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.

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!