Ain't throwing in the towel

In the burning heart - just about to burst,
Theres a quest for answers, an unquenchable thirst,
In the darkest night - rising like a spire,
In the burning heart - the unmistakable fire.
In the warriors code - theres no surrender,
Though his body says stop - his spirit cries - never!
Deep in our soul a quiet ember,
Knows its you against you, its the
Paradox that drives us on -
Its a battle of wills, in the heat of attack,
Its the passion that kills -
The victory is yours alone.
~ Burning Heart

I admire the ferocity of his heart. I can feel the beat of it, hear it. It calls to me. Did he know why I was here today? Did he sense what was coming? Staccato stomps of his claws, the flare of his nostrils and the sling of his head was defensive to the point of antagonistic. It was unusual even of such a magnificently arrogant beast as he was.

He reared time and again as I neared to grasp the reins. One hand held out to the sky, the other finally managing a firm grip of the leather straps, we began. Regardless of which direction he moved, I was there, moving with him, still in his path. He was not going to run me down. I could see that in his gaze and that small bit of protectiveness was what I was exploiting to weaken him. If he tried to pass, I walked or ran with him until we both met the ends of the ropes and maneuvered him in next to the rails. His efforts filled with the adrenalized energy of struggle, mine of determination. If the other hands tried to step in, I waved them away. This was between us.

When he broke to run, I allowed the ropes to extend between us until they caught against the post in the center of the corral, wrapping the leads into the grooves where they would slide with ease. I met him there face to face. The soft pruffs and clicks of my tongue seeking to sooth the wild fury of defiance. Over and over again, he would seek escape only to find me there. He was expending his stores of reserve far faster than I was of my patience ... close mind you, at times really close.

I lost track of time, focusing only on the untamed fire in his eyes. Sweat trickling from my brow was stinging my eyes and blinding me until I raked my face against a towel. I had somehow taken it with me from the fires and now had it draped over my shoulder. His pelt was lathering, saliva dripping from his lips where his panting from exertion had expanded beyond his tongue. His pacing strides had begun to slow. It was time.

It would be a test of my strength now as I motioned for the old weather beaten saddle to be handed to me. I didn't want something new and shiny. I wanted this one because of it's meaning to me .. to us. I hefted it in one hand while I closed the circle around the post until I was closer to his side. I would have been sorely disappointed if the first attempt had succeeded. Or for that fact the next several in a series.

The recent rains had created slickened puddles in the ring for me to slide in more than once, not to mention the buffeting of that massive maw or flank to push me away. I kept no more count of how many attempts I made than he did. When the taste of leather found his spine, I had to smile watching him try one more buck to throw it. He was cinched up against the wooden stob so it was easier to step in and begin buckling the stirrup straps. I had to be quick, I could not afford for him to catch his breath.

No sooner were the buckles jerked tight, I let loose the rope and hitched up by the pommel. All I was able to do in that brief amount of time was flick the towel across to Corbin and settle in for the ride. No matter how much the kaiila tried to outrun, out-wrangle the strange weight of gear and woman on his back, I was in command of the reins. I was going to feel every bone jarring movement he had made later and I knew it. One good miss timing and I felt the barrier between the rails jamb into my shoulder. I ignored the pain or maybe I was simply oblivious to it in being so focused at the moment. All that I trained my attention on was the fact his growing fatigue had him stumbling and slowing.

When Sinewy finally came to a stand still dipping his head, pawing at the ground, the men let out those raucous sleen calls and whistles they were famous for. I let my guard down and it was all it took for the thunderous creature to have one last say. A hefting launch of his haunches set me into the air, flying into the mire of the corral. Vreeland, Barhk and Gabriel all spilled over the fence like a pack of lemmings headed my way to get me up and out from under the beast before he trampled me. My mount on the other hand had a whole different perspective of this oncoming mob, and with all the fire breathing snorts and aggressive lunge of a warrior he met them just feet in front of me. The spray of dirt and mud covering their leathers almost up to their knees.

Scrambling hurriedly and reaching up, I grabbed at the reins and stood with every muscle and joint in agony but it was the men I held my hand, palm up to.

Its alright .. Its alright.

I leaned into Sinewy then, my cheek against the still wheezing softness of his and felt the almost tender nudge back. I walked him back to the pens, grabbing that cloth back from Corbin as I passed. Before I gave any thought to cleaning up and tending to the wounds I'd suffered .. it would be a rub down, brushing and a good meal for my mount.

For some, this would have been a golden glorious moment, syrupy coated with triumph but it wasn't. Knowing I had changed the world of someone that meant so much to me was an empty ache. No matter how much of his spirit I had left intact, it still remained that I had taken his freedom from him. From this moment on in some way he would always be connected to mankind, dependent on them. He was no longer just a captive but part of their world, part of my world. That agony surfaced in me as anger, a quiet rage, barely bridled in itself. When I went to put the halter away, I did not have the control of my shaking hands and the intensity I felt inside became tangible when I snapped the halter onto its peg. The force broke the already fragile dry rot and I watched it fall to the dirt in pieces. There laying in a heap now was part of my capability to become clan, my future. The twisted rubble of my anger staring me in the face.

It took all I could do to drag my butt back to the wagon to remove some of the dirt and grime and make myself more presentable. I didn't notice until after I had washed up that there were more than mud stains on the rep. It didn't matter whether it was all mine or someone else's, those frayed ends of leather was all I really seemed to be able to see.