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.

A Muse

Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
The expedition my violent love
Outrun the pauser, reason.
Macbeth 2:3



I am tired .. so tired even upon first waking .. especially upon first waking. My time is filled from daylight to dusk working and learning as if I am driven ... I am.

The nights ...

the nights are an endless series of restless wakenings to stare at the top of my wagon, turning to study the flap as if something at any moment would ease it aside and announce itself ... there. Company is the small lizard that I have spied clinging to one of the inside wagon stays. He isn't intrusive, merely there and in some ways I find him comforting. His quiet offers me strength and courage to close my eyes and fold my palms together almost reverently, diving again and again back into my dreams.

Searching through them for that one ... that one and only one, similar to the spin of an analog dial on an FM radio. Long wistful silences and a moment of static that you fine tune to hear in more detail or the blaring cacophony of so many so close together, shrill in the screaming discovery of them. Listening carefully, so rapt for some small bit of recognition, the constant hope, the relentless faith, the crushing dismay of time wasted only to squelch to another and it begins again.

Then ...

I felt the fine down rise against the nape of my neck, the soft fur along my cheek, the lurid breath flaming my skin .. only this time I will myself past the fear to turn my gaze to follow hers. The backdrop of garnet sunset and shadows giving way to the approaching silhouette. Even now I wanted to cover my ears, to close my eyes ... knowing ... I would hear the thunder roll in echoes through the forest.

It all went black ...

and inside I could hear the voices of chaos and the furies only this time they sang no sweetened lullabies ...

Open your eyes ...

and I did.

Beneath my fingertips, I felt the downy fur, still soft, still warm, but still. Too, I felt the overwhelming sadness that radiated up through them. Never drawing my eyes away from the depth of the darkness, I watched it shift and divide .. One became two. One to walk away in triumphant victory. The other I had never seen in that fateful moment until now ... standing there motionless, frozen ... still ... for so long ... his slump-shouldered grief dripping from his head to the outstretch of his hand. I heard the agonizing cry that seemed to rend the air in a deafening, crackling, roar.

I knew this one .. I knew his face. I knew every line of his features, each of the peacock hues that traced his cheeks now wet with sorrows. I watched ... an intruder to a moment thought unseen .. unwitnessed ...

And he sank into the mists of time

Needlepoint

The evening's discussions had left me in an irrasible mood that was growing darker by the ehn. It was not so much the topics .. those of relationships .. The Tribe, Clans, Friendships, the talks of the special someone that becomes part of your life. These were simply the stories I had been gathering. These were the portraits of my people that were being sewn in my memory. I did learn from each of them more as a bonus than the purpose. It wasn't the people that moved in an out of the conversations picking up a thread to weave in or out.

Layers and layers had begun to form an understanding as we talked, an advancement to new levels that no longer needed explanation with the details defining textures. It had taken more than a season to come this far, and so many areas were still abstract or outline. The healer had long ago woven in her family and some of the accounts of things that had happened in the past. The weapon's Master had threaded in soft shades of the background that would in time connect the line of perspective. The kaiila handler had added the wonders of her family in pastels just as the Haruspex had lent the hues of mystery. Many ... so many had offered their bits to the tapestry. When Fonce and his new slave came to join, I was delighted. He was no longer just spectator in the gallery. His inquiries made him part of the portrait as a whole. The joys of the newly mated pair, became the threads that expanded the edges just as easily as his and another leather worker's sorrows did.

Words that one woman had spoken there swirled in it's vibrance .. something to consider, something to ponder more ...

When you realize that you can open yourself up completely and be accepted as you are good and bad, when you you see in another's eyes that look that says those things did not matter, that what another sees of you, feels about you is what matters ... in their eyes ... in their heart ... in their spirit.

I'd asked if the relationship between two individual people were not similar to what is felt of the Tribe itself as a whole ... the day to day relationships of those who clung to the old ways and those that embraced the new ways living together. It was at that point, that another of the women leapt into the middle, force feeding me the law of the Tuchuk as if I did not know these things. Already tired and irritable, her offering to prove her point by saying that it was only the Ubar's edict that prevented her from slapping me simply because it suited her, grated the edge of my nerves. It was one of those southern belle, "How nice" that I offered back .. Tuchuk style. If she did, it would make for an interesting evening of entertainment ... wouldn't it? She had made her point but I failed to see how any of that answered the question.

Something was needling me, not the topics, not the people, not even the debate ... it was something else. So later I asked those I felt comfortable speaking privately with. There was a very important weft thread that I needed to test and understand. Were the Tuchuk simply and only an arrogant, blood thirsty race of people? Wasn't there more? How did I and my quiet spoken ways fit into this world that I had even to this very moment felt with all my heart I belonged. In a world where many are so outspoken was there doubt among them of my own inner spirit and the depths of what I felt for my people?

It still wouldn't be until later ... after I had calmed my own blood thirsty urges that I would take what was told to me and form it into something more tangible that I could see, that I could feel was real. I had not been mistaken in all that I felt pride of for the Tuchuk. I was one of them ... the spirit was there, the strength to see it through was there and more ... that I had earned the trust and respect of many.

It wasn't just words.

Miracle

She brought no silver, no pomp or style
It was a halo bright sent down from heaven's light
The sweetest gift, a mother's smile
Linda Ronstadt


The whole experience lingers around and inside me still, the scent, the sight, the feel and the emotions. Enveloping my arms around the soft warmth of the newborn melted me right that moment. I had traced my fingers along the small cheeks, touching the miniature oval of his mouth unable to believe that it responded. The tiny pursing of his lips seeking nourishment pulled hard on feminine reins that I had not expected.

We talked of what color his eyes would be. His father's were green and I had to smile in remembrance of another pair that color. I was being strong. I could withstand the lure, not to give in until he wrapped the spidery pink web of his fingers around the end of mine and everything in the universe just made sense. Tarra and Cana say I am smitten but it was pure love. It was the kind of love that I knew nothing could ever shake the foundation of.

I felt a resonant strength inside growing so fierce that it made me weak, a slipping sliding away in my heart and soul to a peacefulness. It is a feeling that I cannot put in words but I am sure there are women who know every flavor of it.

There were other emotions that nibbled at me as well. This .. this was something that I had dreamed of. Something I had spoken of to only one person and remembered the jubilant cry of joy that said it was heard. Just such a precious moment and it rent me inside. Did they .. did anyone hear the searing agony now? I heard the gentle spoken reasurances of the two women who are mentor, nurturer, confidant and friend ...

one day ...

one day when it is time

and I let those words, the sweet intentions behind them soothe a wound that was opening with more pain than I thought I could endure.

This was not my moment. It belonged to another, the one caught within a rim of firelight, shimmering, shining all around her. "Beauty" was now etched supremely in a Mother's smile. I shoved all of those selfish thoughts away to relish that one pure ihn where I understood what .. "life" meant. I saw it behind the light flutter of his downy lashes, I heard it in the whisper of his breath and felt it the radiance of his warmth. I heard something richer, deeper, sweeter. On this world they do not have a word for it, but on my old one we called them angels and I heard them begin to gather in unison, to speak his name before it was even earned.

He was just a new born babe. Women of the harigga have them everyday but I knew this one was special.

"Unconditional"

... is a condition.





It didn't matter much what I said, most of the responses were clipped one words sentences.

Tal

Tal

Its good to see you.

That lift of gaze flat .. empty to meet mine then lower back to what he was doing.

How have you been? How did the drive go?

Well.

Those small hands constant slow methodical motion rubbing oil into his saddle. Squeezing the padding to insure every crevice was well emoliated.

Any subject I brought up, squelched with a dull monotonous tone and maybe a slicing glare. At least that was different than the empty flat one.

Each time I mentioned a personal reference, it was met with a tersly polite .. "Good for you."

The ihns ticked away in patches of awkward silence before I bid my farewells and rose to go. I was just about to dip beneath the flap when he got in his parting shot.

That's it go. You are good at that aren't you?

If nothing else in the events that have unfolded since coming here ... now there was the one thing I had learned and learned well. I turned to offer a smile and soft spoken words ...

Yes, but I'll be back.

After I bounded down the steps, I breathed in a deep breath of the night air and thought to myself, he sounds like a pretty normal Tuchuk male.


~*~For Robert~*~

How Real Did You Want?

I'd held a new born child in my arms. I'd seen the beauty and wonder of love light the faces of a newly mated couple. I'd seen the sorrow of a brother loss, a mate's loss, a friend's loss ... too many in just one hand. I'd seen a slave freed and a freewoman bend her knees. I'd seen the spirit of a wild animal bend. All within less days than numbers of the list they contained.

Of it all none of them compared to the plain shock Cana handed me with a few simple words.

Me Too was back.

It affected me more than I tried to let on to anyone.

When he left he looked so much the portrait of a man child on the brink of stepping into his future. Happy, carefree, laughing. Serious, ready to take on the world and the sky itself. Courageous, and brave.

It had taken everything I had within me to be able to serve Me Too, to offer the gentleness of a mother's love, the wisdom and the caring to one I felt deep in my heart and head was not all he seemed to be. I had tried to speak to Cana and even Fonce once of the things that I'd seen just as I had spoken to Fonce again about them recently. There was no evidence of it, not then, not now, not anything anyone else had truly seen.

The fact that Cana had asked me to visit the boy and be there for him was pretty much proof of what she felt. He was a lost lonely little orphan that had no one there for him. She had said she thought he had missed me and wanted me to spend time with him. She knew it would be hard but felt that he loved me very much and that love would be there no matter what. I didn't ask what she meant when she said he would be the easiest to convert. It didn't make sense but then my head was buzzing with more emotions and thoughts than I could keep up with.

There was so much that had changed while he was gone. I was angry, I was torn, I was happy, I felt a deep sinking inside knowing I was going to have to face him. I didn't hesitate to assure her I would, well I did a little. The tread of my boots seemed to echo through the rows as I made my way past Rook's wagon. My heart was pounding as I reached up to rap lightly on the side of the flap. When I stepped inside I will never forget that look. The flicker of something bright that died a slow death and darkened to a cold cruel narrowed glint. I felt as if something inside died with it.

Maybe a little test, hmmm?

I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends ... ~ Ricky Nelson

The past few days had been an interesting garden party banquet. Bits and pieces of them remind me of the Country Club Tea Society, where it is best to take small nibbles of the faire in front of you. It could be pate or it could be your heart, head or better yet .. some delicate part of a dear friend served with grated zest. Does it mean that when the rise of cloth napkins touch so gracefully at the corners of the mouth in unison around the dining table, mine has any less vestiges of canary on them than any others? No. I will say that it was not a tasty or filling meal nor one that I have any wish sitting down to again. I've never cared for Meatloaf, served hot or cold. I've never liked Tea Parties.

The camp had been abuzz for some time now with many rumors, not just the obvious ones. The questions had been volleyed around on everyone's behalves of why this, why that? The bottom line is this ... when a man stands firm that he wants what he wants ... he will ... get what he wants. A heart, like water, will in the end find its own level. Whose sole's tread what path to what wagon and how many times isn't necessarily what killed the grass. Some fires burn high and bright only to end up small coals in the morning. Some fires are fed slowly over time so that they are both warmth and a source of light. These are simply my opinions though the affairs of others are not truly any of my business, any more than mine is any of theirs.

I believe I've already mentioned something about those subjects that might have enough missing pieces you could embarrass yourself jumping into the middle of. Look before you leap, think before you speak.

As for the rest of the past few days, I've been handed two more tests. Ones that were lain out in plain sight instead of the careful scrutiny of what I do or do not do that is judged either fairly or harshly according to the voyeur at the moment.
One was accepted graciously knowing it could be accomplished. A partnership of leadership skills. Akasha and I both would oversee the herds while Cana was away on her trip. We each have our strengths with the kaiila and should have no trouble in working together.

The other precariously layered on so many levels that it appears a Kobayashi Maru. Can I, Should I, Will I become The Lovely Fairy with Azure Hair or The Blue Fairy .. that is the question, more than, will Pinocchio become a real boy? Or for that matter which boy is Pinocchio.

Tests ... there are many in societies, those you see and those you don't. I'd been told that the hardest ones are the ones you never see coming. I've been told the hardest ones you pass are those that knock you slap on your ass and you still get up again.

Had I passed the unseen tests? Loyalty? Strength of heart? Independence? Resilience? I'm still standing. It was coming to the point that the pass or fail did not matter. What was growing extremely important to me now was when the smoke rises from my pyre whether it is today, tomorrow or when I grow old and gray that I had not just upheld the law not to draw blood of another Tribe member but stood with both feet on the ground behind them or beside them, not taller because it was on the heads or hearts of even one of my people.

If that is seen as weak then I confess ... I am.

Mo Anam Cara

I've found a new style of warming at the fires, rotisserie tuchuk. Warm the back until the leather starts to sting against the skin then turn a little to let that spot cool while another is heating up. I was doing this while I downed gulps of blackwine and waiting on sleen to bring food. I was hungry, tired and felt parched, demanding she talk to me while I shoveled the bits of meat down. I was doing most of talking not even knowing if she heard me and not caring. I was telling her about the halter, the bit rings, kaiila manicures .. what ever popped into my head and most of it all centered around the beasts.

She wanted to know about my possessions. See we switched places about the same time so in a way there is a kindredness. She doesn't want to be free and I don't want to be slave but that fine line in the middle is a place where we can meet. I meant to give her some of the beads Tarra had given me but I keep forgetting. We would both ask if she could have them and it was probably less than fifty fifty odds on who got to ask first. Sleen would probably win but I'd had enough wagering for a while .. well until the odds changed a little more in my favor at least.

When Arigh stopped by I remembered to say tal first. Wheeeee, I'm getting better and better. I asked how the pups were doing and we both screeched to a halt confused. Which ones? The only ones I thought she told me she had when I spoke to her last time about stopping by the see. I don't know why she thought I was only interested in the Ubar's. I like animals, soft ones, fuzzy ones, even one's that don't look like pets. The sleens are cute and cuddly looking when they are little but after listening to the whimpering, whining of Ebet's, I had no intention of getting one any time soon.

When we got around to talking about kaiila, I mentioned my dilemma with the broken leather and she of course mentioned Saresh. Maybe trade a home cooked dinner for what I needed. That might have sounded like a good idea if I hadn't seen that little glint in her eyes. Pff I blew that match out quick. Iffff I ran across him I would try to remember to ask. What is it with all the women around the camp lately?

I know there are many around me that have suffered loss and feel the pangs of grief. I don't know what to do, how to make it all better. I want to but then those lessons of all the things, I can't change, can't fix or make better are still a bit touchy. Do I make it worse trying or do I make it worse not trying? I wound up most of the time just quietly sitting there available if they need me. That works a lot better with someone you know pretty well than with someone you don't know much about. We did laugh about my struggle in learning the sea of names and faces. I do alright with most of the woman but I had already made the mistake of confusing two warriors and congratulating the wrong one in being mated. Right now in both of those men's lives or those around them that care for them, it really would not be a good thing to repeat the faux pas.

Arigh slipped off into the shadows and I remembered quick enough to offer the opposite of those tals before she got out of sight. I mean well honestly yall. Anyway, Akasha joined me about that time all beaming and looking as if she could just float away on a wisp of smoke. She had slept well and felt like a brand new person. I was envious, I'd tossed and turned night after night not remembering much except being even more tired the next morning than when I'd fallen asleep. We were talking about sleep while sleen slid into almost peaceful little sleen slumbers.

For a moment she bowed up on me too asking if I had called her a liar over something I disagreed with her about. I may be a soft spoken woman most of the time and I tend to keep my opinions to myself a lot but ... I can honestly say that when and if I believe someone lies to me that will not have to doubt it. I bowed right back up on her. She soothed the larl claws back in with a gentle nudge that she was just teasing. I think we still have baby claws, they aren't all that sharp yet but we did a nice job of scratching on the post there.

After that we had a wonderful time whispering in sleen's ear and listening to her talk in her sleep. Or I did anyway. But that was also when I realized what Akasha was not talking about. I couldn't explain why I couldn't explain and explaining that was just making her more miserable. Ah ha .. I got it. Talk to Cana.

She realized too in a way why it was so hard for me to talk about what we weren't talking about. Made for the beginning of a wonderful conversation about not not talking and how we both were really bad at it or is that really good at it. The confidences we shared after that brought us closer together.

It is a funny thing sometimes how you can become the expert on something you are trying to learn and learn all that you are trying to teach in the same moment. I think that is the truest definition of friendship right there. I am going to hold on to that until I find a better one. So I am hearing my own voice as I tell her .. be proud of who you are, one with a unique story to tell and I hear her telling me ... never forget your strength. And there was blue in the middle of it all sort of blinking and grinning 'cause she didn't see anything else but two tuchuk women standing there.

Tell me your story .. please. And we did. Mine began I am a woman that came from the stars knowing that this was where I belonged. Hers began that she was proud of her people and her home. She dragged me by the hand to her wagon and I wound up dragging blue with us. The two of them had to have been conspiring for a while to ambush me like that .. wily Tuchuks. Each gave me a gift in turn. Akasha handing me half a blanket that had a most intricate half circle on it, she had the other half. One soul that dwells in two bodies.

I thought blue was going to burst into a multitude of little pieces before she could give me her gift. I was already speechless .. yes me speechless .. go figure. When she slipped the little silver bell in my hand, smoke got in my eyes. Through the choking swell in my throat I told them the story of why the name bell ... cloche ... meant so much to me. It was all I could do to kiss them both and run, not walk back to my wagon, holding the new treasures close to my heart.

Sharpening Claws

Everything has rules even sharpening claws.

Rule Number 1. No surprises. Make sure your kaiila knows you are there - approach so that he can see you and talk to him as you do. Position yourself by his shoulder, pet his neck and move your hand down his shoulder and leg checking for puffiness, tenderness or other problems down to just above his ankle.

Number 2. Grasp his leg at the back, keeping your thumb close to your hand. Then tell him to pick up. If he is used to being handled, he may comply immediately, if not then squeeze in with your thumb and forefinger until he obeys.

The list goes on.

The rules and lessons that were being provided were hands on for the first mount that Cana had segregated out. The remainder I would be allowed to tend to. By the time I was finished several of the creatures sported brand new pedicures. Oooh they did look sharp and yes that pun was very much intended. See wrist, knee and calf for proof.

It hadn't taken near as long to see to that task as I thought and with the extra time I had left over, I lavished Bluesky with a good rub down. No matter how much affections she gets, she still sighs mournfully and noses tufts of grass petulantly. It is almost endearing how much she misses Trilock. Cana and Noya's concern is showing more visibly as well. I'm not good at consoling, not with my trip over my own tongue and land on everyone's face not just my own abilities. I say something funny to make them laugh but that doesn't really help, I know.

My own growing sadness made me feel as if I were slogging around in quicksand, just going in deeper and deeper. I didn't want to bring everyone around me down so I kept putting on happy faces, smiling, nodding, making jests, teasing and making others laugh. Even when I petted the sweet mare and walked away, I wondered if her misery was real or whether she was picking up and emulating what she felt in me or vice versa. Purely selfish thoughts there but they were mine and I gave them freedom for a little while.

My shoulder was hurting almost continuously now and at times the stretch or roll of it didn't alleviate any of the growing burn or ache. I brushed Barhk off when he asked about it. I'd had Petra look and she said she didn't see anything wrong except a small ragged gash from where I'd hit the post. A dab of salve and it should be fine soon.

All of that slipped my mind when I saw the men begin working a few of the colts in cutting maneuvers. Looked like a few new wagers to get in on, and a lot of fun riding between the barrels. New lesson, never bet against Corbin. That man knows his stuff. I won a few and lost a few so I broke even in the end ... sort of. I was out a few eggs but I went home with a few kaiila talons. Oh now those were going to be tasty for first meal, weren't they?

The last of the evening I spent with two of the mares. These would be the ones that would foal the Ubar's new acquisitions. What they ate, how they ate, how well they were exercised would be part of how well those new babes did when they hit the ground. It was an investment to me. There was a bit of concern growing for one, her belly looked painfully huge. You could see the limber limbs of the whelp she was carrying sticking out past her ribs. It wasn't going to be an easy birthing and everyone around the pens didn't seem to want to talk about it with me.