Stretch and ...

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

Pink Floyd

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

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

Sweet Skies

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wounds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recipes

"The Sharing Song"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are friends for?

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

Kahlil Gibran

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

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

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

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

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

The skin you're in

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Smoke

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

Written By Graham Nash

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

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

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

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

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

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

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