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.
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.
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