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.