It makes you just smile

You are my sunshine,
my only sunshine
You make me happy
when skies are gray
You'll never know dear,
how much I love you
Please don't take
my sunshine away
~Soggy Bottom Boys

Ahns turned into days and days turned into hands. There was a quiet that had fallen over the harigga. There was evidence that others were about by the smoke that curled from the fires, the scent of sage the Haruspex burned or the full water barrels the slaves kept vigil over ... we just rarely ran into each other. Maybe it was a time of healing for all of us. The journey south had been hard on the Tribe in many ways, it had been toughest on our souls. Each would have to come to terms with the events that had unfolded as we each were touched in different and unique ways.

I had to chuckle hearing the year keepers arguing over what the year might be called this time ... The great Silence, The Season of the lost bosk or the Year of the Winds. There was passion there in their clan that was good to see. I found myself eagerly awaiting the final verdict but then like most things not in immediate sight, I forgot there was even a debate going on.

I was rounding the end of one of the wagons coming back from the kaiila pens when I heard her long before I ever saw the girl. sleen was singing at the top of her lungs about the central fire and some lover who was the center of her universe at that moment. It just made me smile .. one of those ear to ear sappy ones that you can't wash off even if you scrub,

I had a suggestion for the year keepers .. maybe they could remember this time as the Song of the Sleen.

There was a prophecy in the making there.

Timbre Winds

On timbre winds I take flight
High above the clouds I go
Soaring high into the sky
No fear of what's below
Higher now with wind I fly
Not looking back from whence I came
The gentle drafts do lift me high
And I fly higher yet again
Into the stars to heavens; gate
With timbre winds I gently glide
On thermal drafts this flight I take
Will lead me to your side
I perch on top of heavens gate
As timbre winds blow by
So patiently I do wait
I let out a mournful cry
He hears my call and turns around
A hand to me he lends
I then take flight without a sound
On silent wing with timbre winds

Snowy Owl Spirit

Just Ride Part Three

There was excitement threading among the Midnight Wagons at the rise of the central fire. The packs were filled for the journey with portions of jerky to chew on and botas of water or in Duran's case ... paga. If that man ever took a sip of water he would probably get drunk and pass out. We had enough small items to make some good trades. It was going to be an interesting trip, little did we know at the time just how interesting.

Once we could see the line of dweller wagons in front of us, Duran and Sage gave signal for the women to remain back a little. Never know what silly outsiders will do and they had no intentions of any of us getting hurt. We had merely come for some trade, I swear that was all we had in mind ... honestly. Petra and I watched as the men approached to meet the first of the wagons. From the distance it all seemed to go well, those nods and pointings that men do when posturing for each other. Then it seemed everything went into slow motion. It wasn't our tunnel vision that created the scene but the dwellers themselves moving slowly. Hands began to reach in the air and each of them slipped off the buckboards. Sage gave the signal for the rest of us to approach. I would never have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it with my own two eyes. The caravan was surrendering everything they had as long as the women could go free and they could all leave safely. They were literally begging for the Tuchuk men to please .. please take all that they had. I think we all blinked a few times and decided to give the dwellers what they asked. We took what they had and watched as they scurried into the openness of the plains, unarmed, without supplies and on foot. I almost laughed remembering a story I had told Fonce once about the Celts and how they won battles much the same way.

Duran shrugged and Sage finally fell off his kaiila laughing when they were all well out of sight. Petra, Marnus and I took reins on the bosk and turned the wagons back toward the harigga and I finally leaned out to ask Duran what the &^%$ had just happened. He lifted a brow without ever looking at me to answer ... just ride woman ...shut up and just ride.

During the journey back I pondered the many things that had swirled in my head, Tarra's neglected advise, the strain in the friendship with Cana, Ba'atar, the talks with Ramza, the talks with Kam, that urgent feel of wanting to be somewhere I wasn't, that feeling of anxiety that didn't go away. I'd watched how fear had made a simple situation become a nightmare for those that gave into it. The dwellers had reacted to their fears not the unassuming arrival of the Tuchuk. Hadn't I been doing the same thing in different ways.

It all came into wonderfully crystal clear focus when I looked up to see the myriad of multi-colored wagons stretched out in front of us once more. I relaxed and realized that right now, here was where I belonged and no, I would not fear that it wasn't.

Just Ride Part Two

The next day I went to find the commander. There were too many things running through my head to leave swirling in elliptical spirals. So many of these things I would speak to my guardian about but no one had seen him for some time. Who would have thought I would be willing and actually eager to talk with Fonce? I was or would be but it would have to be Kam that bore the brunt of a young woman's confusion. I figured it would be a good excuse to start with the plans for the ride to the meadow. Now I know better than to mess with Kam and try to hash words with him and got a good reminder of not to. Yes, he thought it would be fine for Ramza and I to go for a ride and yes, he saw no harm in going with Duran and Sage to the caravan. I could bring back whatever we found.

I was the one that exposed the jugular and the predator pounced in thirstily. I worry. Those that know me know I am compulsive at it but it was the elder that slit that wide open to find what was inside of it ... I was worried ... about ... it all came flooding out as if he had hit an artery ... whether my coming to the tribe had not been a good thing. Adapting to the superstitions of the Tribe perhaps I was the reason for all of the hardships that had been experienced in the past few seasons. Did I feel that way as a free person or all together and how did I come to this way of thinking? Now that caught me off guard as it often does when you expose light into the shadowy recesses of darkness You could almost hear the screeching, scritching of creepy crawlies run scattering back to where they came from.

I tripped all over my female logic trying to explain about sleepless nights and having a .. feeling then launched right into how Tribe was important to me and that I wanted only what was best for my people even if that meant I wasn't good for them, then maybe I should ... It had sounded good in my head but saying it all out loud it made no sense whatsoever. Told you that self pity does not look good on me, didn't I? As if he were untangling threads of an impossible knot, he began to draw out each point away from the others. My eyes were open now to a whole new world and still I couldn't digest it. Well true but I would not return to a collar. I did not have it within me, I am quiet spoken much too often for my own good but I was not a slave at heart. There was that mask without visible emotion when he simply said .. and still you are unsure of yourself. Could I argue that? Probably not but ... I did.

I had learned a great deal in the past seasons and knew I had much more to learn. Whatever courage I was managing to screw upward from the depths was left deflated when he lay a half question, half statement out ... that now I knew the difference between being a slave and a free woman. I wanted to scream at him .. dammit I was betrayed, I was lied to, the guidelines of the tribe had been violated just as I had been when a warrior grabbed me .. me ... a prospect at the time ... and raped a kiss from me, illiciting emotions that I had not wanted to give in the beginning. I wanted to cry out of the injustices of not having known it wasn't proper and my actions covered and given absolution but now .. now dammit .. I was the one having to face all that had transpired and be held for my actions ... mine and no one else. Instead it was more a quiet confession than a volatile confidence .. yes .. I knew the differences.

Well that had not gone as I wanted it, to be sure. Did I want him to be wrong? Did I want to manipulate him into saying all the things I wanted to hear? No, but I wanted to be right. I just wasn't.

I'm female without a doubt. When I left him, I was angry. I was hurt. I was frustrated to no end but I was grateful that he had given me many things to think about. Revelation of what he had meant would come with time but for now he dismissed me to go and prepare.

At the time I had thought he was talking about the ride.

Just Ride

Someday we'll put it together and we'll get all done
Someday your head is much lighter
Someday we'll walk in the race of a beautiful sun
Someday when the world is much brighter
Ooh child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh child, things will get brighter
Ooh child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh child, things will get brighter
Nina Simone

According to physics, a body in motion stays in motion. That is my explanation of why I wanted to saddle Sin, kick my heels and just ride wide open as fast as I could toward the horizon and leap off the edge like the world was flat. Maybe I would enjoy the free fall like a bungee jump despite the fact there was no rubber band to stop me. Maybe that was why when Duran, Sage and Petra were speaking of traveling to a caravan for trade I jumped at the chance to go with them.

I was still toying with that ride into the horizon idea when I settled in around the fires. The one constant in my world besides those of the Midnight Wagons is Ramza. He walks or rides with me on the trails. He will stop by the wagons just to see if I need anything and late ahns are often spent just talking together. We talk of everything and anything. Sometimes he talks so much I can barely get a word in edgewise, sometimes it is the other way around. Regardless of who is running their mouth, his ways are often calming. I told him I was thinking of going to the cities, going out over the plains ... somewhere .. anywhere. I told him everything except the jumping off the edge part and he simply said, he would miss me. I asked if he ever felt like that .. just riding without ever looking back. Sometimes. Well, what did he do about it? His uncomplicated answers go straight through the heart. He said relaxes and realizes that right now, here is where he belongs. How do you argue with that kind of logic?

The gentle kiss that followed both told me that he would indeed miss me and at the same time it scared me. The last man that had done such had only wanted to see me in steel. I hadn't realized I spoke those thoughts aloud. Ramza almost seemed angry even though the touch of his fingers were like velvet when he brushed strands off my temple back where they belonged. If he had wanted me in steel, didn't I think he would have done that by now? Straight to the point pure honesty, something I had not seen from a man since coming here. When I confessed that what hurt most was not being able to trust anyone anymore, I asked him to forgive me for making him part of the collective. He didn't deserve that. His answer was to reach for my hand and turn it to press a kiss to my palm. I stared at where our hands met for a long time before he walked me back to my wagon and asked me to return from the caravan safely.

It was a leap of faith deciding that this was one of the few people I could actually put my trust in. Somewhere in all of that, we made plans to ride out to the flower meadow that I had wanted to visit again. It surprised me that he remembered it but I would ask Kam if it would be alright.

Making up lost time

We walked the narrow path,
beneath the smoking skies.
Sometimes you can barely tell the difference
between darkness and light.
Do you have faith
in what we believe?
The truest test is when we cannot,
when we cannot see.
...
It won't rain all the time
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall,
your tears won't fall
forever.
~Jane Siberry

There had been many who stopped by the row of Midnight Wagons during the move. Some came by to see how I was doing, some to share the warmth of a fire and congenial conversations, but the fact is they cared and without having to say so, they showed me that they did. I, myself, rode or walked ahead each day to bring meals, gifts, or to see how others were doing. I usually made the visits brief preferring my isolation but one of those trips became a turning point.

A true friend is one that will tell you to get yer arse up, dust yer self off and get over it. These were the things that Kam had done ... not in those exact words but in his own ever sweet solicitous way. If you know the man you have an idea of what I'm saying. It all began and pretty much ended with the suggestion of moving my wagons up where they belonged. He had a point, the closer I was to the front, the quicker could I set up and relax when we reached the southern plains. The bonus would be less dust between here and there to deal with.

I'm smart enough to know those who have offered good advice and would be much wiser in heeding it. The commander was not a man to repeat himself so there was no hesitation to do as he said. In fact, I moved the wagons close to his with his approval.

It is all a matter of trust. There are those that have proven themselves to be good friend, ones that I now consider closer than blood. Sadly enough, there are those that I know not to, but knowing is its own arsenal.

Are the quivas sharp?

One would keep them so.

Expression

The wagons are said to be countless, the animals without number. Both of these claims are, of course, mistaken, The Ubars of the Wagon Peoples know well each wagon and the number of branded beasts in the various herds; each herd is, incidentally, composed of several smaller herds, each watched over by its own riders. The bellowing seemed now to come from the sky itself, like thunder, or from-the horizon, like the breaking of an ocean into surf on the rocks of the shore. It was like a sea or a vast natural phenomenon slowly approaching. Such indeed, I suppose, it was. Now, also, for the first time, I could clearly smell the herd, a rich, vast, fresh, musky, pervasive odor, compounded of trampled grass and torn earth, of the dung, urine and sweat of perhaps more than a minion beasts. The magnificent vitality of that smell, so offensive to some, astonished and thrilled me; it spoke to me of the insurgence and the swell of life itself, ebullient, raw, overflowing, unconquerable, primitive, shuffling, smelling, basic, animal, stamping, snorting, moving, an avalanche of tissue and blood and splendor, a glorious, insistent, invincible cataract of breathing and walking and seeing and feeling on the sweet, flowing, windswept mothering earth. And it was in that instant that I sensed what the bosk might mean to the Wagon Peoples.

Two fingers pointed toward his eyes then his palm flattened to move out ... extending away from him as far as his arm could reach in a smooth glide. 'A see, Linna .. a see'. He was describing to me the depth of a feeling that swept over him. The bosk. He spoke of riding through them and looking up and their numbers were as far as the eye could see ... a sea of sacredness. Allowing the sky, the wind and the grass itself lead him safely. If there had been any fear in the boy at that time, there was none to be seen in the recounting of the tale. The bull had come to him. His brother. The conviction I heard in his voice left no doubt that this was what he believed in his heart to be true. It was purely reverence.
He spoke too of seeing among this 'see', his own people in the same continuation, his sons and his son's sons among the bosk. His visions were so strong that I felt them in my heart and could see them as if I had stood there at his side. He was coming into his own right among the Tribe and I had been privileged to witness this wonder in his expression, in the play of his features and I could see the many scars that he would bear in a lifetime.

There was a sense of something greater than mere pride and arrogance that swelled in my chest ... something for lack of a better term to offer those who read this in their own native language ... spiritual. I sat there in silence listening to every word, watching every movement of his hands, of his shoulders and the straightening of his height to stand taller than I have ever seen him. There was no resemblance of the boy I had first met .. here stood the persona of a man .. a Tuchuk man filling his lungs with his plains.

His brother ... his first bosk would have a fine name. He would be called Nili and he would sire great herds that thundered across the lands of the Tuchuk.

Later I would tell him that Cana had given him a dun colt with white markings on his nose and the wagon and bosk that pulled it. These would remain in my trust until he received his first scar. Rusty was giving him one of the foals due by the time we camped in the south as well. For now I left him celebrating among the men, taking with me only the memory of the expressions.

There was no anger inside me to taint this moment. Just understanding ... enlightenment if you will. I whispered to the wind, to all that had touched one young warrior's life ... Thank You.

page 3

Visions behind closed eyes.

The tea Deenyet had given me held cradled in my hands without taking a sip of the soothing herbs. I sat looking at the murial I'd begun on the canvas inside my wagon. Something other than the children, no other had seen. It had been a vision that I could not shake since its beginning .. a want, a need .. a desire to see stretched before me. It had started on my world and still haunted me even now.

The colors on the canvas faded to another moment ... the vision of a woman close to the fires and a warrior leaning down from his saddle with his hand extended. Was it not the mirror image of another night? I hear his words like an echo, the sound of a singers voice, velvet in its touch to the ears ... Come.

I close my eyes and feel my hand slide into his and know the lift into the saddle with him. I know the feel of my shoulder resting against his chest, my head in the hollow of his throat. I can hear the symphony of his heartbeats as well as the inhale that rends his senses with the scent of me. The lope of the beast beneath us that buffets our closeness to and fro until he draws me tight, firmly so their is no barrier between us except the leather that clings with heated mist of two bodies.

The destination had been mapped for my eyes before, written on flesh and signed .. the message had been clear and understood. It had not been the first time that I'd walked away though with urging time and time again had been sent back to speak with him. The line of the hill marked at its highest point beneath the lowest star .. that place where the sky and the land meet. The vision of him standing beneath the moonslights, lit by their glow .. magnificent.

I would hear the haunting melody and feel the meaning .. of all the beautiful things thought of, of what is felt within .. the depths of it all until the tears dammed behind my closed eyes. To loosen them would not be to let them fall but to be lifted to the sky so that they cascade over the plains like rain .. falling fast, falling hard to seep along the dry ground to seek the source. Perhaps there, they would be lifted once more as a sip to quench a thirst.

It is now I open my eyes and I still see the outstretch of a hand .. the image that I had dreamed of seeing on more occasions than at the stream. I see different one paused there and I look to the woman, a woman that had watched me ride away with him once before and I watch her turn and walk away.

My hand had not risen to meet his but now as the bowl fell to the flooring my fingers lifted to touch the canvas.

One day there will be the clasp of wrist to wrist in a grasp that is meant to be and I won't turn loose.

interim

... scribbled in the margin between pages ...

The calm glass finish of a swift moving stream may camoflage a raging undertow below. It is the same with the depths of human emotions. Although it is preferable to be close to others in theory ... to family ... to friends ... to the world in general, the risk of getting hurt can prevent us from exposing our vulnerabilities. We may want to press against even our own resistances and the flux makes it harder to share the tenderness that accompanies our insecurities ... the depths of the current.

Despite my naturally outgoing nature, I gave myself permission to withdraw ... to be reserved ... quiet without glimpse of the forces that were at work within me. There simply wasn't ... exposure for any and all to see .. to judge or misjudge beneath their own social expectations.

It would be only for a short time then those closest would have privilege of seeing beneath the glass surface.

What's in a name

It was said a youth of the Wagon Peoples was taught the bow, the quiva and the lance before their parents would consent to give him a name, for names are precious among the Wagon Peoples, as among Goreans in general, and they are not to be wasted on someone who is likely to die, one who cannot well handle the weapons of the hunt and war. Until the youth has mastered the bow, the quiva and the lance he is simply known as the first, or the second, and so on, son of such and such a father.

I'd seen a great source of pride in the boy when he went off to the warrior's wagons to help hitch the teams. Pride that he was earning his first bosk with the honesty of hard work. There was no doubt that it was still there when he returned with fresh meat and the tales of having helped, though, watching the terse corner of his mouth and the glint in the dark eyes, I knew meant many things went through the young warrior's mind. While the meat roasted and the repairs were being made it took coaxing to get what bothered him to spill. It had been things he had heard, things he had been told when he was helping see to the teams, such as parentage, lineage ... names. My heart sunk a little.

I knew this was an extremely touchy subject for him. He wasn't fond of the descriptive name "Me Too", and no, it no longer fit him very well. He was growing into capabilities that were more evident each day. His pride had spat out more than once that he was First Son of all wagons and no wagon. Courage to stand in the face of those who met him and admit he had no father that he knew of had shown the boy's inner character. To me, to be reduced from First Son of any warrior even one that was not there to raise his heir, regardless of the reason, to be considered hundredth or last was insult. My teeth clinched together tightly in trying to contain my anger. Perhaps it is wrong of me to think this way but it is how I feel.

Would I coddle the child and offer soft spoken words that salved the soul and healed the heart? No. It was a harsh world he lived in and he would have to grow to live within in it ... a part of it. My own words left a thickening in my throat having to apply the same wisdom to myself. I asked him to tell me who he was on the inside. He thought for a time before he said, 'Strength,' tapping his chest arrogantly, 'in here'. I had to agree that it was what I saw as well. Then I asked him what he could see himself as in the future, not as clan but the man, the warrior, he would be. Orlu. That came without hesitation. Not an Oralu? Not Ubar? 'Perhaps', was his answer. He believed he could one day lead one hundred, of that he was certain. It was something he felt inside, something deeply rooted. He spoke with such confidence that he made me see him there as well. If the sky realized that he was the best suited among all of the other warriors to lead more, he would not refute her wisdom. Spoken like a true Tuchuk, I thought.

Until he had shown his skills with the bow, quiva and the lance he would not earn the name that he would live by, instead he would be known by a descriptive such as First Son or like some of the women's monikers to keep so many boys separate in conversations ... Tug, Wily or Sonny or it could be his goal for the future. For now, Hundred ... Jagun, was his, if he desired. Rusty had sat there listening and agreed though I could see the same tense lines along his brow and the narrowing at the corners of his eyes. Something was brewing deep in that head that would come to light later.

In the meantime, I went inside the flap of my wagon and drew out an elongated porcelain dish. It had been one of my prized possessions but it seemed fitting that it would find a new home. A portion of the roasted meat was lined along its bottom. With the dish, I gathered a basket full of eggs and began walking back up the lanes to give to the the singer's family. Deenyet and Sage kept me company and to make sure the offering wasn't misunderstood for anything other than recognition of their generosity.

I spent only a few moments talking to the warrior's mother and her youngest son as well. The young man had done well learning the kaiila and plans were made to continue teaching him as promised. I believe she knew I would not visit their circle again without reason. As always the woman was a gracious hostess, understanding the need to return back down the lanes. There was still much to do, to be able to pull back out on the trail again.

page 2

Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly,
Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,
Resembling sire and child and happy mother
Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: 'thou single wilt prove none.'
Sonnet VIII

page 1

What makes the word 'human' so damned wonderful? You're always mourning your humanity, denying yourself the power and priviledge that are yours by right for fear of becoming inhuman. You fight to keep from doing what is natural for you, simply becase you pride yourself on being human. What is being human? ...
I was standing on the mountaintop with Satan whispering in my ear. And I was weak.
~Nancy A Collins Sunglasses After Dark

Unknowing
unsurity
of what is to come
That delicious wandering
of wonder
Feeling with more
than the touch of fingers
The heart
so afraid
to be hurt
unable
to stop itself
from plunging ahead
The throbbing ache
of the loins
desperate
hunger
to sate
the glorius heat
To be human
is to know thirst
to be unwilling,
unable,
incapable
of finding enough
to drink
to it's fill
though always
forever trying
~hers

Live and let live

Whoa! Instinct says pull up the leads, this is a good place to stop.

There is much that goes into the composition of a song as there is to the birthing and raising of a foal. With that goes the respect due for the craftsmanship and the soul that it takes on of the creator. I had looked forward to hearing such gift. Far more than I would admit even to myself.

The night before was something I can't nor will explain, but it was an excellent point to walk with Sage back to the wagons on an all together opposite path.

I've always had this feeling inside that being among the Tuchuk was where I belonged and none have ever given any argument to that. Where I am now is a progression of life that has not always been of my choosing or for that fact want but I am here. Where I know I do not belong is between a man and another woman. The union of two to me is sacred, beautiful and blessed. It is a togetherness that should last a life time perhaps an eternity. I didn't interfere before when someone I cared for found love elsewhere and I have no intentions of doing so now.

When the bosk were hitched the next morning, the harnessing didn't level out as it should. It took assurance from Sage and Rusty that they could handle the repairs, Me Too had given his word and it was important that he keep it. Even with the timely return of Vao to help, my wagon would not pull out when the others did. Our three would still fall in among the lines though further back and later in the day. It would merely mean that tomorrow morning, the boy would have to ride Orachu to the singer's wagons.

Seth had claimed Silken and there would be celebrations among their circle, Wily should be part of. There was a good feeling inside knowing that they were together. One of those beautiful unions that is a treasure in of itself. It took convincing for the breaded tuchuk to return to his mother. He has a strong sense of loyalty that many a grown warrior could envy but his place was with his family during the move ... not to worry ... we would catch up.

I feel the fatigue of the trail and the events that have unfolded along the way. The words of a wise woman rang true .. rest while you can. This delay would give me time to do just that. My body needed to heal from the storm, my heart and soul now needed to as well.

Glorious Feeling

The sound of an excited voice was what roused me from the peaceful dreams I was having. Long before the rest of the camp woke, one young warrior had been fed, the bosk hitched and was last seen running between the rows to keep his promise. I stood watching the dust settle even in the darkness. The last time I had seen such verve had been when Vao and Rusty began teaching him the things that had been lacking in his life. I remembered how surprised I was when Cana said he had returned from that venture and needed me in his life again. It was something I had not expected, not because I would have to turn loose once more but I had trusted those men to see that he was taught what was needed. When Vao went back out again, it was already planned that he would go with him.

It felt like a good day to saddle up and let the boy man the reins when he came back from the singer's wagons. It would be good for him to have more responsibilities. I had to smile watching. The air of confidence and the beginnings of arrogant pride suited him well. He kept vigil over the pulling team and called out to the riders with more gusto. We talked for a while in the distance afforded between the wagon and my mount. There were many things that were rumbling around in that young mind that we would discuss later when the wagons stopped. For now the more the day progressed, I would ride further apart leaving him to oversee the line of the three wagons.

Along the edges of the trail mingled within the brush and shrub, spring had begun to take its hold in miniature rainbows. A scattering of trumpet yellow blossoms caught in the wind to play along the top of the dirt and grass. Delicately petaled lavenders swayed and danced without any care in the world. I had the chance to notice them more. The wonders of the prairies is a magnificent sight to behold. The movement of the tribe over it is breathtaking.

I was told we would be crossing the river in the next few days. I'll be glad when we are on the other side. The bosk will have grass and begin to multiply. New champions will claim ubar of the grass tufts. There were places I wanted to see, breathe in the warm air. Find that little spot along the stream where the reeds grow tall and the water is deep. I'd like to ride across the openness there and feel the wind caress my cheeks.

Taking advantage of the spare time I had, I went to improve the art of self defense. I had the best of teachers and soon the awkward stance and hold of the weapon smoothed to a lethal grace. It was a lesson as much for concentration as it was craft of movement. Focus. Observing under pressure and distraction so that I did not leave myself open and exposed. Sage had stepped in to prevent a cocky warrior from interfering with the training leaving a beaten dung tush in the dirt. I was told to spend time after I finished with the kaiila each day to practice throwing. There was a hearty agreement that I would. I came away with my own new air of confidence, not just because I had heard the words well done.

It had been a good day, one that had a glorious feeling to it. I rode along side the columns with Sage right there with me, simply feeling a part of the world around me and enjoying every ihn.

Honesty

When a merely honest man appears he is a comet--his fame is eternal--needs no genius, no talent--mere honesty ... Mark Twain

I couldn't help singing, so much so that Me Too began singing right along with me as I helped him ready for his furs. "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket .. save it for a rainy day ..." There was an excitement coursing through him that I'd not seen before and it touched at something inside. He was actually going to turn in without any trouble tonight so he could get up bright and early in the morning. He would too. There had been a meeting of two warriors, each with pride, arrogance and respect as men of station. A deal had been struck between the two. If Me Too helped ready the teams in the mornings, the other would see he had his first bosk.

When I had reached over to press a kiss to the boy's temple while I tucked him in, he touched my cheek then let the tip of his fingers touch the center of his chest. There was no need for words.

Wily still occupied my wagon .. he had since the declaration of his claiming. There is probably a pile of worms and bugs on the Ubar's steps ... brideprice paid in full for the right. I stole inside long enough to ease the small book from its hiding place, kissed the mop of red hair then made my way to the new wagon. At first it was not words that defiled the pristine beauty of the page but another of the shadings that took on life of their own. With every stroke of the marker, I let my thoughts have freedom. What came to mind most was a passage from Emerson of what success was.

What is success? To laugh often and much; To win respect of intelligent people and the affection of children. To earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others. To leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition. To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

Respect, Honesty, Endurance. I hadn't known what I was going to say to him but it all came natural as he met the boy. Me Too is why I do not stray far from the fires to meet anyone. He is the importance of my life. Those times that I have come across anyone along the stream it has never been surreptitious, merely chance. Even that is rare. There was no need to confide the only reason I sought to speak to him more than once or twice had been at the urging of one that I looked up to. What had developed by doing so was spoken of honestly and without expectation of anything in return.

He had the right to know too that last time of meeting had been seen and this was now why I did not come closer, instead leaving suitable distance between us .. how was that put? ... proper. I was surprised that no one had spoken to him of that night. The cold distance I perceived around the fires had made me feel sure it had been. I did find a new strength in his words when he told me that if any have trouble with what transpired then they should address him. It was a subject that was now closed as far as I was concerned.

One of the things I have the most pride in, is honesty. In this we share something precious. He felt what I had told him was truth and he offered his own in return. Here, there was no surprise as I listened and I will always hold respect for the man for the openess of all he said. There was the same honesty that came when I spoke again. Those more important things in life came to bear in the topics .. that ended with my telling him, I am a strong woman. I have to be. I will not leave the boy .. alone .. again. I could wish the warrior happiness with sincerity, and it was good to hear that he believed I deserved someone that will respect me for the woman I am now.

See, I know the woman inside. Regardless whether any one else has faith in her .. I do.

Something from a place that is not now and time that is not here came to mind. There is no room within love for selfishness, it will burn away all except its purity in the flames of its brilliance and the rest will fall away as ash. There was something further that stoked a small ember to begin glowing within. Love is patient and kind. It is not jealous, boastful or arrogant. It is has no doubts or ask for anything in return. It isn't provoked and doesn't hold grudge. It rejoices in truth. It will bear all. It has strength in belief. It will always find hope and it will endure.

There was a wave of emotion that overtook me before I could catch up to Me Too at the wagon. Yes, it brimmed my lashes with threat several times but by the time my feet took the stairs of the platform I was singing. I knew where that spark had come from and I was running to meet it.

Sketches

I had thought that the markers would fly along the emptiness but the end of the charcoal merely began the smudges of shadows. The doodlings of a cluttered mind finding source to expose itself. Against the fold is where they stopped hitting the crease over and over again until there was little left but a nub that needed the wrapper peeled away on the stick.

The face of Me Too came to life there, not in words or perfect imagery, simply in light and shadow until there was no doubt ... it was him. I put the diary away and rose to meet the dawn. This would be a day that the wagons did not move and this surprised me. I went to the main fires meeting the scent of sage wafting in the air. I know that fragrance and I know who it belongs to. I was right, she was sitting there tossing the herb to the flames speaking to a boy, I'd never seen before. I gave him no thought as I spoke to the woman. When she asked me what I was holding back I told her I was being quiet and following the advice of a good friend that I should have earlier. When her gaze met mine, I held it and merely gave a nod. I know I can not hide my thoughts from her. I asked if I could come see her later.

It was then I noticed the boy staring at me. I've grown defensive of the way people look at me .. that deciding in their minds who and what I am by appearance. I am not the only pair of blues .. there are warriors that have the same color as well as free women. I am not the only one with fair hair. The strongest woman I know here has blond hair. In fact she is known as the blond larl with claws. She is strong because of many events that she has lived through though she has a quality beneath it all that earned her my greatest respect ... she offered me the quality of mercy once. I do not roar as others do but I can say that I know I will have to learn how and without family, without lineage .. being different in other ways .. I am going to have to learn how to roar fiercely to continue to survive here. I know that begins with self respect. Those kitten claws unfurled to ask what the boy was looking at? I have no wish for any male to be familiar with me at the moment and would cease curiosity right at its source. I admit that regardless of his answer I was set and ready to use those talons. It was met with silence. That was good enough for me. I began speaking with the Haruspex again.

No matter how much I like the woman I found no humor in her jest that she thought I had rendered him speechless and that was perhaps a first for him. It was my feeling that he was chatty enough for one with smooth cheeks here at the fires. Little boskarse said not to let him out talk me. I doubt he could .. he has never encountered one of those long winded run on sentence slash query slash blow the hair off his chest conversations of mine. Me Too probably has more hair on his chest anyway. It is no loss to me either way.

It was the woman I spoke with before returning to the wagons. I would like to come see her later. Even as I made the plans so much of what I thought I would say to her changes, just as what I want to speak with the warrior does. With every change I feel as if I am Alice becoming tall. It is not an uncomfortable fit but it is a tight one inside my skin. What will emerge on the other side of this molt .. this shedding if you want to call it that? One of the things that I do realize is that I have claws for nothing more than the bearer of peach fuzz ... what makes me think I am woman enough to handle a full grown Tuchuk man, his arrogance, his passions for life?

More and more of what the elder had told me unfold as truths. I have grown enough to realize that there is one piece of advice more than others that I should keep for my own chest of treasures ... listen to your instincts.

Blank Pages

My time at the main fires of the first wagons were quietly reserved now without adding much to the conversations. There is no intention of cloistering myself away from others but for now I enjoy time to myself. Despite appearances I had learned hard lessons.

The kaiila handler's low back ache concerns me. The barbarian healer that Tarra had once told me of has come and he has offered her an unusual technique for easing the pain that seems to work. She assures me she is fine and that her slaves will tend to her but I was still relieved that she will spend time with Tarra. It is good to hear that the Spex has joined us though it was disturbing to know she had been injured. She stays on my mind a great deal of late, I'm sure she knows this. I've missed her. Is it any wonder that many things she has spoken to me about, the treasure chest of wisdoms, go through my head over and over? I'd worn more than a few of the baubles with pride, just not enough of them. When I can I will go see her.

Perhaps the year keepers will call this time the regathering of family. Not only are the ones that had a slower migration coming from the north joining us but Trilock has returned too. I now have the barest taste of how Noya must have have felt. He is injured but ... home and that is all that matters. The bond among those who share blood and promise is strong like the threefold chord of ancient days and I could only sit there watching as family shared precious moments reuniting. How long I sat there I am not sure, nor when I rose and slipped away to leave them their privacy.

Perhaps it was the news that Silken will be here soon that began a cleaning spree through all of the wagons all my row, perhaps it is the need to spend excess energy. From one to the other, down the line from those that belonged to her through to one Me Too sleeps within, I had the children help dust, straighten, fold and put away. It would all be spic and span. The last to be seen to was the newest one. This one I would do myself. I would see the boy's things moved into it once we reach the south and should Cana wish .. the one she had allowed Me Too to occupy would be returned to her. He will have one to call his own once he has earned his scars and his name.

Ebet's extra wagon was the last that I entered. It wasn't hesitance to tread there because of the ferocious beast we'd found but more the feel of treading some one's intimacy. It was as you would expect in some ways, a man's wagon for storage. The spoils of pillages and raids must have some place to be, this had been his. There was something unexpected there among the haphazard stacks of copper pots, pelts and wooden utensils. A chest that bore his markings held items that had been a woman's. The fragrance though musty from the turnings that had been stored away still held an unmistakable essence of heather. The dried blossoms fragile to the touch were moved carefully to see the other contents below. Beneath there were two diaries bound together with a strip of aged leather. I peeled the corner back on each only enough to see if there was indeed writing inside. One of them was filled from front to back with the scribbles of an effeminate hand. The other held nothing but the lily white purity of blank pages. This one I took out bringing a few wrapped charcoal sticks with it then everything else was returned as it had been.

Once inside my own wagon, things were moved around so that it would not be found by any one's eyes except mine and perhaps one day someone that would cherish the reflections of my journey to the horizon and beyond. I knew once I sat down with the markers, the pages would flow with tears and joys as fast as my hand could offer them. They would no longer roam aimlessly but have a home. I hope they find comfort there.

Turning to the first page, it was only one word I jotted along the top. It said it all ... Onward.

Η αγάπη θα δει

Onward

Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams. Ashley Smith

Honesty. I'd been honest as I spoke with my mentor. I was honest in speaking of the night before. If there is one single fault to stand out most of my character it is that I am perhaps too honest for my own good. That is not to say I do not have a list of flaws. I am human.

She spoke of propriety ... did I not believe that my actions were improprietous? My answer was that by the time my head gave any rationale to a state of dress, it was too late to feign giddiness then scamper away in a blushing fit of innocence. What transpired had felt natural of a woman who loves a man, to see to his needs ... not desires ... needs. There is no moral superiority in what I feel of the time I have spent with the warrior but there is no shame to be found within me for even the smallest ihn of any of it. I have loved him and in that it is simple purity without guile.

It is said the night has a thousand eyes and the heart but one. Kam taught me to track, well enough, to notice the prints along the bank. There were barefooted ones making their way to the stream that I knew ended where the warrior was. There were another's, both forward and reversed that covered one of mine. I knew too who they belonged to.

As we walked together our conversation continued to other topics, of how empty it will feel when Silken returns and her children are no longer close about. I've savored every moment of being with them and the closeness will continue, but it will once more be just Me Too and I. I am all he has with exception of she and Rook. She spoke gently of the trials and tribulations of raising a child alone, more so a son, and that perhaps that will change for me. The honesty is that I cannot count the stars and claim that one of them is mine even if I whisper to myself of doing so. As the tracks of tears stained my cheek she asked why not? There was encouragement there not to cease to dream, perhaps there is more to my destiny that has yet to be revealed. There was no laughter in my voice as I confided I am used to loneliness and could live my life as I have the past ... alone, but now that the boy has come into my life I can no longer see my world without him. It is only in adding another .. a third star that I vacillate.

I've listened now to a great many things ... during that conversation, afterwards at the fires, what I have heard prior as well as what is in my head and in my heart. Much of these things I will not open thought to here, they will be mine and mine alone. I will share this ... The core of my beliefs have not changed, though to say I haven't, is to say that I have not grown or begun to mature. The continuance of the Tribe is vital regardless of my place or even existence within it. The importance of the bosk never escapes me though I have an understanding of the role the kaiila play in the grand scheme of things. This is where I work hardest to help see the births, the growth and training of them. Assurance of a place within the Tribe for the boy is my priority. I worry for him more than I do for my own heart. My friends are also considered my family and for them I have nothing but good intentions. I worry over them and their well being also.

I have made a decision that is based only in part on the advice of those around me but more on what I feel is right. I will speak to the warrior, not with any expectations but with the honesty that he has right to know. If he is the man I know in my heart he is, he will hear what I have to say. I will be woman enough to listen as well.

I do not care for the concept that the Sky has predetermined our paths in life .. to map our destiny without informing us of its plans. I believe that it provides what is essential to live and grow and perhaps has both wrath and compassion like a loving parent as we pull ourselves up from crawling to walk and onward to be able to run. In return it is offered the reverence, love, and respect that it deserves. Should I find that it has made fools of us all in the predisposition of what is to happen in the future without regard to the right of any one's will, my temper will know no bounds. I would feel the same of people.

As my path continues Onward .. I hold to the belief that beneath the stars, life like the flow of a stream is full of beauty and wonder. It can be turbulent with violence, brimming its bank with the bounty of abundance, calmly peaceful enough to leave crystal reflection and I will notice it ...all of it. In doing so I will live to the fullest of my potential and fight like a larl for my dreams. This is passion.

There is a sliver of jade I plucked from the many things that I have heard ... we are vulnerable, no matter how strong or tough. I marvel to myself that is the impressionable softness that allows tracks to form.

Grains of Sand

I can still feel the grains of sand on my hands. The night slipped away from me within my wagon, with my head resting along one of the wooden ribs. The pads of my palms rolled against each other. There is no secret of how I feel about a particular warrior, except that it remains unsaid to the warrior himself. Gentle teasings and proddings had encouraged me to speak those emotions aloud, to give them voice. Was there so much surprise at my answer? What I felt went far beyond what I'd ever felt of any other, not this intensity, not this .. depth .. no .. it was heard right ... no other ... ever.

All I knew was that absence had created an ache in the hollow of my chest so bad it felt I could not breathe. I missed the laughter, I missed the bantering. I missed ... him. It seemed as if it had been forever since his voice echoed across the fires, whispered beneath the moonslight. Was he safe, was he alright? It had been prophetic understanding .. I was worrying myself sick.

I had to walk, I had to find air, the wagon was stifling me and the tred of my boots crossed the plains to the small tributary .. water. It was my shoreline like the coast. Here beneath the stars maybe I could find some peace to a raging mind and thundering heart. I feel like a fool. I feel as if I look into the great blue sky expecting to spread wings to soar and am tugged by the weighted fear of tumbling endlessly against every cloud, every star there is until I know them all by name. I couldn't bear to look up, instead I waded to the middle of the stream to curl in upon myself, to brace my head in the cradle of my arms and let the inner rain fall unashamed. Not until the meloncholy was spent could my hand clear my cheek and reach for a pebble. It never found its mark. The sounds behind me, spun me around.

Was it a vision? An apparition? I was up and running through the currents heedless of how each bootfall sprayed droplets of water as high as my waist until I was only feet away. It took all of the strength I had within me not to simply bowl him over, topple him right into the stream in embrace, in a covering of kisses that said how much his being away had affected me, to just stand there spellbound by that face, those eyes, that grin. He had returned safe and inwardly there was a rejoicing, peels of delight rending the air and a dance of thanksgiving to the sky, but I just stood there. This not knowing what to do with my hands always leave them to flutter in front of me, wanting to reach out, resisting the urge until they simply hover. Had I missed him? Damnable arrogance! Had he been gone? Where was his kiss? It would be twice now that there was no doubt of my aim or his. There was no mistaking the smiles that replaced witty ones either of us usually have.

It would not be until the firmness of an arm drew me closer that I would actually realize .. there was nothing but my clothing and ... simply Tuchuk there. I'd given it no thought whatsoever but the evidence was hard to ignore. Perhaps he may have missed me a little bit too. Hadn't I been there? Yes, every moment, every ihn. I rebutted the offer to get naked and join him but he may as well turned around so I could see to the spots he missed. It was far too late to swoon and run scampering to the bank.

It was a task taken seriously. That give of sore muscles beneath my palm told me of the days of riding, the tensions of more than just standing Tuchuk ala stars and I willed them away with the firmness of seeing them soothed. How long had it been since I felt the lilt of a far away lullaby pass my lips? To fill the air with those soft sung songs without words? I gave in to them now. When the sand had all been rinsed clear, I turned to cross the shoal heading for the bank, my hands brushing away the damp sand clinging to my leathers. I didn't say a word. I didn't look back. I didn't stop until the familiarity of my own rows of wagons was in front of me.

I can still feel the grains of sand on my hands, like those in an hourglass spilling between my fingers .. this and the quiet hum of tune to keep me company. I touch that soft spot beneath my breast to savor the peaceful easy feeling that is there. It is the same natural feel when I am with him, down to the touch that my hand curls over with the same tenderness as the kisses that he covers them with.

I can't deny that my head wages war with my heart, it is one that I do not have answers or battle strategies for. Part of me thinks it is best not to see him again though Cana suggests that I tell him how I feel, yet when I see him, there are no words that come or feel needed. As I walk along side the wagon now, I look out over the bosk, hear their song and see not the body of the man, not a simple wish to topple into his furs but the edge of his smile, the depths of his eyes that haunts me so. Instead there is a wish to hear more of his feelings of the sky, of life, to know the depths of his heart. I see a myriad of cherubic faces surrounding us, that innocence and trust like the multitudes of stars. The only thing that both my head and my heart agree on is that I will never plead submission again, not to him, not to any man but it doesn't break the spell. It isn't a curse, there is no logic .. I think it is madness.

Ferocious Beast

(No that is not the image of a sleen but you have to admit .. it worked)

Well this certainly explained the noise that had been heard from the wagon all those nights in the north. The air filled with pleadings that half bordered on whining and for once it just made me grin. Can I keep him? Can I keep him Linna, pleeeeease? Oh yes, I extricated those devout promises .. You have to feed him, see him trained, take care of him or is it a her ... and ... by no means is it sleeping in a wagon .. no not yours, not mine, not anybodies. It wound up sleeping in his but only for now and that scent! Winds.

If I'd known we were going to be the proud new owners of a young sleen, I would have wagered for a pen and some chain and .. what all does one need for a sleen anyway? I was already scouting around for a cage for urts. Well all that is left is a few verr, I guess and I'll have a complete menagerie. I did have to ask just what was he going to name the creature? The answer was more than suitable ... he would have to earn his name. Sounded good to me.

When the wagons slowed the following eve, I was ready for conversation with someone older than fourteen, make that seventeen. It was good to see Ramza. I had been worried about him since the storm. I worry, it is a given. His limp was noticeable but he assured me it was nothing but a bruise and a scratch. For as good as the Tuchuks are at bragging, they hold title rights to understatements too. I picked on him a little about not getting a word in edge wise with all of his chatter. He speaks to me more than most I guess but that isn't saying a lot. That pun fit well didn't it?

We talked of the damages the storm had brought. His girl was seeing the sewing of his canvas and he would see the painting on mine was redone when we reach the south. Then I spun the tale of the ferocious beast in the next wagon that had attacked a kur .. might have been a stuffed one but it was my story. About that time, the sleen tracked me to the fires dragging the stuffed kur along with it. It wasn't long before Me Too followed. I thought that was supposed to be the other way around. For a moment I watched to see if the insolence would bow up again with the warrior. It did in its own way. It came in announcing the bragging rights he had earned, 'Rusty said that I was doing good with the bow and maybe soon I could have my first scar'

I couldn't help thinking that both of them rarely talked but they seemed to have no trouble communicating between them. Especially when the warrior told him that he was sure one day he would be a great man. Made me all misty eyed. There was that moment that Me Too stood there silent, studying Ramza's features, putting them to memory before he grinned and told yes, He would be .. watch and see.

Did you hear that?

The lumbering of the wagons was enough to almost lull one to sleep on the flat open plateaus. I'd laughed and whooped until my sides ached watching the restlessness of the men and yes that included ones from yeah high to bent and gnarled racing and wagering along the straight ways. Training of the younger ones doesn't stop merely because we are on the move. Rusty,Wily, Me Too and First through .. lets just say several others, took advantage of this time to go out on kaiila back for some in the saddle practice with the horn bows. I had the opportunity to see a few of the shots and was suitably impressed. They left a dust trail behind them as they raced back to the wagons again filling the air with their triumphs and for others the dismay of defeat. Did you see, Linna, Did you see?

Yes, I did. Not only had I seen but made more than fair amount off the wagers as well. The outrider pulled in alongside them to lean off his saddle a little while he spoke with me. For as far behind as the boy had been when he had started his lessons, he had more than made up for it in the tenacity to learn. He said that he was doing well with the bow, well enough he may be able to earn his scars in the following seasons. I thanked Rusty for his belief and encouragement and enjoyed the flood of enthusiastic bragging that followed from my little charge. Did you hear that Linna, Did you hear that?

Yes, I did, an arahch. He didn't flinch and pull away as my hand traced the smoothness of his cheeks. There would come a time they would hold the fever of scarlet chevrons and if he survived he would be entitled the privileges of a warrior. There was no ambivalence there, just the desire to see the future unfold as it should My only ache was thinking of the name he would earn. It was something I needed to speak with Fonce about.

When he and Wily returned not long after, the duality of half man, half child came to focus for them both. Clutching the stems of bright yellow flowers that they had found, there was a genuineness to the smiles behind them. Me too had remembered the battles of Ubar of the tufts of grass and the solitary blossom that had defied the siege. I never knew he had noticed. Wily's offering of course had a bug clinging to a petal.

The day had been full and by the eve, meals were seen to and each of us were eager to find our furs. With the lack of sleep in the days prior, nodding off was no effort whatsoever. It was the wakening that I fought against. The high pitch keen seemed to invade everything. I half jumped from my mats when I heard a quiet whisper close by. Did you hear that, Linna? By the time my flap slid open, we were not alone. It seemed there were several others .. who heard that. Mia clutching one of the stuffed creatures we had made, tucked her head under my elbow and I tried not to wince. I didn't have to favor it as much but it was still tender. Sonny was right in among the mix, though his courage had him a step or two ahead of Me Too. Standing there with an ear half turned trying to hone in on the sound before I realized it was coming from the new wagon. I tried to get the children to stand back while I investigated. Why is it that men seem to sleep through things like this?

A cautious approach to pull the flap aside, left no doubt that what ever it was.. was in there. At the back of the wagon was a lump under a pile of furs that was growling, keening and scratching against the wood flooring. Now it takes a bit for the imagination to go through the list of things .. it can't be. There are no such things as ghosts, right? No, I refused to believe that Ebet had returned from the ashes to haunt us. Sonny had gained the stairs shoving the other boys back and where Sonny was, Mia was too. He grabbed the stuffed animal and threw it .. you use what weapon you have at the moment. We all watched in trepidation as it simply disappeared beneath the fur with a whole new series of eerie gruffs and growls.

Enough was enough, I was going to get to the bottom of this and see what mysterious monster was under there so I could go back to sleep ... hopefully. Charging across the interior of the wagon, I snagged the fur away not having any real idea if this was to be my last moment on Gor or not and low and behold, I got my answer ... there was a ferocious beast.

Horizon

The wise man said just walk this way
To the dawn of the light
The wind will blow into your face
As the years pass you by
Hear this voice from deep inside
Its the call of your heart
Close your eyes and your will find
The passage out of the dark
The wise man said just find your place
In the eye of the storm
Seek the roses along the way
Just beware of the thorns
The wise man said just raise your hand
And reach out for the spell
Find the door to the promised land
Just believe in yourself
Hear this voice from deep inside
Its the call of your heart
Close your eyes and your will find
The way out of the dark
Here I am Will you send me an angel
Here I am In the land of the morning star
Scorpions

I couldn't remember how long it had been since I woke before the dawn, but I was there to greet the central fire when it rose. While the heat of a rich bowl of blackwine began to ebb through my senses and rouse me from the want to slide back beneath my furs for a few ahns more, I watched the colors light the sky. A red dawn. The storm was nearing the sea. It was more the formation of the clouds against the horizon that intrigued me. I guess it is a childhood phase to watch the clouds and pick out shapes to give name to. This one looked like a fairytale image of an angel holding an open book. Wishful thinking on my part to want one of my own, but it couldn't hurt ... could it? Was this my own personal omen of things to come?

Everyone was chomping at the bit to press onward to the proverbial greener pastures. Tug was straining to evade the wash of his face and hands and telling Talia that he heard his Momma calling got him out of it. He was off in a flash. Not long after the wagons began to roll once again, I fell in among them on one of the new kaiila. Of the tawny gold pair, one female, one male, I chose Paz, the smaller, more feminine of them. She had been named well. The demeanor was a quiet one .. peaceful. The stallion was Maelstrom. Quite fitting. The name would stay.

I gave in to thinking of the past few days, not the storm but of the woman I'd met. It seemed as if I'd known her all my life. She was quickly becoming an obsession, an addiction. This surprises you, I'm sure. I heard the voice behind me and didn't have to turn around to look. It just brought a smile. 'You aren't singing.' Riding closer to where Deenyet perched behind the reins, we simply fell into conversation again. The envars had been good to her, the fullness of her figure and the crinkle at the corners of her eyes couldn't hide that she had been stunningly beautiful in her youth. Even now she carried herself with a quiet grace and elegance. Deenyet. I mused over her name. The pronunciation so similar to dignity in another language.

She and I talked and talked for what seemed half the day before I realized there was another rider not far behind. Shifting in my saddle so I could see him better, then pulled the leather straps aside to let him by. When I moved, he moved right back in behind me. There was merriment in the older woman's eyes as she took in the whole thing, then introduced me to a close friend of hers, Sage. He was a tall lanky man with elongated fingers that seemed to wash through the air when they moved. They matched the rest of his physique. It was his face I found most interesting, more than scars chiseled his features. They were marked with the stories of his life along the sides of his mouth, around his chin all the way up to the stripes on his brow then into the fading hairline over his temples. A thinker. I liked him immediately.

I wondered if they were mates but a quick assurance came that they were just friends .. good friends. If I hadn't had such terrible skills at matchmaking, I would ... no never mind, I wouldn't. My talents in that area were beyond horrible. But that would be how it was, the three of us together, riding together, eating together, laughing and singing together the rest of the day .. and the next .. and the next.

My reverie was disrupted by the Tuchuk equivalent of 'Are we there yet'... 'are we there yet?' It came in the grumbles of being hungry from more than one of my young charges. My new friend showed me a different recipe for serving jerky, a bit of browned sugar and spices rubbed over the surface then rinsed with redfruit juice. Where did she get redfruit juice from this time of envar? There was a chuckle and a whisper, she'd send me some of the dried powder later. It was a big hit with the others and it was hard to keep up with the demand for more.

Regathering

Where love is great,
the littlest doubts are fear;
Where little fears grow great,
great love grows there.
~ Hamlet 3:2

A finger running its edge across my cheek was felt in the softer places inside. My own fingers reaching up to hold it there with tenderness. I couldn't stop the moisture that formed at my lashes, the tale telling of emotions refusing to hide. Searching for refuge in the dark eyes that held mine, she studied what she saw for a moment. So much the maternal mirror that it had stilled me there. In her own was the glimmer of knowing, of understanding, hearing a heart's beat. There was unspoken query that I let silence answer.

It felt selfish to take the time from tending to wagons, preparations of pyres and aligning Ebet's second wagon in with mine. Duran felt that of the two the warrior owned, that he would wish me to have it, the bosk and the kaiila with exception of his favored. He had no other family but me.

For now, there was a gentle pat on my hand and the bid to follow, it seemed tea was cure all for everything, this one lightly spiced. One thing I would learn, she told me, was caring for myself would insure there was strength enough to care for others, eat well, rest when there was time, laugh and carry a song in my heart. Everyone has a song inside about bosk and a few for the other important things as well. I wanted to lay my head in her lap and feel the stroke of soft hands through my hair, the reassurance that it would have brought. Perhaps she would have wished that too.

I felt I had taken enough of her time though she hushed me with a quiet reprimand and a bid for me to return when I could. I would enjoy that, purely selfishly, to soak her up, to savor just being around her and watching and learning. I promised to bring some browned sugar nut pastries and that was met with a warm smile. Before I turned to go, I felt something pressed to my palm though I didn't look until I was back within that little sanctuary once more.

It was a precious moment of quiet inside while the boys were helping see to the refitting of a new tongue and the girls were patching canvas. Unfurling my hand, revealed a small strip of parchment and a sentiment I had heard long ago. I smiled at the familiarity of the charcoal. I put it away safely and rose to help see everything readied once more for the trail.

Having to favor my arm merely aggravated me that I couldn't do more. I now had three wagons to care for, though one still belonged to Cana, twelve bosk, and three kaiila. Not how I would have wished the acquisition but there was still the pride of carrying part of Ebet on toward the horizon. The time which the wagons needed repair hadn't allowed much rest.

It would be late into the night before the blue kaiila wagon was finished. When morning came, all of our rolling homes would be there waiting for the dawn. Cana had made sure I ate earlier in the eve and since there were already two warm cuddlies in my furs, I found comfort in Wilybugs. While I ran the brush through my hair, I couldn't help reaching up to touch my cheek.

Life comes at you fast

It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style.
Oscar Wilde

We had begun to relax within the comforts of routine. There was a flow to the change of riding alongside the wagons, walking away the kinks or manning the reins of the teams. Each had their responsibilities and expanded within them like the good fit of a glove. This morning, however, was proving difficult to make any time whatsoever. Braced against the winds that were beginning to pick up, the animals were becoming abrasive and belligerent.

It had been one of those glances back over my shoulder looking for some sign or hint of those not with us, that I spied Dracko and his rider. They were bearing down on the cluster of wagons like a vart out of a cave. Ramza had noticed the coming of the storm and was furiously trying to direct the lines of wagons in on themselves to create a barrier of protection. There was going to be very little time to shield against the onslaught. We barely saw the bosk unhitched before it hit.

Rather than send the children to their prospective homes, they were ushered into whatever wagon was closest. Birmah would be tossed a few of the smaller ones to defend before I made sure the scattering of my little group was in the security of mine. Winds rising in their intensity began rocking our homes on their axles, mine was severe enough to bounce and land hard. You could hear the crackle of wood as the tongue fractured. The eerie angle of it dredged in the ground would be what anchored it more firmly in its spot.

Without the luxury of extra weight, I had to hold tight to the railing to keep from being blown away. I had no wish for a repeat of the last moves lessons on flying. From there, I had a slight vantage point to watch as one of the wagons further down the row was picked up off its wheels and rolled into splinters. Another began to sway precariously on its side. You never know how touching it is to see heroism in action until you have witnessed it first hand. There was Ramza darting into the face of the storm itself to scoop up a little girl just before the canvas side rolled down to crush her. When a broken remnant of a chest hit the back of his thigh, I thought he was going to go down. He didn't. His approach with her wrapped in his arms came with the look of pain and the obvious favoring of that leg and commands to get inside. I would have if I could have turned loose long enough.

The last I saw of him, he was handing her off to one of the other women. Another strong gust drove me into the side of the platform pinning my elbow in between with a wince of pain. I am grateful for Ebet, he was the strength to see me shoved up over the rail with barked orders that backed up the former with an added 'stay there'. I didn't need to be told three times.

Inside, it seemed like ahn after ahn passed, listening to the roars of the gale and watching as it ripped at the lacings of the canvas until new streamers were made of the loose edges. I held on tight to the brood of youth that were there with me, quietly humming some far away lullaby. They joined in to make the melody a half prayer for the quiet to return again.

When it did, it had a weight to it that bore down on all of our shoulders. We all emerged slowly to begin picking up the pieces. The damages had been far sweeping and for some eternal. Ebet was gone.

Have you met ...

The children have been bit subdued from their usual selves. Homesick or mommasick is a better term for the ones that aren't with their immediate families. Tuchuk are strong and even the youngest of them go on day to day regardless of what comes. I'm not sure I could have handled so many if they were at full smoke. I had heard that you know how well you have raised your children when they visit someone elses' home. They had their chance and I can say all in all I am proud of them.

The move is kind of like a mixer as some of the lines made better time than others. A variety of faces you haven't seen or haven't seen in a while come and go throughout the day and evening.

Batzorig caught sight of Shanay and I grabbed her arm putting her behind me with one of those ohh no you don't even think about it looks. He was still trying to see the girl or what he could of her when he almost rode his kaiila over the top of two older freewomen. Last I saw of him or the women, they were still whopping his shins and leg and the beast was sidestepping not to get the brunt of it. That girl never gave him a second glance. Wheeew. Seriously though there aren't any books or scrolls on Tuchuk within the harigga but if you want to see the depths of a people .. watch their young. There was every virtue known to man written there as well as more than a few vices.

Gabriel met Nine and they seemed to get along well. The youngest brother of two families, both with a penchant for the kaiila. Cana's brother and I began showing the other one how to feed and care for the animals and he made sure to stop by each day to learn more. I'd promised to check on the warrior's family although the first approach was filled with nervousness. That washed away with the welcoming smile and the acceptance of extra hands to help. Wily was about to swat a hand against a bottom when she so calmly turned and filled it with a ladle with a bent handle. She'd heard about how well he was doing at the forge, could he fix that? I have no doubt my admiration for her skills shone on every bit of my features.

It wasn't merely Tribe faces that filtered to the evening fires, there was a stranger at them one night as well. My reaction surprised me. Dweller healer, here? I was leary and instantly defensive until I heard he was a friend of Kam and Tarra's. There was even a smile seeing my friend smile. She argues that no one but Tuchuk will touch her when it comes time for the babe to arrive, but without Silk and Falon ... I could only pipe in that I've delivered baby kaiila .. everything will be fine.

Some of the time was spent just enjoying time with the children. Amid the this one said, and that one did, snail ooze in Mia's hair, Forth Son getting punched for tugging Talia's hair, sleen helped us make stuffed jits from old stuff in forgotten trunks. We made one for every one, even a pink one. The boys actually helped too, once they got the bright idea that theirs could be used for bola practice. Aim improved with each round until the stuffings began to spill out. There was a shrub and a bramble bush that accidently got hurt. My apologies to the Gorean Wild Weed Preservation Society.

I suppose the most striking moment was when Ramza came by the wagon. He was a curiosity for the boys and Me Too decided that enough had invaded his territory. Wily, Tug and First through Ninth Sons of various families was as much as he was going to allow. Skirting his mount close to where we walked, he raised a short lance in the air and yelled to the top of his lungs his lineage. You had to be there. I told him the man was a good friend and I expected him to be treated as such and put that down before he hurt someone he didn't mean to. He jutted his jaw defiantly and made it look like he lowered the lance on his terms .. not mine. Ramza took it all in stride and simply greeted him with his own lineage. Over all it was a stalemate I think but the warrior did lean over chuckling to tell me that he thought I had an admirer. Well maybe so .. until bath time anyway. You could not take the grin off my face or the song that went with me everywhere I went after that. I was so proud of my boy.

Pied Piper

I began weaving through the columns of wagons .. seeing who was and was not here. It was more than an icy cold that shivered through me ... Silk's children were here but not Silk. There were others besides hers. I checked each one then, not rousing or waking their slumbers.

I don't think I have ever felt anything so ... I had no words for how this felt and in my heart of hearts ... I hope you don't either.

In the morning, there would be a shift in the rows. They would remain close to the wagons of the kaiila clan and those would move up as well. Here was the future of the Tribe and somewhere else were the rest. I felt like the Pied Piper. I just sort of whispered to the wind .. 'They are safe. I'll help watch over them ... until you return.' Have you ever done that? Or maybe just had a feeling in that soft spot beneath your breast that calmed things? Here is the spoiler for everyone. I don't have any magical powers, I'm just a woman but then ... everyone knows women have a sense among themselves that no one really questions.

There wasn't much time to pluck through all that anyway. I was proud new caretaker for more than a baker's dozen, one of which I watched begin moving his things into my wagon. There's Me Too, Second Son of Duran who is close friend of Forth Son of Gideon. No, not that Gideon, the other one, Duran's brother. You thought there was only one? To him, there is one and only one that matters and I don't argue with him. Third Son of Duran is close friends with Me Too so they are always hanging around the older boys. Now add Silk's pride of little larls including Forth Son ... the red headed wonder, and toss the youngest brother of an arrogant warrior in there and it becomes interesting really quick. Did I not just ask friends a few days before if they could see me surrounded by children? I'm not sure which phrase best describes it all, 'Careful of what you wish for', or 'Here's your sign.'

Can't forget Tug. He was part of this new gathering and put his two coppers worth of opinion in when Wily and I had a terrible dispute over the urts. No way were there going to be any urts in my wagon ... snakes, lizards, worms and bugs I would put up with but NO URTS. Tug leaned over to tell the breaded Tuchuk pretty as you please ... 'Wench nags.' I was ready to snag an ear and half walk some of them back to another wagon ... didn't matter whose just not my private little sanctuary, letting them All know ... only one warrior called me wench. But there was that stop me in my tracks and try not to crack up when Cana's son said with aplomb ... 'See told you.'

Head 'em up ... mooooove 'em out

One of those baubles of insight would become evident almost immediately during the beginning of the move. What is simply common knowledge among the Tribe, I had still yet to learn. When the wagons started to move, I went right along with them. Not that I would have stayed behind .. where the clan went, I went or better, where Cana did so did I.

There were some rocky spots in getting the wheels loose and rolling but the new foals thought it was an adventure and so did the boys. Their thirst and awe of life and all that it brings is inspiring as well as contagious. It's like holding on to the leash of an overgrown sleen .. just hang on tight and enjoy the scenery.

There is a magesty to the thunder of the Tuchuk on the move. Colored banners waving in the wind, a full palette of ferocity and wonder painting the plains with the togetherness of Tribe. The ground shook with the multitudes and the dust rolled beneath them to leave a wide columned plume as far back as the eye could see.

In the trail weary evenings when the wagons were pulled to a stop, makeshift camps and fires began to dot virgin territory ... then familiar faces were missed. You would think in the midst of so many tens of thousands that one face or another would sort of blend in. They don't. They don't, when you are used to hearing the laughter, the stories, the feeling of closeness of having loved ones near by. We fight, we argue, we kiss, we make up but we do it .. together. We live and love and laugh the same way. The absences were felt deep and along the edges worry had slid into a nice little ritual of its own.

I wish that hard headed arrogant warrior had not returned to the north but I knew his honor was strong enough he would. For the chatterbox I can be, I left some things unsaid. I was going to worry myself sick and I knew it but in the end, it was much like it had been long ago and far away, turning loose with a bid to ride well and proud. I watched until there was no more dust to be seen in the wake of the kaiila's claws.

When I left the gathering of those wagons, I went to speak with the one that felt like a brother. He had already been preparing to saddle up the next morning to see about strays .. the four legged kind so two legged was no problem. He left that night as well.

Neither made a promise of return more than if the Skies were willing but it touched a tender spot to hear it said ... I'll be back.