They had finally wound their way back to that much used trail back to the southern grasses. Each day she began to recognize familiar landmarks, the way a stream meandered, the roll of small hills and shallow valleys, how the Central Fire came up in the morning and set in the evening. It was just that feel of something well known that lifted her heart and soul. As she began watching these familiar places pass there was an anticipation in her of one special place, that probably meant absolutely nothing to anyone but her. She knew that it was close, very close.
In the gray light of the early morning she had dressed and slipped out of her wagons, needing to be to that place that she knew was near before the herds and wagons had a chance to defile its' simple beauty. It was not unusual to see her walking towards where the kaiila were kept early of a morning. And she saddled her favored beast, just as she did most mornings, but instead of taking him back to the wagon, tethering him to he wheel until everyone else was up, she quietly rode through the lane of wagons and out onto the prairie where the lights were just starting to turn the horizon into a palette of gold, pinks, reds and purples. It was breathtaking, and never ceased to make her pause and simply soak in the beauty of it. It always make her feel very small, but then again, a part of something that was immense and without boundary.
It took little guidance with her hand on the reins to urge Ciegue to pick his way delicately over the grass that was still so wet with morning dew that the blades seemed to be lined with jewels that caught the rays and reflected them back. The farther she rode, she began to hear the silence. There were no sounds of people getting up to start their day. No sounds of the bosk being backed into the traces where they would pull all day to move the wagons along. There were no sounds from the massive herd milling around, looking for grass waiting to be prodded to move out onto the grasses that lay before them.
There was only the sound of the land. She swore that it was a living thing and that she could hear it breathing, inhaling and exhaling the life that was so much a part of it. And occasional sweet song of birds interrupted the song of the earth, accompanied by the gentle winds that caressed the grasses and added their notes to the melody. Already the song of the plains was being formed in her head, one that she would soon put her fingers to, to hear the symphony float from her flute.
Any feelings of sadness, loneliness, or uncertainty took flight with a covey of grouse that fluttered from the grasses to take flight into the morning air. Right now, she felt alive, content and a part of the plains around her. A daughter of the Sky, a sister to the land, a part of all that was around her.
She knew she was being followed. She knew who followed her, and had expected it, but she did not turn back. She was on a personal quest of her own. One that held the same importance to her as any would hold for anyone, whether it be warrior, beast or otherwise. She was drawn to where she was going just as certainly as the birds were drawn to flock either southward or northward at the changing of the seasons.
Cieque picked his way up a small, grassy rise in the land and when they topped it, she stopped him and smiled. The vista that lay before her truly did make her heart sing. In a way, it restored faith in her. Stretched out before her was that field of blue flowers that spoke to her so loudly. Their delicate heads bobbing gently in the morning breeze. Although in one way she was loathe to close her eyes, but she did and sat here and inhaled the sweet, heady scent that drifted from the blossoms. She cannot ever remember a sweeter more seductive aroma.
Sliding from the saddle, the reins were dropped as she took those first slow steps to tread carefully among the flowers. They did not grow that high, just reaching the tops of her worn old boots, the blooms tickling the flesh there, but they were thick, growing close together. After walking, led only by her nose she finally stopped and lowered to the ground, opening her eyes and reaching out to allow her fingers to just barely caress along the almost velvety texture of one stalk of blossoms. As always she was amazed and entranced by the shades of blue that she saw, it was like no other that she knew, and most of the blossoms had green and white tips. Almost as if they were so perfect, that the sky gave them that one flaw, to keep them humble.
She had no idea how long she had sat there just soaking in the beauty of the field of flowers, allowing her memory to drift over conversations about them, of promises made, that have yet to be fulfilled. When the elder warrior crouched beside her, it did not surprise her. Her voice was gentle when she spoke to him.
"They give me a sort of faith. They look so delicate, but they are so strong. Each year they come back in this same place, in this same field with a beauty and an almost dignity that makes me have faith in the cycle of life on these plains. For however harsh they can be, they still allow such beauty to exist upon them in perfect harmony, season after season after season. They are always here every spring, almost as faithful as knowing The Central Fire will light the sky during the day, and the tre-moons at night."
For a long time the man said nothing. He simply looked out over the flowers soaking in their beauty. When he finally spoke, his words were simple and gave her much to think upon.
"There are people that are the same way, delicate, beautiful but strong of heart and character. They never change and are always as predictable, faithful and as loyal as these blooms." Finally he stood and held his hand down to her. "Come, we need to return."
She did not argue, however she did pick some of the delicate blossoms and carried them back to the kaiila where she carefully tucked them into her pack, the blooms spilling over the edge to dance in the breeze. Not too many, only a few so that she could enjoy the aroma and fragrance for just a tiny bit longer. Later that night, she would tuck one blossom behind one ear. She was not one to wear adornments all that often, but tonight she would, and it would be for no one other than herself.
In the gray light of the early morning she had dressed and slipped out of her wagons, needing to be to that place that she knew was near before the herds and wagons had a chance to defile its' simple beauty. It was not unusual to see her walking towards where the kaiila were kept early of a morning. And she saddled her favored beast, just as she did most mornings, but instead of taking him back to the wagon, tethering him to he wheel until everyone else was up, she quietly rode through the lane of wagons and out onto the prairie where the lights were just starting to turn the horizon into a palette of gold, pinks, reds and purples. It was breathtaking, and never ceased to make her pause and simply soak in the beauty of it. It always make her feel very small, but then again, a part of something that was immense and without boundary.
It took little guidance with her hand on the reins to urge Ciegue to pick his way delicately over the grass that was still so wet with morning dew that the blades seemed to be lined with jewels that caught the rays and reflected them back. The farther she rode, she began to hear the silence. There were no sounds of people getting up to start their day. No sounds of the bosk being backed into the traces where they would pull all day to move the wagons along. There were no sounds from the massive herd milling around, looking for grass waiting to be prodded to move out onto the grasses that lay before them.
There was only the sound of the land. She swore that it was a living thing and that she could hear it breathing, inhaling and exhaling the life that was so much a part of it. And occasional sweet song of birds interrupted the song of the earth, accompanied by the gentle winds that caressed the grasses and added their notes to the melody. Already the song of the plains was being formed in her head, one that she would soon put her fingers to, to hear the symphony float from her flute.
Any feelings of sadness, loneliness, or uncertainty took flight with a covey of grouse that fluttered from the grasses to take flight into the morning air. Right now, she felt alive, content and a part of the plains around her. A daughter of the Sky, a sister to the land, a part of all that was around her.
She knew she was being followed. She knew who followed her, and had expected it, but she did not turn back. She was on a personal quest of her own. One that held the same importance to her as any would hold for anyone, whether it be warrior, beast or otherwise. She was drawn to where she was going just as certainly as the birds were drawn to flock either southward or northward at the changing of the seasons.
Cieque picked his way up a small, grassy rise in the land and when they topped it, she stopped him and smiled. The vista that lay before her truly did make her heart sing. In a way, it restored faith in her. Stretched out before her was that field of blue flowers that spoke to her so loudly. Their delicate heads bobbing gently in the morning breeze. Although in one way she was loathe to close her eyes, but she did and sat here and inhaled the sweet, heady scent that drifted from the blossoms. She cannot ever remember a sweeter more seductive aroma.
Sliding from the saddle, the reins were dropped as she took those first slow steps to tread carefully among the flowers. They did not grow that high, just reaching the tops of her worn old boots, the blooms tickling the flesh there, but they were thick, growing close together. After walking, led only by her nose she finally stopped and lowered to the ground, opening her eyes and reaching out to allow her fingers to just barely caress along the almost velvety texture of one stalk of blossoms. As always she was amazed and entranced by the shades of blue that she saw, it was like no other that she knew, and most of the blossoms had green and white tips. Almost as if they were so perfect, that the sky gave them that one flaw, to keep them humble.
She had no idea how long she had sat there just soaking in the beauty of the field of flowers, allowing her memory to drift over conversations about them, of promises made, that have yet to be fulfilled. When the elder warrior crouched beside her, it did not surprise her. Her voice was gentle when she spoke to him.
"They give me a sort of faith. They look so delicate, but they are so strong. Each year they come back in this same place, in this same field with a beauty and an almost dignity that makes me have faith in the cycle of life on these plains. For however harsh they can be, they still allow such beauty to exist upon them in perfect harmony, season after season after season. They are always here every spring, almost as faithful as knowing The Central Fire will light the sky during the day, and the tre-moons at night."
For a long time the man said nothing. He simply looked out over the flowers soaking in their beauty. When he finally spoke, his words were simple and gave her much to think upon.
"There are people that are the same way, delicate, beautiful but strong of heart and character. They never change and are always as predictable, faithful and as loyal as these blooms." Finally he stood and held his hand down to her. "Come, we need to return."
She did not argue, however she did pick some of the delicate blossoms and carried them back to the kaiila where she carefully tucked them into her pack, the blooms spilling over the edge to dance in the breeze. Not too many, only a few so that she could enjoy the aroma and fragrance for just a tiny bit longer. Later that night, she would tuck one blossom behind one ear. She was not one to wear adornments all that often, but tonight she would, and it would be for no one other than herself.
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