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.
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