Sides of a coin

I'd grown accustomed to sleeping beneath or on top of a wagon where ever there was an empty spot rather than in the crowded slave wagon. The physician's wagon isn't very far from the one of the kaiila Mistress and that one isn't far from Master Rook's. I would find a place near one of them to spread my blanket. The past few days I'd begun to pick up my chores again from the other slaves that had been helping but for some reason it took more out of me than usual. Several nights would find me toppling into it sound asleep before my cheek ever touched its softness. Tonight though, that bliss was reluctant to come. With my eyes closed I seemed to hover between wakefulness and the brink of an abyss that I could not slip beyond.

The feel of something warm and soft shifting against the middle of my back didn't startle me but I lay still in that drowsy state trying to determine whether it was friend or foe. When a toe dug into the back of my calf and an elbow gouged at my ribs, I pulled the corner wedge of my blanket over the little body leaving my hand curled over his hip behind me.

A new round of fidgits while he fought his own battle against sleep caused me to whisper,'be still.' I heard his breath sigh and could almost see the warm vapor turn white in the cool air and soon a little purr of snoring filled in the pause in between.

More on this side of waking now I lay there basking in this gift and pondering it as well. The small warrior had left the comforts of his new environment and braved slipping out to be here. Was he merely seeking the open stars, finding peace in the solidity of the ground beneath him and a sparkling blanket of the heavens to wrap him in comfort? If so then there were many wagons to slide beneath or even grassy little knolls that would have sufficed. Perhaps he had thought a little blonde slave girl was lonely and needed company. I rather doubted it but still it could have been his motive. I understood more than I was willing to let myself. He was here to fill a need of his own. Reaching out in a small way that wasn't small in any way at all, not to him. The distance he had traveled could not be measured in horts. If measured in base needs, he had spanned light years.

I could see myself having crept such a distance to be near one that I cared for and now I had the opportunity to see through his eyes. It was only a glimpse but it had been enlightening.

There are not two sides to every coin but three. Heads or tails is divided by the slim edge that both keeps them apart and holds them together. Tonight I lay there in the middle being able to see both faces and it dawned on me that it is only when the coin spins that it becomes whole .. a complete circle.

It all made sense in that moment but I knew I would have trouble trying to explain it all if anyone had asked. Instead I merely leaned back a bit so that my body offered a lee side against the wind for a smaller one. While I stared up at the cresents of the three moons it was another that filled my thoughts and I admitted to myself just how deeply I missed him.

Mandala re-edited

The wound is healing well noted by the intense itching beneath the layers of gauze. I forget that it is there much of the time, but the Mistress watches me like a herlit, scolding me if my hand even twitches in the direction of my shoulder. There is a sore spot on my scalp too, not from the tangle with the beast but from having gotten her handi-work wet. That was what I was supposed to remember about the stream. She made a trench between the fire and the healer's wagon with my bottom, dragging me there to check how much damage I'd done.

Today the bandaging will come off. I've kept up with my chores despite it all. Some I could not have done without Oquai and Raven's help. Some I learned to do with the use of one hand and still not disturb the gashes on my back. I'm too busy to think of that afternoon much or the after affects. But today it teases the back of my memory. Parts of Edmund Larl have been distributed among the tribe. A taloned claw hangs from the throat of one of the new Mistresses. It was not until I saw it there that the ice water feel trickled up my spine. I should be pleased that he is no longer a danger to the tribe but it leaves a deep sadness as well as some wariness behind that I cannot explain.

The connection that I have with the wild animals allows me to understand them, how they think, how they follow natural instincts of survival. Often as fleeting thoughts though still understood. Their passings are simply a part of life as it is for humankind. Edmund and his mate were not merely wild animals. The spirit that lived within them held a different predatory response. It was cold and calculating. It thrilled at a kill. As if it could not wait to savor the richness of that taste, it longed for it. I wonder if that spirit still clings to the talisman or any of the other bits and pieces left of the beast. Was this Edmund's retribution, to slip back in when no one was looking, to touch everything, to leave his mark for being pushed from the Tuchuk treehouse? He had touched me and left his mark, I must share part of that spirit too now.

I cannot help glancing to the high grass now and then watching for the hollowed indention of movement. When the wind blows over the tops of the stalks setting them to motion I feel a shiver. I reach up to touch my shoulder to shake it off then stand taller knowing I know that I am stronger now because of it ...

even if more superstitious in my beliefs. I wanted his eyes.

A few of my favorite things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
~Sound of Music

I seemed caught in a wirlwind of change that left me dizzy. Being once more a camp slave afforded me freedoms I had not known before. When I first came to the people I was not trusted enough to be able to roam among them much and the set of bells on my ankle at least let them know where I was and what I was doing when I did. The bells no longer swirled my ankles and I was more readily accepted at the fires. This new opportunity was not one I took lightly. In fact it felt like a gift to be cherished. I will admit that I was very much surprised to be in such demand among members of the tribe. Honored is a good word, I think. The physician had allowed me to help with the dispersement of furs to the outer wagons and help label things in her wagon. The kaiila Master said that once I didn't look like a present all wrapped up, I could help again with feeding and grooming the kaiila. Mistress; 'I have an bone in my leg,' said I could continue helping put up jars of jams and drying meats too. Then there was the task the Commander sent me on of combing beneath wagons to find a wiry little half bota to deliver to the Elders. That as well as the blonde urt hunt and raxxberry counting. Life was good and it was becoming full.

raven has been given the responsibility of keeping the camp slaves in line. If my opinion matters, it was a good decision. She did catch me off guard when she called me out to let me know I would be taught first aid by the Mistress. We, the camp slaves, would all learn something that would be helpful to the tribe. I did make sure that it was alright with the healer as well. If it had been up to me, I would have rather learned more about the kaiila. I knew a little about the beasts in a way. I knew horses and these creatures were similar, well, except for the fangs and taloned claws and all that silky fur ... and the fact that they tower over a wagon in size. And I had learned more when I was allowed to help with them before. The kaiila Master had said once that I could go with him on some of the drives. I had been torn between staying close to Me too and exploring the vastness of my new world and all of its glory. The decision would not be mine to make.

There were several thoughts that ran through my head besides the obvious. One was that no one really knew much about me. That was because I never said much. I get quiet when I am content and had been very quiet for a long time. The second was a dream. At first I had so wanted it to come true, now feeling that it just may, left me with this dreadful sinking feeling. The last was that I would have to remain within sight but not too close.
There was an old piece of prose that wove its way through my thoughts ... 'whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.'

between the bosk, the grass and the sky

Hatching from a nameless gleam of light I see
Monstrous flowers and frightening roses
I feel that out of duty I write all these things
That seem, on the lurid, trembling parchment,
To issue sinisterly from the shadow of my hand.
Is it by chance, great senseless breath
Of the Prophets, that you perturb my thoughts?
So where am I being drawn in this nocturnal azure?
Is it sky I see? Am I in command?
Darkness, am I fleeing? Or am I in pursuit?
Everything gives way. At times I do not know if I am
The proud horseman or the fierce horse;
I have the scepter in my hand and the bit in my mouth.
Open up and let me pass, abysses, blue gulf,
Black gulf! Be silent, thunder! God, where are you leading me?
I am the will, but I am the delirium.
Oh, flight into the infinite! Vainly I sometimes say,
Like the saviour calling out "Lamma Sabacthani,"
Is the way still long? Is it finished,
Lord? Will you soon let me sleep?
The Spirit does what it will. I feel the gusting breath
That Elisha felt, that lifted him;
And in the night I hear someone commanding me to go!
~Victor Hugo

Was it selfish of me to want to be there for him, to be a part of his world, to think that I was somehow helping? He has now been called before the Elders and he is angry and very anxious about it all. None can blame him for that. It is an important turning point. One that the future depends on.

I had meant well and still have deep down knowing inside that life holds great things for him. Readily, I will admit I do not know all there is to know of being a Tuchuk or of the many clans and their ways. These things I learn more of every day or at least what I am allowed to know. To the day I take my last breath I will learn so that I can give back.

I was given the chance to tell the story of a courageous warrior, one that faced grave danger, one that stood tall with honor to protect those that could not do so for themselves. I told it at the fires at the request of a Commander. It was heard and respect offered as it should be. Not to me of course but to the man who had been so fierce, so brave. What was his name, where among the vast harigga did he live, who was his family? These were important questions I had no answer to. I could only divulge that he was too young to have a name yet, unscarred, fuzz cheeked. Not a man but a small boy. He lived where he could, sleeping beneath wagons when he grew tired. There was no family that claimed him as their own. He was alone in this world. Alone except for a meddling little slave that watched over him when she could.

There was wisdom in the old warrior's voice when he asked that Master Rook begin looking after the boy. He would have a place to sleep, hot meals to eat, he would have the kaiila Mistress as well to help watch over him. She is the finest mothering spirit I have ever known. How I wish I could be the one that could offer that nurturing to him. So much so I felt an ache race through my heart. It eased only slightly when I saw her concern fill her features like a cloud against the sun. The name she chose for the boy was far more fitting than the nickname I had for him. Larl Spear is what he would be known as now until he has been given his true name by the tribe. I was told find him and to bring him before the Elders.

Weren't these all good things?

It took several days to find the slippery little fellow. When I did, he was among the other children reliving the moment with the larl in mock battle. The end of that lance now held straight and even. It had more velocity when he set it into motion. That little lower lip did not pooch out to his chin any longer, that little belly held taut bringing his whole demeanor to new heights. Still I would not disturb him while he was surrounded by others. I waited until they had returned to their wagons and he was by himself. There was a fire that blazed in those ebon eyes when he saw me, a touch of a small smile that seemed precious. Not a sweet and sappy kind of precious but one that was treasured far above jewels because of its rarity.

He is unnerved and it surfaces as anger to be called from his old world to one that is unknown, and in ways seems more foreboding than the great larl itself to face. He said this was all my fault but in the same breath asked me if he looked presentable to stand before the Elders. I resisted licking my thumb to slick a lock of his hair into place and wipe away the dust off the tender cheek. I do not know what is right or wrong when it comes to many of the ways of my people. I do not truly know how one is to appear before the Elders other than respectful and humble. I told him the truth though. I told him he looked like a courageous Tuchuk warrior to me.

He let me walk with him part of the way and it was only as I stood in the shadows of the Elder's fires watching him continue on ... with the gait of a champion that I could see a bit of white fluff held fiercely in his fist. When they asked of his heritage there could have been no more fitting response that what rang out clear, proud and well defined. "I am first son of No wagon and All wagons, born of the dust of the plains between the bosk, the grass and the sky."

I had seen enough, I had seen too much perhaps but when I was shooed from the shadows, I could not help the grin that seemed tattooed from ear to ear.

Everyone keeps asking me if I am alright. The answer is a resounding YES. I could not be more so.

Moonbeams

bell ... Can you hear me?

Momma it hurts so bad.

That couldn't be right. Momma never called me bell. She always called me her little cloche.

It all came flooding back ... the larl, the children, Me too.

Me too .. is he alright? It was the first thing I asked even before I had a good understanding of where I was.

Mistress Falon was there with one of those worried Momma faces. I tried to smile at her and pull myself into a proper kneel. Major mistake and I do mean major. That look on her face more than the pain itself told me, I was in bad shape. No mincing around words that one, she said so ... plain and simple. I was lucky to be alive. I sort of felt the same way or I would have if she hadn't been dabbing at tender places with stinging ointments. I was more grateful she stopped swabbing than I was to be breathing there for a moment or two. No broken bones thankfully but the larl had left me a souvenir that I would carry with me the rest of my life. The larl hadn't knocked any of the stuffings out of me but three deep claw marks created cresent moons along my left shoulder. Mistress teased me about them to help lighten the mood while she stitched me up. When she was finished I would look like a pretty little package all wrapped up. I just needed a pink ribbon to finish it off.

Odd what goes through your head at extreme moments. I told her she was beautiful, beautiful on the inside.

She was still concerned about the children. I was too. I was concerned too about anyone knowing how it had happened. She said I had a new story to tell. I said it should be Me too's moment of glory and not the tale of a silly little slave girl.

Why had it been a silly little slave girl involved in the first place? That is easy. Had it been a freewoman, the tribe would have come out in droves to defend her, nevermind the little tuchuk with the poochy little lower lip and an unbalanced lance. A warrior would have earned a new scar for his heroism. But a slave? We are expendable. Instead it would be all about Me too and how he saved the other children. He really was so brave. I was so proud of him.

I must have been feeling better by the ihn since I managed to barter with the Mistress about how long I had to take it easy. She said three days. I tried to argue for two. She won. Then she handed me some tea. Wow, it worked fast. In my drowsy state I barely recognized Oquai standing there. She had been the gentle arms that circled me and brought me here. Come to think of it, she had always been with me since I came to this world. It was something I would ponder later while I was exiled to the slave wagon with nothing else to do.

My amazon goddess became the stoic protector instantly. Talk about a mother vulo? I didn't argue as much with her as the tea began to work its magic.

No stream allowed. I was supposed to remember something about the stream ... nevermind, I'll go dust Master's wagon, but not right this ihn.

Dancing with larls sure takes a lot out of a girl.

I'm not sure why but I remembered the treehouse from when I was young.

Not the first time I've been called childish, just the first time I have ever said it about myself.

Falling from the treehouse

I remember going to Mother's friend's Esther's house on the coast when I was little, more so for her bratty son Edmund than I did the visiting with anyone else. Edmund was always self proclaimed 'in charge'. He made up the games we played, he made up the rules for them and he changed them at will. Always to suit him. No surprise he always won. I remember him most from the summer he pushed me out of the tree house. No girls allowed, he said then showed me the sign he'd made to prove it. It was only him and me so it divided the troops by half.
That fall knocked the breath out of me and made me mad. I mean real mad, the kind of mad that makes you all calm on the inside, past seeing red but seeing blinding white instead. I was too mad to cry. I tried climbing back up there to ... I don't know what I would have done if I'd gotten back in while he was there but he sort of figured it wasn't a good idea to let me up there again. So I waited him out. I didn't make any more attempts to get back up there while he was self proclaimed king of the tree house.
Eventually he got lonely or maybe just hungry but he slithered down the makeshift ladder and headed for the side porch of the manor. That was when I made my move. I skinnied up that tree and pulled the door closed behind me. Only took a minute to change the sign. No boys allowed

I held the treehouse for the rest of the afternoon. I touched each and everything Edmund had stashed there. Tainted it all with girl cooties. That would teach him. I felt vindicated anyway at least until Momma called me in for dinner.
bell ... bell

"Hidden"

If you place a fern
under a stone
the next day it will be
nearly invisible
as if the stone
has swallowed it.
If you tuck the name of a loved one
under your tongue too long
without speaking it
it becomes blood
sigh
the little sucked-in breath of air
hiding everywhere
beneath your words.
No one sees
the fuel that feeds you.
~ Naomi Shihab Nye

Whispers

If I had expected a glow of green light or even blue it did not appear. If I had expected the painted man to intervene, he had not come. Who was I to say that what I came here for was done. There had been greater forces at work here. If I had expected not to wake, I had been mistaken. I was too young to know that I would be mistaken many times in my life.

.. can you ...
can you .. live
for me

An echo reverberated through me and in my darkness I held tight to it. I held tight to all that I believed in. With that strangled grip I turned with defiance to a distant summons. The dirt beneath my fingers was curled tight into my palm.

The plains, my plains, my home.

The answer was a whispered ... yes.

And with it, I surrendered to the peacefulnes of sleep, aware only of arms that lifted me with a gentility.

As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.
O! let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

Me too

Raven's soft shoulder though inviting to sleep against had not been found of late. Instead under what ever wagon was nearest when Me too would begin to wind down in the eves became my bed roll. If he noticed that a 'girl' was hanging around he never let on. He was more attuned to simply surviving.

I never ventured too close to where he was so that I did not interfere in any way with his daily life. He would wake, scratch and meander off to find a scrap of bread, fight for a tidbit of meat or scavenge the bushes for a lizard or a cotton tail frevet to munch on. He was already a good hunter though the poochy little belly told of nutritional hungers just as the poochy little lower lip told of social ones. There was no one wagon that he called home, no waiting arms to tuck him in at night. The scrapes and bruises he would acquire whether playing or scrapping to carve out a place among the other children were neglected. There was no one to kiss them and dry the tears. I can't remember seeing him cry over anything. He was a tough little warrior.

The same scenario I'd watched for many days began to unfold along the outer edge of the harriga today. Me too had his lance in hand, dragging it across the dust and dirt attepting to catch up with the other children and they were trying to find places he couldn't follow. I'd found a small perch on a small bolder and was mending a pair of leathers when the parade took a left turn back toward the camp. Instead of lump bumping behind them he stopped and looked to the tall grass. It was instinctive to do the same, my gaze turning to the same area.

I could see the tops of the golden stalks waving in the breeze. A serene picture of the plains at peace. Then I saw it too. A furrow that moved within them. Deep, foreboding, paralyzing. The little warrior hadn't moved a hort. He, like I, watched as it angled in the direction of the camp and began to pick up speed.

The larl.

My heart raced with ice water and the sewing I'd been inattentive to anyway slid down the side of the rock I'd been sitting on to fall into the dirt next to it. I started running as hard as I could on an intercept path. It was not the movement in the tall grass that I kept in sight. It was my self imposed little charge. Fear never once touched the red fruit cheeks. The end of the lance rose unsteadily even as he stared at me. Our eyes met and locked.

Everything unfolded in a flash of a million moments. Instantly in slow motion. The impact was fierce enough to knock the tiny white feather from my hair. Pain in my shoulder was scalding hot and freezing cold all at the same time. The world became streaks of blinding white. I had to smile as I watched the tiny arm's motion. For the first time the razor pointed pole held perfectly balanced then began to sail through the air with a precision grown warriors would practice a lifetime to achieve.
Had it been one of the tribe's most fierce that had let go the lance, it would have had enough force to pierce the creature to the ground. Instead, it was only enough to startle the beast away from his original prey.

Within the crimson tunnel I was sinking into, I watched Me too bend to gather the little down fluff, twirling it pensively in his fingers. In the next moment, he was swallowed up in the midst of his peers, raucous cries lit the skies hailing the teeny hero and they lifted him to stronger shoulders to carry him off.
The tall dry grasses slipped back in around me in a warm embrace and soon grew still except for their dance with the wind.

Humming along

When the grass woke this morning, it decided that green was its best color. The dust thought brown was suitable to wear another day and the sky was that gorgeous sky blue just as everything should be. I could not have agreed more with their choices and the reliability of it all brought a smile and some silly little song that I kept humming as I began my day.

I really don't think the last vestiges of sleep had quite burnt away when I brought water back from the stream but I was pleased to have a few moments of Mistress Falon all to myself. It had been a while since I served her so when I brought her, her blackwine I almost began apologizing for bringing it black. I'd remembered right. There was a ring of truth in her words. "Remember not to second guess that which you already knew in your heart and mind." I tucked it away for safe keeping.

She gave me the chance to speak to her of Me too as well as listened to a story of a woman found tossing sand dollars back into the sea. There was no judgement as I confided that it was how I felt about the young Master. She just listened. I'asked if there was anything I could help her with and she very graciously agreed there was quite a lot I could do. I could read and write Gorean because of the training I had been given in Tor, and I had picked up a few of the Tuchuk symbols along the way as well. These skills would be of use to her labeling the various jars and such in her wagons. I enjoyed the feeling of being able to contribute to the harigga's needs even if it was beginning with just one. I was still humming that little song when I went to fill her bowl.

The morning unfolded into peals of laughter when raven began teasing me about urts, blonde urts. When she ran a bit of fur across my back I came unglued, jumped up, toppled over trying to get the fuzzy creature that had attacked me .. OFF. Wench. I'll find a way to even the score. I think she might look adorable with little pink ribbons tied in her hair. She has to sleep some time. Eh, who am I kidding. Adorable will just offer her more raxxberries in a day.

But ... I'm still a little jumpy after all that and was peeping under things and around things ... searching for Me too of course annnnd ... maybe an urt as well but I'm not telling. I heard Mistress Cana telling them I would look under every wagon before I was through helping raven urt hunt. She was right. The most important thing though was hearing them laugh and enjoy a morning of fresh blackwine and meeting the day with a smile. It wasn't work, it was just being alive and relishing every delicious moment of it.

Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver,
the other is gold.

A circle is round,
it has no end.
That's how long,
I will be your friend

A fire burns bright,
it warms the heart.
We've been friends,
from the very start.

You have one hand,
I have the other.
Put them together,
We have each other.

Silver is precious,
Gold is too.
I am precious,
and so are you.

You help me,
and I'll help you
and together
we will see it through.

The sky is blue
The Earth is green
I can help
to keep it clean

Across the land
Across the sea
Friends forever
We will always be.
(Brownie Friendship Rondel)

You, Darkness

You, Darkness

You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything-
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! -
powers and people-
and it is possible a great presence is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.

Rainer Maria Rilke

A power of Butterfly

My Cocoon tightens — Colors tease
I'm feeling for the Air —
A dim capacity for Wings
Demeans the Dress I wear —
A power of Butterfly must be —
The Aptitude to fly
Meadows of Majesty implies
And easy Sweeps of Sky —
So I must baffle at the Hint
And cipher at the Sign
And make much blunder, if at least
I take the clue divine —

Emily Dickinson