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.