Filling for the pastry

One morning walking down the street
Where nobody walks nobody can hear
Started listening to a sound so clear
To the world around me
Incredible scene I had to believe
I saw a difference to the way I see

The pastries were not quite ready when the Haruspex Mistress made her way to the fires. "oh no, oh no, oh ... I mean greetings Mistress. I was making something to bring to you" is not exactly the how do you do I had hoped to offer. I tried to hurry placing a few of them to a basket to take to her when she settled. It surprised, gladdened and worried me that she was up and about. I had wanted Master Vreeland to be my first victim .. err to test them to see if they were edible but instead she called me to her to try them. Oh yes those skies dearly loved me and might soon be calling me home. Not any Mistress but one of the elder witches herself would be taste testing the goodies. I'm not a religious woman but you can wager I was praying to ... something. I can safely say she is still alive and I am too.

When Mayala joined her, I saw to their needs then withdrew to leave them privacy for their talks, though I watched making sure the bowls never emptied. It gave me a vantage point to watch their movements and mannerisms. You can tell a great deal about others in how they carry themselves. There was not much way to mistake the fold of the younger woman to press her face onto her lap nor the tears that streamed her cheeks. I knew well all that could be behind such a pose and I had to sit back a little realizing that I had not kept my eyes open and seen what there was to see of those around me. I ached with her, I ached for her. It did not matter why or what there was to empathize with ... just that I had not seen her pain, acknowledged it or embraced that she as a woman, like me .. she could feel it deeply. Life was not all pretty dinas and dazzling wonders. Sometimes it was so real that it screamed its unfairness from every pore. Sometimes it came in shades of white, pink and delicate and sometimes it came in shades of crimson, black and cruel.

Of all that was spoken, it would remain apart, distant to the ears of the porcelain statue, silent and still. It would be only a small something that Tarra said that would be put it in that hallowed place with Cana's words. Every aspect of life for warriors, free women and slaves takes practice, no matter what it is. Even when we are old and experienced there is much that continues to take practice and work and we will always err. We are human, to have flaws is to grow and flourish. We are harder on ourselves than anyone else. They were not spoken to me but left lingering on the wind so I placed them alongside the truths I had been collecting. They were bits of gold in the form of wisdom.

She gave me opportunity to speak with her, to ask some of the questions that burned to be answered .. of her, of her clan and of the Tribe and its history. As she began to lay the story of her life out before me, there was something that lit in my mind. She lost her mother at her birth and I wondered if it were true of all Haruspex. It seemed this was a knowledge most held before they gave the gift of life to their children .. the possibility that it would be the end of their own. She spoke of those that come into this world with the stronger abilities bearing a mark. She spoke honestly that it was not a common thing, this symbol, to surface but she supposed it could be considered a gift and at the same time she acknowledged that it could be felt as a curse. But I had to smile when she said that if her abilities could benefit just one person she felt it was indeed a gift. She had the same beliefs that Cana did ... every clan and every person was important, without each warrior, woman free or slave, even each child we would be nothing. There is much she does not say. There is much that even if she spoke openly of, there would be little comprehension from others and I welcomed all she offered. Of the Tribe she brought home the interpersonal relationships and closeness of the Tuchuk people with a simple phrase ... To be Tuchuk is to live and breathe who we are, it is the plains, the skies, the winds and in all around us. So many do not wish to learn and follow our traditions, but without them we are not Tuchuk, merely a group of people dwelling upon the open plains. I knew now what it truly meant to be Tuchuk or at least I had a good idea of it.

There had been a thought lingering beneath the surface that encouraged me to ask her of dreams. Did she understand them? Her voice was soothing, mesmerizing almost haunting when she offered a balm for my weary mind. Everyone has dreams, it is how we are shown things to learn or know. That sometimes our fears and worries carry over into our dreams and it is there that we find what troubles us most. I didn't offer my dreams to her to unravel but kept them secreted away.. they were just dreams .. see, just silly ole dreams.When we began to speak of the babe to come, her mate came into the topic as well. She has this glow about her that she takes with her even without him. His protectiveness had surged showing how much he cared for this woman, for the life they shared and the life they were bringing into this harsh world. Me and my mouth. I blurted out that he should care then had to bite my lip hard. The apology came instantly, I meant no disrespect for him nor her. She knew what I had meant and was not overly upset. A stern warning came with the tenderness that it was good that I understood how it could have been taken and that I realized it. I could never bring myself to willingly offer disrespect .. it was simply not within me. I had such profound respect for her and so many others who lived among the harigga not because as a slave I had to but because they had earned it. But it was that confession that brought a new pearl to my chest of treasures ... she told me that respect earned is to be truly given freely. It is easy to give when it is expected but it it means more when it is genuine. I knew it would become part of the many stories that swam within my head ones she said she would love to hear sometime.

Quid pro quo. My turn to be beneath the seer's microscope. What was it I like to do, what pulled me, what held the most interested to me more than anything? Phrased that way it was easy to answer, I did love gathering histories and telling stories and I hummed lullabies a lot around the camp and we laughed about how my attempts at singing netted a pile of boots and stray pots near one of the elder's wagons. But when it came down to the meat of it all, it was the kaiila. Her advice was sound ... seek Cana, she was a good judge of both people and of their talents. It was advice I would heed.