The Last Day in the North

The past moon had passed too quickly. In the flurry of activity that it took to get ready for the southern migration, she had found little time to sit and think, which was not all that bad. She and her little group were becoming very good at making the preparations, working together with few frustrations, or things of that nature.


For two days, she and Rook had taken Tug and the girls out to the herds. In the blowing snow, they had carefully chosen two teams of bosks for each wagon. When they had decided which ones to put in the traces together, and on which wagons, one of the girls would tie a colored leather collar on them.


The woman had a system for the teams and wagons, that had always worked well for her. Each wagon was painted in a different color scheme, and there were colored collars to match each wagon. Once two teams were chosen for each wagon, they would get the colored collar, then they would have a horn painted. One team would have the left horn painted, the other the right. Each day they would trade the teams out, so that no team pulled two days in a row. Kam had been the first one to mention this to her, and she had taken his idea and expanded upon it. Not only did it make her teams work better, they were some of the most gaily colored ones in that long parade they were about to become a part of.


The usual festive atmosphere did not abound. Maybe it was the snow that seemed to keep hanging around. Fortunately, her wagons had been moved recently, and were not mired in the frozen ground like some. At one point, she sat on her kaiila and watched a group of men trying to get a wagon to move, and they had to work at it hard. Finally it had began to move with much creaking and groaning, and they were rewarded by one of the wheels cracking at the axle, and the wagon listing to one side. She felt very lucky that she was not having that problem, but watching them was enough to send her to her own wagons to check everything one more time.

Rook had enough. When she returned, he grasped her by the arm, turned her towards her main wagon and told her to go there and stay and rest. She was worrying too much, and they were ready, and he would see that all of those she normally took care of were ready too. Her mouth opened to argue, but the look on her face told her that this was just not the time. If the truth were known, she was glad to get out of the cold and into the warmth of her wagon.

Tug was brought in, and they spent the afternoon playing a game that consisted of her hiding a small stone in one hand, and him guessing which hand it was in. There were also stories, she played her flute for him, and began the basics of teaching him how to play. He even took a nap, which gave her time to sleep too.

She had promised herself and others, that she would not over do anything. She planned to rest, eat well, and to try and not worry. It was the last one that would probably prove to be the most difficult. She had her concerns, but kept them to herself. And they were probably silly ones.

In all honesty, she enjoyed the time spent with her son. Each day, he reminded her more and more of Tayco, he had even picked up some of the same mannerisms. How does that happen?

One of the girls came to get him for his bath, and she lay back, staring at the roof of her wagon. Tomorrow they would be on the move and part of her was getting excited. For some reason, the journey to the southern grasses always meant renewal and new life to her. New beginnings.