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.
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.
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