Having made her delivery to Asria's wagon, she had returned to her own and busied herself repairing a couple of halters. Her sewing skill lacked something, but for some reason she always found comfort in the braiding of leather for halters and leads for the kaiila.
It was quiet. The girls were napping, Another One and Two were with Rook working on their bola skills, and Also was sitting under a wagon drawing designs on the ground with a sharp stone that he had found, humming softly to himself. Watching him for a few moments, she found herself wondering what it was he was thinking about. Where her other sons seemed to need the company of others, to almost need that bonding with other males their ages, he found his company within himself and was usually content alone. Just as they say no two flakes of snow are alike, so it is with her children. Each has their own personality. Small nuances may change from time to time as they get older, but the basic of each personality is there.
She had been sitting there allowing the strips of leather to slip between her fingers, thinking, when she realized that her eldest son had walked up to stand beside her. Looking up at him, it was if everything around her went away, and in that instant she saw each moment of his young life of eight seasons of snow, laid out before her in crystal clarity.
The moment of his birth. Tayco lifting him up in dedication to the sky. Even the moment when she was nursing him, and they came to tell her Tayco was dead. Each cry, each fussy night when teeth were being cut, the first time he sat alone with no aid from her, the first tentative steps from one wagon wheel to the next, the first babbled sounds, the first time he had said Mama. All of these moment had been there, then as if caught in a vortex they had all swirled together to become the serious face of her son. The son she still called Tug in her heart.
She asked if he needed something, and he told her that they needed to talk. Talk? She had a feeling this was not going to be one of those…..Mother can I have a honey cake?......talks. He looked far too serious for that. Setting the strips of leather aside, she folded her hands in her lap and told him……talk. And talk he did.
As she listened, the emotions that ran through her were quick and varied. At first she had to press her lips together tightly to keep from almost laughing at how serious he was, then she realized that he was just that…..very serious. He proceeded to tell her that he was ready to step up and take on his responsibility of being the man around their wagons.
What? He is only eight, but she did not say that.
He went on to tell her that he knew that Ayguili was Ubar now in Ba'atar's absence and that he also knew that "she and the children" pretty much meaning everyone but himself, were under the protection and guardianship of Ayguili, but that it was time for him to take on his birthright, as her first son, and take care or her.
Now where in the name of the bosk did he hear that term…..birthright. Is there a birthwrong to go along with it?
He finally sat down cross-legged in front of her and began to lay out his plan. It has only been a few days, and he has a plan? She didn't even have a plan, so how did he get so many steps ahead of her?
Any amusement that she might have felt for a few moments had evaporated. This son of hers, the one still held as a baby in her heart, was talking like a man. He was going to start taking his time in the herds, under the tutelage of Rook, Aamon and his uncle Ephrim. He wanted to spend at least an ahn each day with a clan, to see what they did, for he needed to start thinking about his own clan. He did admit that right now he was leaning towards being a member of the Kaiila Clan, just as his father was. He had then grinned at her……And as my Mother is. Thank the Sky he has not lost all humor.
Rook was going to teach him more about hunting and trapping. They would not go hungry. Did this child actually think they were going to starve? She only nodded and let him continue. Then there were his brothers. He was the oldest and would try to settle their petty squabbles and disputes, and had told them of such. She wonders if that is where Another One got that bruise under his jaw, but she said nothing. He was so sincere in all that he talked about.
Something about all of this gave her pause. She wanted to reach out, gather him up in her arms as she had when he will much younger, rock him and tell him that everything was going to be fine, that Mama was here, and he had nothing to fear. She wanted to tell him that he was only eight, that Ba'atar would probably be back before they even knew his was gone, and that he did not need to be the man of the wagon. He needed to go find his brothers and friends and play a game of Ubar of the mountain, or find that little sphere made from scrap leather and stuffed with sand and do that thing that he did about bouncing it from hand to knee, to thigh to shoulder and back. He needed to go be a child!
Her memory goes back to when she was not much older than he was and her mother died giving birth to Fifth Son, who was now Gabe. Suddenly she was not only without a mother, but also without a father for he almost grieved himself to death, but she also had the responsibility of a baby, that she had no idea how to take care of. She did not want Tug to go through this, and was on the verge of telling him exactly that, when he looked up at her, and said the one thing that stilled her tongue.
I love you Mother, and I don't want anything to happen to you or my brothers and sisters. Well, what do you say to this? What you do is nod and tell him that you love him too, and that you are proud of him, and that you appreciate him taking over the role of the …….man of the wagons. You would cry later, when he would not see.
He had stood and told her that he had work to do and walked off. Watching him, her shoulders had slumped and a wave of pain passed through her heart. There went her son, walking the path to become a man.
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