It is Good to be Tuchuk

She had not slept all that well and had finally decided that tossing and turning was doing nothing more than making her body sore. Rising she had dressed for the day's chore, not in the usual leather skirt, but in a pair of leathers that she had not worn since before she was pregnant with Another and truthfully, they were a bit more snug than she was comfortable with, but she had hopes that in the wearing the grasp of the leather would relax. This she topped with a tunic with sleeves that fit close to her arms. She did not need extra fabric to get in the way of what she had to do today, then she sat on the edge of the platform and pulled on those favorite, well worn boots. The heavy braid was entwined around her head then pinned securely in place. Before she stepped out of the wagon she grabbed an old, flop brimmed leather hat from a peg and tucked her gloves into her belt.



Stepping out onto the platform her head automatically lifts to look at the sky that still held a myriad of stars that twinkled in the dark background of the infinite world they traveled in. Taking a deep breath of the air that held a dampness to it, she finally hopped from the platform and walked towards the fires. The coals were dwindling so she added more chips and soon had a roaring fire going. Going to the slave wagon she rousted the girls from their slumbers to come help her to fix a morning meal. Turning away she had to grin when she heard one of them whisper to juneau that the Mistress had gone mad, that it was still dark out.



Sitting near the fire sipping on that first precious mug of blackwine she was soon joined by the elder oralu that was as much a part of her life as breathing any more. When he crouched next to her, almost as if by magic, juneau appeared with his morning tea. Now, this was somewhat of a secret that they kept. Instead of starting his day with blackwine as so many did, he started it with a large mug of heavily sugared, strong tea. Some might think this odd for a warrior, but it was his preference and he had surely earned having what he preferred.



They sat there drinking and talking in low tones about the plans for the day when she realized another had joined them. Tug stood there, fully dressed and wide awake ready for the day. When did his back become so straight? Where was that insolent slouch that boys seemed to perfect when they were young? He lowered down and when twist brought him a mug of milk his eyes shot to her and he said one word. Blackwine. She will have to give the slave credit, her expression did not change one iota as she nodded and said......Yes Master. Now herself? Well she shot Rook a glance and got that almost imperceptible shake of his head and said nothing. However, her eldest son's face, or how he tried to keep his face straight at the first taste of the bitter brew, was priceless, but still she said nothing.



Now, her son has seen the bosk being branded before. As was their way, they did it twice a turning. It was done soon after they arrived at the southern grounds to brand all of the new calves, then again right before they left for the north to mark the calves that were born during their stay in the south, along with any yearlings that they may miss in the spring, and to mark any that they may have "procured" during the season. But his experience thus far with branding, had been like any other boys, a game of chasing the calves after they were branded, which for some reason held great appeal for the young.



As always, she learned much from Rook as he spoke to the boy, including him in the plans for the day. He actually talked to him as he probably would have talked to Ba'atar or any other warrior. It still tugged at her heart to see him walking the path of a man, had her wishes been known, he would still be tucked safely into his furs asleep beside his brothers. However, even though it pained her in many ways, she would not hinder these first steps that he was taking on the path of manhood. In fact, if any could see her aching heart, they would see pride there alongside the pain.



With their morning meal behind them, the trio walked towards the pens, side by side, as it probably should be. The very first rays of the Central Fire were beginning to chase the darkness away and to turn the sky from black to gray. Soon the brilliant rays would shoot from the nexus of that fiery orb to paint the sky with hues of red, orange, gold and pinks that she has yet to find the words to describe. It was just something that you had to experience, and no matter how many times she viewed it, the dawn always held her in awe with its' beauty.



Kailla were saddled and they rode out into the herds where the outriders were just starting to build the fires that would be used to heat the irons. Iron workers were already there sharpening blades that would be used to notch ears and to make the identifying cuts into the wattles.



Sleepy slaves were already lugging sacks of dung and food stuffs into the area. There would be hard work done, but there would also be time taken for eating, and an almost festive air to the proceedings. She felt that twinge of excitement flow through her, as it always did.



Watching her son go to talk to a group of out riders she had to smile. Today, was a good day to be Tuchuk.