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.
.
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.
.
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