To Be Consumed By Evil

The damnable place had become so familiar that she was not shocked when she found herself there. The same void, the same lack of anything but the sense that something was there with her, watching, waiting. Since this place seemed to belong to the evil, she knew that it probably could see her, even if she could not see it. All she had to go on was that feeling that something was probing her, maybe not physically, but probing her mind, her soul, looking for chinks in that invisible armor she was trying to hide behind. She was not shocked, but had the good sense to be scared, terrified.


She could feel it shifting, moving closer then back away. Slithering, slinking, hiding, probing. For the briefest moment, she thought she felt a touch. Something cold, lifeless yet burning, alive with the intent of malice. A slow breath was taken of the odorless air, then exhaled just as slowly. She tried to steel herself mentally and emotionally for what she knew would come eventually.


She did not have long to wait. It was if this think in the void sought to assault all of her sense at once. The space around her grew lighter, filled with a gray smoke that undulated around her boots, and the acrid odor made her stomach lurch with its' stench. Fetid, coppery, the smell of burning hair, charred flesh, excrement, death suddenly surrounded her as the smoke did. The sounds she had heard at one time here, the sounds of battle, screaming, the death throes of animals, people and hope, were not there. The only sounds were an occasional moan, or the faint rush of breath as it passed through parted lips for the final time.


Slowly she turned to see what was around her, and her own breath caught in her throat, choking her, forcing the air from lungs that ached from the foul air. But when that breath comes, it comes in a rush of not only air but of fear and emotions. And ached cry comes from her lips to join the death groans that float on the air around her.


Turning around, she can see that the earth is scorched, dead and burning. Not like she has seen from fires on the plains, but in a way that tells her that all there is dead, even the ground beneath her feet, the air she tries to breathe.


Her first instinct is the same that all creatures have when confronted with something that they do not understand, or something that threatens their very existence. Run. Run as fast and as far as you can. Taking those first faltering steps, she trips, stumbles and falls to her hands and knees. The pain of her hands burning is excruciating, breathtaking, but yet comforting. The pain lets her know that among all of this death, she is still alive.


Finding her feet, she begins to run. Is it chasing her, right on the heels of her boots? She does not even need to look around and see. It is there, aware of each footstep, of each stumble, of each fall. At one point, she trips over something, falls once more, something almost soft breaking her fall. Every instinct she has, tells her to get up, run again.


Pushing away from what had broken her fall, she begins to scream. It was a charred body. One still smoldering, and the stench rising from it almost unbearable. Shoving it away, her hands sink into the morbid flesh and the head of the thing rolls over with a flop, and all she can see are the eyes that stare at her from the sunken orbits that hold them. All of the flesh is burned, blackened and sloughing off of the skull, but the eyes seem to still be alive, accusatory, all seeing.


Making her way to her feet, she begins to run again, stumbling over things laying on the ground. Looking down, she sees that they are skulls, some new, still with flesh hanging from them, others older, bleached white by the passage of time. They were everywhere. This place has evidently been serving the evil as a killing field since time began.


It was more than her mind could assimilate. More than she wanted to understand. Reason left her and she drops to her knees and begins to scream. Over and over again.


"What do you want from me? Why have you brought me here? Why? Why? Why?"



The screams had brought Rook and the girls tearing through the flaps and into the wagon. Rook drops down beside the sleeping platform and tries to shake her awake, to no avail. To look at her, you would think she slept peacefully, up until you looked at her eyes. Beneath the lids, you could see her eyes moving rapidly, without stop. He even used his fingers to try and pull them apart, and saw the same thing. Her eyes were in constant movement, darting one way then the next.



Even at this, she did not awaken. For all of his shaking and slapping, not a sound came from her, not a muscle moved. In fact, she seemed paralyzed, unable to move. Laying her back down, he watches her, to check and see that she still breathed. If she did, they were slow shallow breaths, hard to detect. He turned to juneau and spoke sharply to her.


"Find a healer, harta! And find the spex, the one they call Fonce, then run to the woman Tarra's wagons. We need help. All the help we can get. " He turned to twist. "Check on the children, make sure they are safe, and keep them calm if they have been awakened." He continued to sit by her, holding one of those cool hands in his grasp. The old man's heart pounded, for she was as close to death as anyone he has every seen, without truly being dead.

Home, is where they love you, and welcome you with open arms

It has started out as such a lovely evening. The compliments from those at the fires had made her blush, and they probably had no idea how much they meant to her. She does not have many times any more where she feels good about much of anything.


A cup of tea, good company, it was just what the healer would have ordered. It had been a long time since she had sat and talked with Seveya, but when the young woman mentioned Yew Too, they were suddenly engaged in a lively conversation about the kaiila, and riding. A conversation that she enjoyed very much, not only for herself, but to see the sparkle of light in Seveya's eyes, made it even better.


Asria awoke from her daze and joined in the conversation about riding. What exactly happened next, she cannot understand. She is not nearly that sensitive about things. Maybe it had something to do with her confrontation with Karvek earlier in the day at the pens.


She had made the offer to give Lei riding lessons, and suddenly Asria piped up, in that way she has, and said yes, you and Fonce!


Fonce?


Since when was she not skilled enough to teach a child to ride? Since when did she need the help of another? For some reason, it had hit her wrong, and she found herself lifting up, to go make more tea, before she let the irritation lose. Then when Asria said something about her standing in the way of the relationship that Lei had with Fonce, her irritation deepened. She knew Fonce, and knew that he would not let his relationship with the young child to languish. No one would stand in the way of that.


Asria had maybe realized that she had spoken out of turn and apologized, and she had smiled at her and tried to accept the apology as graciously as she could, and promised to give Lei and Also a lesson the next morning. All was good, except a damper had been thrown over the evening for her.


Even the arrival of Mezoo did not help to lift it, but she stayed to talk to the young spex. It seems she has made a decision on the kaiila, which did not surprise her. When the animal had physically shown his interest in the young woman earlier, something clicked and she knew the two were meant for each other. She loves when that happens.


She tarried only a bit longer, dickering a bit with Mezoo over the price of the kaiila, but her heart was not in it any longer. She smiled, made her farewells and left the main fires.


All was quiet around her wagons, there was no need for her at the moment, so she found herself walking. Just walking aimlessly through the rows and circles of wagons, watching the people. From time to time she stopped to talk to someone that asked for her attention, then she would take up her walk again.


She passed near one circle of fires, where there was a family just settling in to eat. It was clear that the father had just returned from patrol, and as he was getting settled, the woman was getting his meal, and the children crowded around him to tell him of the adventures of their day. It was such a serene, quiet picture of love and family, that it sent a pang of longing through her that was sharper than any blade.


Averting her face she walked on, thinking. At one point, she saw an older man and woman sitting on the platform of their wagon, both with a mug in hand. The man's other arm was around what she assumed was his mate, and he turned to place a kiss to the top of her graying head. You could tell by just watching, that they had been together and in love for a long time. She felt like a voyeur watching them and quickened her steps to get away.


She did not think she had any kind of intent or purpose as to where she was going, but she was wrong. Soon she saw another circle of fires, this one much more familiar to her than the others. Stopping, she stood for a few moments watching the man that worked on the bridle, how his hands were so sure with what he was doing. He had lifted his head to see her standing in the shadows, lay the bridle aside and motioned to her.


Like a small child, she ran to him and allowed herself to be gathered up into his embrace and pulled down into his lap, just like she had done so many times growing up. Her brother Ephrim, simply held her and allowed her to cry, stroking her back with those work, worn hands, and saying little.


She hates when she loses control of her emotions like this. She works so hard to keep a very tight rein on them, and everything else in her life. Her children depend on it, she depends on it. Never once has it occurred to her, that showing emotions is not a weakness, that it is simply a sign of her humanity. But right now, none of those thoughts occur to her. Right now, she is just feeling overwhelmed, alone and cast adrift.


At one point, she even pounded on his chest in frustration. Frustration at being alone, frustration at being stalked in the night by something she does not understand, frustration of having no one to talk to, frustration at having to be strong every day, of never feeling like she can just let go and let others take care of her.


Ephrim had let her cry those soul wrenching sobs, until she reached the point that she just could not cry any longer. Only then did he lift her chin, brushing the tears from her cheek and begins to talk to her in calming tones, telling her of how much she is loved here at her family fires, and of how proud they all are of her. He even teases, saying that he still had a hard time thinking of her as Ubara, The Mother of the People, because he still saw the little girl with smudges of dirt on her face, skinned knees and two braids flying out behind her as she ran through camp.


Of the girl, who learned to fashion pots, mugs and dishes from clay, because she broke so many, that she had to learn to replace them. Of the little girl, who had spent almost an entire year clomping around in a pair of Dorian's cast off boots, the toes stuffed with reps, because she had outgrown hers, and they could not afford at the time to get her a new pair. Maybe that is why she is so protective over those old worn boots she wears now. She can remember a time with no boots.


He then talks of watching that same awkward girl growing into the woman she is now, and how proud they all were of her, of her strength, of her character. But he then reminds her, that no one is alone in the world, that there are always those that care about them, that sometimes you just had to look around and realize it.


She sat there for a long time, head on his chest, listening to the rumble of his voice, as he worked on calming her down. She longed to tell him of her fears, of the thing that haunted her night, but she just could not bring herself to do it. There is this part of her that does not want to tell, for fear of the thing learning of those close to her, and turning its' attentions there. And she did not tell, because her brother was a practical man, with simple, practical ideas, and she did not want him thinking that she had taken leave of her senses.


Evidently, at some point she had fallen asleep. When she awoke, the first rays of dawn were beginning to color the sky, and she was laying on a pallet of furs, and he was leaned against a wheel, sleeping, keeping watch.


Now, that is love, of another kind.

Reflections On Being a Woman

When a woman is depressed or upset, one of the best things she can do for herself, to regain some balance is to pamper herself. This is not something she does often, not from lack of wanting to, but often from lack of time. She has six children, that she basically raises on her own, she is the head of a large clan, that demands her attentions, and she is trying to serve Ayguili as Ubara, to the best of her abilities. She would not give up any of what she does, but she is human, she is a woman, and occasionally there comes a time when she had to step back, and take care of herself.


Most of the women that she knows are hard workers, it is just the way of life on the plains. The are not like those dweller women who stay behind walls, letting slaves tend to their every whim, or depending upon men to take care of everything for them. There are many around like her, that have learned the path of hard work when they were very young, and walk it daily.


For her, it started when she was barely twelve years old. Her mother died giving birth to her youngest brother, and suddenly she was thrust into the role of being the woman around her family wagons. Ill prepared? Oh Skies, yes! But, there was this stubbornness in her that went a long way to help her to learn, and perform her duties. She had her father, four older brothers and a baby to take care of. She managed to do it, and took a great deal of pride in doing it.


And the experience went a long way into making her who she is today. Independence is something that she holds very dear. Being self-sufficient is as much a part of her as how she walks, talks and goes about her daily life. She is not one to ask much of anyone. Does she grouse and complain about her life? She hopes not. What is there to complain of. It is simply a way of life, one that she clings to and enjoys for the most part.


Lowering into the tub of hot, scented water a sigh slips from between her lips. One of contentment. She could feel the stress of what happened earlier in the day, begin to leave her, floating above her head on the scented steam. It was not just the confrontation with Karvek, but other things.


She and Fonce have been friends for a very long time. Some do not exactly understand the depth of what they have, but it seems to work well for them. And today, after taking the after-effects of the paga into consideration, she could tell that there were things weighing heavily on him. She has a clue or two as to what some of them are, but she will not make assumptions. Maybe that is one of the things that make their friendship work. The honesty that passes between them. Sinking lower into the water, she makes herself a promise to seek him out, just to talk.


Taking the soap, she begins to wash enjoying the smell of the soaps that Tarra makes for her. She notes the small callouses on the palms of her hands. Some would probably consider them unattractive, but they are a part of her. One does not work with the kaiila, and not get them. Inspecting them, she smiles. Callouses or not, these are hands that soothe the forehead of a fevered child. Hands that can gently touch, and make the bad things go away, simply by their touch. They are her hands. Hands that love, hands that work, hands that sometimes tell the one that she touches, that she cares.


Those same hands rub the soap over her body, a body that has changed over the years. It is not the same body she had when she was seventeen. It has bore six children. Carried and succored them until they were ready to come and meet their world. It is not as taut across the middle as it once was, and it bears the marks of carrying children. She no longer has a girls body, but the body of a woman. One with softer curves, one that is maybe stronger, more resilient.


A soft laugh comes from her as she thinks back to when she was younger, more angular, and much less graceful. You have to laugh when you think back on those days. To her, it seems as if she was nothing but arms and legs for most of her life. Much like a kaiila foal, that has not quite learned how to manage those limbs. But she also likes to think, that just like the kaiila, she has grown into womanhood, and her body very well.


Standing she allows the water to sluice off her before stepping from the tub into the towel that juneau holds for her. Looking down at the leg that had stepped from the tub, she smiles. Some things do stay the same. Her legs were more muscular than some, due to the hours spent riding and training the beasts. She startles the slave by laughing. When the girl gives her a curious look, she simply tells her that no one will ever be able to accuse her of having fat ankles.


Sitting, wrapped in the towel, she allows the girls to get as much water from her hair as they can, before they rub scented oils into it, and begin to try and comb the tangle of curls into a braid.. Perhaps this is just a day for reflection, because as they work, her mind wanders again to how she was when she first came to these fires. At how naive and shy she was. How unprepared and alone. That same naivety was what had learned her the nickname of.....The Tabuk.


How time and life have changed her. She no longer has that same innocence, but she would like to think that what has taken its' place is strength of character, and knowing of who she is. She is definitely not one of those fiery woman that are able to voice their opinions loudly and without reserve. Sometimes she does have a twinge of envy, but it does not last long. She is content in who she is. Perhaps she is quieter than some, but that is just how she is. Who she is.


The girls manage to get the braid curled around her head in a coronet, held by the pins that she had often seen her mother wear. Even to this day, she misses her mother, and an ache of loneliness stabs at her heart for a moment. When juneau holds up the clothes, her brow lifts, still a bit unsure. The girls both encourage her, telling her that she is beautiful, and the vest and skirt are just a topping.


Color flares on her cheeks. She has been told before that she was beautiful, but it just was not something that she had much confidence in. She has never been vain when it came to her looks, and she has no idea why. She has never been the type to work on the trappings of ribbons and beads and colors that supposedly compliment, or that sort of thing. Did she notice these on others? Of course she does. Almost daily. She notices them, and there are times when she feels a bit dowdy next to them. A bit like a weed that has invaded a field of flowers, but she does not change who she is. She stays simple. She stays Cana.


Donning the skirt, she takes the vest in hand and looks around to ask for her tunic to wear under it. Juneau busies herself and tells her that they did not bring a tunic, that she would be fine in the vest without one. It was the vest that Ba'atar had made just before he left, and for that reason alone it was difficult for her to put it on, but she did. She felt so exposed, and found herself trying to tug the leather to hide that which was exposed, only to find herself fighting the hands of the slave, who grinned at her, and told her to relax, the vest looked fine, all of the essential parts were covered. You do not just give into a slave, and she tries her best to glower at this one, but ends up laughing, and patting the girls cheek. What she would do without this creature, she has no idea.


It was twist that holds up the small, framed piece of looking glass. For a moment, she was shocked. Who is this woman? She ain't have bad to look at. But most importantly, in that moment, she felt good about herself, maybe seeing what others see, that she usually ignores.


Stepping from the wagon, she walks towards the main fires, a cloud of scented air surrounding her. Yes, she felt good, very good. The cares of the day were forgotten, and she looked forward to relaxing with those that she loved.

Keeper of the Memories

Finally the anger and sadness from earlier in the day had been shaken off. Quitting work at the pens early, she had spent time with the children. The grew so fast, that it always made her wonder where time went. How could they grow bigger and older, when she didn't feel she was getting older.


Liar!


She did feel older, perhaps older than her years. In a couple of moons, she would be twenty-seven, she thinks. That is not old, is it? Perhaps it is not the turnings of the seasons, or the coming of the snows that have aged her, but the experiences of her life.


There are times when she watches the younger women at the fires, with a bit of envy. Some are barely twenty, just getting their ring, just starting to think about what they wanted in life. By the time she was twenty, she had a son, and had stood beside the pyre of her mate. By the time she was twenty two, she was standing beside the pyre of another mate, carrying his child. These things do tend to make you feel older, perhaps.


And here she was, almost twenty seven, with six beautiful children that she loved dearly, and a mate that had ridden off out on the plains, many moons ago, and had not returned. He has been gone almost a whole year. She wonders if others realize that as she does? Probably not. It did not weigh on them as it did her, they had no real vested interest in it.


A new Ubar sat the grays, and very well she might add. People have come and gone, and would continue to do so. Some had returned that had been gone, and picked up the treads of their lives, as it should be. Some did not know him, or if they had, only briefly. That was just life.


She was the keeper of his memories. She was the one that tried to keep those memories alive for their children. He was missing so much. He was missing how his sons grew strong, how each of them were taking on new responsibilities, and learning from them. He had missed those first faltering steps their daughters had taken, the first words from their sweet lips.


She wishes there was some way, to capture it all, to keep it for his viewing when he returned, but there wasn't. All she could do is concentrate on each small event, commit it to her memory, to be told to him when he returned.


Yes, she was the keeper of the memories, the guardian of life that was going on in his absence. His eyes and ears with his children. It was a sacred duty, and she took it very seriously. She would not fail him, or their children. For she knows in her heart, if the situation was reversed, he would be doing the same.

Among the Kaiila

It had been a glorious morning spent among the fanged beast. She and the riders had worked with the one that Jaella had ridden back on. He was magnificent, and it was easy to see that somewhere along the line, he had been given some very good training. When charged at with the blunted lance, he did not move a muscle. Well, almost didn't. He has this thing about people and animals nearing his left side. The out rider that rode down his left side, suddenly found himself dangling from the grasp of those great fangs. When she had dismounted to help untangle the rider from the beast, she glanced towards the fence, and smiled.



There was a familiar figure standing at the fence. No, make that leaning against the fence. Walking towards him, she realized that maybe it was not so much he was leaning against the fence, as it was a matter of the fence was at the moment his sole means of support. Getting closer, she could smell the paga that seemed to be leaking from his very pores, but said nothing of it. She figured he was suffering enough without her pointing out the obvious.



There was the usual exchange of greetings between friends. Perhaps hers' was a bit more tongue in cheek than his. Her first impression was that maybe he had came to see the kaiila that they had spoke of, and he did flash a reddened gaze at it, appraising him momentarily. But that was not his reason for being here.



Wincing at the brightness of the rays of the Central Fire, he questioned her about the kaiila she had traded to Karvek with, the one given to Seveya on the night of her ringing. The one that had been named Yew. He wanted to know if Yew had fathered any foals. Well, in fact he had. She had two of them, one from last seasons foals, and one that had been dropped this season. He asked to see them, and just as she went off to cut them from the herd, Mezoo joined them, with a basket of cookies over her arm. Cookies from Oren, no less.



Leaving them to talk, she had mounted Ciegue and had gone to cut the two foals from the herd. The older one was already ringed, and had been given some basic training. The younger of the two, was raw, spirited with a lot of potential. As she brought them towards the fence, she saw the first signs of light and interest in his eyes, and she pretty much knew immediately which he would choose.



Yep. He chose the younger of the two, which was not a bad choice. It was to be a gift for Seveya. Did this surprise her? Not really, she had been seeing the signs of some sort of relationship maybe growing between the two. The only thing that she asked of him, was that the foal not be bread to Yew when the time came. She did not believe in breeding blood lines that close. He assured her that it would not happen, since Seveya no longer had Yew. For a moment, she was puzzled then he said that Karvek had taken the animal back. She did not really catch on that he was being a little evasive, that would come later. He had simply said the animal was not in camp.


But what he had said, made some of the swirling rumors that she had been hearing to coalesce into something more solid. But even at that, she did not know all the details, so would say no more on the subject. At that moment in time, it simply was not her business.


It was a pleasant segment of time, spent talking with two friends. They spoke of kaiila, even the offspring of the surly, immensely ugly Holo. A part of her missed that rangy beast. But she did have a few of his foals to remind her of him. For all of his ugliness, he had been a randy stallion, and she had the proof of it. One yearling seemed to take an interest in Mezoo, which she found amusing. Evidently Mezoo has not spent the amount of time that she has among the fanged ones, and was still a bit unsure of them and their attentions. Just as she probably would be, if she were cast among the verr. Like Another One. But that was a different story.


As they talked, she had notice Ciegue and his inspection of the paga dulled warrior across the fence from him. She has seen this a time or two before. The kaiila was taking the measure of the man for some reason, known only unto him. Some would flinch away from that long study that came from the blind eye, but Fonce seemed to take it all in stride, and in fact, he seemed to understand it.


During all of this, she had looked up to see Karvek standing at the fence, one booted foot on the lower rail, his arms crossed upon the upper rail, with him watching the animals. She had approached him, with all good intentions of finding out who he had maybe traded Yew to, so that she might get him back. She had raised the animal from the first moment he had burst onto the scene, and with all of the beast she had hand raised, she had an affection for him.


Shock. That is the first emotion she felt when the man told her in that toneless, emotionless voice of his what had happened to Yew. After the shock, there was disbelief, then from some store deep inside her came anger. Something that she did not give into often, but it was there, surrounding her loosening her tongue.



What man, or woman, in their right mind would kill an innocent beast to assuage some sort of blow to their ego? He tried to liken it to a kaiila being put on the pyre of a warrior that it had served well. Oh, bosk arse! This was nothing even close to that, and she thinks that down deep inside he knows that, but will not admit it.


Him killing the kaiila, burning it, was nothing more than one more way to twist the knife in his niece. One more way for him to pile more pain on her. And for what? His injured ego? His tender psyche? If one did not know better, they would think the depths of his feeling for the young woman, went far beyond that of an uncle for a niece, into that gray area that most decent people do not wish to tread.


It was no wonder that the man had no family, no mate, nothing. For one to have a bond with a family, one must first have a heart, and as far as she could see, this one didn't. It went beyond madness. It spoke more of selfishness, lack of judgment, and sheer stupidity. She may have said as much, she really can't remember.


All she does know, is that she told him that perhaps his feeling and thoughts, were no longer in line with those of his people, if they ever have been. Maybe there is no real secret as to why he had been gone for so long.


When he had left, she felt the anger still simmering, but tried to push it down. It was not so much anger, as it was pain, and hurt for what had happened to the animal. An animal that sought nothing more than to serve its' owner. An animal that had done no wrong, but lost its' life to assuage some need in a foolish human.. Some say that she is too close to the kaiila, that there is too much of her wrapped up in them. She cannot help it, she sees more in them than most do, but that is probably because she looks for it. She recognizes it, she talks with them about it.


A part of her will mourn for Yew. Another part will mourn for the man in a way. He was a fool, that had no heart, and who would never know love, compassion or understanding. Her thought go to the story of the two larls, and it is not hard to know which one Karvek fed.

A Kaiila for the Sleen Man

She still had several things on that mental list of things she wanted to accomplish. That list that she now considered.......getting her affairs in order. Such a thing had never been thought of before, but after Fonce mentioned it before the Love Wars, she realized the importance of it all.


Fate had stepped in a couple of times to help her. At the stream, she had run into Yamka and a young weaver, trading goods and services. She spoke to Yamka about boots for the children, and saddles for the girls, then to the young weaver, about blankets for the kaiila she had chosen for her daughters. Usually, once the amount or trade is settled on, it is rendered after the goods are delivered, or the service is done. However, this time she insisted on giving the two young women their payment in advance. Unusual? Yes, but it was her wish.


It was not unusual for her to spend time at the pens, it was her work, the thing she enjoyed more than anything. But the last few days had been spent with Gabe, explaining about things she wanted done, animals that had been promised to other and things like that.


There was a new set of twin foals, that had been birthed by Lyric this season, and these we found suitable enough for her girls. They were branded, then their ears notched, then the strings of beads woven into their manes. She extracted a promise from Gabriel, that he would see that her daughters were taught to ride when the time came. He kept looking away from her, nodding, but saying little. She had finally appeased him by telling him that she would probably be there herself, that this was just a contingency plan. In fact, Ba'atar might be back by then, and she would be heavy with child, so she would still need her younger brother's aid. This seemed to settle him, and he began to pay more attention. It was much better to think of his older sister as pregnant......yet again....than it was to think of her as gone.


She cut the beast she had chosen for Ogedai from the herd and tied him to the fence rail. He was thoroughly cleaned, his claws sharpened and tended to, inspected time and time again, to make sure he was the one. She was very proud of this animal, he came from good blood lines and was a fine beast. A brown kaiila, with lights of red in his coat, the mane and tail as black as the night sky. His sturdy legs faded from the brown, to black then down to white stockings on all four legs, and he had a white blaze on his snout. And absolutely beautiful animal. When he was but a foal, she had began calling him Hest. His name now would be up to the sleen man. She spent time rubbing and combing oils through his coat until it shined. She was pleased.


Slipping the clip from the bridle into the ring on the animal's left nostril, she walked through the camp leading him. It was almost as if Hest knew he was on display. His head was held high with quite a bit of arrogance and pride, which she found amusing. A perfect beast for the sleen man.


It is a good idea to approach the wagons of a sleen breeder with great care. You never know exactly what you might find there. The sleen were caged, and you could hear the growls and snarls long before you got too close. That was an odd thing about them. They could sound so ferocious in their cages, but she knew that they could also be silent killers. Sniffing out their prey, sneaking up on them so quietly, you did not even know they were around, then striking.


Ogedai was not there, but the mocha skinned slave that belonged to him was. Her dark skin reminded her of the slave that Ba'atar had brought back from his last adventure. Would he finally find his blonde, blue-eyed slave on this one?


She tethered the kaiila to the wheel of one of his wagons, and explained to the slave that she was to tell her Master, that the beast was Hest, and was payment from Cana. The woman seemed capable enough of delivering the message, so she left the beast with her. Taking one last look, she ran her hand over his neck and leaned in to speak softly in his ear, encouraging him to make her proud. It was almost as if the animal understood, for he nodded the great head, then tossed it with a snort.


As she backed away, still watching him, she again agreed with herself, that this was an excellent beast for the Sleen man.

Despair and Futility

Her eyes flew open and she instantly knew she was in that dreaded place of nothingness. She was on her knees, head lowered, just waiting for the evil to come and surround her. She did not have long to wait. As always, she saw nothing but the fathomless darkness, but she felt it. It was there, and pulsating with that poisonous evil that was its' core. She didn't have to see it, to know. It seemed to surround her, to suffocate her, taunting, poking at her very heart and soul, testing to find her strengths, and her weaknesses.


Closing her eyes, she tried to focus and concentrate on why she was here, why it continued to bring her to this place. Was it to torment her? Of course if was, but to what end? It sought to destroy her faith, that which made her who and what she was. Was it a game to this thing, or was there a deeper reason for what it did?


Taking long, slow breaths of the air that had turned fetid with death, she tries to spiral her mind down to sending out love, compassion and peace. And each time she feels it pulse within her, she can almost feel the monster in the dark screaming with rage. Not hear it, but sense it. She feels so small and impotent and alone, but she keeps in her mind, that she does this for a reason. Will it work? She has no idea. She only knows that she cannot, and will not give into the thing in the darkness. Not as long as she can draw a breath. Everything she is, everything she holds sacred and dear is invested in this fight.


Will she win? That is yet to be determined.


Suddenly, the ray of light burst forth and her head jerks up to see what the foul thing was showing her now. She was not prepared for what she saw, she could never be prepared for it. The screams of death and destruction assault her, actually knocking her back to where she has to brace herself with her hands. But there he was, her Ba'atar.


He was sitting beside a body of water, his head down, a quiva in his hand, covered with blood, ash and filth. There were rivulets of tears that washed down his bloodied face, and she could see the wound on his shoulder, and the blood that flowed freely from it. He sat still as a statue, not moving, staring into the water. She could feel the despair and futility fairly radiating from him like a fever. Slowly, she managed to come back to her knees and crawl closer to him. Her hand reaches out to try and touch him, only to meet that icy barrier that is thrown between them.


She stifles a scream, allowing it to catch in her throat, choking the breath from her. She continues to test that barrier, looking for a weakness, to no avail. Tears stream down her cheeks as she draws a ragged breath and begins to whisper.


"Ba'atar, my beloved, I am here. Hear me, know that you are not alone. Know that you are loved, and what you are doing here will not fade from the memory of our people. Come home to me, come home to our children, and the people that love you." His head lifted slightly, almost as if he could hear her off in the distance. She did not hear his words, but saw them forming on his lips. "I love you, Cana."


Suddenly, she can feel the rage from the beast, smell its' frustration. It was if she was grasped in a strong fist and thrown against a wall. The pain was excruciating, her entire body enflamed by it. She could feel the blows, the wrapping of arm or tentacle around her neck, forcing the breath from her lungs. Mercifully, she passed out.


When she became aware again, it was the pain that suffused through her body that she knew first. Curled in the corner of the wagon, she was naked, shivering and choking. Rolling to her back, she tries to sit up, wincing as she finally was able to sit up and lean against the cool wooden walls of her wagon. The taste of blood is strong in her mouth, and a hand slowly lifts to test her lip, to see if it was cut, but the blood was flowing from her nose, not her lip. Sighing, she sat back, tears streaming down her face. All she can think is........


What next?

Mezoo and Her Band of Tuchuks!

The night came alive with a cacophony of sounds from whistles to kazoos and thumps and rattles. There was a melody there if you listened hard enough of course. The young spex led a motley crew of miniature musicians over hill and dale of the stream while they practiced their "special" song. One by one they followed her and even Little Ba'atar had a tapping rattle in her hand hooked in her perch on Mezoo's hip. Lil Fonce made her home riding on Tug's shoulders. Also had the job of pulling up the end with a small drum he kept time. The one thing that stood out most was that big shining smile the woman had. She was singing nonsense verses and the babes would repeat the last word :: Hicory dicory dock. DOCK! they had this part down pat now.


The tears that gathered in her eyes were partly from love and amazement, but then again also from amusement at seeing this splendid display of...music? Her hands come in front of her and begain to clap to the rythem of the song. They broke ranks and ran to her, showing her their instruments, all talking at once to tell her of their day with Mezoo, and how she had helped them to make these fine musical instruments and had taught them songs. The pride and love that grew in her heart was that any mother would feel, and she lay a gentle hand on each little head, and spoke something encouraging to each of them.


She was not a fool, and recognized that the words to the songs they sang were to help chase away bad things in the night, and she realized that this was Mezoo, keeping her promise to help protect them from the thing in her dreams, and true gratitude brought a mist of tears to her eyes.


They told of maybe spilling red paint on the steps of the wagon, and she told them it was not a bad thing. It would be there always as a memory of this day for them. She even listened to the tale of a spat or two over instruments and such, and had laughed. They had worked it out among themselves, evidently, and that is what families do.


These were her children, the legacy that she would leave behind, and she loved each of them, and was proud of how smart, intuitive and lively they were. Pure Tuchuk from the tips of their toes to the tops of their heads, what more could a mother wish for?


The excitement of their day began to dwindle in hunger and exhaustion, and they were sent off with juneau to their dinner, their baths and their furs. Hopefully in that order, but she had a feeling that a few might miss that bath, falling asleep in their dinner, but that was okay too.


As they left, she returned to what had been occupying her time before their arrival, throwing rocks into the stream. Mezoo had spoke to her, telling her that the children would be safe. Her throw falters as she nods. This is what was of importance right now, their safety. If they were safe, she could handle anything.

Taking up her stones, she began to throw again and spoke casually to Mezoo, telling her there was one more favor for her to ask of her. Of course, the young spex agreed without hesitation.


That is when she told her that she wanted Mezoo to help keep an eye on her children should anything happen to her. Tug had no blood family left, so Rook would see to the raising of him. Tarra would take Another One, since he was her grandson, and Aamon and Birmmah would take the four youngest, since they were their grandparents. It was no secret, that eventually their uncle Ayguili would take the young spex as his mate, and that would put her in a perfect position to help watch over the younger ones. She had puzzled this all out in her mind, and to her it was the plan that would need to be followed, should she not be there.


Where had she gotten this idea of putting her affairs in order? From Fonce. He had mentioned something about him doing the same, in the event that he did not return from the Love Wars. At the time, she had not wanted to hear of it, but upon reflection, she realized that as things were, she needed to do the same. She had spoken to Rook about many things, about the children, how the wagons would be divided between them. Of the special treasures that she had saved from Tayco and Lochlan, to be passed down to their sons. Of personal items that she wished others to have. One was Ciegue. He would go to Fonce. She had the two flutes, given to her by her by her mother that she wished to be kept, then handed down to her daughters when they were old enough to understand the significance of them. Just smaller things like that.


To the young spex's credit, she did not make the usual noises about nothing happening to her, she nodded and accepted Cana's wishes with the same grace and dignity that she did all else. This says much about her. But oddly enough, she had a request of her own. Cana would return to talk to her, to tell her all was well, and for her to keep her chin up. She promised she would......if she could.


Somehow this all turned into a conversation about the dead, and Cana told her that she was often visited in her dreams by her Mother, that was long dead, but she had not been to visit in a long time. Mezoo allowed that perhaps she was busy.


The dead are busy? This was certainly something new for her to think upon. The spex said that yes, she might be busy, that forever was a long time to sit and do nothing. She felt that the woman was very busy watching over Cana and her children. For some reason, this gave her more peace in her heart. As long as her children were being watched over and protected, then she could accept that her Mother was busy.


They were joined by the drummer, Sahli. He was an odd man, but there was just something about him that endeared him to her. Perhaps it was because in that long, lean body, and that serious countenance, she saw something almost child like, and it spoke to that maternal part of her.


Talk turned to drums, and she asked him if he could repair one, and he had said yes. She had noticed that the head on the one that had belonged to Lochlan's father was not as tight as it should be, and that maybe Sahli could fix that. At first, it seemed like an excellent idea.


Wrong.


She thinks it might have been when she said something about it not being a Tuchuk drum, and he asked what kind it was. A Mamba drum.


You should have seen how quickly the drummer paled at the thought of touching a drum of flesh eaters. It had never occurred to her, that the drum head might be of something other than animal skin, but it sure as hell occurred to Sahli.


It did not take her long to see that he was immensely uncomfortable about it now, and she would allow the matter to drop. She would never put him into the position of working on something that would be distasteful to him. The drum was not that important.


People came and people went. For a time Fonce came and sat beside her. There was something about him that made her feel stronger. Maybe it was because they have been friends for so long, and she had an affection and respect for him. It was amusing to watch his girl catch as she languished by his side, her head on his thigh. She is not even sure if he realized the effect he was having on the girl, and that made it all the more amusing to her. She liked the girl a great deal.


Finally, she was so tired she almost could not move and left the others to go to her wagons to try and sleep. Hopefully, a dreamless sleep.

Gifts from a Friend.

She had been working at the pens since long before the first rays of dawn had peeked over the horizon. What use was it to lay abed, when sleep was no longer your friend and confidante? You do as she does. You get up, you work, and you go through your life with a determination that rarely falters.



She had been sharpening and cleaning Ciegue's claws when the young spex walked up and leaned against the fence, saying that the kaiila was like her...very special. Laughing softly she shook her head and told the young woman that she was a simple woman, and he was but a kaiila, but that she would agree with her that he was special.



Their conversation segued into a conversation about her dreams. She had already spoken to Tarra about it, and would not talk to Mezoo. Her greatest fear right now was that the evil that stalked her during the darkest hours, would turn it's intentions on her children, and that would simply not do. Tarra had told her that they could make protections talismans and spells to keep her children from harm. If this was done, she could continue her personal battle with the thing on her own.



Mezoo had a special connection with her children, even from the beginning when she first met them all. It was an astonishing thing to watch, how she related to them and how they each, in their own ways, found something special in the young spex, even her daughters who were so young that most people in their world were safe.



From there, the talk turned to love. It was no secret that the Ubar and the young spex were in love. It simply radiated off of them like the warm rays of the Central Fire. It brought peace to most that saw it, and for the ones that it did not bring peace too, perhaps they should inspect their jealousies and motives more closely. If you really claim to love someone, then you only wish to see them happy, whether it be with yourself, or someone else. If you do not feel that way, then it was not love you felt to begin with, and your jealousies will devour you from the inside, and you will never find true peace and happiness.


Mezoo seemed a bit puzzled that she would be happy for them, most probably because she was going on the actions of others. Cana had smiled at her as she spoke softly.



Why would I not be happy? Mezoo, just watching the two of you, restores my faith in love, and how it should be. You have put a smile on a man's face, where I never thought to see one, and he has put a bit of color into your cheeks. I am very happy for you.



I'm crazy about him, I have fallen in love with him, I love him day and night and all the times in between. I want to be there through it all, no matter what he faces. I want to be there through it all, no matter what he faces


Reaching over, she had place the palm of her hand against the spex's flushed cheek. "And I cannot think of anyone that I would rather see by his side, than you Mezoo. There is just something about the two of you, that is so beautiful, it is hard to watch at times. Beauty does that you know? Sometimes it is to strong, so bright, that it is hard to watch for us mere mortals. Savor what you have found with him, protect it at all costs.


Sometimes the rest of the world dims in his presence and I have to struggle to remember it is there outside of us


::She had smiled and patted her cheek.:: There will be time for that. If you wish some advice from a woman that has been there, then here it is. Always find time for just the two of you. I don't care if it is only a few, stolen moments, find time for them, relish them, and savor them. That is what will keep your love strong.



Talk made its' way around to what might happen when Ba'atar returns. She explained that if her dreams were any indication, that he was having a difficult time, and that he would need time to heal not only physically, but mentally and emotionally, and that she planned on being by his side through it all.


With that wisdom that the young woman seems to possess naturally, she said that time and distance can sometimes make strangers of even the closest of people, and that how they came out of this, would maybe me more of a test of their love than his absence.


Finally, Cana looked at her and smiled gently. Now, you can ask that question that I know that is on many minds. The one about what will I do if he does not return.


I do not know what you are going through. I have only waited a short time for my Father's return but I do know how it felt. I asked it of Ayguili and yes, I was going to, Cana.


She looked out over the plains as she thought. I will live my life as I know it. I will work with my clan, I will devote myself to raising our children, and I will try my best to be an asset to my people. What else can I do? Will I curl up and die? Will I walk around as some do, going woe is me, I am alone? No I will not. I will not dishonor Ba'atar in that way. I will be strong, I will stand tall, and I will carry out the plans that we had for our children. In time, I will heal and I will keep his memory alive for our children.



I believe he will return Cana She shrugged there That may make me the crazy woman but I do feel it. I am hoping you know because that will mean I get more time with Ayguili and he and I will be just a couple more Tuchuks. Selfish .. very selfish of me you see.


She had turned and looked at the young woman, and brought up the subject that perhaps Ba'atar would not wish to take back the grays when he first returned. That he would need time.


She had watched the young woman's face, and could almost read the thoughts in her mind, and put those thoughts into words. Mezoo was afraid of being Ubara. Mezoo spoke of her fears, of the feeling she was not ready, and Cana did her best to calm them. No woman was ready, often they had it thrust upon them, and the only advice she could give, was for Mezoo to have patience, and to be true to herself. That was the most important thing, to not change, to stay yourself. It was hard to find that balance, but she had faith that the young spex would do well.


Their talk turned to lighter matters when the young spex presented her with a present that she had gotten for her at the merchant stalls in Turia. Unrolling the parchment, she began to laugh, truly laugh for the first time in a long time.


It was a painting of a lizard. But not just any lizard. This fellow was colorful, whimsical, and had this look of mischief in his beady little eyes. She knew that the singers had sang of the story of her, Tayco and the lizard, but this was better than even having a song of it. This would be a treasure for her, always. One that someday, she could pull down, show to the children of Tug, and tell them of their grandfather. No gift could have made her any happier.


But the most precious gift of that day, was the time spent with a sister and friend, and the sharing of secrets that were not shared with just anyone.


That was the gift of friendship, and family.

Standing at the Abyss

She sat for a long time at her wagon, staring into the fires puzzling things out in her head. Sometimes solutions were just not simple enough, or the answer was too simple, that it evaded her because she did not want to see it, and to admit to it.



The numbers at the fires of the Ubar grow, which is a good thing. That is the thing about life, people come and go on a fairly regular basis. Some are good, others not so good, and others simply like the wind blowing through a place, here then gone. Take the ones that showed up when they were in Turia. They had proclaimed that they wanted to seek their place within the tribe, but have not been seen since. Just a breeze blowing through camp, nothing more, nothing less.



Then there are those that are returning, that have been gone, but come back. There is nothing wrong with this. So many have gone, then returned that it is hard to keep a tally. They go then return for their own reasons. Take the man that showed up tonight. Ash. This is not a yearling returning to the fold, but more along the lines of an old bull that has wandered off, and has now wandered back. He said he had been......walking. Must have been a long damn walk. She had watched him. Part of him seemed right at home by the fires, but she could also sense a part of him that might be a little lost. How would it feel to return to what you considered a familiar place, to find it was not quite so familiar any more? That the people you knew were gone. To find that the brothers you had stood by in battle are long dead. There were precious few there that remembered him, perhaps that would help him on his return.



And what can you say about Sahli? She had not known him all that well when he was here before. Did that mean she did not like him? Oh Skies no! She had always found him rather interesting in a quirky sort of way. He was different. At the risk of sounding trite, you might say he marched to his own drummer........or drums. All she knows is that when she saw him, he looked a bit lost, unsure. That mother part of her simply wanted to reach out, brush the hair from his brow and assure him that he was back where he belonged, among family and friends, and was safe. There was just something child-like about him that appealed to her, and she was glad to see him back.



The night had been one of celebration, for the most part. Ayguili had taken this night of returns, to add another to their fold. Seveya had earned her place at the fires. Watching, a flood of memories flowed through her, back to when she had been given her rights here by Bosephus. Not everyone was happy that night. In fact, probably the only one that was happy was her. There were those that had spoken, and said they did not feel she had done enough to prove herself worthy. She smiles at these thoughts. Those were the same ones that she considered close family now. She had continued to work hard, and it had paid off. The fact that Tarra had spoken against her that night, only fueled that stubborn part of her and made her work harder. It was probably the best gift the woman could have given her. It had helped to shape her into the woman she was now. Good, bad or indifferent.



She will watch Seveya. Watch her continue to work, to continue to carve her place out here. That is part of the joy of things, watching people make their way in the world. Seveya's story is not finished, but only beginning.



And what would an interesting night be without the return of a special guest? This night was no different. She had helped to serve the celebratory wine, and had just settled down on the platform beside Fonce, when another long lost face appeared from within the shadows. Jaella. She had always liked this young woman. He gentle demeanor, the soft beauty of her features, her quiet way that spoke so loudly.



To see the joy that suddenly transformed the fact of the drummer, the way that just seeing the love of his life, brought out a happiness that she was not accustomed to seeing in him, made her heart ache. To see two people, that so obviously belonged together, reunited, caused an unexpected pain to pierce her heart. But suddenly, she had felt like she did not belong, like an interloper of sorts.



She had reached out to touch Fonce's arm briefly, and told him that maybe they could talk tomorrow, or perhaps the next day. The emotions that had suddenly grasped her were too intense for her to stay and enjoy the celebration. Quietly she had slipped between two wagons and walked in the darkness back to her own.



And that is where she is now, trying to understand that sudden influx of emotions. She is trying to separate them, to categorize them, and to tuck them all away in a safe place. Is jealousy a part of what she is feeling? Probably so. And she is angry at herself for feeling that.



Why should she not be happy for those that have been reunited? She is happy for them, probably more than she can say. But at the same time, there is just such an overwhelming weight of sadness and loss laying on her shoulders, pressing on her chest, that she cannot breathe.



This is one of those times when she feels despair so deeply that she simply wants to let go, to find an end to it, to find peace. It is like standing on the edge of an abyss, and one simple step and she would be gone, it would all be over. The loneliness, the rejection, the loss, the pain. All could be stopped with that one step, the simple putting of one foot before the other into that chasm of the unknown, that right now appeals to her more than the standing on the edge and fighting.



She is tired. Too tired to fight back any longer. But she will continue to fight, for it is not ony her fight, but Ba'atar's. And, she feels like in some way, it is also for her people.

Oh Favored Son of the Sky.......I am here. Can you hear me? Can you feel the love and strength that I send?

The Protection of the Innocent

Lifting her skirt she had ran along the row of wagons in search of someone, well more than one someone. To be completely safe, she wanted more than one involved in this. If she could, she would put the power of the entire haruspex clan to work here. Spying Arkus, she grabbed him by the shoulders and told him that she needed to speak to his mother, and now!



She was at the main fires, pacing and muttering to herself, trying to put the pieces of all of this in some sort of order, when Tarra found her. Up until now, she had tried to keep the dreams to herself. The only one she had shared them with had been Fonce.



She trusts Fonce, and his skills, if that is what you would call them. Some call them a gift, others a calling, some maybe even a curse. All she knows is that if there is going to be someone walking around in her dreams, placing boot steps on her psyche, sliding fingers along her fears, hopes and soul, she wants it to be him. He is the only one she trusts with that.



But there is another issue here besides her. There are the children to consider, and that is her mission today, to find protection for her children. Carefully, she tells Tarra of the dreams, of the emotions of fear and horror that they bring out in her. Then she tells her of another fear, one that was eclipsing what the thing in the void was doing to her. Her fear that it would go after her innocent children next. That it would not stop until it had consumed everything.



Tarra understood exactly what she spoke of, and without even being asked, promised to protect her babies. She allowed that she would speak to Fonce, to make sure that nothing she would do would interfere with what he was doing in the dreams, and that she would also speak to him about drawing Mezoo into help her.



Cana had been very impressed the first time that the children had encountered Mezoo, and in the way the young spex seemed to read them, their individual personalities, their individual talents. Knowing that she would be helping Tarra, bolstered her spirit even more. Just as she trusted Fonce with her own well being, she could trusts these two women with that of her children.



She had also extracted a promise from Tarra on another issue that involved her children. She has been giving thought as to what would happen to them, should something happen to her.



Tug has no family left in the camp, but he does have Rook, and this is the one that she trusts above all others to raise her son as a Tuchuk. Tarra has promised to take Another One, since he is her grandson. The others, will go to Aamon and Birmmah, since they are their blood family. She knows they will care for them, and that Ayguili will look after them, but she still asks Tarra to keep an eye out for them, and to not let them forget who their father was, and what he had done for his people.



In the end, she felt better. Those that were the most precious to her would now be protected, cared for and guided. This was a worry that she no longer had to think on. Well, not as much. She was a mother, she would always worry about her children, but she did not feel so alone when it came to that now.


In the end, if she was not there, they would thrive and proper among their people, as it should be.