She had been there when he mounted his kaiila to ride out with his men. He had leaned down, lifted her towards him, kissing her. Sitting up, he had grinned down to her, telling her that they would not be gone long, and when he returned, they would celebrate their victory by spending some time together. He had saluted Rook, with a tap of fingers to his throat,then had ridden off to join his men. The elder oralu had been charged with keeping her safe and occupied. Waving at him, she watched until he disappeared between the wagons, a knowing smile on her features. She had something to share with him, and tonight would be that night of sharing.


To pass the time, she fed Tug and played with him, bathed him, but not without a fight. When he was settled into his furs for the night, she had helped the girls tear strips into bandages. Finally, it was kasra that had shyly asked her if she would play for them.


Going to retrieve her flute from her wagon, she unwrapped the drum and looked at it. Yes, tonight she would tell him of her secret, and share with him the surprise of his father's drum. Tarra had brought it back to her from her trip. It had been repaired, and she had been waiting for just the right moment to give it to him. This would be that moment. Tonight would be one of sharing between them, of talking, and dreaming of the future.


As the girls wound bandages, and gathered food and botas of water for the warriors that would soon be returning, she had played. For some reason, the music she played had a melancholy air to it, not by design, but simply because that was what flowed from her this night.


Not able to wait any longer, she had taken up the basket of bandages and walked towards the fires. Rook walked beside her, and was quiet, even for him. For some reason this did not bother her, for she was not exactly in a mood to talk. Many things danced in her mind, and not all of them pleasant. Do people that have a bond of love between them, sense when things are wrong? Yes they do, and she cannot seem to shake this feeling of something not being exactly right.


As she rounded the corner of a wagon, she saw the first of the warriors returning. Her stepped quickened, along with the beat of her heart. That was when she saw the woodsman. It took a moment for her brain to digest that the bloodied body that was held before him was that of her mate. Dropping the basket, she ran towards him, screaming. "No! No!" Rook reached out and grasped her arm, but she fought like a larl to get away from him.


Garyx dismounted and lowered Loch to the furs. She slid to her knees beside him, and she could see that his wounds were fatal, that he would not survive them, and her heart seemed to stop for an ihn. He reached his hand up to touch her cheek, saying one word. "Cana" That one word tore at her heart, and she nuzzled that cheek into his palm. His voice was low as he continued to speak. "There is no way to stop what is to be. I have been fortunate to have had my life fulfilled with you."


His farewells were said to his mother, then he again looked at her, and managed a smile. "A man could not ask for more of a beautiful vision to take on his journey." She leaned closer to him, that last touch breaking her heart, then she gave him another gift to carry on his journey. "I am with child my love. A child of our love." If it were possible, his smile widens, then he drew his last breath. Lost as so many were, to the dangerous life on the plains.


Kneeling there, cradling his head, she lay her forehead to his, and reached down deep inside her for the reserves of strength that most women of the plains had. She would not dishonor him by falling to pieces before his men that had began to gather. She would not show that weakness.


Tarra lifted her to her feet, and told her that she would send tea to help her sleep, and that his men would take him to a place where he would be safe, and would be prepared for later. She barely remembered it all. Rook placed his arms about her shoulders and led her back to her wagons.


True to her word, Tarra sent the tea, and the old warrior sat beside her, making sure she sipped every drop. She spoke of Tug, and was told that he would be taken care of, that she was to sleep and nothing more just yet. She did lay down, tears sliding down the side of her face, but she would not sleep, not this night, or maybe the next.


Rook took up his post on the platform. This makes twice that he has done this. The first time, upon orders from Kam. He did not know her then, she was simply a woman he was to watch over. This time it is different. She is someone that he cares for like a daughter, and the Skies help anyone that would think to disturb her until she was ready.

Unease

She was still unsettled by what she and Rook had found on their ride. So was he, but he tried not to show it. He did too, but he did not show it, beyond the point of telling her she was not to leave the confines of the wagons, at all. Loch re-enforced that same thing to her. They had no worries, she was not a foolish woman for the most part.


The new day found her at the pens. At first, Ciegue would not let her near him, but through patience and determination, she had managed to regain his trust. He had only balked slightly when she smeared the salve on his rings and inspected them. In a day or two, they would be healed enough to try and put the reins through. Today, she slipped the rope halter around his neck and led him around the pen, speaking to him in that calm way she has. It was trust that she was trying to build up in him, and that took time. Just like it took time with some people.


Walking around the pen, she got an eerie feeling and stopped. Turning in a slow circle she became more aware of her surroundings. There was nothing different, nothing odd. There were the kaiila in the others pens, the out riders working with them. Her brother Gabe, sharpening the claws on some, Leonette inspecting a pregnant mare, nothing unusual. Then why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing up?


Slowly she makes another turn, only to see some riders standing near the fence. Only one caught her attention, and that was only because the day had dawned warm and pleasant, and he still had his windscarf pulled up around his face, obscuring his features. Only his eyes could be seen. She did not recognize him, but that was not unusual either, their were thousands of men among them.


She caught him staring at her, and furrowed her brow. Dropping the rope, she started towards the fence to speak to him, and he turned and walked off. He did not run, but his head ducked slightly, and he quickened his pace. Stopping she watched him, then shrugged. Her experience with Rook had made her jumpy, nothing more. Returning to Ciegue, she took up the rope and began to speak to him, telling him how foolish she was at times.


But, that niggling unease did not leave her. She simply tried to ignore it. But, if things were fine, why was her braid tingling?

A fire, out here?

Rook had sensed something in her, an unease, maybe a sadness. Whichever it was, he had suggested a ride. There is just something about a ride on the plains that will calm the heart and soul of a Tuchuk, like nothing else. No words, no embraces, no platitudes will do it, only the freedom of the wind on your face, the freshness of the air, and the vast panorama of pasang upon pasang of grass can calm their souls.


While he saddled the kaiila, she had gone and put together a meal for them of slices of cold tabuk, cheese and flatbread. Gathering up botas of water, she had returned and divided her bounty between their two beasts. They wound their way though the wagons, nodding at those that lifted a hand in greeting, not really talking much. As they left the final circle of wagons, the rode along side the herd, speaking of how lean they were looking, and that it was time to get them to taller grass. But it was gratifying to see the millions of the animals picking their way though what grass there was, and also a pride. That pride that all people of the plains feel at being the caretakers of such great animals. Seeing Loch, she broke from Rook long enough to ride over to him, to steal a few kisses from that man that held her heart so tenderly. There was a promise of being cautious, of staying close to Rook, and of some quiet time together that night. As she rode back towards Rook, she turned more than once just to watch him as he watched the bosk.


As they rode past that massive gathering of bosk, she finally spoke to Rook, telling him of the unease of her sleeping hours, confusing dreams, and this feeling that she had that something was not quite right in that little ordered world of hers. He did not say much, simply listened. He did not chide her for foolishness, or offer her words of comfort, he just listened, nodding from time to time. And to be honest, that was what she needed, someone that would listen, someone that would allow her to unburden her heart and mind, and truly listen.


It was turning out to be a beautiful day, the sun warm on them as they rode. She had unwound the windscarf, and turned her face up to the rays of the Central Fire, drinking its' rays into her soul through her flesh. Already she was beginning to feel better, not exactly calm, but better. Rook told her of a place upstream from the harigga where he had set some traps for small animals that had the softest fur that was used for lining the insides of hats, and made good sleeping furs for children. He often trapped them, and traded the furs for other things he needed. The ride was companionable, two people that had grown very close, enjoying the day.


Coming up over a small rise, they stopped and she could see a shallow valley that sloped down towards the stream. He took the lead and they picked their way along, headed towards the water. At the stream, they dismounted, and she stayed with the kaiila as they drank while he went to check his traps. She saw him squat for a time, then stand up to turn his head to look in all directions as if he were searching for something. When he returned to her, she could not read his expression, but she just got the impression that he was concerned of something. When she asked about his traps, he said simply that someone had gotten to them. Not something, but someone. She pressed him, and he said that the traps were sprung, there was blood on them, but no game. She pondered on this for a moment, as he mounted and looked around. Could they just have escaped? To her, that was the most logical of answers. He said nothing as she lifted up into the saddle. He began to ride along the bank, watching the ground to either side of them.


They came to a small grove of precious trees, not something that was unheard of, but something that was a rarity of sorts. Even she recognized the slim trunk of one of the younger ones sticking up from the earth, only a small stump to be honest. When they approached, he cautioned her to stay close. At the edge of the small copse of trees there was the remains of a small camp. He dismounted and stood for a time just looking around. She also slipped from her saddle, and looked around. What she saw actually brought a mist of tears to her eyes. One thing that disturbed her, was that whoever had been here had been burning wood. Why? Why would one of them burn wood, they knew the value of it, the preciousness of it. But even more disturbing was the carcasses of small animals that had been stripped of their skins that lay to one side. If they were inedible, why not feed them to the kaiila? All of this made those fine hairs along the nape of her neck stand up and tingle, and a coldness came to the pit of her stomach.


Rook knelt, removed his gloves and held a hand over the ashes of the fire. Standing up, he looked around and spoke with an urgency that she did not ignore. "Mount up and ride, quickly." She did not question him. With speed and agility she mounted her kaiila, turned him and put her heels to his flanks and began to ride in the direction from whence they had come. Rook was at her side, telling her that the ashes were still warm, and no Tuchuk would have left a camp like that. This was all she needed to make her spur the animal faster. A flash of conversation from a few nights prior came to her. Words of Garyx saying that there were signs of raiders about, that he and his men would be out looking to see if it was truth.


Raiders, this close to the herd and the harigga? Just the thought of it was enough to keep her going. The two of them were in a precarious position, out here alone away from the ones that rode the perimeter of the herds. It was only a small measure of relief to see the black bodies of the bosk, the mounted outriders riding along beside them. Part of her wanted to seek Lochlan out again, to find safety with him, but it was almost as if Rook was reading her mind. "Ride. Do not stop!" She would not disobey. She would ride until she was back within the safe confines of the wagons. He rode with her until those outer circles were reached, then and only then, did he turn his beast and move towards the outriders, to speak with them.


She looked back only once, slowed her beast in caution of being around so many people again, but she did not stop until she reached the pens. Pulling her kaiila to a stop, she sat for a few moments, breathing hard, trying to push the panic that she was feeling down. Gabe saw her, came to hold the animals head and take the reins from her as she dropped from the saddle, landing on small booted feet. His brow lifted, and she said nothing, but ran towards her wagons. That maternal instinct was high in her as she sought to make sure her son was safe. Part of her knew he was, but there was that other part that just had need of holding him in her arms, of covering the top of his dark little head with kisses, of making sure he was indeed safe.


There are three things that truly stir fear in the hearts of the mighty Tuchuk. Fire, hard winds with sand, and raiders. Strangers bent on causing them harm.

Ciegue Is Ringed.

The morning had come with a warmth to the air which was welcomed. At first, clouds had obscured the rays of the Central Fire, but soon they were burned away and the warmth increased and began to melt away the last vestiges of the flurries of the previous day. A breath of spring could be felt. A breath that brought new life into the land and into the people. As she walked towards the pens, she saw people stirring, working on wagons, making small preparations for the upcoming trek back to the southern grasses. It all brought a lift to her spirits. A much needed lift.


The pens were already awake and there was a hum of activity as the keepers and breeders went about their work. A first stop was made at what they called the breeding pen, the place where the mares that were near dropping were kept. She had concerns for a few, that she feared would not give birth before the move, but for the most part, all were well.


Today is the day she would ring Ciegue. Much thought had gone into this, and she knew that some would think her crazy again, but she had plans to do the ringing in a different fashion. Traditionally, kaiila are ringed through the right nostril. Reins are run through that ring and this was the means for guiding the beast. A tug to the right sent it in that direction, then to go left, the reins were brought over the head to the left side, and a tug given. But this was the way of a normal beast, and Ciegue was not quite normal. Often when the reins were brought across, for the briefest of moments the vision on that right side would be obscured, that would not be an advantage for the animal, for that was his only sight. She had lay awake in the darkness of the past few nights pondering the beast, Fonce, what had happened. She still had an uneasy feeling about it all, but had tried to push it away. And in the long nights, she had come up with an idea, one that some would consider madness,but so be it.


In her hand, she held two rings. Her plan was to ring the beast in both nostrils, to have reins on both sides. To her, it was the only acceptable way. It would mean she would have to make adjustments to how she rode him, but in her heart she knew this would happen. She had even thought of no rings, to just fashioning a leather halter of sorts, but had decided against this route. Since most of the clan still thought the animal should be put down, she had asked Rook if he would help her with the chore, and as usual, he did not deny her. Maybe the old man had more faith in her, than she had in herself at the present. When she climbed through the rail, she just stood looking at the black beast across the pen. As if there was a silent communication, he turned to his sighted side and looked at her, and without hesitation approached her. She did not have to chase him down as she would another beast, he simply came to her. Slipping the rope over his neck, she spoke to him in low tones and tied him to the rail.


Rook stepped beside her with the punch. It was one that her father had the metal workers made many turnings ago. He had used it, he had taught her how to ring her first beast with it, and had given it to her upon her acceptance into the clan. It was a rather wicked looking tool, but served the purpose well. Rook asked if she wanted him to do it, and the dark head shakes. She would do it, she only needed him to hold the head steady, which was going to be the most difficult part, seeing as how she intended to do it not once, but twice. Her brother Gabe joined them, and without a word, stepped up to help.


As they held the head steady, she still spoke in low tones to the animal as she prepared the tool, slipping the two pieces of the ring onto the arms. Taking the flesh of his nostril, she placed it between the two sharpened pinchers, then with that strength that was in her arms, brought then together piercing the flesh. Quickly she reached to place her fingers on the inside portion of the ring, then the tool was withdrawn, and she reached for the small plate of metal, slipping it to the inside of the nostril, then pounded the outside portion of the ring, joining the two sides together. The ring was fashioned in two pieces, a lip on the outer ring fitting into a groove on the inner portion, fitting together tightly.


Cigue tried to rear to his hind legs at he pain, tossing his head back, but was held firmly by Rook and Gabriel. This was the easy part, the hard part was doing it the second time. Usually, at his point, a quick application of salve was put around the ring and the beast was allowed to run free to adjust itself to the pain and the ring. It would not be so with Ciegue. The process had to be done on the other side. He snapped at her, the fangs actually catching the top of her ear, but not badly, just enough so that she would wear a memento of this moment on that ear for the remainder of her life.


A crowd had gathered at the rail, and two more of the outriders had crawled between the rails to help when they saw what her intent was. Ciegue was restrained and she stepped to the other side to repeat her actions. Never before has ringing a beast bothered her, but never before has she had to put them through that pain twice. Working quickly, and efficiently the process was repeated, and elicited a growl from the animal, almost a howl of pain. She could probably relate to this more than any of the men could, for it was not unlike that first night she had come to the fires and Silken and Tarra had affixed her own ring. It hurt.


They held him long enough for her to liberally apply salve to the nostrils, then she called for them to let him go. Stepping back, she was prepared for what happened. When he was released, again he reared, clawing at them all, fangs snapping, then he turned and bolted to the other side of the pen, dipping his head from time to time to rub his nose on his chest. Gathering the tools, she climbed back through the rails and turned to watch him. A day or two would pass before she would put the reins to the rings for the first time. She had hopes that his memory would be short, and that he would allow her near within that time. If not, then it was going to be a long, drawn out affair.

The Freedom of Flight.

The Noir wagons were very busy. The precious salt that she had gotten, was being put to good use in salting down the meat that Tarra had sent to their wagons. Rook always helped at these times, carefully slicing the meat into thin strips, which she would hang in a wagon with a brazier going constantly to dry them out. They would then be packed with the salt into bags for preservation. The girls had the hides and were carefully scraping them, then stretching them. Tug even had his part to do, which mostly consisted of running from place to place to see what they were doing. He was given small tasks to do, such as carrying things to the trash barrel, or carrying messages back and forth.


She had seasoned and put a haunch of the tabuk over the fire to roast, and under her watchful eye, he was allowed to turn the spit. There was nothing at all wrong with teaching them young, and there was no such thing as a lazy Tuchuk. It had been a busy morning, but she had found the time to make bread, putting it into the covered iron pot in the coals to cook, and this was when she decided that something sweet was in order. Going through her stores, she found what she was looking for, some berries that she had dried right before they came north. These were simmered with sugar, a bit of honey and some spices. Right before they were done, she dropped small dumplings of dough into the pot then placed a crust over it, covered it and had Rook bury it in the coals too. Tonight, dinner would be an affair.

She was working around the fire, fluffing furs, just basically making things more presentable, when she found herself sprawled face down, having felt like she had been hit in the head. She had been bending over, her balance a little precarious, then bam, on her face. Sitting up, she reached to the back of her head, puzzled. What in the name of skies had happened. Sitting there, she got her bearings, shook her head and stood up, looking around. There was no one near her. The girls were still scraping hides, Rook and Tug were involved in some game on a wagon platform that involved Tug learning to throw a blunted dagger. Surely he had not thrown one and hit his mother in the head. Watching them, she realized that had not happened. Shrugging, she went back to her work, going to turn the tabuk on the spit.


Suddenly, there was this odd noise, and something was on her head and she heard a squawk, and something was beating along her cheeks. She began to dance around, waving her hands around, trying to dislodge whatever it was, but at about that time, she felt the talons sink into her scalp. Hearing her screams, Rook came running, and for a moment, he was simply overcome with laughter. Finally he put her out of her misery, that was, he did it when he could get her to stand still for him. She really looked a sight, dancing around flapping her arms with the bird perched on her head, digging its' talons into her hair, then pecking a the strands he pulled loose. Getting her to stand still, he carefully disentangled the birds claws from her hair, then tossed him into the air. It was actually a beautiful sight to see the bird take flight, circle the wagons then go back to her perch, preening and grooming himself.


She looked up. "What in the name of skies was that? " He laughed. "Chuluun. Looks like he has finally taken the notion to fly." At that precise moment, the bird took fligh, circling higher and higher, then catching the currents and floating in the clear, blue sky, his wings stretched out. She whispers. "He is gorgeous." She watches him for a long time, right to the point when he began to flap his wings and flew out of view. Her heart sunk watching him go, and immediately she wondered if he would return.


Returning to her work, she thinks upon the promise that she had made to Mayala about taking care of the bird. She had done that. Or rather the girls had. They had fed him, watched over him, and for them he had become part of their little family. For some reason, her mind turned over the thoughts, that someday, that would be Tug, trying his own wings, and leaving the safe little nest that she had made here for him with Lochlan. Sadness settled in her heart, but she knew that it was just part of life. But it was a part that she did not want to think about just yet.


She was tending to the meat when she heard the flapping of the wings. Then as graceful as a feather, the bird floated down from the sky to land upon her shoulder. Standing very still, she slowly lifted her hand, the backs of her fingers moving to stroke along the feathers on his breast. He shifted then seemed to settle down, finding his new perch quite acceptable. Laughing softly, she reached to pull a bit of the meat from the roast and held it to his beak. The greedy little thing grabbed at it, tilted his head back and it disappeared down his gullet. This was done a few more time, then he took flight again to land on his perch on the wagon rail, tucking his head down, closing his eyes, then he slept.


Flying is exhausting work.

A Price Paid, A Gift Made. All Confusing.

It had all started out so nicely. What went wrong?


Polunu had told Fonce that he had what was required of him, including the kaiila. Fonce had quickly agreed that the price had been met, then immediately told her that he wanted to see the kaiila. Little was said between them on the walk to the pens, but she could sense the excitement in him, something that she rarely saw, and found it amusing in a way.


She stepped into the darkness and brought Ciegue to the fence, turning the animal both ways so that Fonce could see he was exactly as he wanted. A fine,young, ebony beast with one white eye and one blue eye. The excitement was still there as he looked the animal over, and asked about it, where she had found it. She told the story, and even told him that she felt the animal was special for more than one reason. How he had been found, where he had been found, how he had reacted.


He kept pressing her to tell him what made him special. Well, how do you explain it? This went in some ways to the difference in what kind of people they both were.


He is one that needs things tied up in parcels, everything neat and tidy, abiding by some sort of rules that made sense to him. Orderly. Finite. Definitive. He was one that was always seeking answers that he could understand. That is just how he is, part of what makes him Fonce.


And her? She is one that takes much of faith, following her heart and her instincts, accepting of things she does not always understand fully. She trusts the world around her, reveling in the differences she sees each day. She does not expect things to make sense. To her, life rarely makes sense, it is simply life. But most of all, she is driven by her heart and what it tells her.


He is a man. She is a woman. Enough said?


He said she was defensive. Was she? If she was, she did not realize it, or intend to be. Protective? Yes. She is always protective of the kaiila, it is just part of who she is. And in the short time she has had this animal, she has grown very fond of him, but she was willing to give him up. Maybe not to just anyone, but she was willing to let him go to Fonce.


But it was not to be. He said he would not take it. What? He had been searching so long for one such as this, but he would not take it? He said something, that upon reflection, she understood better. He said that maybe she was meant to find this animal and not him. That maybe he had not searched hard enough, and that is why she found him instead of himself. Thinking back on it, she realizes that there might be some truth in that. He also said he felt there story was not over, that there was more in store for her and the beast.


She came away confused by it all. In some ways, she felt guilty that he had not kept Ciegue, that he had given the animal back to her. In another way, she was glad, for she truly held an affection for the animal and already a bond had been forming between them.


Part of her hated that she had not been able to fulfill this small request, that perhaps she had disappointed him in some way. But somewhere inside her, she too had the feeling that maybe this was not he kaiila he sought, the one he needed. Was there another out here like it. No, she would almost guarantee that, but, was her destiny with the animal yet to be seen? Only time would tell.


In the end, he walked away. There was no happiness in her heart, only confusion.

Destiny, perhaps?

The days had been long, and she had been very busy. With the specter of spring right around the corner, a lot of her time had been spent on seeing to her wagons, then there was also the foaling season of the spring foals. Careful breeding helped to make sure they were born early enough to have some strength in their legs before the long trek back south came about.

Finally, her day had ended. Rook walked beside her as she approached the fires, his steps almost as tired as hers' were. Blackwine in hand, she settled to her usual pile of furs by the fire, watching Polunu who seemed to be deep in thought. She did not disturb him, figuring that he would speak when he was ready, and that is how it went. The usual pleasantries were exchanged, the inquiries as to each others health and so forth, then his brow furrowed and he told her that he was looking for something, and asked how he would go about getting a kaiila.

She had laughed at this, and informed him that the best route to that was to charm his nearby kaiila breeder. He then looked her in the eyes and said that he did not just need a kaiila, he needed a black kaiila. She did allow that she had several of that color, that was when he clarified that there was more. He needed, not only a black kaiila, but one with one blue eye and one white eye. This stopped her right in her tracks, and a chill went down the length of her spine. Did he know? Had he seen the beast she had brought in, or heard about it. For the longest time she simply sat, studying his face, before she asked why he needed a beast with those exact specifications.

At first he seemed reluctant to tell her, but finally said that it was part of a bride price. Well, now this did surprise her. Mister "I Will Never Take a Mater" was trying to come up with a bride price? That still did not make her want to relinquish the beast that she had already grown so fond of, but she did ask to whom was this price to be paid? What he said, made that chill run its way back up her spine. Fonce.

Now, probably had he said anyone else, she would have simply wished him luck. But, on the day she had found Ciegue, there was something in the back of her head that told her he was special, that he was not just a kaiila. Again she studied Polunu, then sat her blackwine aside and lifted to her feet. "I have just such a beast." The look he gave her was one of astonishment, but edged with just a bit of excitement. She bid him to follow her to the pens.

On the walk, she told him of the animal, how she had found him, the entire tale. He still seemed a little shocked, and maybe even unsure if what she had was what he needed. As he stood by the fence of the segregation pen, holding a torch, she went into the shadows to get Ciegue, coaxing him gently to the fence. The look on the salt man's face was actually priceless when he saw that this was exactly what he was looking for. Her heart actually sunk a bit, because there was that niggling hope that he would refuse the animal, but she knew he wouldn't. For some reason, whether deemed by fates, or the skies, or whatever, she was meant to find this particular kaiila and bring it into camp. She was part of the animal's destiny, and now it was time for him to leave her, and fulfill the rest of his destiny.

A price was stated. Two weights of salt, five bosk, and a favor from Fonce. Ok, she threw that last one in, hoping that Polunu would fall for it, but he was not quite that out of his mind. He told her that he could not be making favors in the name of another, that she would have to ask Fonce for that herself. Well……she had tried. She told him that she had grown very fond of the animal, and was loathe to let him go. He asked her then, if she was so attached, why she would let him go?

It was hard for her to explain, but she tried. Seldom did Fonce ask anything of anyone. He was one of the most independent people that she knew, and he was not self-serving to her knowledge. If he asked for a particular animal, there was a reason, and knowing him, it was a good reason. He was Ubar, she was but a woman. In what way could she set her want of the animal, above that of the Ubar? Besides, from the moment she had seen the animal, she had known he was special.

Polunu agreed to the price, and she would hold the kaiila in the pens for Fonce to look at, so he could decide if, yes, this was the animal he wanted, or needed. And so it was done.

They parted their ways, but not before she tried to wheedle out of the salt man the name of the woman that had captured his heart to the point he was going to let her win a wager! Now what was that he had said?...

Cana, you're killing me.

She had to laugh at that. But in all honesty, she was pleased to know that there was someone for him. Since the death of the potter, she had worried about him, but on this night she had seen much of the former Salt Ubar, and this lightened her own heart.

It was lying in her furs later, that she thought back on Ciegue, then allowed her thoughts to wander to MistRunner. Where they were now, was very close to the point where she had first seen MistRunner, the kaiila that was now Tarra's. She had seen him standing on the far side of the stream, shrouded in an early spring mist one night. The moment she saw him, she knew that he was the one to replace the older beast that Tarra had, that had reached the end of his days. Fate. Destiny. Why can animals not have it the same as people?

Now, consider all of this. Was there somewhere around here a herd that was comprised of special beasts? Makes you think, now does it not?

On Being Tuchuk

It had been an enjoyable day, in spite of the chill weather. She had spent it at the pens working with the new ebon kaiila she had found, and was joined there first by Leonette, who was amazed as she was by the new beast. She too, could see the remarkable intelligence in the one blue eye. There was something that told them both that the beast was special.

They were joined by Ina and Patch, which proved the perfect opportunity for her to introduce the tyke to the little paint kaiila that she had chosen for him. It was love at first sight, and the beast was automatically dubbed….Mine. There is just something about seeing a child with their first mount that goes straight to her heart. Patch had been set on the foal's back, and she led them around the pen. He was a natural, just as most Tuchuk children are. There was just something in the people of the plains that made them bond with the kaiila, especially that first one.

Watching him, those chubby little legs spread wide over the back of the little beast, brought a funny thought to her. In thinking about it, she realized that there was not a Tuchuk that she knew that was not bowlegged. If you were to watch any warrior standing or walking, you would see that there was that glimmer of day light between his knees. And if you were to peek under the skirts of the women, you would find the same thing. Riding all of your life did that to you. It was just a part of who you were when you were born and raised on the plains.
Later, the thought had come back to her, and she had laughed, realizing that if they had all been born in the cities, they would probably all be a few horts taller, with much straighter legs.

Ain't it great to be Tuchuk?

Ciegue

The events of her life had a way of entwining around one another to form a rope that was endless. Happy events, sad events, and some that were just simply things that happened. Going about her work, her duties, there were times when her thoughts got the better of her. She found herself thinking quite a bit on her nephew and his disappearance, and this even shadowed her mood, so she had been keeping to herself for the most part. Well, that and the weather. It becomes difficult to work the kaiila when the snow is blowing. They are moody, you are moody, and it just becomes such a war of wills, that sometime the best decision is to allow them to just be until the snow goes away.



Have you ever watched them in the pens. When the snow flies, these beasts that usually spend the bulk of their time nipping at each other in some sort of battle of supremacy that is known only to them, suddenly become great friends. They will find a corner of the pen that is the most protected, or as protected as any spot can be on the plains, and there they stand, flank to flank, side to side, their heads towards the protection. Mares, who do not even deign to feed their foals, will herd them to the corner, then form a protective wall of bodies around them. Then will come the larger males, nudging their bodies closer to add more protection to that knot of animal bodies, trying to keep the heat in, to protect the weaker of their herd.



Are they really so different from humans? Don't mothers protect their babies and children, knowing that their mates and the other men of the tribe will provide them with warmth and protection also? Do not call the kaiila dumb beasts, for they are far from it. Watching them always amazed her. Some saw nothing more than a mount, a convenience that allowed them the mobility that they wish, but to her, each of them had a personality that was unique. Maybe this is why she worked will with them, she understood them, she talked with them and listened to what they told her. Insane, you call her? Perhaps.



Maybe it was this quality in her that always had her on the look out for new animals. She bred many, and was very careful on what sire she put with what mare. Careful of blood lines, always trying to breed strength, and trying not to breed too closely. Occasionally wild beast could still be found, and she always kept her eyes open, seeking ones to bring into their fold. This ability had served her well in the past, and hopefully would do so in the future. And it was this sharp eye, that had allowed her to find him.



True to her promise to herself, she had been spending more time with Gabriel, allowing him to help her more around the wagons, taking rides with him, and simply talking to him, getting to know the young man he was growing into. One common joy that they had found was riding. He had told her that he rode often by himself out onto the plains to a spot where he could look back over the herds and wagons, to think upon his life, what it had in store for him. It was a great honor for her when he took her to this spot that had become sacred to him in away. There was no need for words to pass between them. They were simply there........together.



It was returning from one of these rides that she had first caught sight of the black kaiila standing on a small rise on the other side of the stream. She had stood in her stirrups to look around, seeing no wild herd that he might belong to. It struck her as odd that someone had not tried to capture him, for he looked to be a fine, black beast, but young. She would guess that he was in his second turning, but not much more than that. On that first spying, he seemed to sense she was watching, reared slightly then was gone. Quite a few times over the next hand she had thought of him, and looked for him, to no good. Maybe he had been captured by someone, and was being trained.



She had been to take Loch a meal. They were so busy, that each stolen ahn that they got together, they worked for and treasured. It was a frigid day, the snow had fell all morning, blanketing the plains in that beautiful, but icy mantle that she found she loved. Wager had veered off towards the stream to drink. Slipping from the saddle, she walked along the bank, contemplating how the water eddied around the small mounds of ice in snow in the stream. There was no sound other than that, and the wind. The silence was almost eerie in its quality. She sensed, more than heard him. Looking up, she saw the black kaiila standing on the other side of the stream. She marveled a bit that he did not bolt, but staring at him, she began to kin why. He was turned in profile, and the eye on the side of his head was milky white. She had seen this before, in an old woman that was of the spex clan, but both of her eyes held that milky aspect, and she was totally blind. Seeing only what was within her mind.



For a long time she simply stood and watched the animal, marveling at him. This is why there was no herd, no protectors. Often, animals would shun one they thought imperfect. It was instinct in them, the saw the flaw as weakness, and why waste life on one that was weak. But for some reason, she saw it differently. She was not even away of her first steps that took her closer to Wager, or of her hand lifting to take the lariat off of the saddle. Rope in hand, she stepped into the icy water, it was then that she became more aware of her surrounding, and the fingers of cold water that were soon seeping into the leather of her boots, but this did not stop her.



Very slowly she crossed the stream, never taking her eyes from the beast. He could not see her, but surely he could hear her, she found it impossible to keep her teeth from chattering, and behind her she could hear Wager snorting, wondering if she had finally taken leave of her senses. Stepping from the water, she stumbled and fell to her knees, saying words under her breath that she was glad no one was here to hear. It was then that the black colt reacted. Graceful as a dancing slave, he stepped back, snorted and turned that blind eye in her direction.



Finding her footing again, she crawled from the stream and began to speak softly to him. It was almost a mixture of words, unintelligible soft grunts and sounds. He took a step back, she took two steps forward. Again he placed one clawed foot behind him and stepped back, she placed one booted foot in front of the other and advanced. It was almost like a dance, him leading, her following. Slowly she unfurled the rope, allowing the loop to swing slowly by her side as she advanced. Her movements were graceful as she began to move it around her head, taking aim on the black head.



One more loop, one more swing.........then she let it slip forward to slip over the head, to loop down the long, silky neck. At that moment, the beast reared, and she grasped the rope, sitting her heels into the snowy ground, hoping that she kept her balance. She found herself in a crouch, still holding onto the rope as if her very life depended upon her grasp. He reared, claws flailing at the air, then coming down to almost embrace her form that was before him. His chest was right before her, she could almost see her reflection in the glossy coat. She could smell him, that wet fur, animalistic , musky scent that he threw off. For the briefest of moments, she wondered what she smelled like to him. She hoped it was not dinner. Suddenly,she was aware of another presence. Wager had followed her across the waters and was standing there at her back, nipping at he strange beast. A series of grunts, growls, whinnies passed between the two animals and the black seemed to calm.



She was able to lift to her feet, still holding the rope and tentatively reached a gloved hand out closer to the head. Nostrils flared as he took in her scent. Maybe he did not scent her fear, maybe he understood that this small two-legged creature before him meant no harm. For whatever reason, he suddenly stilled. She crept closer, to his off side talking softly, laying her hand on his nose to stroke gently. This was when she noticed something even stranger than the milky blind eye. His other eye was blue, which in her knowledge, did not happen among kaiila. In all of the beasts she had seen, brow was the eye color that prevailed. But this other eye was dark blue, the blue of the midnight skies, and there was sight in it, and intelligence.



The black head dipped closer to her, and her hand smoothed beneath the neck to the other side and she lay her cheek on the silky mane and began to speak softly. "Are you not amazing? What a beautiful creature you are." The head dipped gently, almost as if the beast understood and agreed. With slow, but sure steps she moved to the other side to ponder the blind eye once more, with much curiosity. Moving down the side of the beast, she ran a practiced hand over withers, side and down flanks. There were no injuries, no imperfections other than the milky eye. Feeling movement behind her, then a warning snort, she turned to see the black head nudging the bags of her saddle that was on Wager. She had to laugh softly. "Hungry" She moved to the bags, nudging the head away with her shoulder, to dig in them pulling out the jerky strips. He took them daintily, which caused her to chuckle softly, the sound ringing through the cold air. It seemed she had made a friend.



Holding fast to the rope, she pulled up into the saddle and gave it a small tug. At first, the black resisted, pulling in the other direction, but she persisted. And this would be how it would go, all the way back to camp, and to the pens. He would follow for a time, then balk, pulling back at the rope. It was almost as if he thought she would drop it, and he would be free. Maybe he was simply testing her, who knew. Had he truly have had the ability of logical thought, he would have realized that she had wound her end of the rope tightly around the pommel of the saddle and tied it off. The hand that continued to lay on it, tugging him along, was in no danger of loosing him unless he were to break the rope, which was not going to happen.



She barely got notice as she passed people on the way to the pens, except for those that took a second longer look. The ones on the off-side, frowned seeing the milky,white, blind eye. Some made the hand sign to ward off evil spirits, and not all of them were women. Those on the other side, often took a step closer to make sure they had truly seen a blue-eyed kaiila.



At the pens, she put him into segregation until she decided what to do with him. In fact, she put him in the pen where Holo had been kept. When she slipped the rope off of his neck, he reared once more and trotted off to the far side of the pen. Crawling over the rails of the fence, she watched him for a time, pondering what she would do with him. Gabriel came to stand by her, then frowned, asking if that beast was blind. She allowed softly, that it was only half blind. He then questioned why she had not killed it, that it was of no use, only to be met by a shake of her head. "Everything has a use." Watching the beast, she spoke softly. "Right now, I will call him Ciegue"

Honey, Bride Prices, Slaves and Charisma? Oh my!

The day had been spent around their wagons taking care of the small things that, in some ways she had been neglecting. It was time to start making preparations for the move again, and that meant getting the damage that naturally happens to the wagons repaired. She had spent the previous day at the Aaralyn wagons with her family, visiting, watching Tug play with his cousins and just spending time with her family there. That was where she had noticed that they were already making repairs.


Rook had announced that he was going hunting and had the intention of taking Tug with him. At first, she had balked, but had relented. There was this little voice in the back of her head that was shouting......No, He is too young! But there was another that said..........let go, you cannot hold him forever. If nothing else, she knew that the elder warrior and the child would enjoy the ride and the time together.


In the food storage wagon, she began arranging the jars of dried meats, spices, honey, sugars, flours and salts, taking inventory of what they had left. Before starting this journey, they had all worked like a swarm of little bees gathering up all that she thought they would need. It had been much different than what she had done before, because in times before she had only been putting up stores for herself, then just for her and Tayco. This had been the first time she had to plan for a group, for her family. Two grown warriors, herself, Tug, who ate constantly and the two slaves. In doing her inventory, she realized that she had not planned all that well and stores were a bit thinner than she would have liked. They would make it, but they would have to ration things carefully, and next season, she would start sooner and put away more.


While doing this, she was stacking the jars of honey, her mind wandering to a few nights earlier. She had known that Fonce was a bit off-kilter from their talk, and had decided it was honey time. If that man had a weakness, it was honey. She had seen him more than once, sit with a jar of the sweet, sticky treat, running his fingers in it and getting a look of pure, unbridled joy on his face as he sucked it from his fingers. This was one of the reasons, that from time to time, she would have one of her girls drop off a jar of it at his wagons, or a basket of honey cakes, or maybe a bag of her honeyed nuts. Simply because she knew he enjoyed them. Everyone needed to be spoiled from time to time, even the big, tough, Ubar.


She should have sent kasra to deliver it, but no, she had thought to just drop it off on her way to the fires. In her mind, she figured that he would be in the herds, or with his men, or doing what it was he did, but she had been wrong. When she had turned that corner, she had stopped dead in her tracks seeing him there. Not only him, but a small crowd with him. She had started to slowly step backwards, looking for a slave to give the jar to, when he spied her and spoke. Now why she was dumbstruck, she was not exactly sure. Maybe it was from him being there when she had not expected it, perhaps it was the look of joy on the drummers face, or the look of mingled happiness and confusion on the leather workers face. It seems that she had walked up on Sahli offereing a bride price for Jaella. A wonderful thing indeed. She suddenly realized that it was a good match. Not one that she had been expecting, but a good one just the same.


Or maybe her shock had come from seeing the singer sitting on the platform of his wagon wearing nothing but a tunic, boots and a smile. She had heard the gossip, but had not put much stock in it, but here it was, no longer gossip but the truth. And shock, yes that is what it was. Every free woman has this compartment in her that fears the collar, or so she had always thought, and to see someone that had once been a peer of sorts, collared and almost naked was a shock. The rumor had been that he had not forced the situation, but that the young singer had begged it from him. This too made her mind reel a bit. But, in that whirl of thoughts that came to her, something had taken on a clarity that it had not had before.


A few days earlier, he had come to the pens to tell her of Leonette, and that talk had turned to something else. A discussion of slaves and him having a personal slave. At the time, she had thought he was speaking of someone else, but after that night at his wagons, she realized that her assumption had been so far wrong, that it was not even funny. Thinking back on it all now, she should have known. But perhaps in her mind, she held that denial that any woman that had her freedom would wish to surrender it freely to a man.


What of her family? Did she not realize that her actions not only changed her life, but that of her family. Even if they were riding the skies, how did they feel, when they looked down to see that moment of surrender and submission? And what of her family at the first fires, how were they to think seeing her at his side in that way? Was a slave at his side bothersome? No, in fact it was just pretty much the norm, they had always been there. But to see one that had sat on the other side of the fires there, in some ways, was embarrassing It was a reminder of what could happen to them all. It would take some getting accustomed to.


She and Leonette had spoken on it later at the fires, and the woman allowed that it was easy to become enmeshed by his charisma. Charisma? He had charisma? She had to think long on this one, for she had never seen that? Was she missing something? Something that it seemed most of the other women saw in him? She had to shake her head on that one. She saw him as a man, a friend, sometimes a lost little boy in man's clothing, but charisma? Not there for her.



Was there something wrong with her? She found herself laughing a bit at this. The man did not make her world spin off its' axis, and maybe she should be thankful for that. He made her feel good, just in the fact that he was a friend, one she could talk to, one that listened, one she could tease a bit. Now Holo? That beast had charisma! She found herself laughing out loud at this, only to be interrupted by juneau poking her head into the wagon telling her that the Old Master and young Tug had returned.


Coming out of that wagon, she stood on the platform watching that child that held her heart so firmly in his pudgy little grip. Everything about him made her smile, made her heart quicken. Now.........that was charisma.

Shock, Despair and Hope

It was probably the longest walk she had ever taken. Even with Rook beside her for every step, she found that she would falter from time to time. Had it not been for that strong hand beneath her elbow, she might have turned and ran, shirked what she considered her duty.



When they arrived at the wagons of her brother Ephrim, his mate Anaya looked up, and that silent communication that some women share passed between them. Moving to the woman that had been surrogate mother to her after her own had died, they embraced, each trying to comfort the other, both trying to be strong. Finally Rook had drawn them to the fire, made them sit, and began to talk. He had spoken with the outrider that had come back from the plains.



"They found the camp about four days ride to the var of where the harigga was. From what they could tell, he had camped for the night, because the kaiila had been unsaddled, unbridled. There were the makings of a small fire, his favored mug in the cold ashes. The signs told them that he had be set upon by raiders of some kind. The hamstring of the kaiila had been severed, then it had been pierced through the heart and bled out. He had fought, because they only found two of the quiva in the sheath and there were no signs of the other five. They also found his bow and a quiver that only had two arrows left in it. The kills that he had made were left to rot.



It was odd that who had attacked him did not take the rest of his weapons, a serviceable saddle or the supplies. That told them it was not someone of the plains. People of the plains, regardless of the tribe, did not believe in such waste. But there were tharlarion tracks that were older, and kaiila tracks that seemed to be fresher. There was no sign of Trilok anywhere. They had even rode in widening circles the entire next day looking for tracks or some sign of him, but none was to be found."



When he finished, Ephrim had asked some questions, they all found it odd that the animal was killed, and that the saddle and supplies were left. It was odd to them. A puzzlement.



When she finally found her voice, it was soft, full of pain. She had failed in her promise to them to keep watch over him when he came to the first fires. She had failed them, herself and him. Ephrim reached over, and thwapped her gently on the head. "He is a man in his own right. You are not his mother, nor his keeper. None of this is your fault."



She could only nod, but that did not make her feel much better. She told them of what Tarra had said, that Trilok's heart still beat with the plains, that at his time, he was not dead. They knew of the spex's reputation, in fact they feared her to a point. But, she had offered hope, and for now they would cling to it.


During the telling of all of this, Hiram and his two middle sons had walked up to listen. They spoke with Rook to find out the names of the riders that had found the camp. Before morning they would have sought them out, garnered as much information as they could, and their own search would begin.



Ephrim had thanked them for coming to give news, he then chided Cana for not coming around more often, as did Anaya. She made promises to bring Tug by within the next few days. They then did what was the only thing left to do. They walked back to the small group of Noir wagons.



Rook, being who he was, had sent a rider to bring Loch in from patrol. When he came riding up, he was relieved to see she was unharmed, then angry for being called back to his wagons. Rook had taken him aside, talked to him for a long time, while she simply sat on the steps of her wagon, forcing herself not to cry, unable to get the memories of childhood games with her nephew from her head.



When Loch came to her, he was so gentle, caring. The strong arms wrapped around her, and finally she allowed herself to lean against him and cry, to show that weakness, she would hide from others. He held her, simply smoothing his hand down her braid. At one point, he told her that if his mother said Trilok was still alive, then she spoke the truth.



When she calmed, he carried her into the wagon, undressed her like she was a child and tucked her into the furs. She had looked up at him, assuming he was returning to patrol, only to see him shake his head. He had sent another to finish his shift, and he was not going to leave her along tonight. Undressing, he slid into the furs beside her, pulled her close and began to talk to her in that soft gentle way that he reserves just for her. In the safety of his embrace, she was finally able to relax, and to sleep.


The last words the muttered were........'"He lives, I know he does."

Beads

Sometimes the days simply faded one into the next, into a long string of days, much like a string of beads. Each one the same, but then again, each one just a shade different then the ones on either side of it. This is how the past few days had been.

A bead………..


Working at the pens, there was a gentle smile on her face as she thought of a few evenings before, when Loch had rode into the harrigga, swooped her up onto the saddle before him and ridden out onto the plains. He rode to a spot where he already had a fire going, and managed to dismount, still holding her in those strong arms. Lowering down next to the fire, she was settled into his lap, arms holding her against his chest and they talked. He worked so much that he often only knew of the goings on in camp from what he heard whispered by others, and when something struck him, he always chose a time like this to get her take on it.


This night they talked of many things, such as the time for Tarra's baby being near, and how happy she and Garyx seemed to be, and how well suited. He had heard the rumors of Fonce's new slave, and she could not exactly confirm them for him, for all she had heard were the rumors whispered among the slaves. For a time they spoke on slaves, her, and how he felt about her. In times like this evening, there was nothing they could not speak on, and they did. If it was possible, they grew a bit closer each time they had these precious opportunities to spend some time together. Their time ended when he needed sleep. Back at the wagons, he went to their furs, and she spent time with Tug, sitting beside his sleeping furs, telling him a story. Finally it had taken a song from her flute to lull him to sleep. Stepping from his wagon she looked around to see everyone was resting, which brought a smile to her face. Her little family, safe, secure and sleeping.


A second bead……….


Finding her way to the fires, she was playing a tune on her flute, and from time to time would do almost a dance step along with the melody. Happiness just seemed to exude from her, from her very being, and this is not a bad thing, now is it? Time was spent in teasing and laughing with the women. Fonce had been there to start, but as is usual with him, when the vulos start cackling, he simply seems to disappear, which always amuses her.


Soon, besides herself, there was Aiyana, Akasha, Leonette and the two slaves raven and sleen. Now quite honestly, if there were two girls in camp, that could always somehow seem to bring lurid thoughts to the fore, it was these two, especially sleen. Perhaps it was a good thing that Fonce had left.


She could not help but notice how tired Akasha looked. In her usual way, she had a remedy for that. A long, hot soak in the bath wagon, a small mug of warmed wine, and her furs. She laughs softly at the look the young kaiila woman gave her. It was one of such an incredulous innocence. One that told her the woman had never thought of pampering herself. She could remember that period in her life, when a bath was washing what was necessary in the cold waters of the stream, or from a basin in her wagon.


But she had learned, that every woman needs to see to herself, to find time when she can do things just for herself. In a way it was a time of renewal, a time of rejuvenation. Once you had learned to truly see to your own needs, then you could better see to the ones of those around you. Hopefully, Akasha would learn this by this simple joy of having a nice, long hot bath.


Another bead-………..


She had been working at the pens, overseeing the lance training of some of the younger mounts. As with anything, some did well, others not so well, it was simply a fact of life. When the light of the Central Fire began to wane into the horizon, training was over, and time had come to brush and groom the animals that they had been working. From the corner of her eye she saw someone moving with a small ball of hair that had came from the beast he had been grooming to the basket where they had been gathering such. Who she saw was her younger brother Gabriel.


Sitting her implements aside she approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder to speak softly to him, telling him that they were no longer keeping the kaiila hair. He nodded and whispered that he knew, but for some reason he just could not stop doing it. She realized then, that this shy younger brother of hers may have had his first crush on the potter, and that her passing had affected him more than she realized. Had she been so busy that she had failed to see this before now. Yes she had, but that did not mean she would not address it. Picking the basket up, she carried it in one hand, the other reached out to take his hand as she led him away.


It was almost as if they read each others thoughts. Finding a small clearing, the basket was set aside as they gathered dung, and what small pieces of wood they could, and soon they had a roaring fire that lit up the night. Without a word, she picked up the basket and handed it to Gabriel. With only a small hesitation, he finally stepped forward and placed the basket into the bowels of the fire, then stepped back beside her. This would give him, and perhaps her, the closure that they both needed. As they watched the fingers of flame lick around the basket, coaxing it to join them in their dance, the smell of burning hair was pungent, but not exactly unpleasant.


Each of them stood there with their memories of Zarina, and the both of them said farewell to her in their own way, but this small fire. When they turned and walked back towards the wagon, she felt his hand take hers and she turned to look at his profile in the darkness, and realized how lonely he must be.


Their mother had died giving him life, and their father had never truly shown his youngest child the love he should have. Since his birth, this fifth son had basically had only her. She was just barely eleven turnings when this happened. There had been help from the mates of her two oldest brothers, but she was the one that had rocked him, kissed his wounds, told him stories. Suddenly she realized how his world must have changed when she left her family's wagons to make her place among the first wagons, and she suddenly felt a twinge of guilt.


At that moment, she made a silent vow to herself to spend more time with her brother. He was young. Standing right there on the cusp between boy and man. She would try not to let him fall to the wayside anymore.

A bead.................

Early morning, and she stopped by the pens to check on Bluesky. The mare seemed to almost be grieving with Trilok being gone. Standing beside her, she stroked the silken mane, speaking softly to her. "I know, he should have returned by now. Something is wrong, but I just cannot put my finger on it. I feel in my heart that he is in trouble, but right now there is nothing I can do, nor is there anything you can do. All we do now is wait.........and wait..........."

Beads.

Each day was another bead strung on the thong of what was her life.