A Family Taking Care of One of It's Own

Exhaustion had set in. It seemed to ooze from her very pores, to draw like a vapor around her, clouding everything. Lethargy had joined its' friend exhaustion, and they made a fine pair. At that particular moment in time, she felt cast adrift. Things that had always been familiar to her, seemed alien, foreign. Those things that have always kept her grounded, her feet planted firmly on the path of her life, seem to have deserted her, left her to languish in this place between dreams and life as she knew it. The frightening thing was, she just no longer cared.



Quite easily, she felt as if she could just lie there and slowly fade away bit by bit, into the nothingness that gripped her heart. Perhaps she might have done that, had it not been for others that loved her. Those that cared more right now than she did, or cared more than she was capable of.



A thin sliver of light flashes across the sleeping platform as the flaps on the wagon are opened. Shielding her eyes with her arm she asks who it is, and is surprised to hear kasra speaking to her from right beside the furs. Turning her head she squints and questions what she is doing there. As always, there is a calm that radiates from the slave as she explains that her Master, Ayguili had sent her to help, because he was concerned. Moaning, she rolled over and tried to hide her head and rasped out that she was fine. The girl is normally very obedient and respectful, but she takes a bold leap and tells her.......No, you are not fine, but you will be. You have visitors.



She didn't want visitors. But, the girl was adamant. The children were outside and they had worked together to fix a meal for their mother, and if she did not sit up, and allow them in, they would be sorely disappointed.



The children? If there was anything that might pull her out of the doldrums that she had been slowly sinking into, it was her children. The girl helped her to sit up, wash her face and pull her hair into something similar to a braid. Taking a deep breath, she put a smile on her face and told the slave to let them in.



If there was anything that restore her faith and her strength, it was those six precious children that trooped up the steps and into her wagon. Tug was carefully carrying a tray that had a bowl of vulo broth with dumplings floating in it, accompanied by a small bowl of fruit compote, and some buttered bread. He sat it on the furs, and grinned, telling her that they had cooked it themselves. With a bit of help, of course.



Behind him came Another One, holding the hands of his toddling sisters, and the chubby little fists of her daughters each held a small, bouquet of flowers that were thrust up at her, as they too grinned, those gap-toothed grins. Next was Two carrying a jug of cold milk and a cup, followed by Also who also had a clay jar with flowers in it. The jar was set on the chest, the flowers offered by her daughter's went to join the ones that Also had gathered. As she opened her arms, they all seemed to fall into them at once, Tug, Another One and Two taking over the conversation.



In bits and pieces, she had gotten the story, that Tug and Another One, had set the traps for the vulo, with only a tiny bit of help from Rook. She would have to remember to thank him. They had caught two vulos, and Another One seemed to be quite excited because he was the one that got to chop off their heads. He detailed this with great relish, and hand gestures to illustrate exactly how it had been done.



All four boys had helped kasra and juneau to pluck all the feathers off the birds. There had to be thousands of them, you know. The feathers were saved, and maybe they could make something from them. Two had been allowed to put the water into the stewing pot, while the older two had cut the birds up and dropped them in. Also had added the spices..........bits at a time, he said, and stirred.



The slaves had helped Two and Another One to cut the dried fruits and berries up, putting them in another pot to be simmered with sugars and cinnamon. And from the traces of flour she saw that had not been completely cleaned off, they must have all had a hand in the dumplings. Tug had milked the bosk, the girls had watched and fed her flowers and grass.



It was all for her. Pressing her lips together, she managed to blink back the tears that threatened and leaned to give each of them a hug and a kiss, from the oldest down to the two youngest. Then they were all over her.



Eat Mother. We did this just for you, so you must eat.



How could she not? Slowly she ate the soup, relishing ever drop. It was a tiny bit salty, but she didn't even notice. To her, it was seasoned with love, and that is all that mattered. As she ate, they all chattered like that jit of Mezoo's, telling her of what they had been doing the past few days. She had not realized she had been missing so much, and regretted it instantly. She was so touched, that she almost could not speak. This is what her life was about, these children, and making sure they grew up safe and strong. She was reveling in the life that they had brought into the wagon. Or she was until she looked to see Also crouched down beside the wall, watching her with those big brown eyes. And it hit her, suddenly.



What if that evil that lurked in the dark, grew bored with her? What if it decided that it needed something, or someone else to torture? Her heart almost stopped, when she realized that this could happen. She had to do something, and she had to do it now. Quickly she finished the food. Some of it was sticking in her throat that had suddenly constricted with fear, but she managed to get it down, and to put on that happy demeanor again.



Juneau and twist were told to take the children to the stream to play, and kasra was to stay there to help her get cleaned up and dressed. She had a mission. An important mission. Reluctantly they left, but a promise from her to find them later, eased their hesitation, and as children often do, their attention was diverted to the stream, water and mud. What child could resist that.



When they were gone, she got up, washed her face and had kasra to braid her hair, then she was dressed. When did her clothing start hanging off of her body? Had she really lost that much weight? She looked at the tan arm that seemed strangely thin to her, and frowned. This was something she would worry about later.



There was something much more important on her mind now. She had to find the spex. She had to find them NOW!

Enimty

She could sense it moving in the dark, surrounding her, taunting her. She wanted to scream at it, to curse it, as it seemed to silently curse her, to taunt her. Never before has she felt so alone as she does when she is in this dark void. She has always been surrounded by love, by people that cared for her. But here, it is different. Here, she is surrounded by such hate, such enmity, rancor and hostility.


Slowly she sinks to the ground, pulling her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, maybe thinking that if she makes a smaller target, it will lose interest and go away. Her head sinks to her arms and she tries to will it to just go away, to leave her be. But such was not to be.


The first faint quivers of light show between her bare feet and make her raise her head. Then the sounds of battle assault her, and the light is bright, almost to the point that she cannot see into it, knowing that she must. Lifting her arm to try and deflect the light, she instantly wishes she had stayed ignorant to what was transpiring. In that shaft of light, what she sees makes her want to turn away, but she cannot. She will not.


He is there, fighting on foot. The weariness in his features shows so clearly, along with the fear and loathing for what he fights. Dark shapes are around him, also fighting. Are some of these his companions? Perhaps yes, but others are shadowy, terrifying creatures. Not quite men, not animals, but something in between, as she sees it. His voice cuts through the smoke and shadows as he screams at his combatants........


Show yourself, you bastards!


Never has she heard such a tone from him. Such fear, abhorrence, trepidation. She has never known him to be afraid of anything, or anyone, this favored son of the Sky. But he is now, almost to the point of panic as he fights that, which she is sure he cannot see. There is thunder, or drums, of which she is not sure. She only know that they are a portent of death, pain and sorrow.


She swears that the bolt that hit him in the shoulder had whizzed past her head on it's journey. Is this possible? His hand moves to it, then his face contorts with agony as he grasps it and pulls it out to cast it aside. The blood flows freely, unstinted. She can not only see it, but can smell and almost taste it.


Without thought, she comes to her feet and tries to run into the fray to aid him, only to find herself laying prone on that cold ground. Her hand reaches out, to find a barrier as cold as the ice from the previous winter, if not colder. Circling the barrier, she fights at it until her hands are numb from the cold, but finds to egress that will allow her to get to him.


Stumbling back, all she can do is watch with horrified eyes as he and his companions continue to fight and to fall. Rage and fear overcome her and she turns in the darkness and curses that thing with her. It is then that she realizes, that it feeds off of her fears, off of the rage that has suddenly consumed her soul. Turning, she sees him fall, then all was black. There was nothing more.


And she begins to scream, and scream, and scream, as she struggles to pull herself up. It is like she is drowning, fighting to resurface into sanity, battling against the madness that tries to pull her down. The antipathy is strangling her, sucking the air and the life from her, but still she fights.


She breaks free, like a drowning woman finding air above the surface of the suffocating waters, and realizes that she is still screaming. Then there is a jolt of something else, the touch of a small, cool hand on her arm. Her head whips around, and there beside her furs kneels Also, his eyes round with untold emotions and fears. She pulls back, not wanting him to touch her, not wanting him to be tainted by what still has its' grip on her.


Go! Go! Run Also, run and do not stop! Slowly his head shakes and he whispers.


It is gone.

The Sons and Daughters of the Plains.....Meet the Dwellers

The morning had dawned bright and clear, and that air of excitement and festivity seemed to have tripled during the night. The children were up early, and in fine form, even the girls seemed to sense that there was something different in the air. Now how could one be blue with all of this energy and excitement surround you?



Now, when you endeavor to take six children anywhere, it is an exercise in logistics. And there was not a commander among the Tuchuk, that took this duty on any more seriously than her. In fact, there were a couple that you could probably name that could take a lesson or two from any mother that ventured out into such a venue with six little dark heads in tow. And six heads, meant twelve feet all wanting to go in different directions. And she did have help. She, the children and the slaves all moved under the watchful eyes of not only Rook, but those Ubar's guards that still found a way to shadow her footsteps. Weren't they supposed to be with Ayguili?



When they finally made it past the rings of wagons, it was like an assault on the senses. Just the voices of so many people would have been enough to make you step back, but add to that the musicians, the entertainers, the vendors hawking their wares, it was a cacophony of sounds. Voices, the bray and bleat of animals, drums, flutes, tambourines, marching feet, great swells of laughter from the warriors of the plains as they pitted themselves against each other in games of chance of one sort of another. And none of the voices were angry.



Through the next few days, she would marvel at the voices. For the most part, the words were unintelligible to her, for few of the spoke in the language of her tribe. And it seemed that not even the dwellers understood each other all of the time. There was a great deal of gesturing, some drawing on the ground with stick and daggers, to get points across. Some of the larger merchants tents had people standing around just to talk to other people in their native tongues. If not, how would any trading go on?



At one point, Another One stopped dead in his tracks and pointed as he called out..."Look Mother, look at that!"



Following the line of where he was pointing, even her eyes grew wide. It took her a moment to realize that what they saw was not some aberrant, human figure, but a man walking around with long poles attached to his boots, that brought him well above the heads of the crowd. And if it was not feat enough to manage those things, that she learned later were called stilts, the man was juggling red fruits in the air, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation with those that had gathered around him to gape in awe, and taking a bite out of one of the fruits from time to time, and never dropping the rest. Amazing.



And she would have to say, that Two was his father's son. At one point he bolted off to where two women were standing, robed, veiled, and with their noses in the air as if they were sniffing for rain or something, and before she could stop him, he had grasped the hems of one woman's robes, lifted them and was bent almost double trying to see what lay beneath. Good Skies. You should have heard the shrieking that came from that silly dweller woman. She went into a fit of apoplexy, danced around as if those robes had suddenly caught fire and began to flail at Two with her fan.



Her fatal error, was leaning down to try and hit the boy with that said fan, and him being the wily son of Ba'atar, he took that opportune moment, to grasp her veils and run. Leaving her powdered and rouged face exposed in all of it's glory. So there she was, still dancing around, screaming and trying to hide her face behind the fan which she held in one hand, and pounding on her own breast with the other, like she was going to die. Were these dweller women that afraid of the rays of the Central Fires on their faces. Is that why they were so blasted pale? And running around and around her, just out of reach, was Two trailing those diaphanous veils behind him like huge pink and purple clouds.



Now........that's entertainment!


Even Also got into the act. Her brow lifted as she watched him. She had never realized that he was such a mimic. He was normally so quiet, and reserved, it was actually a joy to see a lighter side of him, as he pranced around, one hand on his hip, the other waving in the air as if he had his own fan, and screaming....thief, ruffian, little beast, at the top of his young lungs.


Rook rescued the woman's veils from her son, and walked to the woman, bowed with a flourish and offered them back to her on the end of his quiva. That is when the woman passed plum out! And her friends began that same dance she had been doing around her prone body, shrieking and wailing as if a whole little pack of urts had suddenly scampered up their robes. Were they of the entertainers clan? Surely they were, for no sane woman would act like that.



The last she saw of that particular flock of robed vulos, they had managed to get their vaporous friend into one of those tiny wagons that had no wheels, but it had its' own set of veils around it. One of the women was beating some of the biggest male slaves that Cana had ever seen with this domed, shaped, cloth and wood thing that evidently was made to, again protect them from the so called, harsh rays of the Central Fire, until they picked up the wagon with no wheels and ran towards one of those huge gates in the walls. She had this feeling that those dweller women were finished shopping for the day. Perhaps for the entire festival.


Ok, time to marshal her little troop back together. With the help of Rook, the slaves and one of the guards she managed to get them all back into some semblance of order, except for Tug. She frantically turned in circles trying to spy her eldest, then she stopped and stared. There was a form that looked suspiciously like her son, on his hands and knees beside a tent, with his head stuck under the side. Walking up behind him, she could smell the paga fumes all the way outside, to the point her eyes burned.


Now, she could have just reached down, grabbed him by the waist of his leathers and drug his head from beneath the wall of that tent, but her curiosity got the best of her. What could have diverted his attention away from all that was going on around them, to the point he did not feel the toe of her boot on his little arse? Dropping to her knees beside him, she stuck her head under the wall of the tent to see what was so fascinating.


Oh Skies! Big mistake, big, big, huge mistake! She is a woman that has given birth to six children, so, she is not entirely innocent. However, there are things that any woman should not exactly see. First of all, the tent was full of men, drinking, yelling, and grabbing at the totally naked slaves that were amidst gyrations, that she actually found a bit difficult to believe that the body of a woman could do in a dance. But her son's eyes were riveted to a small area, that was curtained off to the main group of patrons and dancing slaves, but not to the back walls of the tent where they were spying. And in this small alcove.......well, it defies words.


She found herself calling out her son's name, he jumped, their heads clashed together, she saw small points of light, he shrieked like the dweller woman did, and they couldn't scramble back out of there fast enough. And of course, the commotion drew the attention of the men inside. Some of them came out to see what the ruckus was, and there she was, her skirt covered with dirt from where she had been kneeling, and it would be a toss up as to whose faces was reddest, hers' or Tug's. Her son made a very mature decision at this moment.


"Run!"


And for a moment or two, they were the entertainment, stumbling over each other, trying to disappear into the crowd, the laughter of the men chasing them. At one point, she even thinks that she may have grabbed his tunic, held him until she could run around him, leaving him to guard the rear, so to speak. Hey, if you want to be a man, then be a man and protect the woman! Especially if that woman gave birth to you! And she ran right into Rook, who had come to find them. He caught her, then snaked a hand out to catch Tug by the arm, and looked at their faces, which were red as a foxes' behind. His brow lifted in question, and she simply told him, they would speak on it later. Much, much later. But she did realize, that maybe the time had come for one of the men that seemed so intent on her well being, to have a talk with her son.


She was actually a bit mortified as she walked beside Rook back to where he had left the others with the guards, right up until the point, that the humor in the situation hit her, and she began to laugh, and was unable to stop. She finally found a small bench, sat down and laughed until tears ran down her face. The funny thing was, that Tug dropped down beside her, narrowed his gaze on her as if she had lost her mind, then began to laugh away his embarrassment. The dwellers passed, looking down their noses at the woman and boy that had their arms around each other for support, and were laughing at seemingly nothing.


When they recovered, he had looked at her, and in those eyes that were so much like Tayco's, she saw the love her son had for her, and was touched.


The rest of the day was spent ogling the entertainers, the dwellers, the trained animals, shopping and eating until they were all so full they could not move. Roasted meats, candies, fruits that they rarely saw other than in their dried state, a wonderful thing called honey straws, cold juices with slivers of ice in them, that had come from a huge block of a glacier, had been transported to the plains expressly for this event. Some things that dwellers did puzzled her greatly, but ice........now that was one thing they did, that she truly enjoyed.


All and all, it was a wonderful day spent with her children. To see the light of awe and amazement in their faces was something she would never forget, nor would she want to. And it was a day that she needed, probably more than most knew.


It was a very good day.

The Sleep of the Innocents

There was a certain amount of energy along the trail as they wound their way back towards Turia. She had realized that it would be the first time most of her children had ever seen dwellers en' masse. She had her reservations but Rook brushed them away, reminding her that it was a life experience that they needed to have.



The atmosphere was festive long before they even reached the plains of stakes, or the merchants area between that place and the tall walls of Turia. They had arrived late in the evening, and it was hard to get the children all settled down. They were too excited about this new adventure, and in one way, that was good, because if they would not sleep, then neither did she. But finally, they all simply collapsed from exhaustion, and she found herself just sitting and watching them sleep.



Two, Also and Another One were wrapped around each other in the furs, looking like a little of sleen pups all curled together. It was almost hard to ascertain which dark head went with which gangly body. The girls looked almost cherubic, tiny fist curled under rosy cheeks, small lips pursed. Occasionally she would see a dark lash flutter along one cheek, and she wondered exactly what that daughter was dreaming about. They were evidently peaceful dreams, because the bow mouth drew up into a smile.



She had given Tug a small gift before they left. Well, maybe not so small. She had given him the use of one of the wagons as his own. If he was going to take on the responsibilities of a man, then the very least she could do would be to provide him with a place where he could get some sleep, without having to battle his brothers, to get it. She had even stepped up on the platform to peek in on his sprawled body, smiling at the snores that came from him. All of the sudden, she realized really how much he had grown, and it saddened her, and at the same time filled her heart with pride.



After making a second round to check on what she considers their living legacy, she settled down by the fire with a cup of tea, staring into the flames. Rook joined her, but few words passed between them. There was comfort in his just being there, ever present, ever strong, ever protective of her and the children. He was so ingrained in their lives, that it would be hard to imagine life without him in the shadows.



Eventually he persuaded her to try and sleep, for tomorrow would be a long day. Getting up she started towards her wagon, then turned around to go back and kiss that old, scarred cheek, and whispered a very quiet.......



Thank you.

Asperity

Again she is in that void of sensory deprivation, terrified and unable to move. She stood so still, her muscles so tight with fear and anticipation, that they finally began to ache. It was if some huge fist had wrapped itself around her and began to squeeze.



And it was there. The thing that waited in the dark was there. See it? No. Hear it? No. She just sensed it, knew it was near and knew that it was aware of her. She felt it come near. How? No idea how. Did the tasteless, odorless air change, did she feel for the briefest moment a breeze of some sort? Not that she is aware of, she just knows that it is there.



When the light came, it was with a suddenness and intensity that only added to her terror. And it did not surround her, it was a shaft of light just in front of her. A singular, almost targeted shaft of illumination that seemed to be filled with a swirling cloud of smoke. The thing in the dark with her drew closer, don’t ask how she knows, she just does. It is if it has drawn up and stands at her back, leaning forward but not touching.



The smoke swirls and starts to thin, then almost in an instant is gone and what she sees in that shaft literally takes her breath away. It is Ba'atar. And the sound that came was deafening in it's volume, it's intensity. The pounding and clawing of the kaiila's feet as it dug into the ground, a roar like winds in a storm, but not really. It is the sound of other clawed feet also tearing up the ground in pursuit. Ba'atar is leaned over the neck of his beast, urging it to move faster, she can hear his ragged breath almost as if she is in the saddle with him. The tri-lidded eyes of the kaiila are wide with terror, and strings of blood and saliva stream from the lips barred from the fangs. It has been ridden at this crushing pace for longer than it needed to be, but the heart of the beast seemed to be the only thing keeping him going.



The venue shifts in the column of light, and she can see Ba'atar's face much clearer. There is fear there, but also determination and strength as he whips the beast to a faster pace. There she also can see his companions on this quest, all in a similar state of fear, as if they ride for their lives. And just beyond them? A cloud so dark, so ominous she wants to look away, but she can't. Is it dirt kicked up by riders that pursue them, or something more treacherous and deadly?



Then it was gone. She was left standing there in that silent, dark void, alone. No, not alone. It was there. She wants to whirl around on it, demand of it what it wanted, why it showed her this thing, what was she to do? She had finally summoned the courage to try and make her paralyzed body turn, to confront what was in the dark……..



She woke up, sat straight up in her furs, covered in perspiration, breathing heavily and crying. It takes a long time for her to calm enough to think, to try and reason the dreams out in her head, to no avail. Laying back down she curls into a ball, shivering and cries. The sense of loss that comes over her is gut-wrenching and she fights it, tries to push it away. She simply cannot give into despair.



She will not.

Forked Tongues

If it weren't for that damnable curiosity that humans seem to have, she would have probably have been better off to have just turned on her heel and left the fires when she walked up on the venue that particular night.



There were Ayguili and Fonce with Asria between them, in a conversation that seemed very serious, and Asria simply looked confused. If body language and facial expressions were not enough to make you stop, the tension in the air should have been. Having known Fonce for a very long time, the look on his face should have been enough to make her take a step back. Never has she seen him convey that much anger, before. He is usually very good at keeping his emotions well reigned in, but not tonight. That gives her an idea of how angry he is. If his face is any indication of the small part he allows to show, then you probably don't want to even touch the part that is simmering beneath the surface.



And speaking of touching, he was holding Asria's elbow, as if to keep her in place. This in itself, was entirely out of the norm. And Ayguili was just as angry. You could almost feel the heat of his anger radiating from him. What was going on?



Well, the long and the short of the whole situation turned out to be that someone had been flapping their tongues, accused Asria of acting in an inappropriate manner at her guardian's wagons, and evidently Sef, in a paga induced stupor had taken it for the truth and ordered for a pregnant woman to be chained to the Ubar's wagon. What a load of bosk chyt.



She has known Sef for a long time, and has always been very fond of him, but unfortunately this has changed in the breath of that one night. Now, if it is true, as his "supposed witnesses" now claim, that it was in jest and they were simply wagering on who would mate who, that actually makes it even worse.



The one she had been impressed with was Ayguili. He had kept his temper quite well, given the circumstances. The questions that he asked of Sef, were direct, and as to the point as a sharpened quiva. It was Sef who rambled, not really knowing anything about Asria, or Trayu, or the child she carried. Somewhere in that brain of his, that has evidently had some holes eaten in it by the paga, he thought that Trayu was killed in the larl attack on the trail north. Thus, her baby could not be her mates, so it had to be Fonce's or someone else's? Wrong! Big, big wrong.



But, it was actually none of his business when Asria's baby was due. There he was, casting a shadow not only on her and her honor, but also on Fonce. And anyone that knows Fonce, would know how seriously he took his honor, and maintaining it. And he was doing this all on the say of some jealous, wagging tongued women?



He might have fared a bit better had he not made boasts of her being nothing but a prospect and he could kill her if he wanted. What the hell was he thinking? This was not some dweller woman that had wandered in off the plains, like some others. She was a woman that had been born and raised among this Tribe. Who had been mated to a warrior that gave up his life, for this Tribe.



She was Tuchuk, and under the laws of any Ubar, Tuchuk do not kill Tuchuk. Especially over spurious rumors, innuendo and lies. End of story.



It has all basically calmed down, but it is not forgotten. Respect for more than one friend has been lost, and she will be very careful what she says around some.



When you speak with the forked tongue of an ost or a hith, eventually someone is going to take something and cut your head off. And when the head is gone, the beast dies.

To Talk With a Friend.

CANA!


Good skies, it has been a long time since she has heard him bellow out her name like that. If the truth were known, it amuses her, because that is another small sign that he is truly back. But for effect, she acts surprised, astounded, and oh so innocent.



He wants to talk to her. Okay, that is nothing out of the ordinary. Over the years, they have had many discussions on many things. Sometimes they even agreed on things, amazingly enough. And right now, talking to him appeals to her a great deal. He is one that she trusts, and not with just the day to day mundane things of her life, but with things that go deeper.



It took them some time to escape the fires. It seems the Ubar had suddenly developed this sense of humor where he wanted to just slide a gig or two towards his second in command, offering him the dweller chained to his wagon. Oh no, Fonce was not going there, so what does he do? He uses her as a human shield? Can we say….what are you thinking? Truthfully, it was good to see such teasing flying around, and it was good to be a part of it. As of late, she has been feeling disconnected in some ways, and this helped.


When they finally stepped between the wagons to talk, he got right to the point. "How are you Cana"


That was a loaded question. At this point, she could try to straight arm him like she did most. Maybe smile, say she was fine. And he might have bought it for the beat of a heart. He knew her too well, and there was just thing barrier there, a strange one maybe, but she could not lie to him. Their relationship was not based on lies.


She had slumped against a wagon and began to tell him the truths about how she was, about the worry of the unknown, about missing Ba'atar, and her fears for his safety. How she was working so hard to stay strong and show no weakness around others. This was important to her, many did not know just how important.


He told her that she was doing fine, that if it were him he would be ranting, raving, throwing things, kicking thing. Looking up at him, she said that happened, but when it did it was late at night and in her own wagons, and if he wanted to check, he could ask poor Rook.


She talked of the children. Her eight year old son was trying to take on the mantle of a man, and her three year old had become convinced his father's leaving had something to do with him. The other two seemed to be doing fine, and the girls were yet too young to realize he was gone. But she did worry about Tug and Also. She did not tell him this to elicit sympathy, only to let him know where she was with them.


He assured her that he would spend some time with them, to give them some stability, maybe some guidance. She wanted to hug him, but didn't. That is one thing that she knows about him very well, his aversion to casual touch, to someone invading that personal space that he protects so well.


He reassured her about many things that worried her one being the raiders. At the time they had shown up, she had an eight year old son out riding the perimeter of the herds, and yes she had been concerned.


Finally they worked around to something else, her not being able to sleep, more to the point of the dreams that haunted her in the night. His attention intensified and he questioned her more, then told her that the dreams were something he could help with, which, in a way, shocked her.


In all the years that they have been friends, she has never actually questioned him about being a haruspex. Some that are of that clan are very open about it, you basically knew their ways. But, he had never been that way. He was more private about it, and because she respected and cared for him, she had just never asked. It was just something she accepted, and did not question.


But when he began to speak of dreams, with the voice of authority, she could not help but pay closer attention. He said that what was there, could be either a message or a warning, and that whichever it was, it did not belong there. It could be a matter of simply making her a talisman, a dream catcher. But if necessary, he would go into her dreams and deal with it.


Into her dreams? She was a bit taken aback. But if there was anyone that she would trust to make that unusual journey, to be in a place that most consider to be most private, it was this man. She not only trusted him with her live, but with her soul.


Was she at peace when they parted company? In some ways, yes, but there were still the dreams. Until they had been solved, she had a feeling she would have no peace. As he moved away, she had whispered to his departing back........


Walk well, Dream Walker.

Dwellers and Other Strangers

It is always amazing to her that there seems to be a season when people just show up at their doorstep unannounced. Sometimes it is slaves who have managed to walk barefoot for many pasangs, then managed to get past hundreds of out riders to show up at their fires, not a hair out of place. Strange.



But right now, it is dwellers. Now just how do they get to where they get? What is a pampered dweller woman doing traveling without guards or anyone to accompany her? Now somehow, the story of raiders having taken one then just dumping her off, in tact, by the way--
no collar, no rape, no rhyme no reason, just does not quite wash either. The fact that she did not last is not surprising. The sleens dined early.



Now, the other one is Kaeli's daughter. She is happy that Kaeli is reunited with her daughter, because she cannot even begin to imagine being away from any of her children for any reason, but she does know that it happens, so there is that part of her that is happy to see mother and child together; however, there is that other part, that sees the girl as a stranger, an outsider.



There has been a lot of splitting of verr hairs over this situation. She is Kaeli's daughter, that makes a difference. No, it doesn't. She has not been living in a city, but in wagons outside of a city? And what difference does that make? She is still dweller tainted. Well, she is one quarter Tuchuk.


What?


That makes her better than someone from the outer wagons that is full blooded Tuchuk?


Some Ubar promised Kaeli and her children a place in the tribe, supposedly, long ago. Huh? So, if this is so, why do the year keepers not know of it, why does there not seem to be a record of their names? It is easy to invoke the name of someone who is either no longer here, or who rides the skies.



The bottom line is this. The girl is a stranger, a dweller, someone that has not been living her life on these plains and in this camp. She will have to make her place just like any other dweller would have to. She will receive no special treatment because of who she is related to. And if she cannot do this on her own, and learn on her own, and stand on her own two feet...............



Then she is not Tuchuk and has no business being here.

Do Four Walls a Tuchuk Make?

She found herself not spending as much time at the first fires as she would like, and it had nothing to do with the people there, it was simply that she was tired. But this night, she longed for the company of the people that she loved and after getting the children settled she had made her way to the fires.



She had just gotten settled onto her usual furs with her tea and was trying to pick up the flow of the conversations when a question came to her from Mezoo. What did she think made a good Tuchuk? She was just mulling that over, when the second question came. Do you think that you have to spend time in the cities to be a good Tuchuk? Well, that certainly caught her attention.



She tried to explain it as best she could, even using Mezoo's own family as an example. None of them have ever been to a city, does that make them less than worth as Tuchuk? Not by a long chance. And did spending time in a city make you better? Oh no! Not at all. In fact, she sees in those that have spent extended time in cities seem to be shadowed at least partly by dweller ways. But that does not make them bad Tuchuk. No, not at all.



So, what does make a good Tuchuk? You will probably find as many answers to that one question as there are people in camp. One word that comes to her, is loyalty. Someone that has a Tuchuk heart is loyal to the tribe and its' member's to a fault. It is often said that one Tuchuk would die to defend a brother or a sister of the Tribe. Now does that mean they agree all of the time, oh hell no. She has seen some very lively arguments between tribe member, but in the end there was no animosity between those that disagreed.



A Tuchuk is someone that reveres the bosk, the earth, the Sky and the people. A Tuchuk is one that will go out of their way to make sure that no one goes without, that their brothers and sisters are safe from all enemies, whether they be human or another kind.



A Tuchuk is one that loves their family, whether it be their close blood relations or simply the family of other Tuchuks, and will defend that family relationship and bond with their life. Do not mess with a Tuchuk when it comes to the Tribe and their family.



So, what does all this mean? For her, someone that shows loyalty and love for the Tribe is a good Tuchuk. Someone that adheres to what is good for the tribe. Period.



Somewhere in that conversation it was hinted at that never leaving the plains and experiencing the ways of the dweller made you close minded. Now for some reason, that just does not seem a fair statement. What of their life can they learn behind walls? Can they learn to love the feel of the plains winds on their cheeks, can they learn the pride that you have in your heart of seeing nothing but the bosk for as far as you can see? Can you learn the love and loyalty of being a part of something so vast, so in touch with the earth and skies? She doesn't think so.



To her, living within the walls of dwellers are not needed to make anyone a good Tuchuk. But on the other hand, coming to live on the plains does not inherently make you one either. It is what is in your heart that makes you a Tuchuk, plain and simple, and a divided heart or loyalties has no place here.