, there was nothing that would have prevented my response. My breath filled his lungs so that I stood there totally breathless. Go ... protect our people .. the words came out in a rasp that galled my parched throat. As his head lifted once more to the sky, the echo of his voice felt like a rumble against my chest though it could not have been more than a whisper ... Sweet Skies. It was the same prayer that swelled within me.

With one heft, he took us both up the bank to more solid and definitely dryer footing. Should he leave me on the shore or see me home safely? I didn't trust either of us at the moment to continue a level head. I would walk. Harta ... Go before I follow you. The tang of his voice wasn't what raced the soaked boots across the path. It was trying to outrun the sound of my pulse.

Within the sanctum and privacy of my wagon once more, the agonies were crouched ready to consume me. I could blame no one by my own self for any of this night. The leather clung to me like a shroud making the peeling away of the wet layers like rending away my own flesh until at last I stood in the puddle left of the stream's embrace ... shivering. How could I have let any of this happen? What kind of friend was I? The oddity of it all was that once I curled beneath my furs ... I slept soundly.

Wounds

It only hurts for a little while
That's what they tell me
that's what they say
Oh it only hurts for a little while
Then all your heartaches
will pass away
It's so easy to be smart
with somebody else's heart
But I don't know how
to start forgetting.
What can I do?
~Margo Smith

There was much that tangled in my thoughts as I strolled the stream bed. My hands plucked busily at reeds to make green baskets out of. While they would have little strength once they dried, the suppleness would be flexible enough to hold and carry the meats that would be arriving until they could be seasoned.

Had the topics that sleen brought up disturbed me or had they simply stoked a smoldering that hadn't yet gone out? These were only a portion of the things that trailed lazily in my head. Tonight I felt a deep loneliness. Even the lizard on the stays of my wagon had ambled off in search of someone to keep him company. The sound of boot falls turned my focus to its origin just as the quiet voice reassured me of who it was. I was glad to see Cana and soon we perched against a rock to begin pulling the stringed ridges off the side of the reeds. It seemed sleep would be illusive for both of us that night.

Do you know how hard it is to keep an excited Momma calm while waiting for her baby boy to return? Ba'atar had not returned with Tug and the ahn was growing late. While we talked of the wound the man had acquired my hands kept the steady rhythm of weaving the greenery. I knew her concerns of re-mating, how she worried that a man would feel her cursed. My answer was bosk dung. She was young and vital and any man worth his salt would value a woman that could be trusted to see his heirs raised in the proper ways even without him. I did put in a good voucher for that arrogant singer while I was at it.

The night air had a chill to it so we traded a few recipes while we walked back to the fires. A warm bowl of spiced milk might be just the thing for the mother to be. I'd been planning on making some of those honey nut tarts I had made long ago. When I told her I hadn't seen any hives in this region even though I knew it was best to harvest the thick amber nectar in the autumn, she offered some of the honey she had stored. Come to think of it, Palla might still have a few jars left over too. I'd started a kettle of blackwine and stirred the stew for the returning hunters.

Now no one can really mistake Ba'atar's voice but I did have to tease my friend a bit when she said she heard a noise. Probably the new paga brewer and his girls. By the time Tug made it to his mother, the fires were ablaze with laughter, insolent boasts and the gruffed calls for something to eat and drink by the mighty providers. Winds, I felt for the leader of this mop top band when Cana spotted the scratch on Tug's arm. I figured I'd get him and the boys a last meal before the boots started flying. I tried to convince Ba'atar to let me see to that wound as well but I turned down the deal of peek for peek. It only made things worse when the smallest of the bunch muttered something about nagging wenches.

It never dawned on me that she would see the sleepy boy to his wagon, leaving me with that arrogant warrior. I mean it should have but it didn't until I was left there talking to him. I admired his abilities with children. I didn't come from a large family but I do enjoy watching them. I suppose it was idle conversation until Cana returned but he asked where I was from. Beyond the stars wasn't quite enough answer .. yep .. further away than Turia. My origins seemed to shock the man completely from the expression on his face. Then came that ... look when he realized I was barbarian. Stripped, chained, rung with steel in the fraction of an ehn all crossed his features without any holding back. Stand, turn around .. with the gestures to match. All of it the same as 'display'. Freewomen by the laws of the tribe must obey reasonable commands of Tribe Warrior so no matter how humiliating it was I did as he requested. All the while he spoke just as easily of what his thoughts were. He'd never seen a barbarian freed ... why? How did this happen? The explanation of how I had arrived in a caravan and was eventually freed by the Ubar did nothing to satisfy his curiosities. Still the question .. why? His words scalded as he said without any refrain that he could see the contrast of my skin lain against his furs. Was I marked? NO? Pity.

For a moment or two it was almost amusing that he was shocked then it became all too sobering as his words carved deep. Was I different than other women born of the tribe? Did I taste different? I threw it all back at him .. I hadn't tasted any of them so I was no judge ... why didn't he go taste the other women and let me know what flavor they were then I could tell him if there were any differences. I should have given him a bigger bowl of stew and perhaps he wouldn't still be so hungry and the Kataii slave he ordered to his furs was not going to count. I was bordering on furious now. He said he would only if he could taste me to know. My fury had taken on that deadly feel of laughter by then hissing that .. THAT would come only after the song he promised. Damn damn .. he said .. it was a deal.

I am not barbarian anymore. I am Tuchuk and though The Tuchuk are not afraid of their emotions .. I was not about to let him see how terribly deep he had hurt me.

Recipes

"The Sharing Song"

It's always more fun
To share with everyone
If you have two
Give one to your friend
If you have three
Give one to your friend and me
It's always more fun
To share with everyone

It was a wonderful morning ... one that just put some umph in your step and a song on the tip of your tongue. Cana had let me borrow some tack after mine broke some time back, but I couldn't wait any longer for Jaella to make the fancy fixings she had promised. Rusty helped me find a new leather smith, Oney. He had listened to my needs carefully and what he created had been more than perfect. He had tailored the abetta styling to work just as well for cutting as well as the comfort of a long ride. When the delivery was made of the new gear, I ran my hand over the finish many times admiring the double drop dee, twelve hort roughout, high cantle as well as the intricately stitched skirts and fenders. I could not have been happier.

When I ran across blue at the main fires, it just made the smile that much brighter but not even the worry lines along her pretty face was going to dampen the morning. She wanted to know and I believe it was truly a heartfelt concern ... if I was alright. It took a bit before I understood why. I could assure her I was ... honestly. Even now I could not put my own emotions before his. I'd seen long ago what others were just beginning to. But yes, I really was doing well.

In fact, I was on a recipe gathering mission. How best to help out my friend? I admit I am new to this match making stuff, it is by no means as easy as it looks. Mistake One was asking sleen for a recipe for seasoning meat. She offered a choice .. sensual and spicy. You have no idea how quickly that went spiraling off to erotic unuendos that to sleen were anything but ... inuendos. Her questions of why I wanted the recipes in the first place mentioned that arrogant Tuchuk singer and somehow lost Cana's part in the whole thing.

I'm in no hurry but it did feel good to think about just what it was I would want of my own special someone. The obvious was rattled off first. He would like children ... maybe a lot of them. He would enjoy singing and of course he would have to enjoy riding. He and the skies would be at peace with each other and he had to like me just the way I am. sleen said it sounded like I liked him and that I should lock it down. Him? Him who? Ohhhh .. him. He's not without interest. It would be a few days before I realized that Mistake Two was trying to fix up your best friend with someone you might sort of like. We won't even go into the discussion with sleen about knocking on the back of the wagon. An icy dip in the stream sounded really really good afterwards. I am going to have to quit talking to that girl.

There was more than one reason that I was glad to see Tarra when she arrived. When she heard of what the topics had been, she got that amused gleam in her eye and I was grateful that she simply added a recipe or two of her own. Real ones. I, in the meantime, fell once more to the charms of that tiny green eyed warrior. It touched me deeply when she said that like Cana and her son Arkus, Wit had adopted me as a second mother. I told her why those eyes captured me and held me so, someone that I had loved deeply had eyes that same color. But as far as being a potential intended .. I still think Patch laid first real claim. Speaking of claim though, Wit grasped hold of sleen's hair with as much possesiveness as a full grown warrior would. Without saying a word he had made her his.

As Tarra and I continued to talk, we spoke of how Garyx was healing. I didn't realize that others had been injured as well, Ba'atar being one of them. I offered to help with the skins that Kam and Chay brought back since she didn't need any of the meat I was going to send. Looks like I would be quite busy in the next hand. It made me think too of how intertwined we all are. We spoke of those that have left the Tribe and the wish that they hadn't. It prompted me to add something else to my little list ... I do not ever want to leave the plains and the man that decides he wishes me must feel the same. I think it was a pretty good recipe the woman gave me about life. She said when a man wants a woman he will let her know how he feels as well as that there must always be communication and trust and honesty for any relationship to grow and flourish. I don't even think those need any seasoning to them. They had enough flavor just the way they were.

There are recipes for success, recipes for disasters and recipes for life too. The best ones have tattered edges because they are shared.

What are friends for?

Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

Kahlil Gibran

I ventured to the fires the following eve to find Cana steeped in conversation with none other than the bosk singer. She grows quiet and the next thing I knew he and I fell into this easy conversation. Part was about my cooking. Who told him I could cook anyway? Part was of a typically arrogant Tuchuk ... him. Did I find him amusing? Well amusing wasn't the term I would have used. I said he was not without interest. Pressed about the point I was asked to expand my train of thought. I do find his love for children refreshing, most I've met are skittish over the idea. Then there was his singing and playing the drum ... back up here .. he said we liked two of the three parts for children right there. Alright so I felt very blonde for a moment before it hit me what he meant. I tried for a nice cover by switching the topic back to music ... he could play the drum, Cana could play her flute and I .. could listen. No deal ... I would have to sing too. A song about the bosk. It would have to be another night, Cana was heading for her wagon.

Before she left, Ba'atar offered to take Tug hunting the following day along with his own brothers. He then volunteered me to help Cana season what he brought back. What a delightful friend hmm? Truth was that I felt very honored. I would add some of the meat that Vao and Me Too returned with as well as what Ebet owed me from our wager to Cana and Tarra's stores. They had given me so much and it would be nice to be able to give something in return.

As the man was leaving I asked if he would sing to the bosk that night. He said he did when he found himself in the herds but he would sing for me if I would sing for him. It felt good to tease him that he should listen better ... I already had but he needed to stay safe so that I could hear his song.

I do believe he stammered a bit when he said he would.

I think he might make a good match for Cana. Perhaps I will ply my hand to helping that along.

The skin you're in

No I don't claim to be a wiseman
A poet or a saint
I'm just another man who's searching
For a better way
But my heart beats loud as thunder
For the things that I believe
Sometimes I wanna run for cover
Sometimes I want to scream
Bang a drum for tomorrow
Bang a drum for the past
Bang a drum for the heroes
That won't come back
Bang a drum for the promise
Bang a drum for the lies
Bang a drum for the lovers
And the tears they've cried
Bang a drum bang it loudly
Or as soft as you need
But as long as my heart keeps on bangin'
I got a reason to believe
~Bon Jovi


Returning to the harigga, I had to trust that Papa Kur would be alright when he veered away to get a handle on the emotions of having lost a grandson. I had to offer the same trust to Garyx as he tucked Tarra into the crook of his arm and led her back to their wagons. I have no experience with the emotion of having lost a child but knew in my heart it had to have been devastating to each of them. I felt so helpless, so unable to offer anything that could soothe any of them. My treds still leadened as I followed Cana and Falon back to the main fires.

I didn't argue with Cana over a bowl of blackwine, I just got up and got it for her. She deserved it. I tried to talk of the future. I think she was trying as well. I'd told her that I would cook for her and her family for the next hand or so but she told me that soon she would lean on me to take care of the kaiila when she would not be as able. I had to chuckle as Ba'atar ... that is the singer I mentioned from the pyre, burled in, demanding to know where his food was. And Falon bless her heart was there to see a massive bowl delivered, personally.

As the night grew long, the variety of amusing topics had left us all, half holding our sides with laughter. 'Hands on skin' meant the touch to the surface of a drum but it took on altogether new meanings as it spiraled around the circle. So did meat hunting and just who was seasoned enough to be mating material. Ba'atar is actually planning to be mated in the spring and was being open to the matchmaking or maybe that was dripping with sarcasm and I just missed it. Polunu volunteered me in that mix to which I promptly confided that I was far too scrawny hipped to be considered 'seasoned' enough. I don't know if I am confident enough to be tossed into that fray just yet. I might not be alone there from the way several of us fidgetted afterwards. The singer did make sure we were all fed well and for some reason that meant something to me.

When the night grew cool, the pent up grief the women felt finally burst the dam and flowed in rich sobs into the air. It wrenched them both so deeply ... Cana and Falon, that their bodies heaved to be rid of it. It hurt to watch them knowing I had no words, I had nothing clever or wise to offer to them and my gaze sought Ba'atar. There was pleading in them for him to do something, say something ... damn it !!!! ... fix it ... make everything alright. He became my hero in that one moment as the silken baritone began to speak almost like one of his songs. He said they knew this time was coming and not to shed tears past tomorrow. How simply put that was and how effective it seemed to be. I'm not sure why but I myself began to feel a little more comfortable in my skin.

Before he left, I told him thank you for the song he had offered to the skies for Loch. He believed that it was not his song but that it belonged to Loch ... he had simply given it to him. Then he goes and says there was a whole lot of hugging and kissing when we women bid our farewells to each for the night and not a single one of them was for him. I told him that was what he got for walking away.

I'm one to talk. I ended up walking down to the stream. It had become habit again to stroll there and watch the stars. It was always there, that I would close my eyes, wishing upon them and singing soft lullabies to something or someone, somewhere ... for a different kind of dream. This night when I closed my eyes and began to sing ... I could see the skin of the drum ... watching as it resonated with every beat ... only I didn't cover my ears trying not to hear it.

Smoke

Clear blue skies, not too much to ask for,
They were here before we came,
Will they be here when we're gone?
Clean water, not too much to hope for,
It's the basis of our lives
And without it we are done.
Well we can keep our eyes upon the skies
And see how the time goes by
Or we can find our fears among the tears
That fall when the meadows cry, cry cry.
Well we can keep our eyes upon the skies
And see how the time goes by
Or we can find our fears among the tears
That fall when the meadow cries.
Clear ideas, much too much to think of.
We need all the help we can get
(And I know) we need all the time that we've got
(And I know) we need all the love we can give,
It will be here when we're gone (clear blue skies)

Written By Graham Nash

The lines of people and kaiila wove from the encampment to the pyre like streamers. There were so many who came wishing to celebrate the life of a good warrior, that it tugged at the heart and stung the eyes. He had been a man who had touched the lives of his people, whether it was in giving his own for their protection or offered some of his own strengths to those around or even taking in a stray wisp like me and making me feel at home among his fires.

Gifts for the fallen warrior soon began to pile upon the bier, trinkets for him to take with him to the skies. The women who loved him stood proud and tall shouldered even in their grief. The men in his command held a noble bearing as they offered their respects. It was perhaps Papa Kur that affected me most as he rode forward with lance raised in one hand and saber aloft in the other, his voice rumbling across the plains carrying to the horizon and beyond ...

HEAR ME, O GREAT SKY....ANOTHER WARRIOR COMES TO RIDE WITH YOU ... WELCOME HIM ... I AM KAMCHAK, AND THIS IS MY GRANDSON LOCHLAN ... LET HIS ENEMIES BEWARE FOR HE COMES TO RIDE ONCE AGAIN ...

A singer came forward to offer a wonderful gift of song and the sound of Lochlan's father's drum. It was mesmerizing to hear and I found that my feet could not remain still. Most gathered were so stoic, so reserved and yet I felt the joys, of his having lived such a fiercely passionate life, want to break loose within me. I wanted to sing ... to sing at the top of my lungs and dance ... dance like I have never danced before, simply in honor and in celebration. There were others who offered song, who offered dance, who offered the words that exposed the depths of their hearts.

In my own way I wanted this to be a celebration for Edmund too, to know that even though the battlefield had taken him, that his life had been cherished and proclaimed throughout the galaxy as having been glorious. By the time the smoke reached the clouds there was not a dry eye to be found along the plains.

As the crowds began to dwindle away, I stepped close enough to let a small scrimshawed kaiila talon drop from my fingers into the flames. On the smooth grayed surface, I'd carved an image of the rolling plains, the stream, and the sky. Ride on well Warrior.

Tears were left untouched along my cheeks just as the others had. Tears of pride and joy, tears of grief for those left here to carry on, tears of passion for the life we lived ... together.

So much and not enough ...

All these things
I don't understand
lost, alone and frightened
in a promised land
won't you ...
please ....
rescue me
Worlds away
from my home
despite the wonders
I feel this fury
like the weight of
the sentence
from the hangman's jury
It feels like
I'm standing in a desert
filled with shifting sand
wishing there were someone
offering a saving hand
Worlds away
from my home
Can't shake this feeling
I'm undone
Find me here
I'm begging you
Won't you
won't you
please
rescue me
~ hers From Lost in a Promised Land

Drums ... they seemed to pound in echoes for days and days afterward. They carried messages that filled my heart with joy and rent it into pieces, all in serpentine waves. I had begun to be grateful for the numbness that the passing of Saccha had brought. Once, a part of those messages could have driven me to my knees ... could have thrown my face into the dirt trying to drag in the grass over me. It still ached a little finding out that he had taken the slave to be his mate. No matter how many times I walked across the harigga it would not change that he would not be there with welcoming arms. I knew it somewhere inside and slowly had given up any hope for it to be any different. I'd spent almost a season lathering balms to the aches in my soul and knew it was at last beginning to heal. I wanted to be happy for them. I wanted to be happy for them as I was for Aiyana and Polunu.

I began to hold on to the things that brought a smile. The aroma of blackwine and roast meat that blue had left at my wagon. Would she realize that it would be part of the grace that kept me going? The swirl of Vao's arm about my waist pulling me off my feet just to say Tal. In the same breath he was telling me that he and Ebet were taking First Son and Me Too hunting within the next few days. A bittersweet feel to the news. I would worry as I am so good at doing but it would fill the stores with meat and the men would return with pride of their prowess. The births of new kaiila, so healthy and vital and the sight of them as they took their first bits of sustenance stoked that nurturing I kept hidden much of the time.

Still the drums continued.

There was so much happening around me. Nothing seemed to focus. Not even when I looked up into the shadows past Cana, feeling as if more than one pair of eyes peered back. It was one of those moments that I could play what if all day long with later. It would not change what was to happen. Hadn't I learned this? I made believe the odd sensations were just part of the flux I was going through. Instead I shoved it aside along with the worry of Zestra ... the full bellied mare that had been one of Holo's conquests. I still held my breath for her. Her time was not going to be an easy one, but I was pleased that other births had gone so well for three of the other mares.

When the drums began to sound once more, I felt an ache that was not my own. The message was of the man who had taken me in among his wagons much like a brother ... the news of Lochlan's passing stopped me dead in my tracks. I felt the instantaneous clutch at my heart for each of them .. For Cana and Falon, for Papa Kur, for Tarra. I tried running toward the harigga and found I simply couldn't.

A part of me wanted to cover my ears with the flat of my forearms unable to listen any more to what they spoke of.

Twenty Ahns

Warning - This piece may disturb the delicate sensibilities of some. It may not be Tuchuk, it may not be Gorean but I can assure you ... it was very real. Please continue only at your will.

Save yourself a penny for the ferryman
Save yourself and let them suffer
In hope
In love
Mankind works in mysterious ways
~Nightwish

We are led to believe that the sound of a death rattle means that times is at an end. We are led to believe that the hardening of rigor mortis comes only after the last breath. We are led to believe many things that are not the complete truth.


I didn't question why Lorag had come for me. I simply slid my feet into my boots and slipped from my wagon. I remembered taking care of Saccha from the time of the storms. I remembered the tales of her broken family. I followed as her estranged son led the way to his mother's wagon without a word.

The seriousness of her condition was evident when I walked into her wagon. Death eminent. It was what the elder healer, Rakell, said quietly as I approached but the redundance of her words threw me a little. It was evident the stroke had left the old woman's mouth gaping open and her breaths so labored were simply an automatic response now ... one that heaved the frail body off the furs with each intake. It was evident in the colorations of Saccha's skin that was becoming mottled to a rich purple darkness then fading into a delicate blue as it crept over her body ... stiffening the extremities as it passed. She was caught half between this world and the next in some nightmarish limbo. Tangled in her tenacious will to survive, she could no longer release herself to find the peace of beyond.

Her family, so steeped in themselves and their own grief with hand wringing, wailing, and high pitched keening that they were oblivious to the old woman herself. For a while I tried to speak to them ...'Talk to her. It does not matter what you say just reach out to her. Tell her the things you need her to know, tell her the things she needs to hear.' But it was as if the three of us .. Saccha, the elder healer and I were within a glass bell, they could not breach. They came and went in a blur as if time did not correspond to their presence. I could hear them screeching that I did not belong here ... I was not family. They were screeching at each other in vile accusations even as they stood over her half lifeless form.

Without reacting to them, I spoke low against Saccha's ear. I spoke of her son at the foot of her furs, lettng her know that he was there. I spoke of her grandsons, Selim and Jorick, one at each hand. I spoke of her great grandchildren, naming each of them for her ... those that she had accepted and those that she had never acknowledged. I told her to behold her legacy. It almost startled me when she became animated, her arms and hands clawing the air and the dark eyes turned to me .. wide open, glassy in their stare and her tongue moved, hissing air over it to form sound. It was an ancient language that I did not remember ever hearing before. My mind did not comprehend her words but somewhere deeper inside I understood. Then she went still again except for the rasp of breath that still shook her.

Finally, the healer turned to me, telling me of what needed to be done. We began to bathe her in sweet oils and dress her. I moistened a sponge dotted in water to soothe over the parched dry lips and the swelling of her tongue. For a few ahns she would suckle at the dampness, then even this no longer reached her. Rakell reached for my hands and caught my gaze with her own. It was time to offer mercy, for both Saccha and for her family. I wanted to drag my hands away. I wanted to jump up and run .. run as far from this moment as I could ... and keep going ... but I didn't. I felt the sting of tears behind my lashes but they never fell. Not even when I helped Rakell move the old woman into the position that would trim the days of agony to mere ahns. It would shorten the suffering and bring the final peace. Those frail arms and legs so stiff and brittle, I prayed that they would not break by just the roll of the fur we used to move her.

I was there right beside her the entire time, I was there for the twenty ahns that it took Saccha to let go of this world. There was a gentle smile as I watched the last long sigh escape as if she might have found contentment. The wisp of mist rising to swirl about the inside of the wagon ... peering into the sleeping faces of each one of her family before turning to look at me. All I could do was offer a genteel nod of my head that it was going to be alright ... they ... were going to be alright and then she was gone.


For Norell May 17, 1920 - February 20, 2008

We can be friends

I'd just settled in on a set of wagon steps with my steaming bowl held like a prized possesion when Ramza began rummaging around the serving wagon for his evening paga. There was the usual banter of how are you's when I just blurted out the question of what was his favorite color. Now why is it that a Tuchuk cannot answer a question without asking a question? Why? Paint ... I was asking about what color his hand print should be. We spoke the same thing at the same time. He said brown or orange and I said he reminded me of an autumn leaf.

When he asked if I wanted to stop by that place we found I had to smile and tell him yes, I would like that very much. When he refilled his bowl he returned to sit on the step below where I was sitting. Oh yes, then I began to tease him terribly .. maybe we should bring Falon along, and maybe Aiyana and Akasha too. I was making a nice long list of folks to invite when he turned on me with a half close of one eye. Was I trying to set him up? What a delightful idea! Did he need to be? Cana and Tarra were excellent at that .. I could ask them to go with us. We were simply laughing by then when he got a bit more serious and said that he was good for now and I told him quietly that I was too.

The subject changed as I asked about how to teach a hot tempered boy not to be hot tempered without making him all girly. He said that was a question to ask one of the other women. So much for getting a male slant on things and the topic went to kaiila. Now that I can talk about all day. I was explaining about the different manuevers because Fonce had put a beast down because it didn't turn well enough to keep him from geting injured. I didn't want to see that happen again. I did offer to train Dracko but he said that he was good and they trusted each other. That was important. I ... didn't want to see him hurt either.

You could have bowled me over with a feather when he got up and took my bowl with him to refill when he got more paga. I guess I was still staring at him when he handed it back. What was wrong? Um ... err ... I blurted out that there wasn't anything 'wrong', I liked talking to him. He seemed pleased enough and said ... good .. he was a good listener. I could talk to him any time I wished. I was just about to accept that when he reached up to caress my hair. There I went again, bowing up all huffy, swatting his hand and telling him he could always come talk to me as well ... but ... not if he did that. I admitted that it was nice. It was enjoyable. But it wasn't right. He had this boyish little grin as he drew his hand back and said he knew .. he was being bad.

Damn right he was .. bad sleen ... no cookie.

I still laughing when I went back to the pens.

When you meet a Kur

After I saw the kaiila brushed and returned to the pens, it was a bowl of hot blackwine that would be the perfect end to a decent day. I saw him sitting there and all of the wind let out of my sails. It would be the first time we met since I became free and of all the entire harigga ... I realized in that one moment his thoughts mattered greatly to me. No matter how many times I may have envisioned it all, it was not as easy as I wanted. Everything I did just seemed ... not the right thing ... at the right time. Do you know that feeling ... when you want something more than anything to go right that you make it go all wrong?

How amused he must have been watching me flush with the vulnerability of the occasion. How he must have laughed aloud inside to see such a wisp of a woman bow up like a spit fire ready to take on the elder over a bowl of blackwine. It was like the flutter of a peregrine's wings as it settles once more to the gauntlet. All fluster and show before the wings are folded in again to still. I offered to get him a bowl while I was up getting mine but if he was going to get that sappy look in his eyes and visualize me at his feet wearing nothing but a kalmak and chatka then he could just get his own brew. It was a simple soothing of feathers as he told me I didn't have to be defensive. It was natural to still think of that sometimes but I'd been free ... how long ....versus being slave for far longer. It was merely a learning period .. that's all.

In my thoughts and I suppose in my heart I call him Papa Kur and told him so. Now that did make him laugh heartily. Was he that bad? Well the Turians have a different name for him and he added that slaves have another ... the free have many they call him. I watched as he rose to stand in front of me. It was like looking up at a massive wall to study the line of his scars, his features, those eyes that could look deeper than any I have ever known.

The words he spoke would remain with me through all that I face in the future ... he was there, that I could always come to talk with him if I needed to. It was the first time anyone had said that and I truly felt as if they meant it. Then he leaned in closer to press a paternal kiss to my forehead and in a voice that was calming and soothing he said

... just remember to breathe.

Legendary Journeys

And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth. Also he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated from off the face of the ground. But the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot ...


Following the natural terrain of the stream, I worked Keah in tightly woven criss crosses, close to the bramble and bush. He is smaller, sleeker than most of the cutting kaiila and built for speed and agility which makes him perfect to train in the new manuevers. The work out itself traveled the ascent and declines of the ravines. That was how I happened upon Fonce. I felt excitement as I spoke of the new training and expressed hope he would try out the creature's skills. When he said he would seek Keah out, I was quick to add that there was a difference in how this one moves and if you are not one with him then he will leave your duff in the dust.

It was nice to simply talk with him of kaiila, of being a new prospect, of life and of being friends. We have grown a great deal in a short time and still have a lifetime to go. His curiosity matches my own. Conceptuals of what is not easily tangible is where we disagree or seemed to lose the other. This time I wanted to find a way to span that gap. It would be with the use of slight of hand that I tried to impress my understanding of why we do not see some things, at least not at first. It bothered me that he had asked once again about my not seeing what I once had. It is hard to remember that he is not being cruel but honestly wants to understand. Just as I had to ask him to look past the anger ... I had to look past the pain. I did tell him that being hard-headed makes you half blind to a lot of the world. Arrogant Tuchuk thought I was talking about him.

They say a friend is someone that knows all there is to know about you and likes you anyway and love is when you can stand with your soul bared and share with another. So how do you explain this connection we have? We know so little of the other and at times can find no words to communicate. He said it best ... there are many things about he and I and how we work that we do not understand and may never understand. For the first time neither of us questioned that but began to trust that it just was. Even when he brought up the past, I had to rein in my own hurt and anger .. it was something that we both would have to learn .. trust.

I don't have all the answers but I do keep trying to find them. That is where we are much alike ... too much at times. It isn't so bad being like him, that means he is a lot like me. I think there is hope we will survive this lifetime and teased him with a wager. With my hand held up against the horizon as if it were cupped there so that the clouds and the sky rested in my palm, I told him I believed that the future was right there if we looked. I would race him there in our lifetime and share what we learn. Could he leave it as simple as all that? You don't know him well if you thought so. He upped the ante, that it would include the good as well as the bad ... his words not mine.

When I left I felt good that we had talked but there were some things bothering me beneath it all. First, I wondered if he understood that sharing everything meant that he had to face ... all ... just as he expected of me. Second, he still blanches each time I mention dreams. And lastly, that he still did not seem happy. Wasn't that the whole reason I had left in the first place ... so that the vision of his happiness could come true?

What I do know is that that race to the horizon and beyond will be a legendary journey.


What is a Friend?

A friend is
Someone who cares about you,
Someone who likes you just the way you are.

A friend is
Someone who does things with you,
Someone who keeps your secrets.

A friend is
Someone who sometimes gets angry with you,
Someone who might hurt your feelings sometimes
even when they don’t mean to.

A friend is
Someone who comforts you when you’re sad,
Someone who laughs with you when you’re happy.

A friend is
Someone who wants to be with you,
Someone who enjoys your company.

A friend is
Someone you’ll remember always
Even when they grow up and move away.

A friend is
Someone who is loyal and says good things about you,
Someone who gets mad if someone else is mean to you.

A friend is
A link to someone’s humanity like food for the soul to share,
Someone to hold onto when life’s follies bring despair.

A friend is
F-frank, R-righteous, I-intrepid, E-earnest, N-noble, D-decent

A friend is a friend—always!

Outside the Inside

When Ramza and I found that floral meadow on the drive north and first began talking, he had shared a story with me that I still remember fondly. He told me the inspiration for the murial he had inside his wagon. In turn I told him what I would put on the inside of mine. It was a what if .. way back then but it had stuck with me and begun to take shape and even shift in its shape until now.

If I had a wagon .. I had begun ... I would paint a window inside that looked out over the open plains so that I could always see them, like he described. It had surprised him in a way, thinking I would have painted a treehouse like the one I described to him of my childhood. I guess in a way it still was ... looking out of that treehouse window over the world. But I knew ... I knew then I was going to have a place of my own, even back then.

The concept has altered since that time to something different, at least for what would be on the outside. It was the bit of paisley, the swatch of a quilt, it was the combination of stories, the tapestry of families, friends and loved ones all combined that I wanted there on the outside. I wanted the handprints of everyone that has touched me since I came here all over the entire surface. The smallest ones that were often my inspirations such as Tug, Wiley, Patch, Me Too and Wit. Those that have made vast impressions such a Cana, Tarra, Aiyana, and more. I wanted those who were at times a mystery like Fonce, Polunu, T'suri, Ina and maybe even Ts'ya. There would be those that have offered part of their strengths such a Kam, Chay, Garyx and Lochlan. People who have intrigued me like Sahli, Jaella, Seth and Silken or touched me like Jai, Noya, and Trilock. I wanted the ones that gave of themselves like raven, blue, sleen or offered love and kindness like Falon and Akasha. There were so many that I could go on and on adding to the list and I will as others come into my life. They have all become my family and I was beginning to see just how far reaching mine was.

It was what I had asked ... to have the handprints of my family displayed all over the outside of my wagon so that here they could join me ... reaching for their dreams just as I am. I know some have what they call their nightmare wagons ... I wanted a dream one.

There is already a series of small ones in a rainbow of colors dancing around the canvas now and all I have to do is get the paint washed off those tiny little hands before their Momma's see it. Ditzy me, didn't think about water resistant paint being like a permanent marker.

Etiqueta

Stuff your eyes with wonder . . . live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.
Ray Bradbury

The best part of having risen so early was being able to have some extra time in my day. I made my way to the pens to spend a little of that with the newest addition. There was something intriguingly soothing about the kaiila that Cana had found so I perched atop one of the rails to watch him. It is a natural instinct for the animals to twitch their ears so that they can tune in on sound much like I had done in my dream. The swivel of them rotating to find that one spot that they hear the best. It is what turns the eyes to focus except that this one, only had one fully functioning line of sight.

He had such a carefree demeanor in the sway of his head from side to side, as if tossing a stray lock from his forehead but the more I watched, the more I realized that he was turning that line of sight to what he heard. When he wished to listen, it was the milky opaque orb that affixed to the subject. That was what brought me off the fence and into the pen with him. The kaiila breeder had said that he craved attention so he was not so difficult to get close to. He would shift and move so that he could bring the more functioning eye around to see but he wasn't completely protective of the other. A good scrub of fingertips into the itchy spot both humans and beasts have along the side of the neck almost had Ciegue thumping one of his hind paws while I rubbed.

He was so open, so trusting for the most part. The only time he truly tensed was when you got too close to that blemish then he drew back protectively. Turning that haze away to be able to see and hear better was only part of his mannerism, the rest was to shield the flaw.

Shoot, that critter was loving the attention so much that he leaned his massive maw against my chest like a little boy wriggling in his Momma's lap so that I had better access to caress a few more of those affection deficits. It did give me a chance to observe the caul that plagued part of his sight. Once both eyes had been the same color, perhaps even so far back as his birth. The hue was still there in the depths of the iris, beneath that veil. I saw it contract and dilate with the change in light and dark that passed before it. Whatever he saw through that one, was more like a mist. It is said that those born with such a gauze had a gift.

The longer slower strokes through his pelt just seemed to stir a richer emotion in the animal so that he nestled in closer and turned even his gaze up to find mine. In the capture of reflection there was something that just stopped my breath for a few moments. It wasn't the same green or red glow that most animals have depending on their species, his ... was prismatic.

I studied the vista that unfolded there for me. The vast distance that seemed to go on forever ... of lights, and colors and motion that all swirled around .. if I had to find one word to describe it .. it would have been a nebula. A collection of gas and dust clouds that spread a mesmerizing array of wonder for any who had the chance to see.

This animal had touched me when I first met him and now that connection seemed more intense. In Hakan's, Holo's and even Sin's eyes, I had seen the mirror of myself in them. This time as I leaned back I realized that he was a reflection of mine.

I'd asked something of Cana when she first introduced us that now I was even more glad to have. It is rare that I ask anyone for anything and how I made the request was far different than I would have usually done. I made her promise that he would have a good owner. He deserved someone that would take the time to understand and accept him. There would be no more fiercely loyal companion to someone who could. I wondered too if he had greater abilities than what was just on the surface. But listen to me .. silly jit that I am, giving romantic poetic hope of something more even to a kaiila, but then I had found redeeming values in even Holo.

Warmth

The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire. ~Ferdinand Foch

Cool and heat caressed my forehead and the round of my shoulder in a way that began to slip into my consciousness. One born of its own existence, the other created and therefore why they did not mingle together to be simply tepid. I stirred enough to glance up toward the flap. It was cracked open just a sliver letting in a stream of night breeze. With it came a scent too familiar to be ignored. There was a moment of indecision wanting to remain under the coziness of my fur but it was flipped back so I could rise. Jutting each foot into a boot helped brace against the shiver. I grabbed my coat and stepped outside.

The sky bore the weight of the night like the fur I had just left behind. Neither of us spoke as I settled on the middle step next to him and took the offer of the steaming bowl. It was a decent peace treaty for having woke me. Otherwise something a whole lot darker and more treacherous would have slit him deep and wide ... morning grouchiness.

About half the bowl's contents had begun to soothe away the chill by the time small fingerlets of creamy glow began to leak through the horizon. I was crouched in a huddle over the moist heat when I heard stirring in the next wagon. The slats creaked gently at first then seemed to explode in a plethora of sound and light. The glow of lanterns popped through fissures of the wood and continued on through to the wagon on the other side and the one on the other side of that as well.

Well now I was certainly attuned to the scene unfolding before me and I was not about to miss a single moment of it. The flap slung wide open on Duran's second wagon spilling light down the platform all the way out across the small clearing. Instantly a hulk of shadow came charging through ripping the air with a barrage of bellows that I would have blushed at if I weren't so amused. Clenched tight in the his fist Third Son was waving in the air for emphasis was what looked for all the world like an ost except that it was in truth only a curled thick strip of un-softened leather.

All of the wagons in our small circle began to empty their contents of sleepy eyed - wondering - what the F..ebruary - Tuchuks. Big ones, soft ones, ones still wrapped in furs. Now this all lifted a brow and pursed my lips together tight but it did take all I could do to remain silent in the shadows of my own platform steps when Duran's torch light lit his third son's face. There as pretty as you please was a yellow hand print over the boy's mouth.

The source of such a rousing morning's entertainment then fell beneath my gaze. I glared at Me Too as if I could have bore a hole right through him. I have to admit he pulled the curtain down well when he lifted his hand to wave at his buddy. The small palm was still covered with yellow paint. I studied him then, the smoothness of the unscarred face, the crinkle of merriment at the corner of his eyes, the taut half chisel of his mouth against his cheek. I knew too that my own features were an emotionless mask as I continued to watch him. I rose without a word to duck beneath my flap and returned with the dagger.

When he reached out for it, I didn't simply let it go but held it tight in my grasp until he met my eyes with his. In this .. there was no amusement, no merry mischief, no beamingly proud smile ... not in giving him back the weapon. My fingers did not ease away until he could see the fire inside, the glow of something fierce and could hear the low growl of my breath. I would not tell him that I was pleased to see that flicker of fear that widened his own or that slightest readjustment of his chin lower while the truth of the lesson hit him with full force.

I let him stew in his own emotions though all I did was draw my coat a bit tighter and step off the stairs to speak with Duran. It would be the second time in as many days that we exchanged a clap to each other's shoulder and shared words filled with conspiracy. Of course I had drawn him aside the day before to let him know what was about to happen. It was the right thing to do. Made an excellent opportunity to make a wager too and I had just won. There was going to be fresh meat in my cooling pit come next hunt.

Me Too would never know that I had put my saddle up on the bet. I had that much confidence that he would do the right thing and be good at it. If he hadn't then the loss would have been of something far more precious to me.

Porcelain Statue

Sometimes glass glitters more than diamonds because it has more to prove.
~Terry Pratchett

'When you interact with another, an illusion is part of this dynamic. This illusion allows each soul to perceive what it needs to understands in order to heal'. None of the irony to any of this escapes me. Here are the truths ... I was not a snow white southern belle trying to fit into a dark world of slavery to right the wrongs of the universe. I was not a transparent paper doll traveling space and time trying to draw in enough breath to become real because it would save a foreign world. I wasn't a one night wonder of a butterfly wriggling from her cocoon simply for the amusement of the Skies nor was I some fragile satin smooth porcelain statue frozen in some forgotten garden because an ancient curse went terribly horribly wrong .. for the comic book heroes or their nemeses.

A series of events throughout my lifetime allowes me to be aware of things that others do not notice .. a feeling of connection. It is something I enjoy sharing with those that seem to sense it and show interest. A series of events led me on what to some is a bizarre journey to a place and a people that I feel comfortable among no matter how uncomfortable it may feel at times both to me and to them as we acclimate to the new situations. It is a progressive relationship. I can no more close my eyes and will them away than they can me. That is beacuse this is real. I am real. They are real.

It was just so frustrating that each time I tried to step outside of the glass display to reach out, there is some pre-conceived interpretation of my actions. To some it is called curiosity, to some it is prejudice, to some it an issue of control. Being a reactionary woman I let each of those focuses define the moment. When under scrutiny I felt like an exhibit, when it was magnification of difference I would look for the flaws right along with everyone that was peeping through the looking glass. I gave in to dominance with my submissive nature without challenging whether or not it was in healthy proportions. That was not merely the matter of Masters and Slaves but of people and situations as a whole.

The skies may have an idea of what it expects of me but I am the one that still live each of my days and it is how I choose to do so that directs my path. Not destiny, not people, not circumstances.

There are a great many things I do not understand, some I may never find the enlightenment behind but that is as simple as why the grass knows how to grow and may be as complex as what truly connects one something with another ... something.
I came here in what seemed like a dream of being a pale illusion of someone else's dreams ... seeking that feeling of connection .. mine .. and theirs. That is not the whole of who I am but it is comething that still has meaning. As I reach for the future I want that to be part of what I take with me ... only I don't want to be some pale illusion any more than I want them to be part of a fading mist.

We are all slave to something.

As I finally fell asleep, I was singing to everything I felt connected to ...

I have to be honest
As much as I wanted
I'm not gonna promise
that the cold winds won't blow
So when hard times have found you
And your fears surround you
Wrap my love around you
You're never alone ~ Lady Antebellum

Inside the Outside

Why do you hasten to remove anything which hurts your eye, while if something affects your soul you postpone the cure until next year? ~Horace

After leaving the pens, I was ready to be a bit more or rather .. less sensitive in interacting with people. No sooner than I let the abrasive outer surface down then I began to realize that a lot of things that I'd perceived were misconceptions. Some of the sleen calls hadn't been sleen calls but actually been nice comments on my work habits and my poise. All of those women that hated me so bad was more like one old one and she wasn't spitting at me, she liked nibbling little flower seeds but she doesn't chew the hulls. Well, hadn't I just been little Miss Understanding.

Anyway, I had a few ehn to talk with Jaella and afterwards it felt as if it was far too brief. We swapped those talhowareyou and howislifeatthismoment. I admit I was a little cautious at first, testing the water a bit. We ended up doing those layered conversations that Falon and I do, carrying on two or more at the same time. It was intriguing to find someone else that did that, of course it wasn't as polished but I wouldn't mind a little more practice with her. Being newly mated looks good on her. I kept telling everyone if they had been paying attention they would have seen how they were together. They ... I could a million different descriptive's in here but there is only one needed .. They fit.

I got to gush about the unique kaiila, Patch and that possessive enthusiasm I'd seen and now wanted. She shared a hint at what it had been like growing up here in the harigga. I knew that big boulder the children play near along the edge of the camp and it was nice to know someone else did too. I can only see the past through the eyes of those who tell me of it. I live in all of their moments. I think what caught my curiosity most was I saw a mirror in her eyes of something that I would have missed completely if I hadn't been trying to see more than just the outside. I saw her trying to see on the inside too.

She asked if anyone had seen all the falling stars the other night and that caught my attention. I told her, I'd only seen the top of my wagon and the little lizard that keeps me company. The rest was still a bit too raw to offer more than that. Falling stars? Now that set the fine hairs on my arm to attention.

Most everyone faded off to their wagons by the time my late eve buddy made it to the fires. I had the chance to tell him what Cana had said about a chaperone and I had an idea of what I wanted in trade for helping with his kaiila. He could help me paint my wagon. It seemed fair. It was both something we would have done for the other anyway. I am probably anal retentive about that whole process of the wagon but see, it was a gift from Fonce so what goes on it and in it ... I want it to have as much meaning as his giving it to me. Once I explained the idea I had, he said it sounded pretty interesting.

The men of the Tribe work hard and fatigue goes through the harigga in waves sometimes. It made him unusually quiet even for him so I wound up doing most of the talking ... about Patch, about the new beast ... about what Cana had shown me ... that I had a future here. I was still rattling on and on when I got up to get some water. Never gave it a second thought to bring back a bota with me. In the fall of an eyelash, I became a pale doe caught in the fire light. The tether was drawn from my hair, the spiraled ringlets toyed loose until they cascaded over my shoulders. The vest I wore slid from my shoulders baring the flesh beneath. It was all in his eyes as I stood there. Like old times?

I wouldn't settle back on my fur again but stood there with my gaze boring down on him. I asked a question and I wanted him to be honest .. I meant really honest. There was no mistaking that he still saw me as I had been. It was written all over his face, in the depth of his eyes. It took all that I had to be able to speak through the barrier of everything I felt at that moment. What I wanted to know was, would a warrior see me as a Mother?

Yes, a warrior could, but it would take time to get the thought of me clad kajir, kneeling at their feet with a bota lifted in my hands from their thoughts. I had asked for honesty and that was what I was given. I felt the crash of a million different thoughts jamb together in one massive pile up. For a moment all I could do was open and close my mouth a few times but not a single word trusted itself to become vocal until I managed to say thank you for being truthful. I barely heard him say that he did think I would be a good mother and murmured something of the same nature in return of being a father.

I want one!

For the most part I was throwing myself into my work to cover the trade I had with Cana for Sinewy. He was worth every drop of sweat that fell from my brow. Part was trying not to dwell on the boys. I had to trust that it was all going to be alright but I kept listening for the drums. If one .. just one had sounded I probably would have toppled right there on the spot. No fear ... yeah right.

I was taking empty sacks by the armloads from the storage wagons to the stalls amidst hoots and hollers of the men. Curse or compliment ... your choice. I was trying to ignore them. Not everyone has taken well to the transformation. Now and then I have to dodge a grope and there are still some of the freewomen who spit at me when I walk by. I do try to jut my chin higher as I pass but it is not always easy.

You can imagine how quickly my boots traveled when I heard Cana call me. The discriminating bravado sort of diminishes in the presence of elders. Ever notice that? But anyway, she had something to show me. Instantly I began appraising the pelt, the muscle form and health of the animal while I told her of having taken her advice and done some R & R. She admitted she had too. I am still a bit apprehensive around some of the tribe I have not met yet or met only when I was still a slave, so when the singer arrived with her son, I kept close to the isolation pen. That was when I noticed how different this creature was. The milk white of an eye was startling enough. It clutched at something in my chest like a fist hanging for dear life. When I sought the liquid surface of the other one I almost lost my footing. It was ... it was blue. Ciegue. That was what she said she had named him.

I was trying to be polite, to meet the other woman formally and meet her son too. I was but ... I finally had to shake off the effect the kaiila had on me to give the humans the respectful attention they deserved. I'm glad I did. That miniature Tuchuk was laying claim to everything with a lusty declaration ... Mine!. He claimed his new black and white pony, Cana and me. I need to check on those Tribal laws about claiming. I may be promised to a warrior I will have to wait a few envars on. I was fascinated by his enthusiasm though. While the women spoke I reached out to touch his hands, moving them as they held the leather straps in the chubby little fists. How natural he took to the movements. I don't know if it was purely coincidence that his hands moved as I had moved them even after I let go or he picked up the lesson within the bat of a lash. I was spellbound.

I became privileged to the talk of women .. mothers as their faces filled with pride and a glow like no other. Bragging rites claimed for the hi - jinks, mayhem and mischief their children would create years before they were even capable of such deeds. Could you see the Terrible Tuchuk Threesome of Tug, Patch and Wiley storming the gates of Turia? You could have in the eyes of those women .. shining, brilliantly dazzling with the insolent arrogance those warriors deserved.

They spoke of the friendships between boy and his sleen, boy and his pet verr, boy and his kaiila, boy ... you name it .. they spoke of it. They spoke of other things as well. Privileged information that had a purpose behind it and then I understood what it was Cana wanted me to see. It was the gentle pressure behind the twig that carried it downstream. I had a future here .. not just that I belonged here .. now but in that same race to the horizon and beyond. I stood there with tears streaming down my face and a fierce tangled hold on my heart as I realized ... I wanted one.

I wanted a half blue eyed, half unseeing kaiila, I wanted a sleen, I wanted a verr, I wanted someone to love and someone to love me, I wanted a boy and .. and a girl maybe a half dozen ... and ... and bosk and bragging rites of all the accomplishments, the tears of all the trials that come with it all. I wanted a future.

I so wanted to reach out and grab hold of everything and declare with confidence ... MINE!

Intrinsic

I caught that lethal glint in his eyes then caught the boy's arm with one hand and snatched the dagger out of the other hand. Literally dragging him, thrashing and wailing the air to the wagon platform, I shoved him to sit on one of the stairs. I stood right there in front of him, drawing in a ragged breath to try and calm myself before I spoke. I'm afraid it was not quite enough to keep the long winded runons from having their own razor edge to them.

Did he truly think that killing Third son of Duran was the answer to this ... this ... whatever ... dispute the two boys had between them?

The blade still clinched in my fist, brought up eye level to punctuate those words.

Didn't he have any care at all of what consequences would follow such an action?

It was the end of one fingertip that drove into his forehead and not with any loving gentleness either.

This was his best weapon and if he didn't know yet how to wield it, then now was definitely the time to learn.

Whatever it was that had set Me Too off, paled in comparison to how he was prepared to handle it and for once I was not thinking like a barbarian.

Think boy ...

What is it that he was trying to prove ... that he was merely a savage? That he had no value of the law of his own people or that he was by far better at raiding, pillaging and plundering? Did he want Third Son to know that the blood that ran through his veins was just as thick and rich or did he want to let the other boy best him by letting him defeat his own self?

If he wanted to instill fear, create self doubt in his opponent, let him stew in his own emotions then use stealth, use cunning, use his inner potentials

... mark his territory.

I still had hold of his arm when I continued on up the stairs and dipped beneath the flap. Once inside I jammed the small hand into a jar of yellow paint then looked him square in the eye.

Take nothing...
leave only a whisper.

When he had accomplished his task then ... and only then, would he be allowed the return of the dagger, when he proved himself worthy to carry it. There would come a day when he would face a true enemy but it would not be a native brother. One day .. he would need to know that brother was there standing at his side or had his back.

Skies, I wasn't sure if I were creating a monster or just painting the brick path yellow. I turned to walk away so that he could not see the flood of my own doubts in all that little spiel of mine wash over my features.

I kept walking even when the first dots of white began to touch my cheek. When I looked up the sky was a synthetic cotton ball .. not quite white but fluffy. The air was becoming solid in its mist forming something rare .. snow. It was like rice powder falling from the brush of a geisha. Was this the sky's way of marking it's territory? Taking nothing and leaving only a whisper? If there was any doubt in my mind, it was all erased when movement turned my attention. Nestled between the thorns of a wild bush sat a blood red crested thren.

Uncomplicated

Days went by while I acclimated Sin to more complex commands. It was not merely teaching him the feel of the reins but touch and voice guidance as well. For each response I wanted with use of the reins, there was a touch of my heels, my knees, or my hand. The tsk of my tongue, whistle, snort, shrill had meaning to compliment the other lessons. It had come to the point where I could remove the reins and saddle and he still knew how to respond. Among all of the thousands of kaiila kept of the Tribe, three short sharp whistles would bring his head up and no matter where I was ... he would come. It was a deceptive calm that one of Barhk's sons made the mistake of intruding on. Sinewy still had all the fire and defiance he began with and the young man almost lost a few fingers thinking he could just walk up to the beast as I did.

When I returned to my wagon, I found the gift the minx had left for me. Wasn't there always something that she would do or send after she had angered me? There, carefully lain on my platform was a plate of the nut pastries. Bribe? Gift? Another way to say 'I'm sorry'? I wasn't sure how to take the gesture.

I wasn't sure how to take much of anything at the moment. My momentum felt .... just off after the day before. I certainly was not ready for another roller coaster ride so I waited until I was sure there would be no one left at the fires before I entered the circle of flames. In this solitude I thought ... just maybe I could find some sense of peace. La Torvis had warmed the day more than most though the wind had still nipped icily, and now that the temperature began to drop it seemed to worm its way bone deep. No matter how many chips I added to the fire, I could not get warm. When I heard the crunch of dirt beneath the heel of a boot I turned to look up. That small glimmer of recognition in his eyes brought a smile. Such a simple question for it to have vast impact on me. How is your new life treating you? Ah now to answer honestly without seeming ungrateful, left me with a hesitance in the middle.

It has been ..
it has been good ...
for the most part ...

And before I could finish there was just a smile and a genuine gift. He said he was there if I needed someone to talk to.

... different.

He had always been, hadn't he? From the first time that I met him through to the reach of his hand to pull me up on his kaiila with him for a ride when I was weary, to now, this very moment, he had always been there for me to talk to. It only felt right to introduce myself. I mean the 'me' as I am now. I had to cant my head a little when he told me I knew who he was. Yes and well .. no. See, I'd never spoken his name before, it wasn't allowed. That was when he leaned in close enough to whisper against my ear ...'You always called me Master.' It just seemed to break the ice and we ended up laughing.

But he knew too that there was still much on my mind. We spoke of what it was like being a prospect. When he said it had been the most nerve wracking time he had ever had, I somehow found encouragement there. There was definitely empathy. It is just easier for me to talk about kaiila so it was natural for me to ask what his kaiila's name was. Why did I ask? Silly jit, because I take care of the beasts and .. and ... I just realized I don't know what his name is or much about him or ... much about the man I was talking to either. Dracko was the russet colored kaiila's name and if he .. the warrior ... needed someone to help ... with the kaiila ... I didn't mind.

I listened as he told me of losing his father at an early age and the life he had with his mother until she passed. That was when he finally returned to the Tribe. I hadn't meant to bring up tender subjects but he was reassuring ... it didn't bother him. He was at peace with the skies though we both agreed it was nice to have someone to talk to. It really was.

So .. since I was getting comfortable a little with him, I got a bit feisty too. Well? Well what? Well, did he need any help taking care of Dracko? No, I didn't mind but ... it might cost him. I was all set to launch into one of those barters of what was it worth when I just looked at him and spit out the skies honest truth. I had nothing in mind. I was terrible wasn't I? I would watch over the animal and he knew it. And in the middle of all that fluster and perhaps a little bluff and bluster, I caught this gleam in his eye when he said he knew I would. Skies, men are infuriating!

We talked a little about this one certain place along the route from south to north and it made me smile when he remembered it saying he thought we could find it again. I didn't want to sound brazen or all flirty. The man had been a good friend to me and that place was special. There was a wistful thought too, that I had never gone to see his paintings inside his wagon and now ... well now, I didn't think it was appropriate. He promised that after I became Tribe I could come see. His suggestion was to ask Cana if it was alright ... that and if it would be alright to help me paint mine.

All the while we talked I'd been adding new chips to the fire and curling in close to try and ward of the chill. There was the gentlest of gestures when he reached over to pull a fur up around my shoulders. 'You looked like you were cold'.
I studied his features, I studied his eyes and the scars on his cheeks, etching it all into my memory. He bid me farewell just after that with a wish that I have good dreams.

There was so much uncomplicated warmth in those moments.

Windchimes

A whole day of relaxing, enjoying life on the Tuchuk plains had left me in a far better mood than I had been in several hands. I was still fatigued but a good night's sleep would work wonders. The best way to top off a day like that is to celebrate .. it is rare for me but my drug of choice was a pastry. So off to the fires I go.

Lately, encounters with noodle have grown to be either black or white. I do not know why she has such trouble adapting to my lack of collar now but we seem to either have a moment of close connection or something else on the farthest end of the spectrum. I had no idea that the simple act of giving noodle a bit of the sticky gooey treat would disintegrate the fiber of the girl. I sat there watching while she went through this emotional nuclear melt down. Next thing I knew, I found myself repeating ... yet again what I have said three other times previously ... serve your Master and do it to the best of your ability .. be proud and make him proud. You would have thought I'd slapped her. I don't understand. But if you want bitch mode ... I can deliver. I sort of liked that feeling ... made me all tingly. I could learn to truly enjoy that feeling if I didn't have to live with my consequences or didn't care.

The bottom line was I just didn't have the want, need or energy to argue with anyone ... understand? ... anyone ... at that moment, so in the end I simply sought the peacefulness of my wagon and the company of my little lizard friend. I really need to find a good name for that guy. I don't know if he worries about whether or not I will trade or wager him away but then he doesn't seem all that concerned. He was quite content to perch up there on the slat of wood and watch as I pulled out the broken pieces of the halter, left over rings from the bit and sorted through the beads that Tarra had given me. Blue glass tear drops were soon suspended from the leather, intermingling with the silvery metal rings to create a unique ting sound where each touched against another. It was surpisingly loud but not in an offensive kind of way ... sort of mellow.

When I had finished I sat there looking at it ... listening to it ... making it ring over and over again. Something beautiful of something no longer useful. I would thank Seth later for exposing this concept to me but it was going to be a gift for someone that had first affected how I thought about things. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry .. not for any part of this journey .. not for being close to me .. not for sharing a moment ... not for who and what I am .. not even me. In time perhaps reminders no matter how subtle may not bristle the the fine down on the back of my neck. I only want to look back to have a small understanding of how far I have come. As far as I was concerned .. I was doing alright .. toddling, stumbling but still getting back up again. My pride was telling me I was doing good .. damn good. In fact it felt so good that I made several more of the windchimes until I ran out of rings and beads. Ah yes, enough of them to keep a Tuchuk awake .. all night.

Pastry

... hot-headed, sensual, melancholy, malignant in his hatred as he was-- he was himself unable to fulfill the law; indeed, and this seemed strangest to him, his extravagant lust to domineer provoked him continually to transgress the law, and he had to yield to this thorn.

Is it really his "carnal nature" that makes him transgress again and again? And not rather, as he himself suspected later, behind it the law itself, which must constantly prove itself unfulfillable and which lures him to transgression with irresistable charm? But at that time he did not yet have this way out. He had much on his conscience - he hints at hostility, murder, magic, idolatry, lewdness, drunkenness, and pleasure in dissolute carousing - and... moments came when he said to himself:"It is all in vain; the torture of the unfulfilled law cannot be overcome."... The law was the cross to which he felt himself nailed: how he hated it! how he searched for some means to annihilate it--not to fulfill it any more himself!

And finally the saving thought struck him ... "It is unreasonable ..."

Nietzsche's Daybreak

How to get the verr, the pastry and the sleen to the other side of the stream. You can only take one at a time.

But, if you are not there, the sleen will eat the verr (can't leave them unattended) and the verr will eat the pastry.(can't leave those two unattended either).

Simple ... feed the pastry to the verr, feed the verr to the sleen then slaughter the sleen and use his pelt to keep you warm and dry as you cross the stream.

Stream of Consciousness

“Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence.” Aristotle


The following morning I felt somewhat better .. the why is not important .. just that I woke with a purpose for the day. Show me something and I will repeat it, adding more accuracy with each repetition, like Sahli's slight of hand. I had practiced .. over and over again until I could re-create the illusion with an ease. I am a hard headed woman and quite honest about being one. Sometimes that is a good thing, sometimes it is a self induced torture. I had not taken Cana's well meant advice of having time for myself so that my ill health and fatigue meant that I was growing proverbially 'sick and tired' of everything.

Today, I would take for myself, spend a little time at my wagon, enjoy my new found relationship with Sin ... improve the one with Me Too, and just go for a walk while the window of nice weather permitted.

It all began at the fires and would end at the fires, coming full circle.

Blackwine just tastes less bitter when you share it among friends. Two women were already there when I arrived, and in my usual way, I tread all over their conversation. I was lovingly forgiven. I remember Isu .. she is marked in my memory despite her quietness, but let me tell you ... there is an oddness to the feeling when a Spex says .. I know of you. Being known of by a Haruspex was one of those things that could mean wow or oh shhhht so I picked some middle ground to take that. There is that quick whisper inside that says ... please, please .. let that be a good thang.

We spoke of Kam and Chay returning. Now it may surprise many, but I was looking forward to seeing both. There is a deep respect for them and a deeper rooted want to know them better. I know Tarra will enjoy seeing her father, she misses him regardless of how tough she may seem on the outside. As a diversion to more tender subjects, my fitful nights seemed to intrigue her. She offered to come see what disturbed my sleep. I had to confess that I'd grown irritable to the point I could not even stand my own company. Her offer to send a few things that would help just made me instantly think of Falon and her 'cures.' Oh no no no no no. The truth was ... why I did not sleep well was something I didn't actually want to 'fix' right now. Not yet.

Exploring philosophies with Tarra is always like being at a wine tasting, there is as much enjoyment in rolling the flavor of a new vintage over your tongue as there is biting into a lush bit of fruit to clear the palette. We found humor in my 'spells' of silence then sudden gushes of prattle. We had spoken of intuitions versus instincts, and the complexities of humanity. We each are different, like flavors in a stew. It is what makes life interesting, to pick and choose through which bites you wish to relish and which you toss from your bowl.

We fell into easy conversations of growth, learning, beliefs. I listened to the pearls of wisdom ...
never lose sight of basic traditions .. those are a strength but do not be blind to things that are new. Right now .. everything is new and I like that, as maddeningly, infuriatingly, deliciously insane it makes me feel ... I like it. There are times too that I simply feel blind, unable to see anything at all, but that is living isn't it? Something she said then would stick with me the rest of the day ... It is that looking and searching that pushes us to live and reach for more. Reach? Skies there it was. Profound enlightenment! It didn't mean I had all the answers but I swallowed it .. that and the bite of bosk I'd been chewing on and choked, laughing, pounding on my chest to get it unstuck.

'Reach' is not just a verb ... see when you have ... it becomes a noun. That was going to be allowed to dry to form jerky I would chew on later. But for now, a stroll to the stream just felt ... right.

It would be there, gazing down through the liquid surface, studying the pebbles in its bottom .. gray shadows, and changing my focus to see how some of them jutted through to the air above ... black, white as their definition altered, the mingling of soil and grass that formed the bank that held it all contained ... sienna and emerald, and the reflection of the sky dancing over it ... blue, gray and white. Where the hues of one layered upon another it was hard to tell which you saw until the eyes shifted and narrowed in to find the true source.

What I saw with my eyes, my heart and mind ... like a dream spoke in abstract conceptualism to help me understand. What I stood behind of relationships, love, family, profession had all been based on what I knew but as I had sat there at the fires listening to others speak of each of these things there had been a new flicker of something that had shaken the foundations of what I believed. I began to look and listen with eyes and ears of what truths I would pass down to my children. Could I tell my son or daughter of love, life ... truths and know that within the innocence of the eyes that mirror back that these would be what they would emulate?

While my mind raced to see and understand all that swirled inside of it .. a dried twig eddied in the current ... floating its merry way without a care until it bumped into one of the abuttments of a rock. Braced there, it's other end would have looked as if it toppled had it been standing aright but on its antigravitational journey ... this little twig changed part of its direction until it wedged .. caught between two stones and the water dammed up behind it. It was then that the sky reflected most on my liquid wonderworld, bringing a smile that came from somehwhere deep within. I watched in silence until the pressure gently nudged the twig free. Once again the current carrying it on further down the stream. I watched for a moment then turned to look back to the small pool that had held all my curiosities before. The pebbles on the bottom looked that much clearer .. that much smoother.

I pondered more as I walked away ...

happiness ...

as well as the illusions of it.