Passion

She had bathed, washed her hair, rubbing scented oils into her skin and her hair. That special blend that was just for her. Dressing in a vest that barely contained what it was supposed to contain, a new skirt that was perhaps slit a little farther up the sides than what she wore and soft, worn boots, she was ready.


When she had stepped out of the wagon, not only did kasra's jaw drop, but Rook chuckled and gave a low whistle, causing her cheeks to color. She asked if it was too much, and he assured her that it was just perfect. Mounting Ciegue, she rode out to the herd where Ba'atar would soon be finishing his patrol. As she approached, she noticed that a couple of his men had taken second and third looks at her, which made her cheeks flame again. She just hoped that he had the same reaction. She was not disappointed.


She came upon him staring up at the stars with one of his men. Some sort of wager as to whose star would move first. In the light from the tre-moons, she did not miss how he looked at her. Was that pride she saw in his eyes? Perhaps tinged with a bit of lust and longing? She asked him if he could leave his wager long enough to take a ride with his woman, and she did not have to ask twice.


Transferring the bags that held the makings of a meal to the back of his saddle, she nudged his foot out of the stirrup, slipped hers' into it, and swung into the saddle behind him, sliding her arms around him, fingers playing along that strip of flesh between the bottom of his vest and the waist of his leathers. Pressing her body into that strong, broad back, she leaned to whisper directions into his ear, her hot breath caressing with her words.


As they rode, she felt his hand drop to caress along the length of her bare thigh, each stroke causing her to press her breasts harder into his back, and she answered the strokes by kisses and nips along his neck and ear. He cursed her, telling that it was unfair for her to tease him so, and she whispered to him, what made him think she was teasing?


As they rode down into the small valley, her hands slipped lower, palm flattening along the ridge in his leathers that grew harder with each passing moment. It was a low, husky voice that whispered her intentions into his ear. A voice that told him that she wanted him, and on this night, she intended to give herself to him, and to take from him all he could give. It was like adding new fuel to a fire. Bringing the kaiila up to a stop, he threw his leg over the neck of the animal, dropped to the ground and pulled her with him into his arms, all the time taking her lips with his with passionate, hungry kisses.


Carrying her, he stumbled into the water, set her down, and hands tore at her vest, freeing her beast, his searching, hot mouth finding a nipple, teasing it into a taut, turgid state. Her own hands fought to free him of his vest, tossing it away as she ran her nails over his flesh, her head leaned back, her beautiful face turned up towards the skies as she moaned softly her need of him. Stripping her skirt up, he managed to unlace his leathers to free himself and took her right there on the bank of the stream, half in, and half out of the water.


Rolling over, he drew her to on top of him, his hands guiding her hips to ride him, and she did. Her hands move to strip the skirt off, and she leans over him her hands going to the ground beside his head for purchase, her hips moving on him in a heated fashion that let him know that she needed and wanted him as badly as he did her. There was no tenderness, no finesse, only the fierce, animal coupling of two beasts that were trying to sate some inner fire that just continued to consume them. Growls and cries mingled with the noise of bodies slapping together, faster and faster. With an animal growl, he grasped her hips to hold her tightly against him as he released his precious seed into her. His growl was met with one from between her lips as she raced to her own release.


Panting, perspiration dripping from her brow, her entire body shook as she looked down into his eyes. And that was when he said the most unexpected thing. You are beautiful, you are perfect and you complete who I am. Tears mingled with the perspiration as she leaned down, stretching her form along his, losing herself in slick, slide of sex moistened flesh. Swollen lips search for his, only to be met by his own searching mouth, needing to taste her fully.


How long they lay there, does not matter. All that matters is that his strong, calloused fingers worked along her back, stroking, taking in every hort of her, until he began to swell again. Laughing, she rolled off of him and stumbled up to the furs, falling down and turning over on her back, thighs spread in an inviting manner, as her finger crooked to motion him closer. The finger crook was not needed. He had already shed his boots, his leathers, and dropped to his knees between her legs, his hand lowers to tease, torment and titillate her into loud moans of unbridled, heated pleasure.


Bringing himself up above her, he looks into her eyes, to catch that expression that he has come to love, when he plunged deep inside her. He was relentless in his deep exploration of what was rightfully his, and she responded in kind, back arching, hands moving to his chest, nails sinking into flesh until droplets of blood showed in the small crescent wounds. Her head lifts, the tip of her tongue snaking out to lap at the coppery taste. One strong hand whips out, to grasp her braid, tilting her head back, exposing her long, slender neck to the assault of his mouth, but never once did he cease his assault on her. Instead he brought them to that place again of mutual, shuddering release.


Finally, he collapses down beside her on the furs, sliding his arm beneath her head, drawing her closer. Her head turns and she places soft, gentle kisses to his shoulder, tasting that salty sweat that covered his flesh. No apologies were made, because they had both found what they had been seeking. Turning to his side, he lifts her leg to drape over his hip, and his arm goes out, hand moving along her lower back to pull her up against him. They lay there, the cool night wind caressing over their bodies, causing her to shiver slightly and move in as it she wished to crawl into his skin. Laying this way, they spoke in whispers as hands stroked and explored.


When next they coupled, it was different. Slower, more sensual movements, tender touches, whispered words of love, moans of contentment. Not as rushed, nor did it border on the almost violent as the first two times did. The orgasm was actually sweet in it's nature, fulfilling, loving. Something that joined them together as one.


Laying there, beneath the stars, they slept until the first rays of the dawn woke them. Her breast were swollen, painful, and she nudges him awake to tell him they must go, for Also would be wanting his morning meal. Her body told her this, just as well as one of those time pieces that dwellers used told them. He groaned, and tried to pull her back down, telling her that he would relieve her pain, but she laughed and told him that if he did, his son would starve.


Reluctantly, they dressed, making promised to each other to fine time for themselves more often. Riding back to the wagons, he had sit her across his thighs, holding her with one arm, her head resting on his shoulder, nuzzled into his neck. Rook was just stepping out of his wagon when they returned and chuckled seeing them.



When Ba'atar sat her gently to the ground, he looked over to Rook and grinned that damnable grin of his and said...... We have been working on my next son.

Putting a Plan In Motion.

It had been a busy day, one filled with hard work, laughter, family and friends. She felt a contentment and a pride at how her group had worked together to get the honey put up. In her mind, when people worked together, all things were possible.


In the afternoon, she had approached Rook, and told him of her plan. The old oralu chuckled at the blush that had risen to her cheeks, but agreed to help her. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, for it was a special place to her, one where she had been known to go and sit and think. It was a small valley, a cove actually, and the stream that provided them water ran through it. But most importantly, it was secluded, private. They had made a small camp, laid a fire, spread furs and left botas of water. Standing back, she looked at it, satisfied and turned to thank him. He had chuckled and told her to use her time here wisely. Wisely? Well, that was not exactly how she would have phrased what she had in mind.


Ever since the night he had returned and seen her standing there holding his son in her arms, it was as if he had changed, or perhaps she had changed. Whatever had happened, she cannot remember being happier that she is right now. She knows that she is loved, but she also knows that she is appreciated. One night at dinner, he had even allowed that the roasted tabuk she had made was every bit as good as his mothers'. That was high praise indeed!


For the past few moons she had seen the longing in his eyes when he looked at her, and there was not a single moment when she was near him, that he did not reach to touch her. To heft a swollen breast, to run his hand along her hip over her backside. There had been times that they had tried to fulfill his lust.....skies, not only his but hers, but the things they did were not quite as satisfying as being able to have each other fully. She wondered if he knew that she wanted him just as badly as he did her.


But it was more than lust. She was not naive, she knew that he used slaves, and frequently, but for some reason they just did not seem to sate that hunger he seemed to still have.


Well, this night, that hunger would be satisfied for both of them, if all went well. She had full intentions of seducing a handsome, strong, singer.

A Good Day of Hard Work.

With a mate, three sons, two slaves, Rook, Gabe and herself, she found that her days were quite full, and for some odd reason, that made her happy. If you would pass by their wagons, you would often hear her humming or singing softy as she worked.


After the great honey escapade, their work was not nearly over. Each crock and jar was inspected, thoroughly washed in hot water and soap weed, then filled with boiling water again, to let set until it cooled, then they were emptied and set on a shelf to await filling. Cloths were also washed, boiled and dried then draped across the openings to the jars. They then dumped the raw honey into a cauldron and it was set beside the fire to heat. This was a precarious move. She wanted the honey to be warm so that it flowed easier, but she did not want it to boil and turn sugary, nor did she want the comb to melt.



When it was at just the right temperature, they carefully ladled it onto the cloths to strain any debris or impurities out of it, so that only the clear, golden honey would drip down into the jars. Taking the comb, she had taken daggers that Rook had sharpened to a fine edge, and very carefully shaved the outer layer of wax off into a pot, drained the honey from the tiny chambers into the cauldron to be heated. Part of the remaining comb was put into one pot to be heated, and part of the comb was set aside.



When all of the precious liquid had drained into the crocks, she of part of the comb and tried to get a bit into every pot. Personally, she liked chewing on the waxy comb, especially when the honey had seeped back into the chambers. When all the jars were filled, lids had been cleaned and boiled, then she wiped around the neck of each jar and placed the lid on it. The comb that had been reserved, was melted and she used a brush made from shortened pieces of the hair from a kailla's tail to paint around the edges where the lids met the jars to seal them.



It was time consuming work, but well worth it. In the end, she had row after row of jars of honey. The girls put them up in one of the wagons for storage, and she set aside several for Fonce when he returned, knowing his fondness for the golden nectar.



She did not allow Ba'atar's new slave anywhere near the process, still not trusting her. As of yet, she had not spoken to the woman, and simply referred to her as........It. As in, juneau, take it to the stream to help you carry water, or......don't let the boys get too close to it. Her brow had arched slightly seen how he had the beast trussed up with the knotted rope between her legs, but had said nothing.



And a smile did lift at one corner of her mouth when she had caught a glimpse of them carrying water up from the screen. When the creature did not seem to be walking fast enough, juneau would put down the buckets she was carrying and lay the switch to it's naked bottom. But this was not truly done out of any malice or mean spiritedness. It was done out of self-preservation on juneau's part. Ba'atar had assigned her the switch, and told her if his slave did not work hard enough or fast enough, it would be juneau that would be punished. Thus, the switch.



Aamon had been around for most of the processing of the honey, taking it all in with a curiosity and amusement that she found a bit funny. Several jars of the liquid were carried to his wagons, as he had helped with the gathering, and he seemed very pleased by this. He also seemed to have a fondness for the honey cakes that she had baked, and showed even more curiosity about her clay oven. She explained to him, that she was working on bricks to make one for Birmmah and his wagons. When he asked why? She told him because she wanted to. There was a small quirk of his brow, and a nod, and he said...You are a good daughter. Those simple words filled her heart with more happiness than he could ever know.


Yes, her life was good, and she was a happy woman.

The Story of the Honey Hunt and the Bear! Yes, the Bear.

They had been up early and started out when the first rays of dawn had began to light the horizon. Rook had a theory, that if they got to the hives, before the bees were up and active, that they would be easier to smoke out, so that was their intent.

She, Rook and Aamon rode along speaking in low tones, talking of the normal workings of the tribe, of common acquaintances, things of that nature. She felt very comfortable with both of the older men, and respected them both a great deal for different reasons. The girls trailed behind them, leading the kaiilas that had their equipment strapped to them. The morning quiet was barely disturbed by their soft conversation, and the clinking noise of the collection jars bumping together from time to time.


The grove of trees started along the edge of a small range of hills that rolled gently across the plains, and climbed up them for a distance, but nothing that would make access to them difficult. They were redfruit trees, yellow peach trees, even a few kalana trees. She had discussed the grove of trees with Rook the past season, as to how they had come to be there. His thoughts were that the skies had set them there, so that they might have fresh fruit when they were in the area, just as the skies had planted the numerous berry thickets that were nearby. The trees were old, very old. He told of how near the cities, that dwellers planted fruit trees in organized rows and coaxed and coddled them into growing and producing fruit. Grinning, he said that he had eaten the fruit of dweller trees, and they were not nearly as sweet as the ones the skies had planted for them on the plains. This was one of the reasons she adored the man so. He had been many places, done many things, and once you got to know him, and encouraged him just a bit, he would talk of these things. And somehow, there was always a lesson to be learned.

As they approached, the Central Fire had made it's entrance into the morning skies, and had began to warm the earth and the hives. There were a few bees flying around, those early risers maybe. Rook said they were scouts, just like the scouts they used to find new grasses, these tiny bee scouts went in search of flowers. When the flowers were found, the other bees followed, not unlike how they roamed the plains. New grass was found, they packed up and moved the herds to the new grass. Perhaps the bees were the Tuchuk of the insect world?


They stopped a safe distance from the grove of trees, and Rook had the girls to bring the sacks of dung they had brought to make a fire. While the fire was taking life, they began to dress in the protective clothing that kasra had worked so hard on. Aamon was curious about all that they did, and what they wore, even the girls. Each one wore a pair of leathers tucked into soft leather boots that had high tops, long sleeved, thick tunics with high necklines, and gloves. Leather tongs were tied around their boots, their wrists and around the cowled collar of the tunic, then wind scarves enshrouded their heads, leaving only a slit for their eyes. Even with this protection, there would still be a few of the little buggers that would somehow find a way to sting them.

The coals from the fire were put into bowls, and small bundles of the dried grass were added to make a cloud of smoke. There was something about the smoke that made the bees drowsy, somnambulant, and less likely to sting. Rook and Aamon both took a girl upon to their shoulders and she handed up the smoking bowls to them and they approached the trees. As they walked, they could hear the steady buzzing of the hives coming to life and knew they needed to work quickly. The girls held the smoking bowls near the hives, and as the smoke died, she would take coals and more grass from the bigger bowl she had, replenish theirs, and they would hold them up to the hives once more. And finally, the incessant drone of buzzing bees had settled down to barely a hum, and it was time to go to work.


The hives would be split with a quiva, the bees gently brushed away, and the honey drained into a vessel, and part of the waxy cone cut out to go with it. This was done over and over until almost all of their vessels were filled, and the bees were just starting to come to life again. They were just finishing up, when they heard a deep snuffling roar.
Ambling down the side of the hill was a bear, not a huge one, but a bear all the same. The only thing was, he did not know he was a bear. He was also a honey hunter, and was not happy that they had encroached on his hunting grounds. He rose to his full height and let out a roar. Rook stepped in front of her, telling her and the girls to get back to the kaiila. They did not have to be told twice.

Aamon held them to load the rest of the filled pots onto the pack kaiila, while Rook tried to distract the beast by hollering at it, and throwing redfruits. To be very honest, it only angered the poor beast more. Aamon more or less threw her into the saddle of her kaiila, and wrapped the lead to one of the pack animals around the pommel of his saddle, and flung kasra onto the saddle behind her. Climbing up on his own beast, he reached wrapped the lead of the other kaiila around his saddle, grabbed the reins to Rook's beast, then reached down to grab juneau's arm, swinging her into the saddle behind him.

The looked around to see Rook running towards them, the bear on his heels, and a swarm of bees buzzing right behind the bear. Skies, that Rook moved pretty good for an older man. Aamon had already started the beast to moving. Rook caught up, grasped the pommel of his saddle and swung up, and yelled. Ride!

The bees caught up with the bear fist, which served to divert not only their attention, but the attention of the bear away from the group of riders. The girl clung to her waist as they rode, and she began to hear a strange sound, slowed the beast and looked back. Rook was doubled over in his saddle, and this brought her to a stop. Wheeling the kaiila around she rode back to them, still hearing that choking sound, just sure that the man was dying, and Aamon pounding him on the back did not seem to be helping.

As she grew closer, she stopped and stared, and realized that the sound coming from Rook was one she had never really heard before. The blasted man was laughing. Not the gruff chuckle that she heard from him from time to time. Sitting up straighter in his saddle, he threw his head back and great peals of laughter came from him. And he was not the only one. Aamon was laughing nearly as hard. Between gasps of laughing, they were teasing about Aamon making a song about the Great Honey Hunt and the Bear. It would be sung for generations to come.

Shaking her head she laughed with them as they finally rode at a more sedate pace back towards the main body of wagons. It was a good day. Honey was gathered, there had been just enough excitement to make the day interesting, and new friendships were forged.

A Celebration Means.........Honey!

The bride price had been paid, Bo had given his final permission and Trilok was to claim Noya. The whole thing lifted her heart. She was happy not only for her nephew, but also for Noya, who she loved and respected very much. The drums were telling of a celebration, and a celebration meant food and drink.

Ephrim and Hiram had already been by to tell her that they would be hunting the next few days, Gabe and Dorian had plans to fish. Some of their catch would be smoked, some would be reserved to fry. The mates of her brothers were already gathering up herbs and flowers for sauces, and one had traded for sacks of sartana flour to make breads with, and she was informed that she was in charge of sweets and desserts. Desserts? That meant her berry tarts and honey cakes. And since her reserves of honey were growing short, that meant honey hunting.


Now, honey hunting is just not something you do in the spur of the moment, you have to plan. When they had arrived back in the area, she and Rook had ridden out to make sure the hives were where they were last season. They were basically in the same spot, some were hanging from the branches of trees, and there were even some that were in the hollowed out holes in the trunks of dead trees, but basically in the same area as before.


The first day of the plan, had her and the girls out carefully cutting a nice bundle of grass. It was cut, not pulled up by the roots, which was very important. You never uprooted the grass, and you cut it for very few reasons. Grass that was cut, could still grow, but grass that was wrenched from the ground by it's roots, died never to return. The grass was laid out to dry, then bundled. Next, they gathered the crocks and the pots that they would need, to gather the honey in, washed them thoroughly, checked for cracks, and made sure they sealed.


While the girls worked on the clothing they would wear, she had walked out to Ba'atar's parents wagons to see if Birmmah would be able to watch the boys for her. To say the woman was thrilled, would not even begin to cover how she acted. Now Aamon seemed a bit torn. She could see that he liked the prospect of spending time with the boys, but he also showed a great curiosity about her and her honey gathering. Seeing this curiosity, she invited him to go with them, and he accepted. They would make a day of it.

Returning to her wagons, she found things in a bit of an uproar. It seems that Ba'atar's new slave had broken two of the honey pots while washing them, and juneau seemed to think it was on purpose, and had switched her good for it. It actually looked like the woman was about to strike juneau in return, until she caught sight of Cana and Rook approaching. Instead she lowered down, and crawled under Ba'atar's personal wagon. Rook asked if she wanted him to drag her out, she shook her head, and said it was not her problem, she was Ba'atar's slave, and she had too much to do to mess with her.

She had to go hunt honey.

He Asked If She Was Happy

There was an air of contentment about her as she sat on the platform, holding the baby as she watched her two eldest sons at play. Her mind wandered over the events of the past few days.........


It's funny how just looking into someone's eyes, or feeling their touch, can change your entire world. She can now see Ba'atar and how he looks at her, how he touches her, and realize that all of her feelings of jealousy, rage and abandonment were foolish. One thing he said to her, had really sunk in. She had been honest with him, telling him of some of her fears, and those calloused fingers went to her chin, lifting it so that he could look into her eyes, and he told her. You should not doubt me. All you have to do is to look into the eyes of our sons, and you will know that I am with you always. How could she argue with that? How could she argue with his kisses, that were sweeter than any honey she could have collected? How could she argue with his touch, that sent a thrill through her each time? How could she argue with the longing that she saw in his gaze? She couldn't.

They would probably have their disagreements, their moments, but just in the few days that he had been home, she realized how strong their love truly was, and that she had gotten herself worked up over nothing. She carefully explained to him, that women were different than men, that they did need that reassurance. That most of them drew strength from knowing that they were loved and needed. It was just how they were. And truthfully, she believes he understands this now. Perhaps his being away was good for them both.


He told her that he would have paid many bosk to capture how she looked, standing there, holding his son in her arms the night he had returned. She had laughed, and told him that she would have paid just as many bosk if someone had been able to capture the look upon his face, when he realized she was holding his son. She would also have paid many to have captured the image of Ba'atar riding off to the plains, with Tug, Another One and Aamon, they night they went out to offer this youngest son to the Skies, to give thanks for him, to pledge him to them. It had made her heart swell with love and pride, and she would have loved to have gone with them, but she realized that this was a man thing. Something that needed to be done between Father, Son, Brothers, and Son, and she would not begrudge them this moment of male bonding.


Then there was the slave. He had told her he had brought back a slave. Now, men have slaves, and she was accustomed to that. But what bothered her slightly, was he mentioned the creature had blue eyes. What was it with Ba'atar and blue eyes? She even asked him that very question, and he was very direct. Anytime he saw blue eyes, he saw them in a collar, it was just that simple.

Juneau had come to her, allowing that Master had given her a switch, and told her to make sure the new slave did as told, because if she did not, then he would not only beat the new one, but he would beat her as well. Cana had told gently just to do as she was told, and to try and keep the beast on task. She had not interfered, but she had watched from a distance. The woman had a haughtiness that was grating, and she balked quite often, causing juneau to use the switch quite often. There was this feeling that the training was going to be quite rocky, but she knew that juneau would try. When they were working on the hides, the new one tossed the scraper away, and refused. Juneau switched her, picked up the scraper and handed it back. And so it went for quite sometime. She had finally turned away, bored and irritated with it. She did not trust the dark-skinned woman, and more than likely, that trust might never come.

Taking the sleeping baby into the wagon, to put him down, a hand caressed his head as she smiled down at him for a time before she returned to the platform, to settle down with her thoughts again.

He asked her if she was happy. Well, that came out of no where, and came as a huge shock to her. He had never seemed concerned about her happiness before. He had this arrogance about him, that more or less said that she was his woman, and that alone should make her happy.

Since he had opened the flap, she stepped out with her thoughts on the subject. Yes, she was happy. She explained to him the he and her sons made her happy, and she also took this opportunity to approach another subject. Laying there, on the bank of the stream, his arms around her, she looked up into that handsome face and explained something else to him. The things she did for him, such as his laundry, keeping his wagons clean, keeping him and their sons fed, were outward signs of her love for him. She could do these things, and still fulfill her duties to her clan. Her clan work, was her duty to her people, and every Tuchuk was taught from the cradle board and into adulthood, that the tribe was first and foremost. He seemed to accept this, and made her promise, that if she were ever unhappy, that she would tell him.

Now, that went well............didn't it? And yes, she is a very happy woman.

He's home. He loves her, he missed her, and he brought flowers!

Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was the handsome face of the man that slept beside her. He was sleeping on his side, one arm curled up to rest his head upon, the other reaching across the baby to lay on her hip, as if he were protecting the things that meant the most to him.

Her hand lifts and she gently draws a finger down the scars on his cheek, and smiles. He was home. He loved her, he had missed her, and all was right in her world. All of the doubts she had been feeling had seemed to evaporate like rain falling upon scorched ground. Over his shoulder, she could see the bowl that contained the beautiful blue flowers.

As they had settled down last night, he had told her that his only intent upon this journey was to find and bring back those flowers for her, because he loved her. How long ago had it been that she had mentioned them to him? She had been carrying Another One, when they talked of them, and they had spoken of them only that one time, and yet, he remembered. A soft sigh of contentment slips from between her lips as she closes her eyes and remembers the previous evening.


When she had first stepped around the corner of the wagon, he had looked at her and the baby, and for a time, he just continued to talk, telling her that he had missed her and wanted her, then she could see the reality of what she held in her arms begin to dawn on him. She will never forget the mist of tears that came to his eyes when he had shoved the bowl of flowers into her hands and reached to take his son in his arms, to hold him close to his chest. Holding both her and the child tightly, he had told her how much he loved her, and how lucky he was to have someone like her to bear his children and to share his life. His said that he did not know how he could love her any more, but he intended to try. They were the words she needed to hear from him. Perhaps it is silly, but women do need that, it is just a part of how they are.



He asked about his other sons, and was told that Tarra had taken them for a few days so that she could rest. She quickly added that she would send one of the girls for them at first light, but he shook his head, telling her that he wanted to spend the next day getting to know her again, and his new son, and would fetch them himself in the evening.


She had helped him to wash the dust of the trail off, then had lay down beside him, the baby between them. His arm had come out to pull her closer, and he began to talk. They talked for ahn as he told her the tale of their journey. He told her of his fears at losing another brother, and of how he had walked among the dweller merchants, waiting for Eight to find Seven and bring him out of the kataii camp. He told of their escape into the plains, and the hard ride. Partly because they wished to be out of kataii lands, but for him, mostly because he had been away from his people far too long, and he had missed her and his boys. She knew that he was sharing things with her, that he would probably tell no one else. And he knew these things would be held in secret by her, that is part of who she is, and if a man cannot trust the woman he loves, who can he trust?

It might have been her light touch, or the fact that the baby squirmed, but he had smiled, his eyes still closed and reached for the child, turned over onto his back settling it on his chest, that tiny shell of an ear right over his heart. He had then reached out to her, slipping his arm under his head to pull her closer. It was then that he had muttered softly........Sleep my woman, we have all day. Snuggling her head to his shoulder, she reached to lay her hand on the one he was using to hold the baby, and she did just that, she slept.

The Birth of A First Sons', First Son

Rook was pacing outside the wagon, grumbling to himself. He could kill without thinking, or flay the flesh off of an enemy, but a woman giving birth, just set him on edge.

Tarra had not seen Cana for sometime and knew her time was near, as she worked she felt something in the air and she gathered a few things and walked towards Cana 's wagon having a feeling that she might need her. When she neared she saw Rook pacing and grumbling and she made her way up the wagon steps "Make sure water is hot Rook and there are plenty of cloths and a small fur."

Snapping his fingers, the girls were in motion. The girl juneau already had pots of water on the fire, and kasra was in with Cana, wiping her brow with cooled cloths. Cana lifted her head, seeing Tarra, and managed a wan smile. " I am so glad to see you, Tarra."


She smiled gently to her and dismissed kasra. "See to Rook girl I think he needs a drink." She stated gently and then walked to Cana and lowered placing a hand on her stomach. " I had a feeling you might need some help."


Her belly tenses with the contraction, and her jaw clenches and all she can manage is a small nod, eyes closing as she tries to ride through the pain. The girl had fled from the wagon, and gone to get Rook his usual tea, but he waved her away with one word. " Paga"


.
"How long?" Tarra would ask as she placed a hand to her forehead and wiped it with the cloth

Cana rasps out softly. "Not long. About five ihn, or so." She had been counting beats of her own heart between contractions.


"I think soon you will be having a baby then" Tarra would move between her legs and positioned them so she could see if she had crowned yet. " Now with the next contraction push really hard and breathe out." She would state as she rested her hand on her stomach speaking softly as if easing some of her pain.


Nodding, Cana grasped the furs, closed her eyes, and waited. Just having Tarra here, already was making her feel calmer. When the next pain hit, she lifted a bit and pushed, her face scrunching up with the effort and pain.


"Breathe out" Tarra encouraged her as she spoke softly feeling her abdomen tense beneath her hand, when it eased some she would look to her. " So what do you think.. a boy.. a girl or both.?"


Exhaling, she lays back and then takes another ragged breath. " I hope for a boy, and I do not think I am big enough for two, do you?"



"You never know" She would tease softly as her fingers traced invisible designs over her stomach bringing forth the positive energy for the birth. "I think a son.. but I had to tease your mate by saying its a girl just to rile him up. Now get ready to push as hard as you can" She:she offered her hands to her to help sit her up a bit.


She had started to laugh, but it trailed off into a low groan as she reached for her hands, pulling up and pushing for all she was worth.



"That's it deep breath and as hard as you can" She would state as she could see just a bit of the head crown not much but a glimpse.


Taking a breath, she bears down hard, pushing, her jaw set in a rigid line as she did.



"Not much longer" She would state as she eased her back on the furs she then prepared a cloth to be able to clean the little one and lay a ceremonial dagger beside her that was only ever used in birthings. "The next one should do it, I can see just a glimpse of the head"

.
Nods as she takes in gulps of air, then tries to relax, in order to fill her lungs with air, then whispers. "I care not, as long as it is healthy" Her chest lifts and falls as she prepares for the next contraction. Feeling it building, she reaches for Tarra's arm, pulls up and grunts as she bears down.


She gripped her gently as she watched her. "That's it Cana, Give it all you have" One hand released her as she lifted the dagger and lightly cut her so she would not tear the head was good size, she had a feeling he was no small baby then her hand guide his head out slowly as she then released her other arm and smiled as he began to slide from her body covered in a light film of mucous and blood. "This one is going to be a good sized warrior."



Taking in another gulp of air, she pushes again, feeling the baby make it's entrance and that relief that comes for that brief moment when he does. She manages to gasp out. "A boy?"


She cradled him in her arm and gently suctioned out his nose and mouth and then wiped him clean, cutting the cord she then clamped it and lifted him up for her to see. " A very big boy" She smiled gently and moved to lay him in her arms. "Congratulations Cana... You have a beautiful healthy son."


Tears streamed down her cheeks as she takes the baby in her arms, placing a soft kiss to his head, whispering. "He is beautiful" Her fingers trail over that soft cheek, as she kisses him again. "Thank you so much, Tarra."


She would smile gently then move back between her legs and massaged her abdomen easing out the afterbirth. then she cleaned her up and stitched her and applied a healing ointment. placing the after birth in a bowl she covered it up to take care of it. Then she moved to Cana and sat her up a bit by tucking rolls of furs behind her. "I am glad to have been here to help."


Another son for her to love, and to raise in the ways of the tribe. She leans to kiss Tarra's cheek as she puts the furs behind her back. " I need to ask a favor of you."


"What is that?" She would ask as she wiped her hands on one of the extra clothes she brought.


Her voice was soft. "Could you take Another One for a few days, while I recover?" She adds quickly. "I will have the girls pack his things. He is no longer on the breast, drinks from his own cup, and eats meat if you cut it small for him. Besides, it is far past time for him to get to know his grandmother."


She had not realized that he had grown that big already she had missed much it would seem. "Of course there is plenty of room in my wagon. Garyx has not yet returned so he can stay in mine. Do you want me to take Tug with me so you can rest?"


"If it is not too much trouble" Her gaze was on her new son. "He can help with his brother, and you can also take one of the girls to help if you would like."


Tarra would chuckle. "You know me and slaves" She would smile " Besides I think Arkus and Halie would enjoy helping with them."


And this was how Ba'atar's first true son came into the world. It was a bittersweet moment. A child was born, but his father was not there. And so goes life among the Tuchuk.

Lollipops, Chocolate and Tea......All Meant to Heal the Soul

Again, she had gathered her wits about her, put her emotions down deep inside, and endeavored to move on. She had made one decision. If there was any way possible, she would not make again. She was feeling more and more like some sort of bad luck omen when it came to men. She knew their life was difficult, but enough was enough. She would dedicate her life to her children and her work, and avoid men as much as possible. It sounded like a good plan to her.


Sitting on the steps of her wagon, she sipped some of the berry tea that Silken had left for her, and watched Another One with his sweet treat. He would have to have a bath when he was finished, but at the moment, he was certainly enjoying his lolli. As for herself, she was feeling very guilty. So many had extended the hand of sisterhood to her, but she had just not been up to returning that grasp. That would change. Perhaps a talk with Tarra was what she really needed right now. She had been wrong to seclude herself as she had. Maybe a bit of laughter with her sisters would ease the pain that she was feeling inside.


From a small box beside her, she picks up one of the chocolates that Tarra had sent over. Popping it into her mouth, she savored the creamy sweetness of it. It was not hard cinnamon candy, but it seemed to appease the craving that she had. In a way, she was a bit like Tarra. She could take or leave chocolate, it was something that she had just never developed a taste for, but when she was pregnant, she always craved sweets of some kind. She would definitely have to thank Tarra for thinking about her.


Yes. It was time for her to suck it up, rejoin the people that she loved so much, and to resign herself to the fact, she was most likely about to be single again. Her heart ached at the thought of that, but hen again, if he did return, she was not all that sure she had not lost him already.