Wise Words In a Safe Place

After she had managed to drag herself into the saddle, she passed out from the agony of her injuries. Slumped over the saddle she had no recourse to allow the kaiila to get her out of harms way. She was unaware of how carefully he stepped around the fissures that had appeared in the ground. She was unaware of how far he had to travel to avoid the chasms that seemed to drop off to infinity. She was unaware of the cuts he took to the taloned pads of his feet as he moved by instinct towards the two legged ones that he knew she needed.


Through that day, as he picked his way across the icy expanse of the plains, memories would surface from time to time in her head. She remembered the night that she and Fonce argued over the kaiila, and what he had said to her. Even in his disappointment of the kaiila maybe not being for him, he had told her that he felt that the animal was for her instead. He told her to watch him closely and maybe he would lead her. For a time she felt him close, almost as if in some way he was protecting her.


When they arrived back at the wagons, she became lucid enough to cry out in pain when she tumbled from the saddle into the gentle, waiting grasp of Tengfei. She was lucid enough to remember him carrying her into the warmth of a wagon.


Warm, she was getting warm then someone touched her side and she screamed out again in pain and slipped into that semi-lucid state that her mind and body had created to protect her. She was aware of others, of Tarra speaking softly to her, giving her strength to bear the pain. Telling her to find a calm, peaceful place, and she did.


It was the same place where she often goes when her mind is in need to calm and tranquility. Her eyes flutter open and the first thing she notices is the fire and the warmth that exudes from it. Then she would realize that her head lay in a lap, a very familiar lap, one that held and protected her when she was young.


Gentle fingers stroked her head, then that soft voice began to speak to her. "I have been waiting for you, daughter."


Closing her eyes again she whispers. "Am I dead?"


The soft laugh comes from her mother. "No, not dead, but you are badly injured."



Her brow furrows. "Am I going to die?"



For a time, the woman is quiet then speaks. "Do you wish to die?"



Tears begin to seep from the corners of her eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes I just get so weary, and I feel like everything I do is wrong."



The gentle hands urge her to sit up, and when she does her mother wraps her arms around her. "Now, tell me why you feel that way? I find it curious, because from watching you, you seem to be doing a fine job."



Leaning her head to that shoulder she speaks softly as she watches the fire, the flames dancing in colors she is not used to seeing. "I feel as if I am letting Ba'atar down, that I could do more to ease his burden, but I just don't know how to help him. Everyone seems angry at him, and I think that is just because they do not understand him as I do."



A kiss is placed to her temple. "Cana, he is different, he does things differently than maybe some others in his place did. People do not always understand that. But we watch him, and his heart is filled with love and concern for his people. He is trying to guide them back to the old ways, the ways that may be more difficult, but that will strengthen the Tribe. Some will always resist, and seek the simpler path."


Sitting up, she draws her knees up wrapping her arms around them. "Why does it have to be so difficult? Why can they just not see that he is trying, and they are not giving him a chance?



"Because they do not wish to see, and for varied reasons. Some simply wish to manipulate things for their own satisfaction and gain, and do not always look at what is good for everyone. And he has a way of seeming hard and unyielding, but that will change if they will give him the chance."


Hugs her legs tighter. "That is what I fear. I fear that they will not give him the chance and that I will lose him. If I lose him, I do not think I will wish to live."


The woman reaches to rub her back gently. "Listen to yourself. You have a job to do. You have children to raise and teach in the old ways. You must be there to protect them from those that will try to lead them astray. You must stay strong, for them, for him and for your people. Never lose sight of that."



She gets that stubborn set to her jaw that does not happen often. "If I lose Ba'atar, I do not want my children to be raised among them. I will take my sons and move back to the wagons of my family."



"And what of your daughters?"



Looks back to her mother as if she has lost her mind. "You have not been watching closely enough, I have no daughters, only sons."



The woman smiles at her. "You will someday, if you are patient, and they will need you."



She laughs. "Ba'atar with daughters? He will simply die if that happens. He thinks that he can only produce sons, that the Sky sees to that."



Her mother laughs with her. "Daughter, the Sky has many things in store for your man that he is not expecting. Just be patient and wait."



Her brow furrows again. "But what if he does not live to give me daughters? What then?" The sky seems to be getting lighter, and she begins to feel that pull to go back to her own world, and she knows that soon her mother will be leaving to return to hers.



The woman lifts to her feet and moves to the great white bird that transports her to these meetings. "Cana, have faith and trust. If they will just trust him, they willl survive and flourish. And help is coming."



She looks up. "Help?"



Her mother mounts the bird, reaching to stroke its' opalescent feathers. "Yes, the old one returns and she will seek out the woman child and train her. All will be well and the Tribe will survive and grow stronger if they will just trust and not be led astray. They must remember.......Tribe Above All. It is not about who seeks the most power. It is about the ones that keep the good of the Tribe in their hearts. Your man is one of those. Always walk his path with him, support and love him, and all will be well."



She stands, loathe to see her mother leave, and something comes to her memory. "Mother, tell Fonce thank you for watching over me, and that he is missed."



As the bird takes flight her mother looks at her. "You will have to tell him yourself someday, for he is not hear among us. Remember, trust. Never give up on anyone or anything."



She watches as the bird takes flight. "I love you so much, and miss you, but I will trust, for you have guided me wrong in the past." She watched as their shadow passed over the tre-moons, then felt that pull back to her own world take a firmer hold on her, drawing her back.

The World Falls Away

She hated it when he began to stir awake. They lay curled together like a couple of sleen pups underneath the layers of furs, and for the most part they were warm and comfortable. About the time that Ba'atar began to stir, so did Two. Rolling over, she reached into the cradle to dig him out from under his own blanket of furs and pulled him into hers, and began to nurse him. She was worried because either she was not making enough milk, or he was getting to where what she made was not satisfying him. The food rations they were on right now was probably affecting either of those situations. Kaeli had told her that she should be able to produce enough milk to satisfy him, but right now, it did not seem to be so. She would make sure today that she got her ration of verr milk and it would be given to him.


Ba'atar felt he was well enough to join the out riders in the herds. Whether this was the truth or not, she could not say, and she would not argue with him over it. It just was not worth it. After he left, she dressed Two warmly and took him to the boys wagon to be tended to by Ina for the day. She walked to where they had the kaiila herded together and cut Aponi's beast out from the rest. She had intended to send the salve to Aponi and let her tend to the animal, but had changed her mind. Crouched there beside him she rubbed the salve into his joints, wrapped them then threw a blanket over him. Leading him back to the wagons, she tethered him to a wagon, mixed up the herbal mixture with the paga and finally persuaded him to drink. Until they reached the Northern grounds, he would travel tethered to the wagon and would receive her attention each day until she had the chance to teach Aponi how to do it.


By the time they began to move, it was so bitter cold that you almost could not breath. She had never felt or seen anything like it. Rook came riding back and said that there were two older bosk that were down. She saddled up Ciegue and Lyric and told her girls to dress warmly, because they had meat to butcher before it froze. She rode Ciegue and led Lyric by the reins following Rook back to where the bosk were. The two girls rode on Lyric. On the return, one would have to ride with Rook and the other would have to ride with the meat that they would pack on the kaiila's back.


Stopping at the first bosk, it was already dead and had began to freeze. She and Rook worked quickly to skin and butcher the animal, saving every bit that they could, even the bones with their rich marrow. Her wind scarf was pulled so high she could barely see over the rim of it, and what little skin that was exposed burned from the frigid air and wind, and even in the gloves, her fingers began to ache and not want to move. After finishing the first animal, the rode to where the second old heifer lay panting in the snow, one of her legs broken, probably from her struggle to move through the high, icy drifts of snow. Rook was merciful when he put her down, and they began to work quickly. The line of wagons was on the move and they did not want to fall behind.


When they had salvaged all that they could, she had stood, hands on her lower back, stretching. They had given some less choice pieces to the three kaiila, simply because they did not want them attacking to get to the fresh kill. The kaiila were existing on smaller rations just like they were, but did not have the logic that it took to understand why. All they would know is that they hungered and there was meat. After they were fed, the remainder of the meat was distributed and tied down securely. Rook had taken juneau up on the saddle behind him, and kasra was to ride on the beast with the bulk of the meat. They readied to return to the serpentine line of wagons.


Never before had she been this cold. It was to the point she was almost ill from the aching of it, and she did not understand some of the groaning and cracking noises that seemed to grow more intense in nature, and more frequent. She had gathered the reins into her gloved fist, reached for the pommel of the saddle and had just lifted one booted foot to the stirrup, when the air was filled with the most horrid, cracking, roaring noise she had ever heard. Her foot dropped back to the ground, her hand moving to calm Ciegue who had danced slightly. She looked to see that Rook's animal had reared and juneau was barely able to hang on, and kasra had not fared so well. She went flying through the air as Lyric reared and bucked, and landed on the ground.


She was about to take a step to help the girl when another of those rumbles was heard and she could feel the earth shifting beneath her feet. Ciegue took a step back and suddenly there was no ground beneath her feet. The shelves of earth below the surface were shifting, cracking, rearranging themselves. She barely had time to grab the stirrup when the ground disappeared.


A searing pain went through her arm and shoulder as her entire weight, along with the weight of the additional clothing, came to rest on that one hand that gripped the stirrup in what amounted to a grip for her very life, and the supporting arm and shoulder for that hand. Her other hand was grasping for some sort of hold on something, but all it could find was icy ground. Gripping the stirrup tighter she moved her head very slowly to look around and see just exactly what kind of predicament she was in.


She was hanging from the stirrup, her legs flailing in the air trying to get a purchase on the wall of ice that dropped off beneath her. Some how, she was hanging over the edge of a deep, ice crevasse in the ice that seemed to drop off an eternity into darkness. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried not to focus on the pain in her arm and focused on getting her legs to quit moving, which only added pressure to her fragile grip on that saddle. For a moment, there was this fleeting thought……Rook will be here in a moment, he will save me. I am fine.


Opening her eyes she looked around, and her heart sank. Rook and the girls were standing on the other side of the crevasse, and would be no help. He yelled to her that he was sending for help, but she knew that her frozen fingers would not last much longer. This was her death, and her heart stopped for a moment realizing this. And in that moment, she saw the faces of her mate and their sons, and knew that she would never see them again.


She had closed her eyes and was summoning the courage to let go, to face her fate when she felt something tugging at her arm that was flailing for purchase on the icy ground. Suddenly the grip tightened and she managed to open her eyes and look in that direction.


Ciegue had that blind eyes turned towards her, but had managed to lower his head and grasp her free arm with his jaws. Thankfully she was well padded due to the cold, because once he satisfied himself that he had a good grip on her arm, he began to step back away from the abyss in the ice, pulling her hort by hort. As he backed away and pulled her, she was able to find purchase on the side of the ice and was able to help. With all of this happening, the pressure on her other arm decreased to the point that she was able to hold on, or maybe her fingers were just frozen into position.


Step by step, he backed up until she was able to get her body and legs up over the side of the wall of ice, and onto what she was only hoping was stable ground. Ciegue pulled until he deemed it safe then released the grip of his jaws on her arm, and she finally released the stirrup. When that arm hit the frozen ground, she let out a blood-curdling scream from the intensity of the pain in her shoulders. She was laying face down in the snow, struggling for air and lacking the strength to turn herself over. She felt the gentle nudging of the kaiila as he turned her onto her bad side, causing her to let out another scream.


He seemed to know what he was doing. Folding those long legs beneath himself he lowered to the ground beside her and nudged again. How she saw through the pain enough to have the presence of mind to grasp the pommel with her good hand, she would never know, but she did. With her injured arm tucked in close to her body, the tears of pain flowed from her eyes, freezing on her cheeks that were now exposed, she did manage to pull herself into the saddle with the good arm.

Slowly Ciegue lifted back up and began to move towards the herd, looking for a place where he could cross from where they were to where the others were, stepping carefully around the fissures that had suddenly formed in the ground. She was barely concious, when she heard a voice and a memory swam around her.


She and Fonce were standing in the kaiila pens discussing Ciegue. She was trying to press the kaiila on him, knowing that he wanted and needed him, but he refused. She heard his words from that day.....No, I do not think he is for me. I think he is for you........The words flow around her as she fights the pain then she heard the voice again..........Trust in him Cana, trust in his instincts.

And with that, she passed out from the pain, barely clinging to the back of the half-blind beast.

To Cast the Right Shadow

Having to ride in the wagon due to his injuries, had not put the man in a good mood. For a time, she wished that they had gone ahead and put the hammock up. Not that he would have probably laid in it, but it would have been there just the same.



Kaeli had check on him, catching a view of his behavior and just chuckled and hugged Cana on her way out of the wagon, and whispered in her ear that she wished her luck.



Very little was said between them during the day. For the most part he had slept, which was good. He needed the rest in order to heal. She did as she usually did when she rode in the wagon. Tended to her son, fed and entertained him, and tried to keep Ba'atar calm and warm. Extra furs were piled on him, and when the baby got sleepy she had tucked him into those furs as well. She would look up from time to time to find him watching her, but still little was said, other than his short one word answers to whether he wanted food or drink. Mostly he slept.



When they had made camp for the night, she had slipped out to get him some broth and a mug of warmed wine. Before she could even finish gathering it up, he came out of the wagon, fully dressed and worrying the arm that was splinted and bandaged. And being the bosk headed man that he was, he took his quiva out and cut the bandages off. She has said a harsh word to him, and he slapped her on the backside with the splints, got angry and stalked back to their wagon.



She followed with the broth and the wine, only to find him sitting leaned up against a wheel, trying to drag a fur up over him against the chill. He looked tired, haggard, and in need of some company, or maybe not? Whether he wanted it or not he got it.



Lowering beside him she gave him the wine which he took. He said he did not feel like arguing, so they didn't. They talked, something they did not get much time to do any more. He explained his feelings on the ring thing, and after hearing them, she understood. She promised to not make a decision like that again without speaking to him first, so basically, that was over.



She did voice the concern about her fear that she was a disappointment to him, which seemed to surprise him. He asked her if he was a bad mate. Now how do you answer that? She tried to answer it as simply and kindly as she could. She told him that she thought that he was just not accustomed to having a mate yet, and that she knew that she and the boys were not his main concern and she could deal with that. She just loved him so much, she hated to see how he struggled with things at times.



This was a man that had taken on a woman that had been mated twice, and who had two sons by warriors other than himself. And to his credit, he had never shown any partiality to his son over the others, and that just made her love and respect him more.



They came to an agreement that she would listen more, and that he would listen more to her, and think before speaking. To think about the impact his words and actions would have on her. She had shifted to sit beside him, holding a rolled up fur for him to brace the injured arm on. It had surprised her a little when he lifted his good arm, and used those calloused fingers to stroke her cheek so gently. It had made her smile, and maybe it have given her a little courage.



She asked if he ever regretted taking her as his mate. This question seemed to surprise him, but he did answer it. How could he regret any decision he had made. He had taken her as his, and saw her as the shadow he cast over others. This was something she would give thought to.



Their teasing sides came out as they spoke of his sons growing up to be just like him. She threatened to cut their little nut sacks off now before they got to that point, with a grin. And he had countered that he was going to miss her, also with a grin. He allowed that his sons would have his charm, and she said hopefully her sense to go along with it.



They were both tired, and she managed to get him up again and into the wagon. He was asleep almost as soon as his head lay on the furs. She took that opportunity to put some salve on his arm, and to wrap bandages around it to protect it from dirt and the cold. There was no splint, so maybe he would leave it bandaged.



Laying down on his good side, she had smiled when in his sleep he had reached for her, to draw her closer to him. Turning over, she lay her head on his shoulder and relaxed. She did not sleep immediately, instead she lay there thinking.



His shadow, the one he cast over the people. Thinking on this, an understanding came to her. He had great expectations of her, and she would work harder to live up to those expectations. If she was to be his shadow, she had to put more thought and consideration into what she said or did, for she was his representative when he was not there. With this on her mind, she finally slept, curled up against him, content and happy.

A Time to Sleep and to Heal

Working together they had managed to get his exhausted, wounded body up the steps and into the wagon. He stumbled to the pile of furs and literally dropped down, throwing his good arm over his eyes, and probably would have slept that way had it not ben for her.



Tugging his boots off her nose wrinkled at the odor of animal dung, mud and blood. Sitting them beside the flaps, she managed to get his leathers off. They had already taken his vest off and Kaeli had sliced through his tunic to get to his wounds. Taking the bloodied leathers and boots, she stepped out onto the platform and freezing cold or not, there was the ever faithful kasra, rolled up in a fur on the steps. She handed the clothing off to her, told to clean them, and to go to the fire, look for his vest and get it and if it was still serviceable to lean it too.



Stepping back inside, she moved to the kettle that was kept simmering on the brazier and poured the water from it into a basin, tempered it with cool, grabbed some reps and soap and moved back to his sleeping form. Carefully she bathed him, removing all of the blood and gore from him, shedding quiet tears as she did so. He would not understand her tears, and would probably think them weak, but they were still shed.



Death among them was a daily occurrence and each time he stepped from the wagons there was a part of her that feared that she would never see him again. If that nugget of fear, that she keeps pushed down deep inside is a weakness, then she has it. This is journey makes almost twenty-eight seasons of snow for her, and in that short life, she has stood by the pyres of both parents, many friends, and two mates that she loved deeply. She knows loss, but that does not mean she must embrace it.



Gently she cleansed him with water and tears. He did rouse enough to ask for water,which she gave him in small sips. She also encouraged him to drink a bit more of the wine, which he did. He tried to reach for her with the injured arm, let out a growl of pain and frustration as he let it fall back to the furs. Giving him another sip of the wine, she sat the cup down and crawled into the furs beside him.



Tonight, their positions were reversed a little. She did not lay in those strong protective arms, head on his chest as they usually slept. Tonight, she slipped her arm beneath his head and he rolled over to lay his head on her breast, and laying the injured arm across her body for support and slept. Pulling the furs up over both of them, she shifted her head from time to time to kiss the top of his head, while her fingers gently rubbed on his shoulder.



This night, in the privacy of their wagon, he allowed himself to be embraced in the protective circle of her arms. In a small way, she was offering him not only protection, but strength to draw from. Just recently she had been told that the most dangerous place on Gor was that distance between a mother, and what she perceived as a threat to her child. That is also true of a Tuchuk woman and the man she loves. Tonight that place was not only dangerous, but it encompassed the entire world. Right now, she would fight a larl to keep this man safe, protected, and to give him the time to heal.



They lay like this for most of the night, him sleeping the sleep of the just, and her unable to sleep, having this almost irrational fear that if she slept, something would happen to him. For ahns, she watched the flickering shadows cast by the candles until they burned down. Finally her eyes closed and she too slept.

To the Victors Go the Spoils, and the Wounds.

She had finally curled up in the furs with the baby to get warm. She did not sleep, she was too tense to sleep or rest. Her mind just would not turn off, it was a whir of images, and none of them good. When she heard the drums, she sat straight up, and fear wrapped it's fist around her heart.



The Ubar was injured. It must be grave for them to be bringing him back from the battle. She put the baby into his cradle, covered him tightly and called for kasra to come sit with him. Restricted to her wagons or not, she had to know what was going on.



Stepping from the wagon, she was just in time to see him fall from Tone, a Turian arrow imbedded deep in his chest, and enough blood from other wounds to turn her stomach. Without even thinking she pushed past the other wounded warriors and their beasts to run to him, and slid to her knees beside, not knowing what to do.


In that moment, a memory hit her, that almost froze her on the spot. The memory of leaning over Loch, in this same way, trying to talk to him as he drew his last breath. She had to draw deep inside her to find the strength to push it away and to concentrate on the present.



As was his way, he thought that all he needed was to rub a little dirt into his wounds, and everything would be fine. It too her and Kaeli both to push the deadly arrow through his body, then Kaeli set to work stitching him up. It was fortunate for him that he passed our, or became semi-conscious, because it took many stitches to repair not only the wound in his chest, but he one to his arm. He was not happy when he came to and found that his arm was splinted, stitched and immobilized. Right now she did not care if he was happy or not, he was going to lie still, take sips of the wine she offered and give his body a chance to calm down and start the healing process. One, with no dirt involved.


More and more injured began to trickle in. Kaeli was busy with Jai, tending to some very grievous wounds that he had. It pained her to see so many injured, but that was the way of battle. Ba'atar passed out again, and she tried to help Kaeli as much as she could. But her help ended up basically being a wrestling match with Sef over a bota of paga. Damnable, stubborn man.


As Ba'atar came to again, she moved back to him with the bota of wine, poured some into a cup to allow him to drink. He wanted to sit, which was probably not the best thing for him to do, but she went ahead and positioned herself behind him, to be his support so that he could hear the reports of his men as they arrived. All of the anger, frustration and doubt are set aside as she turns her focus to making him comfortable.


When the drums began to sound the victory of their men, he even smiled. Reports began to come in along with more injured. The Tuchuk had prevailed, but that did not surprise her. The Sky loves them, remember? The victors returned, each having his own tale to tell of the raid, and each giving credit to the one that fought at his side. It made her proud to watch them. Evidently they had acquitted themselves well against the Turian foes.


Finally, he did feel the need to rest and she lifted to try and support him so that he could walk, in a way that did not look as if she was supporting him. It was going to be a long night.

The Waiting

Her second day of confinement to the wagon, had drug on and on and on. She began to hear talk from those that either rode or walked past her wagon, free and slave alike. They were nearing Turia, and there was to be a raid. Hearing all of this bothered her. From what she was hearing, it was to be soon.



Finally, she had stepped out onto the icy platform of the moving wagon, shivering at how cold it had become. She looked over to Rook, who rode near and told him that she had tea on the brazier inside her wagon, if he was interested in warming up.



The elder oralu drew his kaiila near and stepped onto the platform and into the wagon. She served him the small cups of tea, as she has many times, and began to question him. He said it was no secret and he told her what she wanted to know. Yes, there was to be a raid on Turia this night, in fact, Ba'atar had taken some men out the previous night to scout the city, to test it's outer defenses. And it had not been a quiet venture, for they had left signs they had been there by burning peasant huts and grasses near the place. So yes, there was to be a raid, but the Turians would be waiting for them.



When he finished his tea and was sufficiently warmed, he had stepped out and returned to his kaiila. For a lon time, she just sat here thinking on all of this. Of what it might mean. She had been expecting it. There was nothing that a Tuchuk warrior enjoyed more, than killing a Turian. It was just in their blood. She had seen the results of many raids on the gated city in her lifetime. Some successful, some not quite so much. But it was just a part of life.



It came to her, that if Ba'atar was riding out tonight, to maybe die, that he would come to see her and his sons. She had heated water in the brazier and cleaned herself and the baby up as best she could. She had drawn juneau in to re-braid her hair. All that long day, she waited to hear the pace of Tone drawing closer, ears listening for his boots as they jumped from the beast onto the platform. The anticipation was agonizing.


But, no Ba'atar


When she heard the call to stop the wagons for the night, she thought now. He will come now. She could hear the activity of the preparations for the raid, and had ever stuck her head out into the frigid to watch. There was just such an air of excitement and anticipation, the warriors teasing and joking about who would nourish the grass with the most Turian blood.


But, no Ba'atar


She was standing out on the platform, wrapped in a fur when they gathered and rode away. Her heart truly sank, and the tears she shed froze on her cheeks. She watched as other warriors leaned from their saddles to give what might be final kisses to mates and children.



Ba'atar did not even look in her direction, and she did not even know if he had stopped to see his sons before taking off on a venture that might cost him his life. How many times can one heart break?


After the raiding party left, the camp was quiet. As always, there were plenty of warriors left to guard the herds and the wagons, but there was no banter, no chit-chat. The occasional cry of a child somewhere might be heard, the lowing of the bosk, and occasional bleat from the verr herd.


She did the only thing she could do. She fed and tended to her infant son, and waited as Tuchuk women have waited since the beginning of time. Huddled near the fire in the brazier, rocking her son, she barely looked up to nod when kasra brought her in food and warm milk. She simply waited.


Her heart was so fully of emotions, that she just could not seem to sort them out. Anger, confusion, doubt, frustration, fear, sadness, love.......all of them there so entwined with one another that they became almost a thriving monster, eating away at her heart and soul.


And she waited. Filled with fear, she waited.
.

Grounded, and Not In a Good Way

Well prairie fire and damnation!


She had been sent to her wagon like a child that did not know how to behave before company, all over something that none of them understood.


When she had first arrived at these fires all those seasons ago, on her very first night, she had been told that as a single woman, she could not stay at the fires unless she had her nose ring. In fact, it had been Dash, the Ubara at the time that had brought the subject up, and she was pierced that very first night by Silken and Tarra. That is just the way it was.


She had seen others that received their nose rings before becoming tribe. Tzuri and Sakmeta had, long before they were tribe. That is why, she had brought up the subject of Destiny, Askota and Aponi needing to have theirs placed. It was decided that Tarra and Kaeli would do the honors.


A young woman's nose ring is basically a rite of passage for her, and just as important as a warrior receiving his first scar. It signifies that she is no longer a girl, but a woman of the age to mate. It is just something that the female elders of the Tribe take care of. It is something between women.


Wrong.


They were in the process of placing Aponi's ring, when Ba'atar walked up, and basically threw a fit. Why? The Sky only knows. He said they had robbed him of being able to bestow that honor on her

What?

When, in the name of the Sky, did a man get into the middle of a female ceremony?


Guess it is since Ba'atar became Ubar, and has this impression that he has to control everyone and everything around him. Evidently, you do not think for yourself, you do not eat, breathe or sleep without his express permission. Ok, got it, we all belong to you.


One of the things that was most upsetting about it, is that he could not just calmly discuss it, he felt the need to crush them all under his boot heel, make some sort of big commotion about it lowering the value of her bride price, if she became Tribe.


Huh?


Tengfei could not even court her, much less speak of a bride price for her until that tiny ring of gold was placed, tribe or not. Had all of their traditions just flown out over the plains at the whim of a new Ubar?


Guess so.


They all had to apologize to Tenfei, which they did, not truly understanding exactly why. In fact, he did not fully understand either, but he graciously accepted their apologies. Sky love him


That is when it got worse for her. That is when she was sent to her wagon like an unruly child. The verr's ass. She went, without a word, because she would not argue with him in front of their people. She has too much respect for him to do that, and dishonor both of them.


Evidently that was a path that she walks alone, for it does not bother him one iota to disrespect and dishonor the woman that he supposedly loves. It does not bother him one bit to shame her before their people.

Nor did it bother him that she was a nursing mother, had not eaten for most of the day due to the move, and was sent away. Basically, sent to bed without her supper. And what does that do for their son? She was fortunate enough to make enough milk for him to get through the night.

He did not return to their wagon that night, all the next day, or the next night. All of this over something such as this? Was she supposed to fall to her knees and beg for his forgiveness? Ahhh, not happening. She had done nothing that deserved this kind of treatment.

Basically, what he has done, is send the message out to their people, that she is too stupid to make any kind of decision, to think for herself. The message that she is nothing more to him than a vessel to spill his seed into, to produce his all important sons. She is not smart enough to stand by his side, to have her own thoughts, to share his life with him.

She thinks the people know differently. The thing that saddens her most, is that by tightening his fist on them, he might lose them, and that would be sad. He has been good for the tribe, she does not doubt his love for his people, it is just his methods that are questionable sometimes.


Right now he is deep into his……MINE! mentality, and maybe forgetting……..Tribe Above All. The good of the All, not the one.

Just Boots

She had dropped down into her furs, not understanding why she was so tired but she was. She had almost dozed off when her eyes flew open. "Skies, the boots" She pulled up from the furs, got dressed and went out to rouse juneau to help her. They searched the storage wagons until she found the trove of out of season clothing, things that the boys had either grown out of, or had not grown into yet. Digging through all of this, she finally found them, the boots.

Holding her's up, she had to smile. They were so old, and so worn that her toes had rubbed the leather thin in some places, and the soles no longer protected against the rain when it came, but she just could not part with them. These boot were special to her. They carried her mother for many pasang, and after her death, she had taken them, stored them away until they fit her feet.

She has walked many a step in these boots. These were the boots she had worn on the migration, when Tayco had become angry with her over the birthing of Luck, and chained her to Ephrim's wagon, making her walk with the slave. For over a full hand, she had walked in these boots, her chin lifted high in defiance. These were the boots she had been wearing when Fonce had lifted his lance to slay the pregnant mare, and she had stepped between him and that lance. These were the boots she had worn when she had stood by the pyre of Tayco. The ones that had shod her feet as she walked the confines of her wagon, singing softy to One when he could not sleep.

Yes, these boots meant much to her. Lifting them to her face, she can smell the dung, the dirt, the sweat that were as much a part of the old worn boots as the leather.

The pair of Ba'atar's that she finally found, were were just as worn, and down at the heels. She sat for a time wondering what tales they could tell if they could talk? Was he wearing these when he earned his first scar? How many nights on patrol had he worn these boots? Even they held his scent to them, just as much as the held the scent of the dusty plains. Funny thing about a good pair of boots, even when they are worn, they are still much like an old friend.

Giving the boots to juneau, she instructed her to go to the leather worker's wagons, then find the wagon of StormHawk . To not just leave them on the platform, but to wait until the woman was there. Even if she was asleep, sleep there until she wakened. Give her the boots, but make sure the woman understood that they were to be returned when she finished with them. The girl looked at her oddly, but she would never disobey this woman, not ever, so she scooted off like something was chasing her. Standing there she laughed. She had no idea that girl was that fast.

An Amazing Night

While she was seeing to the final details of Tengfei's wagon, the pains had started. Nothing regular, just the pains in her back and occasionally in her middle. She knew the time grew closer. Women just know these things. Kaeli had bought her some extra time with the little blue bottles, but the Sky and her baby had deemed that the time was upon her.


What remained now was the waiting, and she did not want to wait alone so she had gone to the fires and tried to get as comfortable as she could. Conversation flowed around her, the voices caressing her like an old, comfortable blanket. The only irritation was the sleen at the fires. She understood Jai wishing to give it to Tengfei, but at the fires? As usual there was talk about the prospects, what was expected of them, what they had learned. Would they make tribe?


Time grew short. The move was almost here and there were several different thoughts on prospects. Those that came from the back wagons, they would make the move, whether with the first wagon group or the back wagon group. They were tribe, it was simply a matter of what group of wagons they traveled with.


It was those that came from outside the tribe that presented a problem. When you have a kaiila that carries your burdens, you do not make him carry items that are not absolutely necessary. Prospects are much the same way. The trip was difficult, many did not survive it, why waste food, clothing and effort to transport someone all the way north, that was not going to make Tribe, that quite possibly would be killed. Decisions would be made before the move, most probably. For some, it might be the simple matter of whether they would ride in the wagons or on kaiila back on the trail, or whether they would be walking with the slaves. She realizes that some just don't get this yet, but they had better get a clue soon, for time drew short.


The pains grew stronger and she would shift from time to time to try and find some sort of comfort. When Ba'atar arrived and sat beside her, she relaxed and allowed for the Sky and her baby to have their moment. He had missed the birth of his first son, and there was this stubbornness in her, that was not going to allow him to miss the birth of this child.


She sat there massaging her belly, listening to them discuss her a bit like she was not there, talking about what she could or could not do, when her water broke. There was no time to get her to their wagon, it was going to happen right there. Had she not been in the middle of a contraction, she would probably have laughed to see Ba'atar jump up at the rush of fluid that soaked his leathers, unknowing of what it meant.

To her, the birth of each of her sons' has been a beautiful event, and this one was no different, but there was an added beauty. His father was there to pull him from her loins, to welcome him into the world. She will always remember the look of wonder on his face and the tears of love, joy and pride that wet his cheeks, or the gentleness in how he held him.
Her own heart swelled with love and pride. To her there was just something very fitting about the first child born to them after Ba'atar had become Ubar being born at he fires, surrounded by family, by their people. There was a justness to it that filled her heart.

Ba'atar rode our to introduce their son to the Sky. This was a moment for father and child. Would she have liked to have been there? Of course she would have, but she also knew that she had no place there.

Later that night she lay in that circle of his arms, her head on his shoulder, and watched the baby that lay on his chest rise and fall with his breath. An almost overwhelming feeling of peace and contentment flowed through her. His words of love were written on her heart by the look in his eyes. She was his, he loved her and all was right.

A First Wagon

There was just this irritation in her that she could not do everything herself, but she had became a rather hard task mistress on the slave to make sure things were done to her specifications.


Among the first fires, when a man gets his first scar he is given a wagon by the Ubar. and his first team of bosk to pull it. Up until that first scar, he can own nothing but his weapons and at the most,two kaiila. He cannot court a woman. He can do nothing until he has shown that he is deserving by getting his first scar.


Her duty today was to get a wagon ready for Tengfei. And she did not consider it a duty so much as a pleasure. Perhaps that is why she was so adamant on it being done in a certain way. This could possibly be the wagon he brought his mate home to someday. This wagon might be where his first son is born. With the Sky smiling on him, this wagon would be the first of many.


The wagon was chosen, and Rook was sent to choose the eight bosk that would pull it. Going through the supply wagons, she chose items to go inside, starting with a bundle of soft, warm furs for the man to sleep on. She even found some serviceable chest to go inside for him to store his clothing and personal items in.


There were cooking pots, eating and drinking bowls, utensils, and a small store of staples put into the boxes on the sides of the wagon. Sartana flour, sugar, salt, dried meats and seasonings. She sent juneau back to their wagons for a couple of jars of honey, and a starter for bread that would be kept in a small crock. This was all placed in the food box along with everything else. She had no idea if the man could cook or not, but she had a feeling that he would be able to convince someone to cook for him. One box was left empty for the tools of his trade or weapons to be stored in.


When Rook returned with the bosk, she walked around them nodding her head. There were two bulls and six heifers, a very nice start for his herd. She was pleased and the old Oralu knew it. He laughed and told her that it has been many, many seasons of snow since he got his first wagon and team, but he was not so old that he could not remember the importance of it.


Checking everything once more, she was finally satisfied that the wagon was ready, and all that was left to do, would be for Ba'atar to present it to him.


Walking back to her wagons, her hands rubbed her back, brow furrowing at the twinges she had there that were growing stronger, and increasing in number. Soon, very soon.

To Become a Man

There are some nights that are just better than others, some that would linger in your memory for a long time. And a night when you saw a warrior get his name and his first command, would have to be one of those that lingered.


When the First son of Jai had first found his way home, she had found herself liking him very much. He seemed intent on finding his place with them, and had worked very hard in learning their ways. Jai had commented in the beginning that the young man was not just his first son, he was his only son. Well, this stuck with her, and she had taken to calling him Only.


Well, Only has acquitted himself quite well. Given a quest by Ba'atar to go and search out the rogue Kassar that kept inserting themselves onto Tuchuk lands, he had done very well. He had killed many, including their leader, bringing back the man's daughter as a captive. He was to be rewarded for this by receiving his first scar. The Courage Scar. The most important of scars. And a man cannot get a scar without a name.


It had started out as a normal night of food, drink and teasing by the fires, but it became something much more special. Sitting there nestled into Ba'atar's side, she was not surprise to hear him ask Jai if he had settled on a name for his first son. He had. Ba'atar then asked if he intended to share it with us.


First Son of Jai, would be called Tengfei Tetsuo. Now to her, he would probably always be Only, but the importance of him receiving his name was not lost upon her, and there was no way that she could have been as proud as Jai was, but she was proud of the young man all the same.


There was much celebrating, as it was not every night that a man was named, that he would receive his first scar, but that was not the end of the accolades that were laid upon the young man that night. Ba'atar also gave him his first command. Command of an Or. The men had already been chosen. She thought that Jai was going to literally burst his leathers with pride, not to mention Only, or Tengfei.


It was a wonderful night. A night where it was good to be Tuchuk.


But, there were more small surprises to be had from the man she sat beside. With no build up, no fanfare, no easing into it, he had asked Jai what kind of bride price he intended to offer for Kaeli. Was that blackwine that spewed from the woman's lips? You could tell that this was not something that she was expecting to happen this night. However, Cana knew that it would be coming along sooner or later if the woman made Tribe, so she was not quite to shocked.


The dickering began. Ba'atar finally told Jai, that he would be making his decision within the next two hands on her fate. If she made Tribe, then Jai would have to come up with a suitable bride price for her, if she did not make tribe, and ended up in a collar, then she would be given to Jai. Did the woman just pale? Maybe so, just a little.


In Ba'atar's eyes, this was a win, win situation. However the leaf fell, the tribe would be enriched in some way. Either with a free woman that would produce many fine sons for the Iron Master, or a slave that would also give wealth by her service to the people. Only a man could justify such.


The only pall that cast over the evening came from Ayguili. In that strange, rasping voice of his, he inquired about the young leather worker prospect, Aponi. He told Ba'atar that if she did not make tribe, and was put in a collar that he would make an offer on her to be his slave. Ok, there is no doubt whatsoever that Aponi paled at that revelation. Close your mouth woman, you look a bit addled sitting there with your jaw agape.


Ayguili is an odd one. She had met him a few times at the firest of Ba'atar's parents. He was not the sociable type, which was actually odd for a Tuchuk. The Tuchuk may be very leery and standoffish towards strangers, but among themselves they tend to be very gregarious and outgoing. There was none of that in the man.


But probably the thing about him that gives her the most worry stems from the night that Polunu and Sakmeta were killed. When he stepped forward, there was no hesitation, not an ihn. The way he dispatched them both, was emotionless and businesslike, and for some reason that bothers her. Perhaps it was his eyes.



There was nothing in them. He did his duty, stepped back, wiped his quiva then took out a piece of jerky and sliced off some with the same knife that had just taken two lives and began to eat. It did not matter that they were lives that deserved to be taken, there was just a coldness in him that gave her pause.

Making of a Memory

It was not often that she took time to spend just on herself, but after the past few days and nights, she felt she deserved it. It took both girls to help her lower down into the tub of scented water in the bath wagon. Sinking down lower and lower, her eyes closed and she let the water soak the aches from her body, and the vapors from the oils to soothe her psyche. After she had soaked, the girls scrubbed her body with herbs mixed into salt, then washed and rinsed the mass of curly hair. Again, the cautiously helped her from the tub, dried her off and oiled her body. She felt absolutely decadent. This was much better than a quick was in the cold waters of the stream or in her wagon. She dressed in one of her older, softer leather dresses that she wore when she was with child, and kasra helped to slip boots on her swollen feet. It was juneau who was given the task to brush out her hair and try to entice and tame it into a single braid that hung down her back. Stepping out of the bath wagon, she felt renewed and refreshed in many ways.

Most of the day was spent with her sons, just enjoying her time watching them play. One was growing so fast and becoming a bit more than a child, Another was not all that far behind him, full of energy and questions. Also had finally mastered the task of waking, which put him right into the thick of things. Just watching them, re-enforced what she had come to know. This was her life, her task within the Tribe. Part of her destiny was to raise strong, fine children that would carry her people into history.

Late in the day she had made her way to the main fires and with the help of Rook managed to lower down and get more or less comfortable. The conversations that flowed around her brought happiness to her heart. Prospects were still trying, answering questions, making their impressions. Kaeli showed concern for her, and began to give her a list of rules that she would have to comply to, backed up by the threat of more of that bitter liquid from the blue bottle.

When she realized that he was there, watching from a lean on a wagon, there was this part of her that wanted to be able to jump up and run to him, throw her arms around him and cover his face with kisses. But there was this other part, aside from the fact she was in no condition to jump and run anywhere, that was unsure, hurt and maybe even a little angry. He had not even come to see about her, and that hurt and confused her. She had greeted along with everyone else, and maybe just a little bit cooler than usual, unsure of where she stood at the moment.

One thing about the man, he never ceased to amaze and confuse her. Coming to sit beside her, a hand moved to caress her middle, a kiss was placed to her temple then her cheek and he ask. "How are you?" Not….how is my son, or are you taking care of my son, but "How are you?" This was a first, and looking into his eyes, she realized he was truly asking about her well-being. She had told him she was fine, giving him that smile that was reserved for only him.

Then came the shock. He asked if she had eaten, and she said only broth and he had gotten up and gone to get dinner for them. He did not ask a prospect, he did not holler out for a slave, he had gone and gotten it with his own two hands. It took a few ihn for her jaw to close, then she had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.


Now you have to realize, Ba'atar is not a man that does things for himself. He has never had to. There was his mother, slaves and a mate to take care of those things, right? Lips pressed together to hold in laughter as he was heard crashing around in the supply wagon, looking for plates or bowls. Then when other vessels and utensils began to fly out of the flap as he tossed the ones that he did not want away, she could not hold it in any longer, and she was not the only one.

They did manage to regain control of themselves before he stepped back out of the wagon. They had even managed not to guffaw out loud when he reached to take the roast off of the spit with his bare hand, burning his fingertips. He was trying, and that endeared him to her.

When he returned and held the plate down to her, there was pride in his manner, which she also found endearing. There was that look of…….Look Woman, I did this for you……..And she could not be angry at him. Her thoughts went back to her mother's words in the dream. He loves her, but does not always know how to show it in ways that she understands or wants.

And, he did not end with that one surprise. Sitting there side by side, they ate. The banter regained its' momentum, conversations flowed around them, and he leaned close to her and spoke in a low tone. "I do care about you." He could have shouted if from the top of a mountain, and it would not have had the same impact as those five simple, softly spoken words had on her at that instant.

They will have their moments, probably many more arguments, but there is a depth of love there that will sustain them, and they both will grow and learn what the needs of the other are. The path will not be easy, but she realizes she must have patience, and maybe even guide him with a nudge from time to time. But she does love him, deeply.

She will remember this night always, all be cause of a simple act on his part. For once, he put her needs ahead of his, even if it was for only a brief time, he did it. When she is an old woman, she will be able to close her eyes and see the dishes come rolling out of the servery wagon. She will see him singe his fingertips on the hot roast. But mostly what she will remember in those days many season from now, is the look of pride and love that he had in his eyes when he handed her the plate. It is burned in her memory forever.

And she will have another memento of that night. The next day when the slaves were trying to set to right the damage that was done in the storage wagon, kasra had gathered up the shards of pottery that had been broken. Showing them to her Mistress with a quiet giggle, she had reached into the basket and take the remains of a broken bowl and hid it away among those treasures that she keeps.

If the Sky blesses her, someday she will have a daughter and will be able to tell her about the night her father showed his love, by getting her mother a simple meal.