And Just When She Thought She Could Handle Anything..........

She had slept through the remainder of the night, and well into the next day. At one point she had awoke to a wizened old woman exploring her belly with her hands. Lifting her head she watched her for a moment, then had dropped her head back to the furs. The woman took a long, thick reed and pressed one end of it to her belly, and the other to her ear and had listened. Satisfied, she had then moved it to beside her left breast and had listened again. What she had heard had seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded. Patting her hand, she had wheezed out.
"Rest. Your time is near"


The woman had left, and she lay there in the dark coolness of her wagon, eyes closed, lacking the energy to move, or the will to. Drifting in and out of sleep, she was aware of voices outside her wagon. Sometimes she could understand the words, but most of the time, they were simply a noise. The girls had came in from time to time with cups of tea or cool water. At first she had waved them away, just wishing to sleep, to remain in that cocoon of cool darkness. What had finally sank into that place where she was hiding, was the voice of her eldest son, demanding to see his mother, then the whines of her youngest, who had just recently began to vocalize that one word.....Mama. Her life called to her, and she knew she had to heed its' call.


Calling out for kasra, when the girl stepped inside, she had sat up and in a hoarse voice asked for a basin of water, soap and some scented oils. As the girl left to fetch her wants, she had sat up, twisted to sit up on the side of the sleeping platform, gripping the furs against the dizziness she felt. Both girls returned, and helped her to bathe and dress. It was juneau who helped her to her feet, offering support against another wave of dizziness. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled it and spoke softly. "I will eat now." The girl kasra was off like a bolt shot from a bow, to fix her something to eat, with juneau helping her to step between the flaps of the wagon into the sunlight.


Rook had been standing there, and reached up to lift her from the platform and carried her to a brace of furs near the fire where her sons were eating. Tug immediately set his bowl aside, and ran to where Rook had settled her, flinging his arms around her neck, holding tight. Another One was a bit slower, but had toddled over and tried his best to muscle in beside her. The heaviness in her heat lifted, as she reached to embrace and kiss them both, murmuring words of love to them both. Regardless of what was to happen to her, this was her life, being a mother to her children.


As she sipped at the broth that kasra had brought her, and nibbled on the buttered bread, she began to feel better. Tug retrieved his bowl, sat to one side of her and regaled her of stories of what he and Gabe had done, between bites. Another One reached to take part of her bread and plopped down close to her other side, and began to eat, babbling in that way baby's have. A sort of peace crept into her being, as she shared this simple meal with her sons. Soon laughter rang around the fire as she teased not only her sons, but the slaves. They had such looks of concern on their faces, that she felt the need to lift their spirits too. Rook simply sat, drinking his tea, watching her closely.


The peaceful venue was interrupted when the youngest of the leather workers daughters arrived to return the empty basket, and to tell her that Aleyna had greatly appreciated the small gifts. At first, there was that shot of jealousy that stabbed at her, but she had lifted her head, smiled at the young woman and thanked her for returning the basket. She had even taken a deep breath, and assured the young woman that as soon as Ba'atar returned from his quest, she would tell him that he needed to visit, for they all missed him greatly. A bright smile had broke across the younger woman's face, as she thanked her, and told her they looked forward to seeing him, for he brought great joy to them when he visited.


After the woman left, she had leaned back into the furs, a sort of acceptance coming over her. She had a duty to her children, and to Ba'atar in away. Her job was to keep happiness at these wagons, to raise her children, and to see that her mate was well fed, that he had clean clothes, and his sons. If he chose to dally with others, there was not much else that she could do, now was there? And if he found another, there was also nothing she could do about that. He was a man. Her heart ached with the thought of this, but she swallowed to keep the sobs she wanted to loose into the air, deep inside.


Instead, she sent Tug inside for her flute. The afternoon was spent with her playing the flute, Tug singing funny little songs, and Another One finally napping on the furs beside her. Yes, this was her life, her sons. As long as they loved her, she would find a way to deal with the fact that her mate did not. It had been done by women before, and it was evidently her lot in life now.


The girls had loaded up the empty botas to go to the stream to fetch water, and when Tug asked if he could go with them, she had chuckled softly and nodded. She knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to swim, and to play along the shore, and she knew the girls would keep a close eye on him.


As she sat there, stroking her belly with one hand, and Another One's head with the other, she was finding peace within her self. The commotion that ensued next, came that peace crashing down. A rider had stopped to speak with Rook, casting glances towards her, then turning his head in what seemed to be embarrassment. When he left, Rook had lifted then come to sit beside her, talking her hand, and spoke to her in a very low, calm tone.


"Cana, two of the kaiila that the hunting party jad been riding, have returned without their riders. They are bloodied, and seem to have come a long way." Her heart jumped into her throat, and the tears began to flow down her face. The old oralu, slid his arm around her, pulled her close and continued to speak gently. "Do not give up hope yet. They are already gathering a party to back track the beasts. We will find them, but you need to be strong, because the boys will need you even more, now."

The Depths of Despair and Confusion

The girls had taken charge of Another One, and Gabe had come to take Tug to visit with her family. The girls had tried to get her to eat, to no avail. It was Rook that had finally coaxed a bit of food into her, and tried to ascertain the reason for her mood. She had eaten mostly just to get him away from her, and refused to talk to him about what had happened earlier in the day.


Finally, she had slipped away, making her way to the pens. There were a few out riders who asked her if she was well, and she had managed to nod at them, and assure them she was fine. It was almost as if Ciegue knew she was coming, because he was waiting by the gate. She hefted the saddle onto his back with a grunt, tightened the cinches then contemplated why she was doing this. She was doing it, because she needed to be alone. Guiding him to the fence, she used it to help her mount. Once mounted, she wound slowly through the lanes of wagons, seemingly, just ambling around. When she was past the last row, she set her heels to the beast and he bunched his muscles and broke into a run.


She was not aware that she had not been as sneaky as she thought, for Rook was behind her at a distance, keeping watch on her as usual, muttering under his breath that the woman had lost her mind, finally.


Riding into the night, she found a hillock away from the herd and finally pulled the kaiila up to a stop. She sat here for a time, just staring into the darkness, then her head had leaned back, and from the depths of her entire being came a scream that rent the night air. Over and over she screamed, until she was almost hoarse. Outriders had come rushing towards the noise, only to be motioned back by the elder Oralu, who allowed her to get whatever it was out of her system. He had grown very worried about her recently, her mood, her quietness. She had seemed to withdraw, which was so unlike her.


She had slipped from the saddle to her feet, then had slipped down even farther to her knees, then had just lay down in the tall grasses and sobbed. She cried as if her heart would break, which it had. There was just so much confusion and uncertainty in her soul, that she had to finally let it vent somewhere, and this is why she had chosen to do as she had. Laying there, she curled up, clasping her arms around her belly, and cried great, choking sobs. The kaiila stepped closer, lowering his massive head to nuzzle at her shoulder, almost as if he were trying to comfort her. But she would not be comforted. Right now, to her, her world was so out of control, she could not think straight.


Finally, cried out, she turned over, staring up at the stars, and the thought came to her, and she wondered if somewhere Ba'atar was looking up at the same night sky. And if he was, what was he thinking of? At one time, she would have told herself that his thoughts were on her, but more an more, she was becoming convinced that this just might not be so. Staring up, she could visualize his handsome face there in the night sky, she could see him laughing. She saw that damnable grin that he had, and the amusement that could dance in his eyes when he was enjoying himself.


Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the touch of his hand upon her cheek, the taste of his lips upon hers. The sadness had come to her today, when she realized that those looks, those touches, those lips had been a lie. He was not a man that had settled into being a mate. If he was spending time with other women, enjoying their company instead of hers, was he still looking? And if he was, what was to happen to her? These thoughts made her physically ill, and she struggled to her knees and began to retch what little she had on her stomach onto the grasses of the plains.


Fear crept into the core of her as she began to rock back and forth, keening into the winds, the tears slowly flowing down her cheeks. Would he find his blue eyed woman, and cast her aside? Would he kills her once his child was born. At this moment in time, she was not thinking rational thoughts. All rationality had fled from her mind, only to be replaced with fear. Fear and loathing. And the loathing was not for him, but for herself. What had she done to make him hate her like this? Had he only taken her as a mate to get her sons, and to have her bear him an heir of his own? She could not even remember the last time he had spoke words of love to her. There was the heat of their passion, but what had happened to words of love? She was bereft to the point of truly wishing to die. Could someone will themselves to die?


Ciegue had kept nudging her, trying to urge her up, knowing that they needed to return. Her hand had grasped the halter, and he had lifted his head slowly, bringing her to her feet. Tilting her head back, she looked at the stars, and they began to spin out of control, and she dropped to the ground, unconcious.


Rook had been watching, and had decided that enough was enough. He had ridden hard to that spot where she was, leaping off of his mount while it still moved to come to his knees beside her, sliding an arm under her neck, lifting her up, patting her face to wake her, to no avail. She had muttered something unintelligible, but she did not wake fully. Carrying her to his kaiila, he carefully lifted her up into the saddle, and mounted behind her, holding her like one would hold a baby and rode back to camp with Ciegue following close behind.


At her wagon, he carried her inside, then called for the slaves to come undress her, to make some weak tea to try and force between her lips. After they had her settled, he returned to sit by her side, holding one of her cool hands between both of his, and prayed. He would send for a healer, but he had the feeling that where she was right now, no healer could walk.

The Seven Sisters.

She was being true to her promise to Birmmah to go visit Aleyna, the mate of Ogadai, who was with child. The woman was young, only about eighteen turnings, the same age she was when she was pregnant with Tug. She could remember back to that time, and how scary it was. She had an advantage though, she had, had Tayco, who was there and very attentive. And right now, she was worried about Ba'atar, and knew the other young woman was also worried about her new mate.


Up early that morning, she had baked fresh bread and packed it in a basket with one of the remaining jars of honey, a crock of fresh butter, and a pouch of the tea that Tarra gave her for her morning sickness, and a jug of freshly squeezed juice that the girls had worked on while she was baking. She thought the treats might lift the young woman's spirits, and having someone closer to her age to talk to, couldn't hurt.


She was definitely into that waddling stage, and Rook teased her about it when she set off. He was going to go with her, but she waved him off, telling him that this would be boring for him, just women talk and gossip. But she did take the boys, children always cheered you up, didn't they? Tug skipped along, talking a passang an ihn, about anything and everything, while Another One toddled beside her, holding onto her skirt. She began to notice just how many people seemed to know Tug, especially women. They would speak to him, he would speak to them, and as they would walk off, Tug would tell her that was a friend of Ba'atar's. Ba'atar seemed to have many friends, especially women friends.


They neared the wagons of Ba'atar's family, Tug grabbed her hand, pointing to a wagon, telling her that was Osieos' wagon, and she just had to meet Osieo. He pulled her along towards the wagon, and the first thing she noticed was that there was quite a group of young women sitting about, working on leather under the watchful eye of an elder man. As the women looked up, they began to laugh, smile and call out greetings to Tug, who they called One. Dropping her hand, he ran right to them, forgetting all about her, and began to revel in the attentions they gave him. She stood there with Another One, a little uncomfortable. Then the unthinkable happened. One of the girls jumped up, came and swept her youngest son up into her arms, calling him.........Ba'tar's son, Another One. What in the name of skies was going on here? She watched her sons disappearing into this gaggle of young women, as she just stood there, with her mouth open, not knowing exactly what to do


Finally the older man came to her and introduced himself as Osieo of the leather workers. Taking a long look at him, she casually said, I see you know the boys. He nodded and said yes, that Ba'atar often brought his sons with him when he came to visit. His sons? The man began to point to each young woman, giving her name, and to be real honest, at this point, she had so many things going on in her head, that there was no way she was going to remember all those names. The man sighed, and said the skies had deemed to bless him with all daughters, and that over the years, he had tried to get Aamon to agree to offer up a son as a mate for each of his daughters. Oh really now? Eventually the man seemed to come to the realization that it was hot out, and that she was very pregnant, and offered for her to sit on the platform of one of his wagons, and rest.


She found herself telling him that she had been on her way to deliver a basket of treats to Aleyna, the mate of Ba'atar's brother Ogadai. The man nodded. Yes, he knew Aleyna, she was his second eldest daughter. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at this. It just sort of figured. Tug came over to show her a quiva holder that one of the women was working on, telling her that it was for him, when it was finished, and wasn't it great! Oh yes, it was wonderful. One of the young women finally came and introduced herself to Cana, saying that her name was Dzaya, and was a friend of Yesugei. The man grunted. She is going to be his mate once he comes up with the price. Hmmm, two out of seven, mated to Ba'atar's brothers? Interesting. Evidently, the man had no sense about him, for here he was, pointing to another of his daughter's, who seemed to maybe be the oldest, and telling her that the plan had been for her to mate Ba'atar. Now tell me, what kind of man stands talking to the very pregnant mate of someone, and telling her that this young woman had been the chosen mate for her own mate. Odd people.


The youngest of the bunch became curious and came over to talk to her, asking what was in the basket. She told her of the contents, and the girl smiled with a flash of white teeth and exclaimed that they loved it when Ba'atar brought them some of his honey. Blink. His honey? Tug chimed in, pointing to one of the young women and said that father liked to watch her lick the honey from her fingers. And sometimes she licked it off of his too. She looked down at her son.........Your father feeds the woman honey? Tug nodded, then ran back to the women and began to talk to them like they were his best friends. She tilted her head to look the young woman over, who happened to lift her head, and to be very honest, her breath caught in her throat. The woman had the most amazing blue eyes she had ever seen. A color that was not common among her people.


The man sat there beside her, as they listened to his daughters prattle on about how funny Ba'atar was, how good his voice was, how he teased them, how they enjoyed his visits. No wonder the man had been too damn tired to spend much time with her as of late. He had another herd to tend to. She asked the man..........so, Ba'atar comes here often. The man did not have a chance to answer, one of the women did. Oh yes! He said that coming to visit them relaxed him and made him forget his cares. So, he had cares to forget, and needed relaxation somewhere other than his own wagons? Suddenly, she felt ill.


Handing the basket over to the man, she asked if he would see that Aleyna got it, that she wasn't feeling much like visiting all of the sudden. He nodded, wished her well and got up to return to his work. It seemed like it took her forever to pry her sons out of the greedy grasps of the gaggle of giggling women. Lifting Another One up with a grunt, she settled him on her hip, grabbed Tug's hand and tried to waddle away with as much dignity as she could muster, to the calls of ......come visit again One.......tell your father to come see us when he returns, we miss him. And not one single.......Be well Cana........mate of Ba'atar. Well, bosk dung!
She waddled along, pulling Tug with her, muttering to herself. Gone was the worry she had felt earlier, it has been replaced by anger and hurt. "You better come home soon bosk arse........so I can kill you!"

A Gift

The days seemed to grow longer and hotter, and her heavier. She still went to the pens every day and worked. Not quite as much as she used to, but she found that it relaxed her just to be with the animals. She watched over the pregnant mares carefully, paying very close attention to Tone and BlueSky, who were both doing very well, and she figured they would both foal before it came time for the move back north. So would she, if you got right down to it.


The rest of her time was spent with the boys, and with visits from Birmmah, who was having a difficult time with most of her sons gone, and long over due. She tried hard to put on a cheerful face for the woman, but inside she was getting beyond worried. Two hands had stretched into over two full moons, and she was worried. Had it not been for his brothers going with him, she might have harbored thought that he had left her for another. But she knew him better than that. He loved his people too much to leave them. And that brought about an entire new set of worries for her. Was he injured? Oh skies, she hoped not? Were they lost? No, Tuchuk do not get lost. Had they been captured? Well that was a possibility, but one she did not want to dwell on. She kept telling herself, that he was a man. A man that was on a hunt with his brothers. They had lost track of how long they had been gone, due to how successful they had been on this hunt. A hunt where her man had not taken his arrows, but she pushed that thought out of her mind.


She had found herself sitting on the platform of her wagon, hands running slowly over her swollen middle, feeling the joy of the baby moving. Birmmah had come to sit beside her, and without even asking, reached a hand over to lay on her stomach, smiled then said she had always felt a great deal of joy and comfort feeling her babies move in her womb. She went on to ask how Cana was feeling, if she needed anything, if she was eating right, getting enough rest, that type of thing.


Cana had assured her that she was fine. The girls were keeping her fed, Rook reminded her to rest, and the boys had a way of easing her doubts and fears. She was fine, but she longed for Ba'atar to return. She said nothing about having a fear that he would not, or that he would not return until after the baby was born, that he would miss that wonderful event. Birmmah had enough to worry about, including the mate of another of her sons, that was also with child, younger, and scared. Cana has reached a hand over to lay gently on her arm, telling her that she would walk over the next day, and try to calm the young woman's fears. Birmmah had smiled and thanked her.


The woman surprised her by laying something in what little lap she had. Lifting it up, she smiled and looked at the woman. It was a doll, but not just any doll, it was a female doll. Birmmah had gone on to explain that she had made it long ago, when she still had hopes of having a girl child of her own. But, she had been blessed with nine fine sons, and has given up her dreams of having a daughter and she wanted Cana to have it. Maybe the skies would see fit to give her and Ba'atar a daughter someday.


She was moved beyond measure, and beyond words. All she could think to do was lean her head to the woman's shoulder, and whisper a thank you to her, in a quivering voice. The older woman had slid an arm around her shoulders and held her, both of them not wishing to put a voice to the fears they both had in their hearts.


The woman could be a true pain in the backside, but there was another side of her, that was loving, and comforting, and that was the side that was showing as they sat there, watching the Central Fire slip down below the horizon. Birmmah had finally lifted to her feet, leaned to place a kiss to Cana's temple, and promised to check on her everyday. Her parting words were words of assurance, that then hunters would be home soon, and it would be time for a celebration.

Watching and Waiting

With Ba'atar and his brothers, long overdue, she seemed at a loss as to what to do with herself. Each group of riders that she heard, her heart began to race, then that same heart fell to her stomach when she realized it was not him. Aamon came by daily to check on her and the boys, making sure they had enough meat, that they were in need of nothing. She looked forward to his visits, because he had this way about him that seemed to calm her. She could only hope that he calmed Birmmah just as well, but for some reason, she thought not.


Birmmah was beside herself with her sons gone. It was probably the first time she had ever been in that particular situation. Too keep herself occupied, she often came and took Another One for the day. It gave her someone to dote on, and this was a good thing.


Tug had taken to going to the pens with her. He rode well, and she was teaching him how to take care of his mount, ShadowChaser. He learned quickly. Perhaps it was in his blood, since he came from two people that were of the kaiila clan. Or perhaps he was just Tuchuk. For whatever the reason, she would proud of him. He had told her that with Ba'atar gone, that he was the man and he would protect her, and he seemed to be taking that duty quite seriously. When he asked her......."Wench, did you eat this morning?" Her brow had arched, but she did not scold him. Very simply she told him that she had, and that she had slept well, which was a small lie. She was actually sleeping very little these days.


She had caught him in deep conversation with Rook, about them needing to keep an eye on her since she was getting bigger every day. The old Oralu had given the boy a solemn nod, and said he would be honored to help. Good Skies! They were going to be the death of her, but she loved them more for how they felt about her, how they loved her.


It had become a habit with her to ride out onto the plains, to the edge of the herds to watch the horizon. She was sitting there one afternoon, watching that endless horizon when Aamon rode up beside her. "Daughter, it bothers me to see you worrying so. You need to have faith in your man, and that the skies are protecting him." She did not even turn to look at him, but spoke softly. "I have had that faith before, and the skies decided to tear them out of my life. I do not wish for that to happen again, so I will watch."


He said nothing more, but crossed his arms over the pommel of his saddle and watched the horizon with her. They watched until the Central Fire had dropped low in the sky, then without a word, they both turned at the same time and rode back to the wagons.


That night, she had worn one of his tunics to her furs, and lay curled up, her arms embracing her middle. Silent tears slid along her cheek, soaking the furs beneath her head. She waited.

Revisiting Old Memories

It was lonely around her wagons. Now, that is not to say there was not activity, just that it was lonely. She stayed busy with the boys, helping Another One learn to walk, practicing the bola with Tug. After considering it for a time, she sat with Tug and told him the tale about beating his father with the bola. Those dark eyes had turned up to her, for she actually rarely spoke of Tayco, and really, there was no reason not to.



He had asked for more details. Did his father allow her to win because she was a woman? This had made her laugh, and she explained to him that Tayco was not the type of man to "let you win". But she went on to explain that it was a contest where they were trying to capture a slave, and maybe his father had been distracted by how she moved, and this might have had some bearing on it. The little brow furrowed, then he looked up at her and asked if his Father had liked slaves? Now, how exactly do you explain that. Laughing, she told her son, that his father was a very handsome and charming man, and he enjoyed the company of women a great deal, free and slave. Well now, this gave him something to think on. After a time he had looked up at her, and the smile he gave her made her breath catch in her throat, and her heart to skip a beat. It was pure Tayco. He then proclaimed that when he was a man, he would have many slaves and the prettiest mate in the whole harigga. Leaning down, she gave him a kiss to the top of his head, telling him she had no doubts that he would. And, as he did of late, he grunted at the kiss, but allowed it.



She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thought. Looking up at her he asked if they had wagered, and she nodded, and explained to him that is how she had gotten the colt Luck. That was the price of the wager. And there it was again, that smile, as he proclaimed. You did well mother. Chuckling she told him yes, that she had been very fortunate that night. Dorian had arrived to take him hunting, and he jumped to his feet in excitement and ran towards his uncle. Stopping in his tracks, he had run back, hugged her tightly and told her thank you for telling him a story of his father. She assured him, that anytime he wanted to know more, all he had to do was ask.


For a time she sat there lost in her memories. Memories that were painful in some ways, but very beautiful in other ways. He had been her first love, and still held a place in her heart. And idea came to her, and she crawled up inside her wagon, dug in a chest and found a blank journal that she had been saving. For the rest of the afternoon, she wrote these memories out for their son. The good things, and the not so good ones. All of them were part of Tayco, and things that Tug needed to know about his father. Someday, she would teach her sons to read, just as her mother had taught her. And when he learned, he would have these stories of his father. Stories that would help him to know the man better.


As she wrote, there were tears, and there was laughter. It was if a floodgate of memories had been unleashed, and she just could not write fast enough to put them all down to rence. Taking a break to rest her hand and her eyes, she sat back remembering what Fonce had told her one. He had cautioned to not let Tug grow up chasing a shadow. Perhaps these memories that she put down into words, would someday help their son to know that his father was loving, funny, brave and honorable. That he was a real man. More than the songs that the singers sang.


Laughing softly, she remembered the night of the bola. It was that irritating dweller slave that started it all in a way. The one that liked to pretend she was Tuchuk. They had taken her from the arena, and somehow a wager was made as to who could capture her with a bola. Perhaps it was that Tayco was more intent on the movement of her arse than the movement of her legs that had let his throws fall short. And maybe it was the fact she truly despised the slave, that had made her bola fall true. Or maybe it was a mixture of the two. But in the end, she had won the foal Luck as her own, and he had sent the slave back to the dwellers, disgusted. Later on, she would tease him that the only reason he mated her was to get the foal back. They shared many laughs over that night.


She wrote about the morning, when she was pregnant with Tug, that she awoke to find Tayco squatting by the brazier in their wagon, carefully brewing the tea that helped her to keep food down. He did not have to do that, but it was one of those little things that he did, that showed his love for her. Each and every memory she had of him was as precious as one of those jewels the dwellers thought so highly of, and more valuable.


Closing the book, she stepped out of the wagon and walked down the row to the wagon that she was saving for Tug. Stepping up inside, she opened the flaps to allow fresh air and light in. Kneeling beside the wooden chest, she opened it, fingers running over the surface of the small box that held some of his ashes, then over the quiva that she saved for their son. She even picked up one of the old, worn leather tunics, brought it to her face and inhaled. Funny. Did his scent still linger, or was it just another memory.


Carefully, she tucked the book into the chest and closed it, whispering. "There you go my love. I am writing about you for you son, so that he will know you as I did."

The Dawning of Realization

The peace that she had felt while spending time with the fanged beast, had washed over her like a warm rain. Was she being too hard on Ba'atar? Returning to her wagons, she had sent juneau to go help the elderly leather worker with cleaning her wagons, and kasra off to her brothers wagon to retrieve her sons. Tug was still out in the herds with Ephrim, but the girl brought Another One back. She sat for a long time, working with him and the little clay mug, trying to teach him to drink from it. Finally, he had gotten cranky, and she put him down for a nap.


She sat at the fire, thinking of all that had been going on, and a decision was made. Tonight, after the camp calmed down, she would move her things back to where they belong. Was this because she was missing him? Yes, it was. Right now, she was missing him greatly. That Tuchuk stubbornness has began to surface, and she realizes that it just is not within her to give up on something so easily. She loved him too much to allow this to happen, and she still had faith in them, as a couple. They would work things out somehow. Thoughts on how quickly everything had moved, play in her head.


One night, she had a baby and was claimed within the same ahn. How often does that happen? And by a man that she really did not know all that well. Hands idly rub over her middle as she thinks on many things. With Tayco, it had been so very different. She had known him most of her life, and had been in love from him from the first time she had seen him. Every young girl has that one warrior that they worship, that the dream of. The one that they usually never have a chance to be the woman of, but still they love them with a deep devotion. With her, it had been different. She had become the woman of that dream mate, and had known much happiness with him. He had been then one that had in many ways guided her from being a child to being a woman. He had been proud of her, loved her, and encouraged her. Tayco had allowed her to grow and to be herself.



Then there was Loch. He had come into her life quietly, simply. Not even knowing her well, he had hunted for her, provided for her and Tug, watched over them. What had happened between them had grown from a friendship to more. He had taught her that she could laugh again. And they had laughed together, teased, and allowed the friendship to grow into love. She has to laugh softly to herself as she remember the night that he first mentioned the possibility of them becoming as one. It had been a casual question. What would she think about them mating? When she had said she would not be adverse to it, he had nodded, then the next thing she knew, he was talking to Kam. Even after he had laid claim to her, it was several days before he had truly sealed the mating. They had their moments, their disagreements, but nothing that was major, or that had lasted long. With him, she had matured even more into the woman she was.



Pondering all of this, a realization came to her. One of the biggest differences between Tayco and Lochlan, and Ba'atar, is that the first two were older. Tayco had been well past thirty turnings, and Lochlan had been twenty seven. Both had been on their own for a long time, and perhaps were a bit more accustomed to taking care of things on their own. Whereas, Ba'atar was much younger and actually very new to being on his own. To being a member of the first wagons. And even at that, he was not on his own. Even after he had come to the first wagons, Birmmah had still taken care of most of his needs. She cooked for him, did his laundry, cleaned his wagons. She sits up with a realization. In all honesty, Ba'atar has never truly been....on his own.


It was if a new day had dawned on her. Perhaps that was part of the problems that they were having. Ba'atar had been allowed to think that everything had to go his way, because that is what he had learned at his mother's knee. And she herself, had allowed this to continue, by striving to be just like his mother. Shaking her head, she speaks softy to the baby she was carrying, telling it what a fool she has been.


Perhaps it was time for her to reclaim herself? It would not be just for herself, but for him and their sons. They needed a mother that was strong, and sure of who and what she was.

A Day With Friends

Ba'atar was off on his hunt, so there was much less to be done around the wagons. Rising early, she had fed the boys, then walked with them to her family's wagons. Anaya had offered to watch them for the day, and Tug was excited about going to the herds with Ephrim. Her brother and his mate both seemed concerned about her, but she had assured them that she was fine, the baby she was carrying was fine, everything was fine.


Leaving them, she had walked through the rows of wagons, stopping to speak to people along the way, holding a new baby at one wagon, then sitting for a time with an older leather worker who was beginning to lose her sight, promising to send one of the girls by to help her clean her wagons. She even stopped to talk with Leah, it had been a long time, and she felt a bit guilty about not coming by sooner. Keeping watch over the woman was a bit important to her, but she found the woman was not in need of anything. Her sons were growing, one even had earned his first scar, which would have made Tayco so very proud. She left here, making a promise to send word when the baby was born, and to bring Another One by for a visit.


She had finally made her way to the pens, and stood for a long time, just watching them, and inhaling that musky, animal smell that she loved so much. Rousing out of her reverie, she had gone to the breeding pen to check on BlueSky. They had put her in with the stallion that Trilok had brought home, and now there was signs that she was with foal. By her calculations, the mare would drop around the time they got ready for the next move.


She also checked on Tone, who seemed to be doing very well. Running a hand over the swollen side of the mare, she spoke softly to her to calm her. She knew that Ba'atar was probably missing the mare, but he had been wise enough to realize that taking a pregnant mare off on such a journey was not the thing to do. She had to admit, he had looked quite handsome riding away on the dun stallion that he had chosen to ride while Tone was with foal. and the sandy colored beast was strong and smart, so he was a good choice. The beasts name was Ishtar. She had actually been pleased when Ba'atar had chosen him. He would have been the one she would have chosen, had she been the one choosing. He was a product of her roan, Wager and a light colored stallion that belonged to Rook, and had proven to be a very good mount.


Ciegue had come to her, nuzzling her belly. Laughing, she had draped an arm around his neck, and lay her cheek along his face, asking softly if he had missed her. A bond had grown between her and the afflicted beast. She loved him dearly, and he returned that affection. Few others could approach him. He did not seem to want to interact with any other two legged creatures but her. Saddling him, she had gone for a ride, something that she was in need of. They had ambled along the perimeter of the herds for a time, then Ciegue seemed to set his own course, and she did not stop him.


Climbing a small hillock of land, he had stopped and simply snorted. Lifting in her stirrups, she had looked in the direction he seemed to have been guiding her, and laughed softy. Down in the shallow valley, there was a group of wild kaiila. At first, she made note of landmarks, so that she could send Gabe and some of the other riders back to round this group up. But as she watched them, her heart had turned. It was a small group, and there was a beauty in the way they were enjoying their freedom. She would use the landmarks to find her way back here, but she would tell no one about them. This small herd would be left to enjoy their freedom for a bit longer.


Turning Ciegue back towards the wagons, she rode along slowly, lost in her own thoughts. Ba'atar had said he would be gone about a hand, and that hand had stretched into almost two now, but they expected them back any day now. She could not help but wonder how he would react to some of the changes around his wagons. Honestly, if he no longer cared for her, then he would probably be happy that he no longer had to put up a pretense. Her heart was sad, but she had made the decision that she would deal with things one day at a time. And on this day, she was going to enjoy her own freedom.


Back at the pens, she was a bit surprised to see Aamon there, watching the animals. Sliding off of the kaiila, she took reins in hand and walked to him. For a long time they just stood side by side, watching the beasts. He had finally pushed off the fence, looking down at her, and told her that she looked better this day, that there was a bit more color in her cheeks. She had laugh softly, and told him that it was turning out to be a good day. He had nodded, and said one thing as he walked away.


"You should spend more days with the beasts, the seem to be good for you." Watching him walk away, her head had shook gently. She liked the man more and more as the time passed.

An Unexpected Conversation

She was by the fires, having a cold glass of milk watching Another One toddle around. He was growing so quickly, and was walking all over the place. He was such a joy, both of her sons were, and she loved them very much. A hand moves to caress her middle, and she loved the one she was carrying too. In her heart, she knew that it was another son. Hopefully he would look like his father.


Suddenly she was aware that she was being watched and turned her head around searching until the hazel eyes landed on the man leaning a shoulder against a wagon. Smiling, she struggles to her feet. "Tal Aamon" The man nods. "Tal Daughter. You are well?" Approaching him, she forces another smile. "I have never been better. Please, sit and I will get you something to drink." The man grunts. "Bosk dung" But he does push from the wagon and moves to settle on a pile of furs. "Water would be good."


Moving to get a bota of fresh water she hands it to him, and this time the smile was genuine. "I have some fresh honey cakes that I baked this morning, would you like some?" Taking the bota, he reaches out with his other hand to gently grasp her wrist. "In a bit. Right now I want for you to sit down and rest, and talk to me." Talk? Why did that make her wince inwardly. Slowly she lowered down beside him, withdrawing her hand and clasping it with its' partner over her belly. "Of course. Talk. How is Birmmah?" Taking a drink from the bota, he taps the cork back in place.


"Birmmah is Birmmah, and she is fine. I am fine, all of the boys are fine. Now, that we have gotten that out of the way, how are you really?" Now this puzzles her a bit. "I am doing well Aamon, only the usual aches and pains of being with child, but I am sure you are well acquainted with those." She could feel his dark gaze on her, and it made her cheeks color. There was a gentleness to his gruff voice. "Cana, I do not like it when someone lies to me, even when they think it is best that I not know the truth. Something lays heavy on you, and it shows in your eyes." Why did he have to be so kind? Why couldn't he have just taken her words and settled with them? She was actually relieved when Another One toddled over, babbling. Aamon set aside the bota, pulled the boy into his lap, and kissed the top of his head, then spoke softly. "Sshhh, grandson, we are trying to find out what makes your mama so sad." He then looks to her again. "Now, are you going to lie to both of us?"


That did it. She had thought there were no more tears to be shed, but she was wrong. Turning her head to save him from seeing them, she speaks softly. "I think Ba'atar is disappointed in me. " She just cannot tell him that she thinks his son no longer loves her. She can't tell that to anyone, it is the secret she harbors in her heart. Gently bouncing the baby, his brow furrows. "Where did you come up with that foolishness?"


Sighing, she wraps her arms around her middle.and for some reason the words just come tumbling out. "I have tried so hard Aamon. I try to do exactly as he wishes. His favorite meals are cooked when he comes home, there is always fresh water, I do his laundry myself, I keep things clean for him, and it just does not seem to be enough. He is always telling me that his mother does not do it that way, or that his mother never needed slaves around to help her. I have failed in being the woman that he wants. I cannot be like Birrmah, no matter how hard I try. " One of his brows arches. "And why do you strive so hard to be like her?" Looking at him, she shrugs. "Because that is what Ba'atar wants, a woman just like his mother, and I always end up, coming up short. "


"Child, have you thought to tell him that you are not Birmmah?" Her eyes widen. "Oh yes. And his answer was that I needed to try and learn to be like her, for she is the best woman that he has ever known."


Sitting the boy back to his feet, he takes the bota, drinks, and thinks. "Child, you will never be like her, and there is nothing wrong with that, and Ba'atar needs to understand that. I was lucky to have mated her, she had seen to my every need, and to every need of my sons, and for that I am thankful. But she is not perfect. And if what my son was seeking was a mother, then he should have stayed at the family wagon, and not taken a mate." Turning his head, he looks at her for what seems like an eternity. "When my son first started talking about you, he spoke of how smart and funny you were, and how your eyes simply sparkled when you spoke. He told me of what a good mother you were to your son, and that he wanted someone like you to raise his sons. He said you were beautiful, funny and strong. Those were the reasons he fell in love with you, not because you were like his mother. I think that somewhere along the way, you have tried to change too much, and maybe he has not tried to change at all. If this is the truth, then there will be no happiness at these wagons."


If her heart were not shattered already, it would have broken a bit at his words. "But what do I do? I have thought on all of this until I am almost ill with worry. He will not talk of it, for he is convinced that he is right, and that all of the problems lay with me, and I am trying. I stay here at the wagon, rarely venturing from them unless it is to go to the stream to do laundry. I have basically given up my clan work, because he does not want me at the pens. I am at a loss as to what else to do."


Aamon holds up his hand. "Wait. You have given up your work with the kaiilas?" She nods. "Yes, for the most part I have. Ba'atar has told me that I can only go to the pens one day a hand, and that is not enough to do what I need to do, so I just don't go at all." Again the man grunts. "I see. And you are happy with this?" The dark head shakes. "No, but it is a sacrifice that I have had to make to keep him happy. Aamon, I love the kaiila, and I have a way with them, and I have always taken great pride in my work with them. But, that is in the past. I love Ba'atar more."


Seeing the baby wander too far, he gets up, picks the child up and sets him back down closer to them, then lowers back down. "Cana, I do not think my son understands about your clan work. You see, Birmmah was a weaver, she could do her work and stay at our wagons, and that is what she preferred to do. Ba'atar is not accustomed to a woman that cannot do that. You need to explain to him that working with the beasts if one of the things that makes you who you are, and that to take that away from you saddens you."


Her gaze shifts to him. "Aamon, I have tried. He has this attitude that he is the man, I am the woman, and what he says goes, and that I have no thoughts on the matter."


He could not help but laugh at this. "I will assure you that he did not learn that from Birmmah and me. Have you ever considered just picking up a skillet, hitting him upside that hard head of his to get his attention?" She laughs softly. "No, but it is a thought." He reaches to pat her arm gently. "And with your other mates, did you continue with your clan work?" "Yes I did" "Did your wagons suffer for it? Were the meals cold, or the furs dusty, or did they have to wear dirty clothes?" She gets almost indignant. "Of course not! I always took very good care of both Tayco and Loch, and they both seemed to talk pride in the fact that I was so good at my work, and allowed me to continue it."


Withdrawing his hand, he brings his legs up, resting his arms on his legs. "Now, let me think on this. You took good care of two other mates, bore them sons, continued with your clan work, and you were happy, right?" She nods. "So if you go back to your clan work, that would solve all of your problems, is that it?" Sighing, she shook her head, then spoke softly. "Aamon, it is more than that. I seem to be losing who I am, who I was. And to be honest, I do not think that Ba'atar loves me any longer." There she had said it.


His head snaps to her. "Nonsense! What in the name of bosk dung, gave you that idea?" She quailed under his ire. " He is rarely at home any more, when he is, he barely speaks to me. He no longer touches me, or holds me, in fact he seems to be appalled by my heaviness these days. And........" This was the hardest part for her, but she continues. "He has been with other women. I have smelled them on his clothing."


It was if a storm cloud had spread across his features. "Slaves you mean?" Her shoulders lift then drop. "I do not know, I have not asked him." She then turns her gaze to him. "Tell me Aamon, what man goes off on a hunt without his arrows?"


He had no answer for that one, and it was his time to shrug. "Cana, I do not know about him and his arrows, all I know is that he and my other sons are off on a quest that only they know the point of. But, I do know this, Ba'atar loves you. He is young, maybe a little too headstrong most of the times, and yes, his mother has spoiled him. But he is a good man, and will grow into a good mate, just give him time." Turns to look at her again, a faint whisper of a smile on his face. "I personally think you are the perfect woman for him. Have patience with him. You two have to learn how to talk to each other." Lifting to his feet, he leans to place a kiss to the top of her head. "You need to take control of your life, do the things that make you happy, and my son will come around, I promise you this."


With not another word, he walked away with those determined strides of his. She would have loved to have known what he was thinking. Her shoulders droop as she sits there, drawing her son into her lap and ponders the conversation.

A Difficult Decision Made and a Heart Shatters

Her mood was no better. If the truth was known, it was worse. She had the entire evening and night to lay in her furs, letting her imagination run rampant. So, he had found himself some blasted playmate to stroke his ego, and probably everything else he wanted stroked. Well good for him! Let her have his nine damn sons!


When she had stepped out into the daylight, she had lowered down to sit on the platform, eyes still red and swollen, but no one dared to mention it. Her tea materialized in the form of kasra sitting it down beside her. The girl had the good sense to disappear. Picking up the mug, she sipped and thought. What was she to do now? She couldn't just say.........no, I'm not mated to him anymore, could she? The beautiful brow furrows as she thinks on it. Well, others had, hadn't they? She had never understood why, but perhaps her understanding was making an adjustment. These thoughts brought new tears to slide down her cheek. The only thing was, she loved him. But, lately she was feeling lost, ungrounded. There was a time that she knew who she was, but right now, her self-knowledge and self-esteem was at a very low point. She was angry at herself for allowing this to happen, although she was not quite sure she knew how they got to this point.



Leaning back against the frame of the doorway, she sipped the tea and allowed her thoughts to travel back over the time they had been together. To the nights when he had held her, nuzzling into her neck, whispering of the plans he had for them and their sons. To the nights when they had made love on the platform of one of their last wagons, with the stars and moons watching them. To the long walks they took along the stream under the stars, and how he held her, made her feel cherished, treasured. Those times were gone. He rarely gave her more than a hurried kiss any more. He no longer held her when they slept. On the rare nights that he spent at their wagons anymore, he would fall into their furs, turn over and go to sleep. When she did venture to reach a hand out to touch his shoulder, or his back, he shrugged off her touch, told her he was tired and to go to sleep. Did he know that on those nights, she would turn over, curl up and allow quiet tears to soak the furs beneath her head?


She tried very hard to make his life a happy one. His clothes were immaculate, and the slaves never touched them, only her. She toiled at making his favorite foods for him. He always had fresh water in his botas, a meal in his saddle bags, neat, tidy wagons to come home to. She did these things because she wanted to do them for him. She did them with love and joy in her heart. She did them because she loved him so much, and wanted him happy.


Where was the man she had fallen in love with? The man that had been the one to spend ahn after ahn with her after Loch had died, convincing her that she had a life to lead, a full live of love and children. Where was the man that had held her son with such awe on his face? The man that had told her how proud he was of her? It seemed that man was gone. She loved that man and needed him, and he was gone when she needed him most.


Sitting up, she dumped the dregs of the tea onto the ground, took a deep breath and came to a decision. When she called for the girls, they had came to kneel at the foot of the steps. In a very calm tone, she told them that she wanted the ninth wagon cleaned from top to bottom, and fitted with furs. She caught the glance that went between them, and make the simple statement that if anyone asked, they were to say they were preparing it for a guest. Shooing them off to do her bidding, she looked out over the mass of wagons that seemed to stretch out forever. This had not been an easy decision for her, but at the moment, it seemed to be the only solution.


She could not find it within her heart to shame or dishonor either of them by seeking to have their mating set aside. However, she could remove herself from his wagons, from his furs. He seemed to find her repugnant, and she would not subject him to that any longer. Quietly, after the Central Fire had dropped below the horizon, she would move into the ninth wagon, a bit at a time so that no one would notice. She would still do his laundry, cook his meals, clean his wagons and raise her son, but she would no longer have to see that look he got in his eyes when he saw her. She would spare not only him of that, but herself of that indignity.


It was very evident to her that he no longer loved her, or wanted her. It seems that he wanted another. If that was true, then so be it. Stepping off the platform, she raised that stubborn little chin, gathered her dignity about her, and started to tidy up. Rook had taken Tug out riding and the baby was asleep, so the wagons were quiet. If one listened very closely, the only sound they would hear would be of her heart shattering into many pieces.

A World Falling Apart

It was just one of those days. She was feeling very pregnant, very tired, very fat and ugly, and just out of sorts in general. Maybe it was the heat. Yes, she told herself that was it.......the heat.


She had been up before the first rays of dawn had began lighting the plains. She had much to do, and to be very honest, she had not been sleeping well. There were just some nights when she couldn't get comfortable, no matter how she lay. The morning meal had been a disaster. Tug suddenly didn't like vulo eggs anymore, and while she was trying to cajole him into eating, the baby had crawled over, pulled up on the wheel of the wagon, promptly fell and opened a gash on his head and began to scream as if someone was killing him. As she was trying to staunch the flow of blood, Tug had promptly stood up and dumped his plate into the sleen pen for the pups and stalked off saying that he was going to find Birrmah, she would fix him a breakfast fit for a man! Immediately she had tried to go catch him, but she just was not moving very fast, being heavy with child, and having another child on her hip, bleeding all over everything, so she let him go, and would deal with him later.


And at this moment, the girls had come wandering up from the stream carrying water buckets whispering and giggling. She shot them a glare, demanding to know why they were lolly gagging around, when there was work to do. They both stopped dead still in their tracks. Never once had she ever raised her voice to either of them, and it was more than a shock to hear her do so this morning. She was ranting about lazy, worthless slaves that needed their throats slit. Eyes wide, kasra looked to juneau, and they both moved to dump their buckets into the water barrel, hoping that if they were very,very quiet, the crazy woman would calm down.


She finally got the baby settled down, the bleeding stopped, and put him to her breast. Closing her eyes, she let out a slow sigh, trying to regain her senses, when something happened. He bit her! She pried his mouth away from her nipple, rubbing it, then looking to see if there was blood, which there was not...........thankfully! "Ok, I think it is time you learned to drink from a cup, little man." And thus the battle began to try and get him to take the verr milk from a cup.........unsuccessfully. The brave one, juneau, had approached holding her arms out for the baby, whispering. "Let me try, Mistress" Kasra was on her heels, holding out a mug of tea, hoping that might calm the woman.


Near tears, she relinquished the baby, pushed the cup of tea away, and struggled to her feet, which was becoming a chore in itself. Taking the basket of laundry up on her hip, she stalked off towards the stream, oblivious to the commotion she had left at the wagon. People called greetings to her as she passed, but she ignored them. Right now, she was just not in the mood for exchanging pleasantries with anyone.


Even at the stream, she chose a place well away from the other women and slaves that were there dong laundry. She was just not in the mood to socialize. Sorting out the laundry, a whiff of something caught her attention. Lifting one of Ba'atar's vest to her face, she sniffed. Was that perfume, or scented oil of some kind? She must have looked very odd, lifting each article of clothing to smell it. In a rage, she doused the offending vest into teh water and began to scrub it on a rock with a vengeance. At the rate she was going, all of his clothing would have holes scrubbed in them, but there would be no scent of another woman on them, that was for damn sure. She was totally unaware of the eyes of the other women that were on her, and of their whispering back and forth that there was evidently trouble at those wagons.


Part of her wanted to throw all of the clothing into the stream, and watch them float away with great satisfaction, but the saner part of her stopped her from doing that. The saner part of her did the laundry with the same attention to details that she usually employed. That is not to say that she did not cry. Tears fell freely, tears of anger, tears of loss, tears of confusion. Batting them away with the backs of her hands, she just did not understand it. She had never felt this out of control before. Tossing the last of the laundered clothes into the basket, she just plopped down on the bank of the stream, stared at the water and cried. When she was all cried out, she again struggled to her feet, picked up the basket of wet clothing, which weighed more now, and walked off towards her wagons, again not stopping to speak to anyone. Now, she was aware of the whispered conversations that went on as she passed, but tried to block them out of her mind, which was not easy.


At her wagons, she hung all the laundry up on lines to dry, put on a roast over the spit for dinner, not really sure who was going to be there for dinner. Rook had been scarce the last couple of days, Ba'atar was off hunting, and she was not hungry, but still she cooked. It was what was expected of her, was it not? She had tidied up around the wagon, making sure the furs were plumped, that his bota's were filled with fresh water, should he return tonight. Rivulets of perspiration ran out of every possible pore on her body, but still she worked, trying to keep her mind off of things that were trying to steal in around the edges. She worked until she had actually stumbled, fell to her knees in exhaustion.......physical and mental. Closing her eyes, hands moved to caress the swell of her belly. She felt the strong hands lift her up, and urge her towards her wagon. Rook was very adamant. "Rest, you will rest and not come out of that wagon for the rest of the day." She wanted to fight him, to tell him that she was fine, and would be fine, but she just did not have the energy left to do so.


In the cool, darkness of her wagon, she undressed, poured some water into a basin and used a cloth to wash the sweat from her body, to cool it. Naked, she had looked down at her distended abdomen, and for the first time, she did not find it beautiful. To her it looked ugly, swollen, the veins just under the flesh roping around like hith that were trying to strangle her. Sighing, she moved to Ba'atar's chest, seeking to find one of his tunics to put on. Lifting the tunic from the chest, she closed it, and something caught her eye.


Standing there in the corner was his quiver of hunting arrows. The ones he always took with him when he hunted. How did a man hunt without his arrows? Running her fingers over the fletching of one of the arrows, that saner part of her took wing and flew out of the wagon, to be replaced by the voice of doubt whispering into her ear. "That is because he is not hunting. It is because he has tired of you, and seeks to spend his time with....her. The woman that left her scent on his vest. You are fat and ugly, why would he not seek the company of one that is still slim, sensual, appealing." Clutching the tunic in one arm, she reached to pick up the quiver, holding it close to her swollen body, and lay down on the furs and cried. Great, gulping sobs of someone that was miserable. Someone that was completely at a loss at what to do next. After a time, the sobs subsided as she fell into a deep sleep, that was haunted by dreams of Ba'atar and some faceless woman laughing at her, making fun of her, calling her a fool.