A Tuchuk Heart

Blood draws blood. It sounds like such a simple, yet complex statement. But there is much truth in it. Much thought has been given to those that have found their way home. So many, it seems.


Mayala, who had been raised in the walled city of Turia. Birthed of a Turian man and a Tuchuk woman. It was the stories of her people told by her mother that started that Tuchuk heart to searching. It was the call of blood to blood that made her leave the security of the life she knew to take that perilous journey into a new life among her people. Taking those first steps, she did not know how she would be met, what fate awaited her, but the heart of a plainswoman lived within her, and was not to be denied. Came she did, faced her fate and found a place among her people.


Then there is Only, or Fess as he is known to his father. Vague memories of a man, a people, a home, stirred the Tuchuk heart that beat within his chest. He too left the walled cities behind him to find his way home to the plains. Each day he meets a new member of his family, and each day he finds more of himself on the vast plains. It is an amazement to her how much he is like the father that he was stolen away from all those turnings of the seasons ago. It says much for blood versus raising.


Even her own mate Lochlan and his sister Falon. Born of a mamba chieftain and a Tuchuk mother in the steamy jungles that she cannot even begin to visualize. Hidden away for sake of safety, the childhood of the plains stolen from them in some ways. But it was the call of blood to blood that brought them back. It was the Tuchuk hearts that beat deep in their beings that brought them home to this life on the plains.


Then there are those that leave, searching for something more. Why they do it, I have no clue. It is just something that I have never considered. I was once told by one of Nava's sons that it was because I was ignorant, and did not realize there was another world out there. Why should I? It is not my world. Those two have left, along with their sister Eva, and I hope they have found what they seek.


In the end though, I think that a true Tuchuk heart will not be denied. It will find its' way home to the plains. Blood draws blood.

Each Link in the Chain of Life

There had been a message waiting for her the previous evening when she had returned to her wagons. One that said the woman Leah wish to speak with her. This in itself was odd, for the woman never asked for anything, she didn't have to. Somehow her needs and those of her four boys have always been met. Laying in her furs, listening to the soft, even breathing of her mate, she pondered upon the woman and what she might need.

Many season ago, long before she had come to the first wagons, the Ubar had been a man named Trajen. As with so many men of the plains, he had been killed while out riding on the plains along with four of his men. One of these men had been named Wendt, and he was the elder brother of Tayco. Wendt had left behind a wife and four young sons. This wife was the woman Leah. As was expected, Tayco had taken over the duty of seeing to his brothers family. Hunting for them, providing food and clothing, seeing to repairs and other needs that they might have. Even before she and Tayco were mated, she had managed to gather clothing for the children, sacks of dried fruits and berries, flour, tea and sugars. These had been left on Tayco's platform, with her thinking he did not know who they came from. Eventually he did find out, and was for once, speechless, having not expected something like this from her.

When Tayco had been killed, she had continued to do the things she could for the woman and the boys. She shared the meat that Loch would leave for her and Tug, she bartered and traded for clothing, everything that she could. Tayco's death had left her with a bit of wealth, but she had this idea that all of that was put into her trust for Tug.

Over the seasons she had visited often with Leah, who was a quiet, gentle woman, who held absolutely no light of life in her eyes. She did not say much about the loss of her mate, simply went on with her life. The four boys grew, as boys do, the eldest just recently reaching the age of fourteen turnings, earning his first scar and taking the name of Boutin. All in all she was pleased that the family seemed to flourish. That is why, hearing that the woman had come to the first wagons seeking her had her puzzled.

Early the next morning, Loch was off to his patrol and she was braiding her hair, getting ready for her day when Rook stepped up onto her platform and rumbled at the flap that she needed to step outside. Pulling on her cloak, she stepped out into the warmth of the morning, and her brow lifted slightly.

There stood Leah, all four boys dressed in their best clothing. But with them was another man. A large, older warrior with many scars. When she stepped down from the platform, he stepped forward and introduced himself as Kuduk Brost of the wagon smiths clan. Giving the man a respectful nod, she motioned for all of them to come sit with her at her fires. This done, the girls were set to serving tea and blackwine, and some of the honey cakes from the day before.

The man was much older than she, but he seemed a bit nervous in her presence, as did Leah. All very puzzling, then Kuduk blurted out their purpose here. He had come to inquire of a bride price for Leah. Shock. Yes, that was what she felt at first, shock. Why in the name of skies as her? That rush of happiness for the woman was stilled for a moment, when she realized that the man was serious.

He went on to explain himself, that he had been spending time with Leah, quick to add that the boys had been there as chaperones of sort. He loved her, thought she would make him a good mate, and was still young enough to bear him sons. Well, she was trying to set there and look wise, nodding at what she thought were the appropriate times, but still in the back of her mind, she was crying……..Why me??? When the man finished, and all those eyes turned to her for an answer, she could not think of one. She glanced to Rook, who was standing behind them all, his hand lifted to cover his mouth, as if in great thought, but she could see his shoulders shaking with unspilled laughter. Oh, she would get him later.

Nodding again, she stood and looked to the eldest son, who also stood. Quietly she asked him to walk with her. Leaving all those other eyes staring in their wake, she spoke to Boutin. In her mind, he was the eldest son, who now had earned a name and his first scar, and it was he that should make this decision about a bride price for his mother. He looked at her nervously, then inclined his head to hers' speaking softly. "Why do you think I brought them here? I have no idea what to ask for, never done this before." It was all she could do to keep from laughing, as she whispered…"Skies, neither have I!"

They walked for a long time as she asked the young warrior about the man, discovering that all of the boys liked him, and this eldest very much so, for having brought laughter back to his mother. He also said that Kuduk was not a man that drank much, he worked hard and had taken an interest in not only Leah, but in him and his younger brothers. All of this served to make her feel better, but she was still stymied as to what to ask for. They discussed this more then returned to the fire.

First, she asked Leah if she loved the man, and it only took one look at the woman's face to know that she did. She then turned to Kuduk, and explained her confusion as to why he had come to her to ask a price. He told her that he knew that Tayco had been guardian to the family after Wendt had been killed, as it should have been. He then studied her for a long time and told her that they had been surprised in the outer wagons that she, herself had more or less taken up this guardianship after Tayco had been killed. Again she was a bit stunned, when he said he had great respect for her because of that, and that he and Leah would not consider mating until they had talked to her.

One of her warmest smiles went to them both as she explained that she was honored that they had considered her in all of this. She then explained to them, that she felt that Boutin, as the eldest, scarred warrior in Leah's family, now had say of the price of his mother as a mate. By watching the faces, she knew she had made the right decision. First of all, she saw the pride in Leah's eyes as she looked to her eldest son, and maybe for the first time realizing he was now a man. Then there was Boudin himself. Did his chest puff just a tad? Of course it did, he was a man. And she could also tell from Kuduk that he considered this a wise decision and he would negotiate with the young warrior. Success! As they were leaving, she made them promise to let her know when the actually mating took place so that gifts could be sent. Kuduk and Leah both turned to look at her, nodding. Then Kuduk said the oddest thing, something that she would have to think upon.

"No woman, you have given us our gift. This morning you have allowed us to forge the chain of becoming a family, that is gift enough." With this, they all trooped of back to their wagons, leaving her standing there, mulling through her emotions and thoughts upon all of this.

Rook came to stand beside her, his deep voice rumbling from his chest. "Where did you learn to be so wise?" She looked up at him, grinning. "I have had good teachers old man."

What Are the First Wagons?

With recent events, she has give much thought as to being of the first wagons and what it meant to her. Not all that long ago she had heard one prospect comment that it was the rest of the tribe that supported the first wagons and their lifestyle? Lifestyle? Was the man simple in the head? Their lifestyle was no different than anyone else among the people. They did not lounge around, having their every whim attended to. Those of the first wagons work hard, not only seeing to their own needs, but to those of the rest of the camp.

If there was a woman in the outer wagons who lost her mate, it was those of the first wagons that figured out who would hunt for her, provide for her, if there was no one else to do such. Most of the time they even did it when there was family. If for some reason, a man lost his mate, it was those of the first fires that found help for him and his children. If a wagon broke down, there were those from the wagon makers clan that made sure the repairs were tended to. Did the healers of the first wagons only see to those that resided by their fires? Not hardly. She had seen their healers many times spend days upon end away from the fires, tending to needs of those in the outer wagons.

When time came for the moves, it was those of the first wagons that organized all others into groups to do the work, gather food, cut and bale grasses, tend to the bosk, make repairs to wagons and covering and the myriad of other things that were necessary to enable a large group of people and animals to get from one point to another with the minimum of loss and harm.

Somewhere along the line, people had gotten it into their heads that those of the first wagons were a group of elitist, unable to care for themselves, uncaring of what went on with the rest of the camp. This could no be farther from the truth. The Ubar himself resides at those fires, and works as hard as any man among the Tuchuk. He hunts, he rides patrol, he spends many nights in his saddle among the herds, making sure they are safe. And this does not even touch the time he spends in trying to keep peace among the people.

Yes, those of the first wagons are first. First to help when it is needed. First to see to the good of the tribe. First to support all others. If that makes them elitist, then they are. They are where they are by the virtue of hard work, a pride in their people, a need to make sure all are safe. When one is asked to join the first wagons, it is because someone has seen something in them, that shows they have the good of the people in their hearts.

It is simple to be very honest. Tribe, clan, family, then yourself. Do you have these priorities? If so, then once day you may find yourself sitting at the fires of the first wagons.

Vindicated? No, not really.

Recently, it was almost dangerous to walk up to the first fires without peeking to see what was going on first. With so many personalities, it was expected that they would not all meld all of the time, but in the past hand or so, it seemed that there was a lot more tension than normal. Were the moons full? She really wasn't sure. Her main problem was that she had this sort of deep seated belief that everyone should get along, or at the very least make an attempt.
And believe it or not, when things do not work out, it saddens her to a point. Maybe that is because she is still young, and has not taken on that jaded attitude as of yet. When the situation with the year keeper came up, she had to simply shake her head. At one time, she had been told that he was simply a young warrior, brash in his arrogance and nothing more. At that point in time she had simply agreed, and put it aside. The second time she had seen blatant disrespect from him, when she mentioned it, she felt as if she had been chided to a point. Told that if the person that had been the target of the disrespect did not handle it, then it evidently did not bother them, so it should not bother her. This too she took in stride. She was not one to argue for arguments sake. Maybe she had not made it clear, that in her mind, to show disrespect to any one of the first wagons, was in a way showing disregard to all that resided there, including the Ubar. But such thoughts were kept to herself.

She has always found that the Ubar was a fair man, not swayed by gossip and innuendo, which is good and one of the reasons she thinks so highly of him, and supports him. And it had taken him seeing the young warrior in action, to get his attention, and his reaction. Did she feel vindicated by this just a little? No. Not at all. In her mind, she had hoped that the young man might find his niche at the fires, and begin to understand what it meant to be of the first wagons. But evidently it just was not his time yet. Perhaps with a little more time to mellow under his belt, it would happen.

Yes, they were at times like bosk bulls, butting heads. But that was their nature. Proud, strong, independent, but with that blood that flows through them as a common bond. It is a bit like children of the same family. They may fight among each other, but do not try to take on one of them, or you will have to fight them all.

&^)*#@+ Kailla!

She had been drug out of sleep by a pounding on the side of her wagon, and raised voices between Rook and Gabriel. Pulling on her clothes, the dark head slipped through the flaps as she asked what in the name of the skies was going on. Even in the fading darkness of the early morning lights, she could see that Gabe's face was contorted in anger, which was unusual for her younger brother. Telling him to calm down, she slipped back inside, finished dressing, quickly braided her hair, grabbed her cloak and stepped outside.
Gabe looked at her, scowled, and told her that if they were lucky, they might make it to the pens before someone killed that blasted beast. Now, blasted was not the word he mumbled, so she reached up, thwapped the back of his head, telling him not to talk like that, because she knew a man that might teach him how to truly clean his teeth. This attempt at humor failed, miserably.
Arriving at the pens, surprisingly, they are astir with activity. The most prominent thing she noticed, was four outriders trying to lasso Holo, who for some odd reason, was not in his segregation pen, but with the breeding mares. Her face screwed up into a mask of displeasure. That was all they needed, more ugly kaiila.
But the true tragedy, was the mares that he had gotten to. This was not a gentle beast, and it never even entered that thick head of his, that after you bred with them, you did not try to kill them. Or had he tried to kill them during the act? She was not quite sure, but two mares were down, long, deep slashes along their flanks, and visible bite marks to their necks. Anger flared in her. And with that anger, her primal instinct to kill the animal herself.
Without thinking, she charged the beast, flailing at him with her small fists, and saying words that would make even Fonce's pot of soap seem not nearly enough. Strangely enough, the beast pulled his head back, and fixed a stare on the small two-legged creature that seemed bent on inflicting him with a minor irritation. As she stood there screaming at him, making several unnecessary remarks about his parentage. Who cared? He certainly didn't.
With a shake of his head, he danced back from the irritation, and calmly walked back to the pen where he belonged. She was stunned, completely stunned. Stalking after him, she hefted the heavy gate on her own, closing it, scowling at him. The riders had never seen her quite like this. Some snickered, others growled, buy they left her with the beast. Had it been up to them, it would be dead already, but she had told them that it was not to be harmed, so she could deal with the damnable thing, and they would deal with the wounded mares.
Her anger was not abating, but she had managed to regain a small modicum of control over it. Standing there, she watched the hateful beast. He was laughing at her again, she swore he was. As he approached the fence, she backed up, remembering what had came flying the last time he did so. But he stopped, and there was the most lewd look in his eye as he seemed to look her over. How was this possible? The beast made her feel absolutely naked and vulnerable, not a feeling that she liked, but she did not back away.
Suddenly he reared on his hind legs, and she would swear that he made a lascivious gesture with his genitalia. Stumbling backwards, she flung a few final curses towards him, then moved to help with the patching up of the mares.
Was that laughter she heard? No, can't be. Overactive imagination, that is all.

Pluma Verde

The Ubar was not the only one that was not resting well, recently. There were so many undercurrents flowing through the camp and her life, that the kaiila trainer had not been sleeping all that well either. It was nothing of a serious nature, just enough thoughts that could not be put completely at rest when she tried to sleep. Many a night, it was seemingly never ending swirls of deep, rich colors. Somber colors. There were times that the dark head would toss on the furs, soft murmurs coming from her. Nothing really intelligible, just whispers of her own psyche.

This night was no different. Not really nightmares, but the uneasy sleep of one that had much on her mind. Loch was barely awake when he pulled her closer, kissing her temple trying to calm her so that she would be still, and he could sleep better. Presently a soft, sigh came from her as she seemed to calm. Soft words swirled around in her mind, the voice of Tarra coming to her from a distance, caressing in nature.

" A daughter and a sister, you are within maelstrom that is not always clear, sometimes what appears one way is not as it seems, look beyond the obvious and see what is true. Your heart and generosity is your strength as is compassion. There is going to come a challenge for you and a moment of fear that much is lost, have faith. Do not falter. Choose your battles wisely for some are not worthy of you or others. There is another challenge that you and others will be needing to stand together for. You feel many things right now. You and a few others will need to when the time comes to, form a circle of protection for Chay, I cannot tell you more but without you she may die. It will be up to you and others to see how to help her. Trust in yourself, your heart and the women. We are the strong ones. We are the life givers. I will be with you and most of all trust in love."

The words swirled around in her consciousness, partly giving comfort, but on another level, confusing her even more. So much to think about, so much to try and sort through. But surprisingly, it did not upset her. In fact, she remained calm for the rest of the night, lost in much needed, dreamless sleep.

When she did finally arouse many ahn later, she would find something grasped in her hand. Tired eyes stared at it for a long time, pondering the import of it. Slowly she gets up, takes the old wooden chest from under a pile of furs and places the feather with the other things that held meaning to her. What the meaning of it was, she did not know, but she was sure it would be revealed in time. This done, she stumbled back to the furs, and slept again.

Introducing Holo, The Mangy!

Where in the name of skies had he come from? She had become aware of him when she had heard some of the rider of the clan grumbling, swearing, and wearing ripped cloaks and tunics covered with slobber and skies knows what else. They had segregated him, not knowing what it was that made him look like something that should not even be walking. Was it a disease? Well, if it was, they didn't want their beasts to come down with it.

In fact, she had followed one of the grumbling warriors to the pen where the animal was being kept, trying to find out from him why he was carrying not one, but two lances. Degas had full intentions of killing the beast, and this would just not do. She had run circles around the man, trying to find out what was going on, only to be pushed away none too gently. There was murder in his eyes, and at this point he was not to be deterred. When they got to the pen, her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped in amazement. She had never seen anything like him. Dirty, mangy, torn and just flat out ugly. For the briefest of moments she was not even sure it was a kaiila, it was more like a parody of the elegant, graceful beasts she was accustomed to.

Degas climbed the fence, lances in hand, walked toward the beast, and first threw one with that unerring aim, and force that very few possessed outside the lands of the plains. Again her jaw dropped, seeing the huge beast side step the lance with a grace that did not seem possible from one his size. Stepping up onto the bottom rail, she watched as Degas charged the beast with a loud growl, lance lowered, intent to plunging it into the beasts heart. What happened next, would be told around the kaiila clan fires for a very long time. The mangy beast simply grasped the lance within its' maw, tossed his head, sending Degas flying over his back into the dirt. It then turned one baleful eye to the man, closed its' jaws, biting the lance in two.

Then, as if he was weary of their presence, he charge the man, who was scrambling to his feet, and running to the fence. Degas had just managed to scale the rungs and drop to the safer side of the barrier when the animal stopped. She could have swore, he was laughing. Do kailla laugh? Well, this one does.

The animal then turned his back, gave a shake of its' abnormally large head and shat on them. Not the usual kaiila dropping, but a spray of damp, oily, noxious matter that had this unerring mark of landing on Degas. It then snorted walked away and turned to look at them both, with an arrogant gleam in its' eyes.

Curses the like that she had not heard in awhile came from Degas as he stormed off, yelling at her to deal with the animal, for he was through!

Now, she is not a stupid woman, and had the good sense to step back from the fence, hopefully out of range of any more offerings from the beast and watched him curiously. What had turned the animal into the beast that she was seeing, and was there any hope of turning him back?

Words wound deeper than any lance.

Curled up into a tight ball, tears slowly spill from her eyes, drifting down to stain the furs under her head. What had started out innocently enough, had turned into something that was now eating away at her soul. The most frightening part was the cold, icy fingers of self doubt that were curling around her heart, seeming to choke the life from her, to squeeze the breath from her lungs.

All she had worked so hard to become was, at this moment in time, disappearing like smoke that lifts from the fires to disappear into the night skies. Slowly, she could feel the tabuk returning, little by little, taking her over. Perhaps it had never truly left.

There is a place in her brain, that is preparing for tomorrow. A place that tells her she will smile, go about her life as usual, but maybe in a quieter fashion. This pain, she will keep buried deep inside, to be shared with no one.

The Confusion of people.

Work was a release of sorts, then sometimes it gave you too much time to think, and this was one of those times. As she groomed kaiila, thoughts wandered over the recent events, and to the people that made up her tribe and family. Everyone has a personality that is as unique to them, as the whorls that lay on the tips of their fingers. Not all personalities were going to mesh in a nice, comfortable fashion, and maybe that was what was bothering her. She had this deep seated need for everyone to be happy, and at times it caused her great pain and confusion.

There were things of importance to her. The bosk, the grasses, the waters in the streams, the winds that blew across the plains, the stars, the moons, the warmth of the Central fire. To her, those were gifts given to them all. There are others things, that are important, that you just cannot always reach out and grasp. Some were a bit more stable than others, like her tribe, the satisfaction of her work, the love for her tribe, her people and her family. All were of the utmost importance to her. Then there were others that you could not put a grasp upon, but that had a place in her world. The friendship of others and respect being among those. When one of these things was lacking, or out of place, her world seemed to spin into a dervish of confusion.

The past few nights there had been so many faces around the fires, some old, some new, some very, very old. Did they mesh? Not always, but that was the way with people. The one thing that saddened her, was the disrespect some of the newer ones, had for those that had earned their places at the fires long ago. As she brushed the coat of a beast, she smiled at herself, thinking of Only. He had been taken away when he was young, had been raised among dwellers, and how now returned. Regardless of where or how he had been raised, you could see the respect in him for others. He was much like his father, strong, affable and with a laugh that rang in the skies. And she had been impressed at his control with the events of the other evening.

It had been a simple request, one that anyone else would have done without thinking, and with pride in the importance of their duties. All Jai had done, was ask the yearkeeper to explain his clan and their role in the tribe to Only. It should not have surprised her, but in a way it did. The young warrior bulled up, and with his usual arrogance refused, and showed his disrespect for one of the first fires. It was sad, very sad. She had taken another's words to heart, that the young man was simply young and irresponsible, but where did that end? When did the time come for us to make others responsible for their words and actions?

That brief flash of anger had flowed through the eyes of the metal worker, but he showed great honor and respect for the others there, by not acting upon that anger. In a fairly gracious way, he excused the young man's disrespect to the paga that he had been drinking, and returned to his seat at the fires, dismissing the incident as done.

The evening had continued with much teasing and laughter, which had served to ease the tension. There were many new faces around the fires, that she found most pleasant. As she slapped the kaiila she was working on, to send it on its' way, she moved to Hakan, speaking softly to him, as she began to work on his claws.

Thoughts wandered to the other new faces at the fires. She had only seen the man Seth a couple of times, but he seemed to be a pleasant sort. There was a new leather worker that she found very pleasant. In fact, they had traded baked goods, and she was determined to get the recipe for the fruit and nut rolls that Jaella had made. They were well worth the bags of honeyed nuts she had traded for them. Rook had taken some harnesses to her for repair, and had brought back an example of the woman's work. It was excellent, and she was already thinking of how to make a trade for more just like it.

Then there was Polunu and his new charge, the potter. Zarina was lovely, and the cup that she had made for Tug was truly a work of art. She loved how the lid fit so snugly. To be able to do that, took true talent, and the young woman certainly had it. She also had something else. There were indications that she had the salt man's eye. Thinking on this made her laugh, causing Hakan to turn his head, casting a baleful look at her. Oh Hush!

Slapping Hakan on the ass, she sent him on his way, gathered up her tools and began the trek to the clan wagons to put things away. As she walked, she thought on others, like Arigh, who she still needed to find time to speak to, it seems there was some air that needed to be cleared there. Then there was Sakmeta. Sakmeta of the pink wagon, Sakmeta of the soon to be pink boots. Chuckling softly, she cleaned and put her curry combs away. The beadmaker was a confusing mixture of woman and child, but there was still hope for her. She marched to her own drummer, all they could hope was that she did not get tangled up in her new pink boots.

Yes, they are a varied group of people. Sometimes clashing, sometimes teasing and funny, at others, splitting in to so many directions it was hard to follow them all. But they all had one thing in common, they were her people, her family, that was undeniable.

A Gift for Wiley

Early in the morning, she had set out, a woman on a mission. Silken had reminded her the previous evening that it neared the anniversary of Wiley's birth, so a present was in order. She had found him having his morning meal with his siblings, and told him that she needed help with something that only he could do. His little chest puffed out with self-importance, he finished eating, jumped to his feet, picked up his wooden lance and pronounced he was ready. Now, she would not dare to take his, but simply gave a firm nod of her head, then told him they needed to tend to something at the pens.On the winding path out to the kaiila pens, Wiley had kept up a steady stream of conversation, dropping not too subtle hints that tomorrow was his birthday. Laughing softly, she feigned great surprise at hearing this news, and let him continue to ramble on, his attention diverting wildly to various things that they passed.

At the pens, she had led him to the area where she kept the colts and pointed one out to him. The young warrior became very excited, climbed up onto the fence, leaned over and watched the colt dancing around. One look at his face, told her that she had chosen well. Leaning on the fence, the talked of his name being Piper, and that he had come from two of her better kaiila. The excitement in Wiley's face was almost contagious. Stepping on the rails, she climbed over the fence and motioned for Wily to follow her. As they approached Piper, his nostrils flared as he scented her, then evidently he caught the scent of one he was not familiar with, and he danced away. Talking softly to him, she approached, put her hand out to wrap gloved fingers into the silky mane, calmed him and brought him back to Wiley, allowing them to get acquainted.

Being Tuchuk, Wiley had no fear of the animal, and for one so young, his touch was amazingly gentle. It did not take long until Piper was nudging that mop of red hair, whether it was from curiosity, or giving into the need to get to know the small human, only one could guess. She grinned when Wiley began to pat himself down, searching for some jerky that he had stowed away under his coat, and fed it to the kaiila. A new friendship had just been forged, one that she hoped would last for many, many turnings.

Finally, satisfied that the two were going to get on fine, she delivered her news to the young warrior, telling him that the colt was his. A gift from his Aunt Cana, to celebrate the anniversary of his coming into this world. When he turned his face up to her, his eyes filled with awe, surprise, and excitement, she would not have taken all the coin in Turia for that moment.

For the next few moments, Wiley alternated between hugging her, the colt, her again, then he ran around in circles, giving that Tuchuk war whoop at the top of his lungs. After he calmed slightly, she then took on the task of explaining to him that she had just given him not only a gift, but the responsibility that went along with that gift. He was now responsible for caring for Piper, but that he would have help from the riders of the clan, and herself of course. Presently she called her younger brother Gabe over, acquainted him with Wiley, and explained that Gabe would be helping him to care and train the colt. A look of seriousness came over that angelic little face as he nodded, understanding what had just happened.

Again, he threw his arms about her waist, hugged her tightly and thanked her. It was only now, that she ruffled that red hair and bent her head to place a kiss to the top of his head, telling him that she now had to return to her duties, but she was pleased that he liked her gift. Turning, he had run off to Gabe and the kaiila, chattering a pasang and ihn. Shaking her head she had walked off, a myriad of thoughts drifting through her head.

Wiley and Piper, storming the gates of Turia...........Skies help them!