Choose Your Destiny

The pains had finally stopped. The only thing that lingered was the weariness of both body and soul. Through the day she had rested trying to regain her strength, all the time mentally chiding herself for her weakness. The day turned into night, and for the briefest moment there was a glimmer of hope. She heard him outside the wagon singing low, probably to one of the boys. Her heart lifted, just knowing that he would come, that she would see his face, and everything would go away.


She had finally managed to sit up, to brush errant tendrils of hair away from her face and waited in anticipation. But he did not come, and again there was silence. Her girl juneau was the only one that came, with a bowl of broth, buttered bread and tea, and began to urge her to eat to regain her strength. Taking the bowl she sipped and finally asked about her Master, if he had been fed. The girl looked down and told her not at these fires that she had seen. Reaching over, she tapped her on the head and told her to go see that he had his food and water. The girl never raised her gaze and simply said........I cannot Mistress. He is in his wagon with his girl. The hope she had felt briefly was dashed into a million pieces.


The words cut like the double edge of a quiva. Lowering the bowl, she had but two words to say......Leave me. The girl finally managed to look up, and she barked at her..........Leave me now! She did not have to be told a third time.


Alone again, her hands trembled so badly the broth sloshed over them and dripped to the furs. How long she sat there, dry eyed, she did not know. There were no more tears to shed. Part of her died at that moment. But from somewhere deep inside her resolve, began to surface, to take hold and to give her strength. Her sons loved her, and she must be strong for her sons. She had to be strong for herself.


Slowly she drank what was left of the broth and tried to choke down the bread that seemed to want to stick in her constricted throat. Sitting the bowl aside, she lay down, curled her arms protectively around her middle and tried to sleep. Sinking deeper into that welcome land of slumber she began to dream.


It was that peaceful, beautiful place that she had been before. The fire was warm, the air held the scent of that field of blue flowers that she loved so much. For a moment, there was a melancholy when she thought of the flowers, but it passed, just as quickly as it had come.


The hand that came to rest upon her shoulders was familiar and comforting. She did not even have to look back to know who it was. The words that came from the apparition floated around her like the warm, prairie winds. "I see you are troubled again my daughter" All she could do was nod. Her mother moved to sit down beside her taking one hand in hers'.


"Do you remember the night that I showed you the apex of the paths in your life, and told you of how you were the only one that could decided which path to take?" Again she nodded, and whispered. "Yes, and I thought I had chosen well, but there are times that I wonder." She felt the squeeze to her hand. "My child, we all wonder that. And, we all make missteps along our path, but it is how we find our way back to the truth that either makes us stronger, or that allows us to become lost."


Her head leans to that shoulder that was where she found solace when she was much younger. "But Mother, I did not exactly choose this path, he chose it for me. I did not claim him, he claimed me." A kiss was placed to her brow. "That is the way of our people. You are a woman, he is a man, it is his choice. Do you now regret his choice?" Her head lifts quickly and she looks into the eyes that look so much like her own. "No! I love him. I love him so much that it scares me sometimes. I just want him to love me back."


A hand lifts to stroke her cheek. "Do you really think the warrior does not love you?" A heavy sigh escapes from between her lips as her eyes lower. "Right now, I do not know what to think. There are times when he says the words, but they are not backed up by the actions. It confuses me."


Her mother leaned back a bit to study her. "Cana, listen to me, and think upon what I am going to tell you. You have been blessed with the love of two good, honorable warriors. Men that knew themselves, their hearts and their feelings, and they both taught you something of yourself. They both allowed you to flourish and grow into the woman you have become. That is much more than most women ever have. And, this one loves you too, he just does not always know how to show it in the ways that you want. You see, he is arrogant, strong, hard-working and stubborn. But, with all of that said, he is still learning himself and until he learns that, how can he know your needs? In his mind, love means control. In his mind, what he wants is what you should want."


Her brow draws as she thinks on this. "So, I forget my needs, and cater only to his?" Her gaze lifts to the woman that she loves so. "Must I lose myself to become what he wants? Must I lose Cana, to become the mate of Ba'atar?"


A mist of tears forms in the woman's eyes. "Daughter, you are already the mate of Ba'atar, and that will not change. What you must learn how to do is reconcile that with who you are deep inside. I fear that if you do not, then you will be like the flower that never reaches it's full potential to bear fruit, and you will wither on the vine of life."



Her mother lifts to her feet and holds down her hand. "Come walk with me, let me show you something." Taking that hand, she lifts to her feet, her brow still furrowed in thought. She is led from the clearing, and the surrounding trees melt away and they were standing on a precipice looking out over the plains. It was beautiful. The sky was clear and a shade of blue that there are no words for. Beneath it. the lands stretched out to infinity, black with the humped backs of the bosk, and the grass was as high as a man's waist. Pride swelled within her heart, just to see it like this.



Her mother's hand lifts to point at a group of riders that rode along the perimeter of the herd. "You see them? They are your legacy. They are the descendants of strong Tuchuk stock. They are the sons of Tayco, Loch and Ba'atar. The blood of Kamchak runs through one, as does the blood of many Tuchuk warriors. If we had the time, we could trace their lines back to strong, honorable Tuchuk's for many generations. But the one thing that flows through them all, the one thing that binds them all together, is that the blood of Cana also flows through their veins." She felt tears begin to burn behind her eyes as she looked down to her sons with the love and pride that only a mother knows.



Marianne continues to speak softly in her ear. "Do you remember when Tayco told you that someday he would sit and tell his sons of how strong their mother was, of how she never wavered, and stayed true to herself, to who she was, when others tried to plant the seeds of doubt in her heart?" The memory floods over her and brings a smile as she nods. Her mother continues. "And do you remember Loch telling you how proud he was of you, and that your features were all that he needed to help him ride the skies in peace?" Again she nods, the tears threatening again.



The vision began to face, and there was a light that began to creep in around them. "We do not have much time left, the day is upon us, and I need for you to listen to me. The Sky, in her infinite wisdom, has sent you yet another challenge. Have you considered that She put you in Ba'atar's path to help him? To help him reach his own potential?" She turned to look at her in confusion. "Me? How can I do that, I am only a woman."



Her mother slips her arm around her shoulders and leads her back into the glade of trees that was quickly fading, and helps her to lower down, then kneels beside her, brushing the hair from around her face. "Yes, you are a woman, but I still have hope that you are a strong woman, and that you will prevail in what you are facing right now. You must search down deep and side and find what you need to be the strong woman that I know you are, not only for him, but for yourself and your sons. And for your people. Your path was chosen for you, but how you walk that path is up to you. Your feet are set upon a path of history. Think of how you want the singers to sing of you long after you are gone." She begins to fade as the light of dawn seeps into the world of the non-dreaming, but she has one final nugget of wisdom. "Choose your destiny Cana, do not let others choose it for you."



Her eyes fluttered open, and a feeling of peace and strength flowed through her. Sitting up, she yawned and stretched and sat for a time thinking upon the dream. Crawling out of the furs, she stuck her head out of the flaps to find Rook having his morning blackwine on the platform of the wagon that was just ahead of hers.



"Tell the girls to fix me food, then to start heating water for my bath. I cannot lay abed forever, I have work to see to." A deep laugh rolled from the old man as he stood and began bellowing orders. "Harta! She is back, and she is in a mood!"

To Matter Not

It was like being wrapped in a cocoon of dark purple, everything was muffled, sounds, smells, taste. Everything but the pains. When they came, everything changed and became and an angry, blood red with bright lines of yellow in it like lightning on the plains. Then there were times when it was just void, no color, no smell, no noise, no taste, just a whisper of a feeling of floating in nothingness. In a way, these times were almost peaceful, calm and she floated there only to be jerked back to either the deep purple or the angry red that awaited her. A part of her yearned for the peace of the void.


At times she was aware of what her brain told her were "the others". Kaeli of the gentle, cool hands and the calm, reassuring voice, urging sips of the bitter draught from the blue bottle between her lips. Her girl kasra with cool damp cloths which dribbled water between her lips that had somehow become parched and dry. The feeling of Tarra sending her strength and support, perhaps not physically but in another way. Then there was the presence in the dark shadows of the wagon, the one that seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Waiting for her.


When she was a child there had been nightmares, dreams of ghostly figures that walked the pains. Somewhere in a little girls mind, there came the idea that safety was found in laying very still, trying not to breathe. If you breathed, your breath would betray you, let the darkness know that you were here for the taking. During this long, lonely night, that little girl floated closer to the surface, whispering to her……lie very still, do not breathe and he cannot find you.


The one person that she waited and longed for never came. The one person that could give her security from the night, the fear and the pain, did not come. She was alone. This knowledge that brought a strangling sadness to her. A painful sense of loss pervaded her very being, a sense of abandonment and detachment. And somewhere from the darkness that surrounded her came a mantra, a chant………You do not matter……..You do not matter……you do not matter……..you do not matter.

The pain in her body finally subsided, leaving only the pain in her heart. When her eyes opened with the early hours of the dawn, the first thing she saw was that the figure in the shadows was gone, the next was kasra, wringing out a rag in a basin, then leaning to wipe her face. A hand moves to her stomach, and she gives a sigh of relief to find the baby was still there, and hopefully calm and not ready to make its' entrance. Her eyes closed and she lay for a moment savoring the feel of the damp cloth moving gently over her face. Opening her eyes, she looked at the girl that had been with her for so long, and uttered one word.............Ba'atar.

That sweet slave averted her gaze, unable to look at the woman she loved so much and simply whispered...........He is not here. When asked had he been, the girls head shakes, but she still will not look the woman in the eyes. Closing her eyes, she felt the hot tears begin to seep from the corners and she whispers.

It does not matter.

And that echo began again somewhere in the dark recesses of her brain. You do not matter........you do not matter..........you do not matter............

Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home

The past couple of hands had been difficult for her. Being pregnant is no simple ride on the plains, but being pregnant and the mate of a new Ubar, had it's own problems. She understood his need to make a journey to the outer wagons, but that did not mean she did not miss him. And, it brought home the fact that she came way down on the list of his priorities these days, which was to be expected. At least, this time, she has a basic idea of where he is, or she thinks she does.


There is an air of tension in camp. For the most part, the wagons are readied for the move, but they do not move yet. Was the Sky testing them, with holding the omens that would bless the move as punishment for what happened with the move South? The longer they delayed, the more difficult the trail could be, especially if the cold rains came, or the temperature dropped suddenly, as it was known to do this time of year.


Even the bosk knew it was time. Their coats were growing thicker, shaggier, and she had heard talk of how the out riders were having a more difficult time keeping them together. It is almost like they have an instinctive, internal year keeper that was whispering in their ear that it was time.


Animals and insects are like that, they just know. She had sat on the platform of her wagon, watching the flocks of birds that flew in that unerring pattern towards warmer climes. One had come to her, grabbed her hand, talking about something she had to see. Walking with him, she listened as he went on and on about the bugs. He led her to a wagon, where a group of children were standing around, in awe.



On the surface of the wagon, were probably more lady beetles than she had ever seen in her life. They were everywhere, and filling the air, crawling up the side of the wagon, on the ground, just everywhere. She had heard tell of this before, but she had never seen it with her own eyes. Her mother used to tell of a time when the move was late, and how the same thing had happened, and how they had ended up with them in the wagons when they arrived in the north. Her hand dropped to caress her sons' head and she explained to him that it was sort of a sign that colder weather was approaching and that when his father returned, they would probably be moving very soon. A young woman walked up, held her hand out and it was soon covered with the tiny creatures. She nodded, and spoke softly. "The Sky is sending us signs that she will soon give us the omens that will tell us to move" She turned to look at her oddly, no recognizing her, and asks what makes her think that, and the young woman gave a small giggle, and turned to walk away, admiring the glove of ladybugs on her hand, and replied. "The Sky talks to us all the time through her messengers, the earth, the breeze, the way the water flows in the stream, and how the smaller creatures act. We have but to listen."


She stood, a bit stunned, and watched as One ran after the woman, asking her name. The woman stopped, put a finger to the bugs on her hand, separating one from the mass and put it on the tip of One's nose. "Noelani. I am Noelani." Then stepping through the wagons, she walked off. One returned, his eyes crossed trying to watch the bug that was crawling on his nose, and allowed that he liked the bug lady.

Pain and Disappointment

She had taken a few days to assimilate, sort and assign a place in her memory for the events that had happened within the past couple of hands. No matter many times she told herself that people were going to disappoint you and hurt you, she just never could really get it imbedded in her thought processes.

The return of the salt hunter and the bead maker had been confusing enough. As injured as he was, perhaps he had not been exactly in the right frame of mind to give any details or to answer any questions. That was understandable, considering his condition, but what happened later, she absolutely could not understand, or work it into a concept that made any kind of sense.

She had been able to speak to Sakmeta, and she has finally came to realize that perhaps the information she had received from her had been either lies, or veiled half-truths. Did she return with him of her own volition, as she claimed, or had he drug her back. Was she free, or was she a slave. Historically, Sakmeta always had been one to try and shade things in her own favor, when sometimes a simple truth would have served her better. Always one to try and go against everything that held them together as a people. There is a flash through her brain of something Fonce had said once of the girl, and she now understands it. Sad.


But, it was Polunu that truly brought this ache to her heart. She had always liked him, found him strong, funny and honorable. She considered him a friend, and that made what happened so much more painful and disappointing to her. They had given him time to heal, no one had roused him from a fevered state to question him. It was he that had stepped from the wagon, and into the fray, so to speak. Perhaps he was still feverish, not in his right mind. She tells herself this, because his actions that night are still just beyond her reckoning.


Did he lie, when he said that Sakmeta was his slave? If she was his slave, why did she not wear a collar, even a temporary one? And, if she was a slave, what would another few days of her being chained to the wheel of the wagon, to await the return of the Ubar, have mattered? She was a slave. It was just like he started to over react to things, and once he started, it was like an unguided wagon rolling down a hill.


He fought against everything that he should have known not to do. He went against the Ubar's orders, even to the point of deriding his word. He was disrespectful to not only the absent Ubar, he said derogatory and disrespectful things to Kamchak, who was basically second in command to the Ubar. To Kamchak, who had always showed a fondness to him. To Kamchak, who tried to calm him, but to no avail.


Did he just not understand that what he had done went against everything Tuchuk? Where along the trail, had he forgotten, Tribe above all. Tribe above your own personal wants or wishes. Without the laws and rules of the Tribe, there would be chaos and anarchy, did he think he was exempt from the rules that everyone else had to follow?


She could remember back to a time when Bo had literally stripped the hide off of Saresh's back with a whip, as punishment for deserting his men and running off to Ar to find Eva. She could remember the dead, emotionless look in Fonce's eyes when he declared that if Tanner returned to their lands, he was to be captured, chained and tried for treason.


What was it that the Salt Hunter think he had, that would put him beyond the punishments deemed appropriate for others? This is one of the things that ate at her.


But the think that truly killed her soul, was the disrespect that he showed to people that cared for him. Was he so besotted over the bead maker that he lied about her submitting to him, to try and get her off that wheel? Or, was he just so arrogant, that he thought himself above them all together?

For whatever his reasons were, it saddened and sickened her to see them both die in such a manner. But law is law, and when you go against the Ubar and the law, you must pay the consequences, how ever dire they are.

Part of it reminded her of a story that her father used to tell her brothers.

Once, back many seasons of snow ago, there was a little wild giani that had taken up with the caravan as it moved. He was an arrogant, curious little thing, and that ended up being his downfall.

One day he got too close to a wagon, and the front wheels ran over the tip of his tail, cutting it off. Being the curious creature that he was, he turned to investigate the severed bit of tail, and when he did,the back wheels ran over his neck, severing his head.

The moral? Do not lose your head, over a piece of tail.

Troubled

When her eyes fluttered open in the still gray ahn of the morning, she was so tired she could not move, even though she knew that she must. Sitting up slowly she groaned at how her body protested and did not want to cooperate. She did not have time for this, there was just too much left to do. Dressing took a bit longer, and she had stuck her head out of the flaps, to find juneau there on the steps as usual, and asked for tea. When the girl returned, she sipped the tea and let her braid her hair. When all was finished she stepped out onto the platform, only to be met by Rook, who pointed for her to sit. He had it in his head, that she was going to take it easier today, and as bad as she was feeling she did not argue too much. He called for more tea and sat down beside her, and finally asked her if she was in a better mood, and if she wanted to talk about what was on her mind.


What was troubling her.


Well, now that was a hard question to answer, for she had an entirely new set of things on her mind this day. He did not press, and finally she began to talk, telling him of what happened at the stream a few nights back, how it upset her and how, in her view, her mate had disrespected her in the worst way. He listened and offered his wisdom, reminding her that Ba'atar was young, he was a warrior, and he had never had a mate before that he had to respect. She understood all of this, but how was he to know what he had done was wrong, and how badly it hurt her, if she did not tell him? The man nodded, but advised her to be calm when she did such, not to bring it up in the heat of an argument. Well, that really helped, because the way she figured it, bringing it up at all was going to start an argument, because her mate his this stubborn streak, and did not realize that he was not always right in all that he said or did. The old warrior simply shrugged, and told her to choose her words well.



This was troubling. How could she make him see, and keep her neck out of a collar?



Again they sit in silence for a time before he asked what else was on her mind. Sipping her tea, she began to speak to him of the events of the previous night. It was all like a double-edged quiva. Was she glad to see Polunu back? Yes, she just did not understand how he walked away from his command and a pregnant mate to be gone so long. She was not sure if he left in search of Sakmeta, or if he left for other reasons. All she knew was, that he left, and that was troubling to her. She had seen what had happened to men that had done that in the past. She had seem them publicly humiliated and flogged before the tribe, she had heard the edicts of Fonce, concerning another, that if he ever was found on Tuchuk lands again, he was to be chained and brought to trial for treason. All of these things were weighing heavy on her heart and mind. Then there was the fact that he was injured, which was troubling in itself.



Kassar, near their herds, was troubling. Whether it was many, or just a few, they were still Kassar, and she hated them for what they have taken from her in the past, and will never get over it. Yes, Kassar being near, troubled her.



Then there was Sakmeta. What could you say about her? In the past, she had tried so hard to guide her as a favor to Fonce, but to no avail. It was like trying to cage a rabid sleen. She took offense to anything anyone tried to do for her, or to advise her about, lashing out with her viperous tongue and not listening. She had always tried to lay it at the feet of the woman being very young, not much more than a child in many ways, and to the fact that someone, somewhere along the line had failed to instill in her the concept of respect. Respect for those that had walked the path before you, respect for those that were only trying to save you from pain, simple respect for another human being. She had been gone, long before they left the northern pastures last season, and now she was back. Was she drug back by the salt hunter? She says not. She vowed that she came of her own will, but that is yet to be seen, and it is yet to be seen if she has matured and changed any. If her actions at the fire last evening was any indication, it didn't seem so. Any woman of the Tribe knows that if any warrior tells her to do something, she does it, especially in a situation where everyone is excited, and there is talk of raiders on their lands.



The thought of what might happen to Sakmeta, was troubling. Did she expect to return as if she had never been gone? Did she think she would be welcomed back with nary a question? Troubling.


And then there was Bo. What could she say about him and his actions last evening? She had a great deal of respect and affection for Bosephus. He had been very good to her in the past and had taken very good care of her. But, his actions last night confused and hurt her deeply. He came back, after being gone for a very long time, right in the middle of a situation that he knew nothing about, and released a woman that was chained to a wagon without asking why? Then his total, arrogant disregard for Ba'atar troubled her greatly. His comments about over zealous warriors, and his ignoring of the man that sat on the gray furs, also troubled her greatly. She truly liked the man, but Ba'atar was her mate, a man that she loved with all of her heart, and her loyalty to him would never falter. She was greatly disappointed in him.


This troubled her.


Once she got started, many things were on her mind.


Fonce had disappeared...........Troubling.


Shi had dumped expensive blackwine and sugar on the ground along with the cream, which dishonored the bosk that gave it, all to make some sort of vague point with a slave..............Troubling


The old Oralu finally lifted his hands in surrender and told her............Enough! For some odd reason, she felt better, and added one more little thing........


Someone keeping me from all of the work I have to do today...................Troubling!

Working to the Point of Exhaustion.

She had cried until the point of retching. Flying from the wagon, she found the trenches, lost what little was in her stomach then retched until she had dry heaves. The old Oralu had followed her, placing his hand on her shoulder, to have it shrugged away as she whispered that she was fine. He knew better, but he also knew when to leave her alone. Stumbling steps took her back towards her wagons, and he asked gently if she needed anything, or if she needed for him to find a healer or her mate. Her eyes snapped at him. "I am fine, and I need no one" Climbing back into her wagon, she tried to sleep to no avail.



Finally, she had gotten up, washed herself, changed her skirt and vest and stepped outside and began her day in the darkness before dawn. She did not even wake the slaves yet, but made the morning meal for her part of the camp on her own, needing the solitude. When kasra did finally venture to the fires, she watched the woman closely trying to figure out what she might do to try and ease the mood. It was unusual that the woman did not greet her, and she took that as a cue to remain very, very quiet and tend to her duties with as little fanfare as possible.



While the men age, she fed the boys, and prepared them for their day. Rook approached her and told her that he would take One to the herds with him, and she simply nodded. When they were fed, she put Also into the carrier, slung it on her back, closing her eyes for an ihn, as the boy was growing heavy. Taking Another's hand, she moved off towards the storage wagons. The first order of business today was to see that things in them were secured and ready to move.



She not only had their personal wagons to prepare, she now also had the wagons where they stored the staples for the tribe to make ready. There were wagons that held nothing but sugar, flour, spices, teas and blackwine. Others held the sacks and jars of dried and salted meats that would become so important to them while on the trail, while others held dried fruits, berries and nuts, that would add a variety to the meals.



There were wagons of extra furs that would be dispersed to any that needed them. One held nothing but wagon covers that were ready to be attached if one tore while enroute. There were even wagons that held nothing but spare wheels and strip of metal to be used for repairs, and wagons that held extra harnesses, saddles and bridles. The Ubar, and those of the first wagons were the ones that were responsible for such things. It was a simple system, if someone had a need on the trail, they came to the circle of the first wagons to fulfill that need. Since Ba'atar was busy with the herds, the scouts, the men and getting them all prepared, it was her duty to see that all of these wagons were in good order and ready to move.



Through the day, she checked on these, talked with those of the wagon makers, the leather workers, the metal smiths and the slaves that were lashing the contents down. From time to time, she would sit on a platform, and ease Also off and let him play for a time on the grass, and let her back rest, but she did not tarry long in one spot, she had too much to do and time grew short.



It was mid-morning when she returned to her own wagons, to fetch some things that she wanted to carry out to Aamon and Birmmah's wagons. Her brow lifted seeing guards still posted around Ba'atar's wagon, then her head shook as she moved on by. Gathering what she needed, she had the slaves to follow her to make the deliveries. The girls were fortunate that they walked behind her so that she could not see the looks that flowed between the two of them. With the mood she was in, someone would have gotten beaten.



She did not tarry long at the wagon's of her mate's parents. She was not in the mood for Birmmah's constant lecturing and advice, so she made her deliveries and left. Aamon had picked up Another and walked with her for a time, not saying much, but watching her. When they arrived back at her wagons, he did not relinquish Another, and motioned for her to take off the sling so that he could take Also. Shrugging out of it, she smiles to him and thanks him softly. As he positioned the boys to carry with him, his last words to her were..............


"You know, occasionally, every man needs a skillet upside his head........even Ubars."


With that he turned and walked away, singing in that deep, mellow baritone to his two grandsons.

Tempest

It was a long night. Rook had been talking with friends of his among the guards when she had stalked up the row of wagons carrying the youngest of the boys. He was familiar with that set of her jaw, which caused one grizzly old brow to arch, but he said nothing, thinking it would be best to keep quiet.


She had gone into the boys wagon and spent time putting them down for the night. One was still wound up from his day and had peppered her with questions, which she had answered as calmly as she could. Finally she had gotten them all settled and was about to step out of the wagon when One piped up....."Get your rest woman, you have work to do in the morning." She refrained herself from going over and just shaking him, but her anger was not at him, but at the one that was teaching him these things. Without a word she stepped out an brushed back past Rook without a word and went to her wagon, stomped up the steps and disappeared inside. One of the girls looked to the old oralu with a questioning lift to her brow, and he just shook his head to let her know that leaving the woman alone right now would probably be prudent.


Soon the sounds of things being thrown around in the wagon was heard, and his head shook, but he was concerned. She only did that when she was angry, or hurt, but never quite with the vigor she was tossing things tonight. Pushing off the side of the wagon and bidding his friends goodnight, he moved to the platform of his own wagon to sit with his mug. He would let the tempest that was storming around in the wagon blow itself out, then he would try to find out what brought this on. He could not understand the mutterings that were coming from behind the flap, and maybe that was best. He was reminded of a saying that his mother had used when he was a green, untested boy, something about a tempest in a teapot. He had been watching this particular teapot simmer for several seasons now, wondering exactly what would happen when it finally reached a full boil. Unfortunately, he feared he was about to find out, and not only him but others.


He thought to the old nickname that Kam had for her, and had a thought that the larl that hid in that tabuk was about to come out. Skies help the one that it directed its' attention to.

Interesting???

She had everyone up early and working. The hides had been taken from the barrels of salt water the day before and stretched again, to partially dry through the night. They started early that morning, scraping the hair from the hides, trying to make them as smooth as possible, then the braining began.


The brains from each animal had been saved. Many seasons of snow ago, the people had learned that the brain of an animal was enough to cure the hide of the same animal. Many different solutions were used. Some mixed the soaked brains with ash, others with the berries of plants found along the streams, some with bone marrow and animal livers. She favored a solution of brains, marrow and tallow.


The hides were no longer dripping wet, but only damp enough to make it easier to work the brain solution into the fibers. Rook helped her to oversee the mixing and cooking of the solution, then they began to apply it to the hides, working and rubbing it into the skin. It was hard work, but she tried to help as much as she could. Suddenly the old oralu had decided that strenuous work was too much for her, which was growing to be an irritant to her.


She ignored some of his cautions and spent the most part of the day working the braining mixture into a particular hide that was already lighter in color than the others. In her mind, she had this vision of taking it down to the palest color she could and perhaps having a dress made from it. One with nice green beads on it, or even shells. There was a conversation once about such garments and Fonce asked her if she had one. She didn't really, not one that was hers alone. She had a beautiful dress that had been her mothers, but not one that had been made just for her. She was not normally a vain woman, but the thought of this somehow intrigued her.


Ahn upon ahn was spent bent over the hides working the brain mixtures deeply into them. They would be scraped, then put back into the barrels and covered again with the mixture to set over night. It was arduous work, but necessary to get the hides soft enough to be used for clothing. Sometimes, this procedure would be done three or four times, dependent on what the hides would be used for.


Finally Rook came, took her scraper from her hands, pulled her to her feet and insisted that she go rest and eat. In all honesty, she was grateful for this, as she was tired. Leaving the girls under his scrutiny she walked to the main fire, washed up and was pleased to see that her mate was there having a meal.



The funny thing is, anytime Ba'atar is around, something interesting usually happens, and today was no different. Evidently, Kaeli had been working on patching the covering from her wagon, and slid off the side landing on her bottom on a pile of furs. To be honest, it was amusing. Ba'atar was amused too, but he took it all a step farther by asking Kaeli if she had a balance problem. Kaeli replied that it was not so much balance as gravity. Well, Ba'atar decided to test that theory. He sent the slave dung to find three empty buckets, and two that were filled with water. The challenge was, for Kaeli to take a filled bucket in each hand, step up on the first bucket and walk to the second and third without spilling the water. The challenge? If she failed, she would have to clean Jai and Only's boots for a hand.


Those warriors were going to have very clean boots for the next hand. After was all said and done, she pondered on something. Ba'atar had told her that if she grew tired, that Aponi would take her place, and if she faltered, then the challenge would extend to two hands. Perhaps the woman was not thick in the head at all? Perhaps she fell on purpose.


Interesting.


And if that were not enough, he decided to torment the slave dung too. He finally allowed her to dress kajir, with a twist. He cut a strip of leather from her chatka, knotted it, and tied it back on her where it would rub against that very tender, sensitive nub between her legs.


Interesting.


The girl was in tears from the frustration of it, when he was called away on some problem. When the girl looked at her, begging as to what she should do, she only had one answer for her..........


Stay very still.

Salting the Hides

She had stepped out of her wagon, standing on the platform looking around. It was a bit of a strange sight. Her gaze then went to the woman chained to the wheel, and she sighed. Between captives, slaves and the Ubar's guards, any thought of privacy was quickly fading away. Rook looked to the woman, then back to her with an inquisitive arch of his brow, and she simply said...........Dweller-chuk. He chuckled and placed his quiva in it's holder. A thought came to her, and she pulled her own quiva out of her boot and handed it to him, which prompted another arch of his brow, and again she stated simply. I shaved a slaves head. This brought that low grumble of laughter from the old oralu, and he takes the blade and begins to sharpen it.


She slipped off the platform, and moved to help with getting the guards their meal, and getting ready for another long day. The hides had been scraped of lingering tissue and sinew, and stretched overnight. This morning, the next stage of the curing began. Barrels were set out, and the girls sent to the stream to fetch clean water to fill them half way. She had gone to the fires, having seen her mate there, and watched the girls toil back and forth to the stream to fetch the water.


It was a pleasant time spent there speaking with the woman Kaeli, who she grew to like more and more as they talked. And they did talk of many things. Ba'atar had questioned her as to her past, her children, and her motives for returning to the tribe. She listened carefully to the answers given, and understood them all. The woman had even stated that she knew that returning might end with her in a collar, but she needed to know how Jai was. And her answers to Ba'atar on why she had returned, seemed to satisfy him too.


She also spoke of her affection for Jai, which was no secret, it could be seen in her eyes. It was high time that Jai took a mate, and she expressed her thoughts on this, drawing laughter from Kaeli. She told stories of when they were young,and how they would bedevil each other. This not only gave her an insight into Kaeli, but into Jai too, which was nice in a way. She had always liked the iron master and considered him a friend, and only wished to see him happy.


She had finally returned to her wagons to make sure the hides were all submerged into the barrels of salted water, and weighted down by the large stones that the girls had drug up from the stream. They would stay this way for three days, then the next step would be taken.


While she was involved with this, Trilok returned from his hunt with tabuk, and the whole ritual started again of skinning the carcasses, slicing the meat to be salted or dried, and stretching the skins. Work. It was one of the things that was constant among them. It never ended, but at the end of the day, you could always go to your furs knowing that you had accomplished something. Something that was for the good of the tribe.


Tribe above all.

A Long Day of Work

The Central Fire had not even began to lighten the night skies when she was up, and making preparations for her day. She leaned to kiss the temple of the sleeping warrior, trying not to disturb him, for she knew that his day was start early enough. Slipping out, she first went to rouse the slaves, sending juneau to pull the slave dung out of the furs under the wagon, to take her to start gathering filling the dung sacks. Kasra was on the steps of the boys wagons, as usual, and she was poked into a state of wakefulness, and went to start the morning meal.



The guards were starting to change, so she saw that both sifts were fed, those going to their furs and those coming on duty. It was rare that she entered his personal wagon, and this morning would be no different. She banged on the side of it to rouse the kattai slave, telling her to come help kasra feed the guards. As she was gathering the bone implements that were used to scrape hides, she smiled when she saw lily walk up. They conversed for a time, as the girl helped her to pull the drying racks out of the storage wagon, Cana explaining to her what was on the agenda for the day. It was going to be a very busy day, not only today, but for several days to come.


She and lily had set up the drying racks for the meat just as juneau and dung drug the last filled dung sacks and stacked them. They were told to eat, for they might not get another chance until late in the day. This was when lily gently asked if she had eaten yet. Well bosk behinds, she had not. She found a place to sit among the guards, lily brought her a plate, then went to help juneau to organize the girls into eating and preparing what was to be done next.


The meals finished, dishes cleaned, it was time to start the real work. Rook had two men to help him to slice the meats into long thin strips, she coated them with spices, then kasra and the kataii slave hung them on the racks near the fires to start the drying process. She also had them to replenish the fires as needed, not wanting them to go too low.


Lily and juneau took dung under their collective wings and started teaching her how to scrape and stretch hides, making sure that not a bit of meat was left on them that would sully the curing process of them in any way. It was a long process that took much patience and skill. Dung seemed to catch on rather quickly, and by mid-day she already had the beginnings of some nasty blisters on her dweller slave hands, but they would eventually bust, heal and callous over. It was just the way of hands that worked.


Late in the afternoon, they stopped for a meal of cold meat, cheese, bread and milk, then resumed their labors. She worked right alongside the slaves, doing her share, that was the only way she knew how to be. The only breaks she took were to see to the needs of her sons. Ba'atar came and too One with him to the herds, and Birmmah came by to leave some blankets she had been working on, and took the two younger boys back to her wagons, which freed up more of Cana's time to work.


Finally, all of the meat was sliced, spiced and hung by the fires to dry. They would keep a careful eye on them, making sure they were turned from time to time to make the process even. After checking to make sure all the drying rack were positioned properly, she settled down to help the girls scrape the furs.



An so it went for the rest of the day. As she worked, she said little, lost in her thoughts. It was kasra that had come to kneel next to her, and boldly reached out to stay the hand that was scraping a hide. When she looked at her with a raised brow, the girl nodded to where the Central Fire was sinking into the horizon, and softly asked her to stop working, that they would finish. Sitting back on her heals, she realized how tired she was, and thirsty. Rook had come up then, reached down to take her upper arm to help her to stand, an in that gruff voice of his told her to go clean herself, eat, then rest. The look in his eye told her that this was not really a request, but a course of action that she would follow. Nodding, her hands went to her back to massage it as she went to gather her things to go to the bath wagons, her entire body aching.


It had been a productive day, and that gave her a good deal of satisfaction. Tomorrow would be just as busy, but a long bath, a good nights sleep, and she would be ready.

Days of Change

The days seem to rush by, each filled with new challenges, new things to ponder upon, new responsibilities. Was she up to the new challenges put before her. Yes. She will meet each one in the only way she knows, with quiet determination. So many changes have taken place, sometimes so many that they overwhelm her, but she marches on.



She holds a great deal of pride in Ba'atar and the things he is trying to do. They have lay, curled in each other's arms and talked way into the night of his concerns about their people, his plans for them, how he will try to adjust the thinking of some, and even at sometimes adjust his own thinking. They do not always agree, and there is nothing wrong with that. It gives them opportunity to bring things out into the open, and to discuss all sides of them. Sometimes she will take the opposite view just to let him know what to expect from others that may do that. But in the end, he knows that she had an undying faith in what he is doing. A knowing that his ways may be different than the men who have set the Grays before him, but he does not make any decision lightly, or without thought.



The downside of this new position, is that he is no longer solely hers. She must share him with the people now. This just serves to make what moments they have together that much more precious. She tries to make the most of that time, and tries to see that the boys are there for it.



Then there are the gifts, things left at their wagons. Goodness,why? Now, the gifts from Noya and the leather workers were much appreciated. The clothing was beautiful, well made and fit perfectly. But then again, she would expect nothing less from Noya. The covers for their wagons had been either replaced, or repaired, which took a great deal of worry off of her. She was the same way with Ba'atar as she had been with Tayco and Loch. Getting the wagons ready for the move was her responsibility. Theirs was to choose the beasts to pull them, and it had always worked in the past, and would work this time too.



There had been smaller gifts too. Pots, baskets, dried fruits, berries and meat. She saw that all of the extra meat was distributed to those in need. Women that had no one to hunt for them, the elders who had grown too old of body to hunt. This too, she considered as part of her duties. Especially the finding out of those that were in need, which took up a great deal of her time. And she also found that as she walked or rode through the wagons, she was stopped quite a bit by people that wanted her to say something to the Ubar about this, or to tell him about that. Many wanted him to intervene in petty squabbles, things of that nature. She handled as many as she could, and promised to speak to him on the others. It made her weary on some days.



Then there was the gift of the slave in the dung sack. Now what was this? Was this something else she would have to get accustomed to? It had made her head hurt. However, the girl seemed to have survived those first couple of days surrounded by dung, and having to listen to others talk about her. She had finally been cleaned up, pierced and branded, and declared a camp slave for now. That works. It seems that Only found her abandoned out on the plains during his hunt and brought her back. Since, at the time, he was an unnamed, unscarred warrior, he could not keep her, so gave her to the Ubar for now, and in essence to the people. Perhaps when he has earned his scars, he will ask to put her in his personal collar. But for now, she was a camp slave and under the tutelage of her and her girls. She claimed to not be afraid of hard work, but that was yet to be seen.


So many changes. And there were those that balked at change, just as a bosk bull will do at times, but eventually, they would have to learn to accept, or life would be more difficult. None of the changes were harmful, just different, and considered to be for the good of the people.


And that was what was most important, the good of the people.