Pocket Stone

She feels the lumps in the heart fall
she rose up in the back
She hears the scars scream out from outside
And she whispers sometimes about this
But the colors mix together to grey
And wake me up
Oh, when it comes down in your loving
Oh, well then baby its right
You say you think you are nothing
No one else will do it for you
Reach up and grab hold of the sunlight
When you are waiting for whats right
Youre holding on your heaven
Wont leave you, yeah...
And the colors mix together to grey
Wake me up, wake me up, wake me up
To grey.

I dreamed of him.

How long had I been on this journey? ... two forevers and a million times as many days and far more nights than memory would allow. I'd come so far and still felt so distant. The ache culminated with a fierceness, pounding in my chest. Now I was there, for a moment, for an ihn. The slither of my arms wrapped around him. The statue, still, immovable, immobile, ungiving. A patina of melocholy dripping away as I pressed kisses against the scars of his cheek. So tender, so poignant. My fingers slid over his flesh, caressing it in mine. Stark, motionless dance. The cool of my skin soothing the fire, dampening it. Igniting mine in glorious flames. My heart breaking open, accepting, infolding. Flesh molding around him and taking him within. So cold ... so cold, chilling and thrilling with every touch. Melting, melding, crumbling. I could feel the shards of granite beginning to break away, exposing the sinew beneath. Folding back the layers one by one. It was all so deliciously cruel. Tantalizingly smorgasbord feeling the beautiful blue trace every touch. Staining porcelain lavendar. His fever becoming mine. Pressing closer, wrapping around it like a cocoon, enveloping, heated chills racing through me. Sensitive, raw, tender. Breaths labor ... filling, brimming to the surface so laden with emotions. Cavernous echos of sweet nothings, whispers cried in agonizing clarity. Crushing grasps to glide in delicate grace. Lines of silvered white dancing beneath my touch, rippling, giving, healing. Crimsoned washes ran in blushed puddles. A balm, a salve ... magic potion oiling, gliding, glistening its way to recesses. Weeping into wounds. Gasping war against the inevitable. Scalding in overflow, shivering, shattering screams of silence. An arch to reach the new plateau, lifting, rising higher into a new realm then silencing for the last time. My fingers frozen in eternity ... sculpted. I broke open and he spilled out.

I dreamed of him and woke seizing in a breath.

Disruption

For as languid as the Tuchuk can stretch out at the fires, when they are on the move they can be as quick as lightning. It took a double step to try and catch up with that long legged Ubar. Deciding to cut him off at the pass, I opted for a short cut between the wagons. Nice little ambush it would have been too. Instead I ran full speed into a wall. THUD. A tall, wide, thick wall with tree trunks planted at its base. Definitely rang my bell and sprawled me back on my bottom wondering who and why someone would erect a behemoth barrier in the middle of the harigga. It took a full ehn or two to realize I'd run slap into a Master, a really big one ... standing there minding his own business, or so it seemed. Apologies were not sufficient for having disrupted whatever thoughts he had been so deep in. He had to know where such a pale little wisp was going in such an all fired hurry.

You guessed it, he got one of those run on long winded sentences ... "Well see, there is a Master that used to be my Master and he had called my name looking for me as he was walking into the darkness and I was hurrying to try and catch up with him to ..."

"To what?" I may not have been able to see the scarred cheeks but his amusement dripped from that resonating bass voice. He was making no move to move and I could not exactly back up and go around. "Tooooooo seee what he wanted of me?" Was that a safe enough answer? A girl cannot presume, you know, even if he had whispered in my ear earlier in the eve a vague description of what he wanted.

Nope. That was not going to cut it. "What do you think he wanted of you?" Well it wasn't to be sung to sleep. That was a direct quote mind you. The laughter rolled through the ends of the wagons, sort of reverberating off the sides and echoing as it escaped down the lanes. I could only imagine at this point that my prey was doing much the same. It only took one hand to pick me up so that my feet dangled horts above the ground and a massive paw swatted at the dust on my chatka. Owwwwww. After settling me back on my feet, he sent me off with a hand print on my tush. "Then Harta girl."

I wanted to tell him I was in the process of doing just that when he became a barricade but enough time had passed that the paga the other Master had been drinking would be reaching a crescendo. Time was wasting. I only spun around once to look back and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Screeching to a halt, I stared at the tangles of rich red hair then ... at the tow headed waif I had missed seeing earlier, standing next to him. She was a fragment or maybe a figment straight out of my dreams. I reached up to rub my eyes and when I looked again ... they ... were gone. But by then so was the man I had been trailing.

If the skies thought putting up roadblocks ... even ones as big as a wall would keep me from him, I was still determined to prove them wrong. I was simply going to have to be more stubborn than ... well more stubborn than a Tuchuk.

Articulate

Beloved, they want to know:
Did I reach up to You,
or did You reach out to me?
And they want to know:
What is real touch?
How can I explain
we pour into each other?
Ivan Granger

It isn't often I manage to make it to the fires and when I do, it is a treat for me. I try not to be very intrusive but this night I decided to shoot for the stars. A simple silent gesture asked if I could sit behind him on the platform and a simple silent gesture afforded me the priviledge. How precious it felt to be allowed there, close to him once again. Of a whole gathering around the fires, I knew nothing of most of the evening except the feel of my breasts pillowing his head, my body his cushion to cradle against. I had remembered those first nights of being with him, how his touch had played the response of my body as if it were a fine instrument. A glide along the skin prickling it to a dampened rise of the fine down, rippling it as his fingers disturbed the serenity of the porcelain statue ... bringing it to life with just his whim. He gave me taste of that once more when he took my hand within his. There before everyone gathered, he manipulated my fingers in a way that was far more intimate than wanton sexual release, for more intense in its dominance than a whip could ever have created. Chaste in that it was nothing more than the lift of my hand exploring it down to my wrist, iniquitous in how it made me feel.
Much as the strands of leather used to harness the power of the massive kaiila, his fingers became the guidance to move mine. He led, I followed. Such connection was intoxicating, maddening, thrilling. I watched in fascination, I felt each tendon, each muscle's reflex .. response as he placed pressure on my wrist, my palm, my thumb. I watched as he moved my fingers to a ballerina's pose, the joints curving and stilling when he had them just as he wished them. He held them frozen as if they belonged to a doll. Does the marionette feel as I did? Does she know the exquisiteness of the moment? Unlike her, the dance was far more complete in that I felt it everywhere, to my very breath, my pulse, the curl of my toes, waving, swaying, bending to his will. He had asked me once of my thoughts of a man taking his woman right there at the fires, in front of any and all gathered ... was this not the same in its way? Was it not ... indulgent exhibitionism. He was selfish, he was cruel, he was tender, he was demanding and exacting. He was unabashed and unashamed. He was all of the man I had fallen for.
He displayed his own trust as well. The line of artery lay exposed beneath my chin, there for the simple bend of my head to sink my teeth into. I felt it beneath the ridge of my nails however brief he allowed the touch. I felt ferral needs rise and the yearning to cut the spike of a canine deep into it, to taste his pulse, to feel mine matching his. Did he exposed me as slave before the fires or simply what everyone including myself already knew? I was a passionate woman ... I was his. There were moments I wanted so much more, to whisper along the shell of his ear an invitation. Instead it was the low growl of his voice against mine that made me want to cry out what his touch made me feel .. not simply the sexuality of it, not just the sensuality of it or even the delectable interconnection that I yearned for so deeply with him again. It was purely the response of being all woman. He wrote poetry in the motions, he wrote prose on my skin. My restraint at times bit my teeth into the tender flesh of my own lip. Despite all that he provoked ... it was his lead and I .. gave in to it.
In doing so, so much more revealed itself. His skin beneath the allowance of my palm was scalding hot, fevered. It made my own flesh feel like an ice bath against it. Letting my skin cool his again and again in the night air before he used it as a soothing compress for his own. I could tell he forgot the wrappings along his chest until my fingers probed gently to see how far it covered. The wound encompassed his heart which cut through me and quickened my breaths, thudded my pulse. I tried not to let my concern show. There before everyone he had allowed me this tidbit of knowledge and none else knew. None cared, none noticed. I felt as if my own heart broke open and spilled out for all to see, for him to see its exposure. When he rose to speak to the visiting spex, I felt as if I had been plunged into the icy cold of the stream without him. It warmed to a glistening fiery heat when he called my name and turned to walk into the darkness. I rose to go with him.

Soooo?

Don't wanna wait til tomorrow,
Why put it off another day?
One more walk through problems,
Built up, and stand in our way,
ah One step ahead, one step behind me
Now you gotta run to get even
Make future plans, don't dream about yesterday,
hey C'mon turn, turn this thing around
Right now,
hey It's your tomorrow
Right now,
C'mon,it's everything
Right now,
Catch a magic moment,
do it Right here and now
It means everything
Miss the beat, you lose the rhythm,
And nothing falls into place,
no Only missed by a fraction,
Slipped a little off your pace


When I drifted off to sleep, she was there, the little flaxen haired muse I was always searching for. I couldn't see her but I knew ... I knew she was leading me once again. In the past it had been through garden paths or stucco walled cities with pebble stone streets and men in white robes with incense burners. The trails always leading upward through attics and stairways. It was not the multi-layered voices of chaos or the furies showing me the past and whispering in my ear all the things that I did not wish to see when I was awake, the places, the faces I'd withdrawn from, trying to escape.

Instead, it was a serene little scene of the plains, level, even, flat as far the eye could see to the cliffed walls I remembered passing in the caravan on the way to the harriga. Little fluff tailed frevets squirreling away nuts, lizards lazily turning one eye then the next, vigilantly watching. It was the feel that was most important .. peaceful, enclosing like an embrace. Everything was just as it should be. All that disturbed the portrait of calm was one large wooden door in the middle of .. everything.

I walked to it, then around it before I returned to where I'd found it and lifted my hand for the handle. Did I feel trepidation? My heart was racing and my skin covered with a fine shimmer of dew but it was not fear nor was it anxiety .. just an unknown. Was this the door to where I was going? Was it my subconscious telling me what I expected of the future? The handle turned in my palm and I half expected to hear the eery creaking of rusted hinges but there was only a whisper of wind as the casing let loose the panel and I stepped through.

On the other side was a beautiful vista of the plains, serene, level, even, flat as far as the eye could see to the cliffed walls I remembered passing through in the caravan on the way to the harriga. Everything was just as it should be and the door was still in front of me. I walked to it, then around it before I returned to where I'd found it and lifted my hand for the handle.

This time there was no need to turn the latch and an understanding began to warm through me. I turned to walk back to the harriga, knowing that there was always another door that would open but it would always lead me ... right back to where I needed to be.

It wasn't such a bad dream to have.

Burning Sands

With nitroglycerine dripping off our chins
and elbows sliding off the bar,
we speak and breathe and charm our way
under trains and between cars.
I’m drinking whatever you’re buying
if you’ve got enough left to see it through
I say we soak ourselves to the bone.
I’m not going home unless it’s with you.
Kickstart the night
and drown the world facedown in a loud song.
Let’s start a fire
and let the scorned drink to things gone wrong.
We won’t appreciate these days until they’re all gone.
We never recognize what’s right.
So here’s to thing gone wrong.
I need some kind of savior to pull me from this seat.
From the people, from the smell, from the price, from the heat.
From the way they purchase hope with their last of change,
while they try to look different,
but they’re all the same.
I got one more song left on the jukebox and then I’m all yours.
I got two left feet so tired of standing,
let’s hit the door before we hit the floor.
Kickstart the night
and drown the world facedown in a loud song.
Let’s start a fire
and let the scorned drink to things gone wrong.
We won’t appreciate these days until they’re all gone.
We never recognize what’s right.
So here’s to thing gone wrong.

Red Sky by morning, travelers take warning ... Red Sky by night, travelers delight. Its an old saying that the evening conjured up in my thoughts. The sun refusing to submit to the night was consuming the plains in radiant shades of crimson and scarlet. From my perch atop a wagon, I watched the battle rage on. Shifting, sifting colors dazzling the sky and the sands in amazement. There was a point where distinction between the the sky itself and the plains was indistinguishable and the sands appeared to be lit with flames. It was frighteningly beautiful.

Why did he come to mind and seem to loom there so intensely? Curling my arms around me, I settled my chin on my knees and simply gave in to the imagery. Nothing was as I had thought it would be or even could be. From the first moment I had dreamt of the larl, nothing had seemed to go right. The end justified the means in some ways. Life among the tribe continued just as the stars lit the night sky. It was hard to remember before that and just as hard to put things into place any of the after but I willed myself to. From the pierce of my fingertip along hardened flesh to the deep desire to rip it open and climb inside, every little moment began to swell in my mind. The soft flutter of movement against my chest and the bit of down left behind. The good, the bad, the words, the feelings ... I let them come unhindered. It hurt, it ached, it burned, it soothed. It seemed intensely important ... to remember.

Nest

Sleep my child and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night;
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night.

Angels watching, e'er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night.

When I returned from my morning rituals, I found the wagon ransacked and ravaged. From all evidence it wasn't a raid but more the look of a young warrior in a hurry to gather his things. Everything was kept neat and tidy but excitement and enthusiasm would make even what was right before his eyes ... hard to find. The dust had settled by the time I arrived leaving behind a small treasure I'd not seen in many hands. Curling it into my palm, I just closed my eyes for a while.
I'd overheard Vao speak of journeying south to drive the last of the kaiila here. It was logical that the men had left camp on that venture ... men plural meaning that Me Too had been allowed to go with them. Once upon a time, I had wanted to make that trip ... to see what lie beyond the horizon of the wagons. Now, I was oddly pleased that I wasn't going. I wanted to be here, perhaps want is not the right word ... needed ... desired .. felt right? I spent the afternoon putting things back where they belonged ... I just wasn't sure at the moment where that meant as far as I was concerned. One last look at what felt like an empty nest before I tied the bit of tattered down back into the ends of the silvery strands. I closed the flap on the wagon and went about the rest of my chores singing some little lullaby I remembered.

Swirl

Vao sent me to build up the fire and make something to eat while he and the other kaiila Masters settled in with botas of paga and fermented milk. Each time I glanced to the horizon, one of them would find something for me to fetch. "They' on the other hand were in extremely good spirits, toasting to the glory of being ... men ... in a man's world.

There were wagers about just how much peach fuzz was on Me Too's rump or the size of his ... I went off to find another bota rather than let any of those visuals seep in. It was still going strong when I returned. There was more than I wanted to know about each man's preference in women both free and collared. Though some of the more raucous discussions bantered while I was off seeing to the bosk steaks. Vao mentioned it might be time to find the boy a slave and Keska motioned my direction saying he already had one. I am not sure if I should have been elated or insulted when Vao shook his head and said he meant one for the boy's furs. They almost fell over laughing just seeing the look on my face and I piped in quickly ... "Shouldn't he at least have a few scars before .. THAT .. happens?"

I don't care much for being laughed at especially when I am feeling vulnerable so I grew quiet as I usually do. A swirl of other thoughts drifted my attentions as I stared into the flames of the fire. I began to realize that I was never going to see that poochy little lower lip or the pint sized toddler playing catch up with the other children again and it left an odd sensation inside. I was proud and sad at the same time. One thing I knew for sure, the little boy I first saw was gone. I don't know now what he will be like when he grows older but I didn't have the fears I originally spoke to Cana and tried to speak to Fonce about. Nor did I worry about how well he would fit in anymore. He would return to the harigga probably swaggering with the arrogance of passing the beginnings of manhood.

My daydream was disturbed when I felt the kaiila Master's palm cup my chin and turn my focus to his. He told me that it was time to turn loose. I hadn't thought I'd coddled Me Too. I had just been trying to watch over him but the men sort of made it understood I had. Well technically they said that it was time to wean the boy, no matter how nice a bota it came in. I will leave the actuality of that conversation to your imagination.

I was grateful the topic changed and wound up learning a great deal about the different kinds of kaiila that were native to this world. Those of the plains ranged from a rich golden color to a sleek khol black and were strictly carnivorous. I knew this from helping both Cana and Vao among the herds. There was a different breed farther north in a place called the barrens where the pelts tended to be more the roan red.Those were herbivores, surviving on whatever grasses they found. I found interest in another variety that could be found in the desserts though they had wider foot pads and could live without water for longer periods of time. That ability and being able to eat both meat and vegetation they made good pack animals for journeys across the sand dunes. There were bets offered on which were the best to own but no one seemed willing to ante up against a good Tuchuk mount.

I ended up dozing off, curled up on the edge of Vao's fur though I woke the next morning all nestled in beneath it in Me Too's wagon.

Desert Sand Beasts Savages 35 Tribesmen 70-71
Southern Plains Kaiila Tribesmen 70-71
Red Barrens Savages 35

Shadows

Between the idea and the act falls the shadow


Among the kaiila clan there is and always will be a controversy as to when it is best to begin saddle breaking a mount. Some say as long as 4 full envars before a kaiila is ready and some say as soon as a little over an envar. Had Me Too been the size of a grown man I would have said it was better to wait but the boy was small and his weight would not be more than the creature could hold comfortably. Both Orachu and the boy were chomping at the bit to ride ... yes the pun was intended. Still I was reluctant but it is so easy to get caught up in that youthful excitement and worn down by the constant please, please, please. I gave in. Keska did have to lean against my knees to keep me on the fence rail while Vao, who was far more experienced than I was in this area, took the lad in hand.

When Me Too mounted the gear on the kaiila I think we all held our breath .. waiting ... watching. I felt that sting along my lashes when he slid into the saddle as if he had been born there. The cheers that the men let out pierced my ears and made me laugh. My own little hands were thundering together.

After a few lazy paces in a circle to grow accustomed to each other I began to relax and enjoy the show. What I was not prepared for was the snap of heels in the stirrups to spur the kaiila into a run. I stood up on the rail trying to call him back and Keska tugging at the back of my chatka trying to get me to sit back down and ... chill. I was watching in horror as a jerk to the reins stood Orachu straight up on his hind legs and with the suddeness of the stop, the boy went sliding right off the back side of the beast flat onto his back. Strong hands had to press me to the rail to prevent me from jumping off and running out there.

Me Too lay motionless and there was nothing I could do about it ... not from here. Vao was calling to the other kaiila hands but Rusty had already leapt to his own kaiila and was tearing off across the plains leaving a pillar of dust snaking into the wind. When he arrived where the boy lay, he merely leaned down over the side of his beast to extend a hand to the child.

There was the boy I was caring for ... coming back to life from the dead, or it seemed that way from where I was anyway. He was holding out his own hand to be scooped up in front of the kaiila Master. Once settled in, the man re-created the exact same event. Rusty's beast stood just as Orachu had except that ... it was controlled instead of happenstance. Me Too's arms flew straight up to the sky with a cry of excited triumph and off they rode into the horizon. Orachu practiced the elongated stretch to the sky a few times himself before tagging along behind like an obedient little sleen pup, reins trailing off the pommel.

Keska's hands lessened their death grasp so that I could settle back on the rail trying to figure out what the ^%$# had just happened. Vao walked back over to where we were with one of those vulo eating grins of his even when I began going off about knowing that I shouldn't have allowed all of this as well as the new tirade of him letting the boy just ride off like that with the other Master. His voice was soothing and gentle much like the way I spoke to Me Too when I wanted him to learn something he had trouble understanding. Maybe it was the use of Me Too's favorite nickname for me that got my attention. "Lina ... there are some things you will never be able to teach him." The adrenaline rush and my own frustration had left me aggravated and I barked a retort. "What .. to be Tuchuk?" At first the man's laughter irritated me to no end though what he said left me pensively silent. "No little one, you have done well teaching him that. What you can never teach him ... is to be a man."

a boy and his ...

I promise I'll feed him and clean up after him and take him for walks .. can I keep him .. can I ... can I huh? Pleeeeeeeease!

How could so much exhuberance come from one little tiny guy? It seemed that Orachu was the salve needed for a weary little soul. The next few hands were filled with every detail of caring for another creature and the bond between the boy and his kaiila grew strong. A few of Me Too's best friends seemed put out that he wasn't as eager to run and hunt and dig with them as he had been before with the reasoning that he had to .. Orachu this ... Orachu that .. my kaiila .... my ... my ..my how he took his responsibilities serious. The frustations when there was something he felt bigger than he was had begun to evaporate with less and less coaxing to just try and see if he could, rather than give up or let his anger get away with him.

I found myself sitting on the top of the fence rail more often simply watching as the boy took the reins of his new found obsession ... literally. I didn't need to promise Cana that the boy would be appreciative of such a gift. The smile, the youthful determination not only to catch up to his peers but to surpass them was evidence enough in itself. Now and then I sort of felt a bit left out myself when I would hear .. I can do it myself .. watch Lina .. watch what we can do! But overall there was this sense of pride that swelled inside my own chest. I began to understand some of the things that Cana had spoken to me about, not just for Me too but for myself as well.

Keska would come perch against a post next to me, keeping eye on the lad and commenting at how natural the boy took to the beast. Rusty and Vao began to sidle up to the fence as well urging him on with those raucous sleen whistles or a shout, the kind only men can do and get away with. The kind that could be heard all the way back to the harigga. It had become a priviledged window seat to a new life unfolding.

Für Sie

Rarely do I pay any attention to the conversations that banter about the fire and that morning wasn't any real exception. They were talking about some of the fur that had flown about the encampment the past hand. Nothing that needed my attention or provoked my interest. I'd been helping beat dust from the pelts that circle the fires so when I returned with an armload I kept two out for those gathered. Metal to a magnet, I am always drawn to him and knelt next to his side. It was just an offering of furs for warmth on a cold morning but the acceptance meant a great deal from them both. Being sent for a morning meal was icing on the cake. A mention of the place the healer had spoken of drew a brief curiosity while I was seeing to something to eat for the spex.
Places.
I'd begun to pay a little more attention when people spoke of other cities, gleaning what I could of them in the conversations without being intrusive. I was learning of what lie outside the beautiful plains we lived on. The witch's smile met mine when she noticed my interest and left me wondering if she saw it or felt it. I did pick up on the mention of her mate's sudden overprotectiveness and later the subject of chocolate covered eyes came up. Maybe it is just something women are intuitive about. But back to the eyes, they seem to be a special luxury and it made me remember she had wanted mine when I first arrived. I felt a bit special myself for her covet of my own after that. I promised to see small furs delivered to her wagon at least a few before she left for her trip.
By then he had moved to his furs using the one I'd offered to brace against. It isn't that he is any more handsome when he is relaxing, it is just this ... this .. feeling inside to see him that way. Vicarious transferance? Put a little dance in my strides and one of those light hearted songs on my lips while I went about seeing to the others. Yes, it did. The woman I'd been serving had drifted off into day dreams and I told him that I thought it was only him that I put to sleep or just long relaxing thoughts. It touched me when he said .. long .. very relaxing thoughts. I was in an almost sappy mood when he began his series of questioning. This time they were more a curiosity than a thirst.
Had my new responsibilities helped? Helped what? Me? No. I mean yes in a way. That emotion laden napsack remained tied shut this time to say I enjoy the creatures, the work is hard but can be rewarding. It was in one of those long winded high pitched run on sentences that I told him about the fire breathing ebon monster. He was laughing when he said that it was good to see me thrive. Then I went and did it. I said 'thank you' for letting me serve the kaiila Mistress. "You are slave .. you will serve whatever is given to serve but if it is something that causes you to thrive so much the better." There was that reminder again only this time it had come from him. I kept quiet rather than ruffle any fur. When he rose later to go, my gaze followed naturally. I asked very simply if I could find him later to ask questions.

Skills

"Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither." ~ C.S. Lewis

"Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither."
Stopping by my usual haunt of the practice fields held a bit of surprise. Instead of the boys all lined up for their lessons, several Masters and Mistresses were there for a little target practice. Girlies against the guyses. I put 2 lizards on the feminine side as a wager. This time I had three so I was confident.Chay had one of those I was going to tell you something looks instead of that you are lucky I let you live one and Kam had that big arsed grin. Meta wriggled her fingers at me, lian smiled but kept busy filling quivers. Makes you feel all wanted.
Meta was whomping up on Master Saresh with a vengeance. You could see the pride written all over her. The Master on the other hand was not taking his defeat well. A missed shot by Mistress Chay no doubt had to be due to a crooked shaft. That woman could pierce a gnat's tush if she decided to but it would prove to be a lesson on skills as I watched her score fall a bit further. Though when her mate seemed to notice she was a bit off the mark, she slid her arms around his mid section and used his bow to hit a bosk eye. Straightened that shaft right out, I tell you. Enough in fact that they left not too long after that, but not before Kam called for some blackwine from one of the other girls. I fell in step with Maive and we served the old fashioned way ... in tandem with the vessel and drink first and the condiments second. I was a bit rusty and Maive bless her heart seemed to just glide into her spot like she was a natural even if the look on her face said ... I have NO idea what I'm doing.
It dawned on me though that since the boys were not at the practice field, that I didn't know where Me Too was. Master Rook was going to tan me if I lost him. He wasn't at the wagon, or at the clan fires. I got that panicky feel as I began combing through the rows calling for him. An old worn boot, blackwine mug and a cooking ladle sailing by later accompanied admonishments to be quiet and find somewhere else to be yelling before one of the Mistresses pointed toward the outer wagons. Well don't you know that boy was sitting on a fur at Master Gideon's fire like he belonged there. I went to fussing at him immediately for giving me such a scare. It provoked a tirade from the lad that made the worn out boot throw look like a pebble toss. He glared at me and shouted that I was not his mother and he did not have to answer to me, not to Cana and not to Master Rook either. The rest was silenced when Mistress Ula fwapped him up side the back of the head and told him part of respect earned was respect offered. The soothing tone of her voice turned to me asking me to let Cana know that Me Too would be at her wagon ... working off his disrespect. He may have begun to argue but all it took was just one of those looks ... you know the one ... from the Mistress and he sat down real quick and got quiet.
The old saying goes that great minds think alike but maybe I learned that it takes skills to think just different enough to make it all work.

Destiny

Some of the path I'd walked through life had been chosen for me .. some I'd broken from the reins to venture on my own, nowhere in any of it could have been foreseen that I would be here on a new world among such a passionate people trying to form a future. Would it be easier to simply turn loose completely and accept what was being told to me .. that the boy was my destiny. Why could I not feel that this was what and where my life's purpose was? Here was where I belonged, that I felt deeply about but as what, doing what? Life felt like a wild run away kaiila. How could I steer its course without a bridle and bit? How could I alter it without dampening the wonderous spirit that made me love being here? How do I live within the fate? Each question only provoked a newer one and none of them provided any answers.
Why was it that the interior of Ramza's wagon came to mind and haunted me, haunted every step that I took back to the wagons of the kaiila clan? I had never even seen the inside of it but he had told me once what was there, painted on the wall within, the beautiful murial of russets, browns and sienna's. It was his favorite place. The place that he had felt ... yess I knew what he felt and why. I had told him that day of my own favorite place, not the one I had spoken to Fonce of ... being next to his side but the first one I held close to my heart ... the treehouse. Just as Ramza had spoken with such burgeoning emotion of his mother's home, that one place had felt most like mine.
My beautiful blue world so far away, it weighed on me now in a place I kept secreted. I didn't dare look up at the blue of the sky because instinctively I knew that the flood of tears would begin and I wouldn't be able to dam them up again. I grew stronger here on the plains but I grew harder as well. They would not see me break. I'd allowed Fonce to see them for just one brief moment and he had said it was not my tears that he wanted. I'd looked at the end of my fingertips, still damp with the exposure of my frailties, of being a woman, of feeling emotions. Then held them up to the air and let them dry.
Why had all of this come to mind here .. now .. this moment as if it had waited in the shadows in precisioned ambush? Destiny. Those words made my teeth grit hard and my eyes glint in narrowed slits just like the they had the day Fonce first spoke them. Destiny had been my father's word. Destiny was when he made decisions for everyone around him that would benefit him .. not the one the decisions were made for.
'Leonette, you do not know what you want. The trusts have been established, and you WILL marry Charles just as it has it has been arranged. You will be Mrs. Charles Randall 'Skippy' McMasterson. It is your destiny. You should be happy.' Even the gold embossed monogrammed invitations had been chosen for me.
I had escaped for a few hours then in the recluse of the treehouse just as I did when I was a young girl. It was there that I felt Edmund. I felt his first awkard kiss, his long clumsy arms trying to fold around me and hold me to him. It was where I heard his heart beating even more fiercely than mine. The treehouse was where I had opened the official letter from the Armed Forces that said that Edmund was never going to sit in that treehouse with me again. It was where the tears fell and bathed the floor in rivers of sorrow.
Bell, you will serve the family of the boy you have chosen to look after. It is your destiny. It is not many who have been given such knowledge, you should be glad to know what yours is.
Why was it that those memories haunted me now? Simply because, I needed to feel those awkward arms encircling me, I needed to hear the words of reassurance that said that everything was going to be alright ... and just as it had been then, it was the same now. They were not going to be there. I was alone.
For the first time in my life, what I felt for the painted man that brought me here bordered on an emotion I had never known ... and my eyes glinted a fiery red and narrowed to near slits. I tried to erase him with a rise of my hand in the air. I wanted to erase him from my memories, from my thoughts. I wanted to erase any more influence he may over my destiny. I didn't want to dream anymore.