Still Life

Well I'm not uptight

Not unattracted

Turn me on tonight

'Cause I'm radioactive

Well there's not a fight

And I'm not your captive

Turn me loose tonight

'Cause I'm radioactive

Oh yeah, radioactive

Don't you stand...stand too close

You might catch it

Don't stand too close, baby

Radioactive Oh yeah

~The Firm

In my spare time, I weave reed baskets and trade them here and there for small things. Its relaxing and gives my hands something to do while I sit on the platform of my wagon in the eves. Ramza usually trades for the majority of them though what he needs so many for I don't know. All I can say is I have plenty of meat, spices, a deep storage pit, my wagon stays painted and repairs are always seen to. You can bet I am always gathering reeds to make more baskets.

I will never forget the night I was settled in next to the fire at the Midnight wagons with a lap full of reeds, watching the sun set in all its wondrous hues. I'd been thinking of the past season and perhaps wallowing in my miseries when I felt a pair of hands grasp me up, dip me back with such graceful ease, one would have thought we were ballroom dancing. In my fury and half scared from my wits, wide eyed daze, I was staring up into the face of that same warrior .. who was looking down at me grinning. Before I could react much, he merely leaned in to drink full from a stolen kiss.

Did he think he could ... he could ... just touch me like that ... kiss me like that? Did he think there was any chance he would get away with it? I managed to wrestle enough from his half his grasp to catch up one of the copper pots near the fire and swung it right at that hard headed ... big bosk headed ... hard head. I scored well on that first strike. He simply took the pot from me with a casual ... ow ... that hurt. Incensed more than ever now, I started gathering whatever came to my grasp and began hurling them at my assailant. Every curse word I knew in three languages came hurtling with every throw while the man began weaving to dodge the onslaught. It just happened that with the last of my arsenal, I decided to throw left when Ramza darted right. The connection toppled him face forward with a crack in that thick skull of his.

He is such a jokester at times, I figured when he didn't get up it was just a lure to get me closer. Then I realized he wasn't joking. I grabbed my medical pack and raced back to see how bad the damage was. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the trickle of crimson marking a rivulet along the side of his face. So much for that promise never to draw blood from another Tribesman. I lifted his head to my lap, and began tending the wound and feeling really bad about having been the one to cause it. He opened his eyes with that same ear to ear grin and wrapped his arms about my waist. That merely got him a new swat and an admonishment to stay still. Two stitches later, all the man could say was ... 'You are beautiful'.

'Ah well You ... look like hell at the moment', was the retort I threw back at him, then slid from under his head letting it plop back to the dust with the sound of thumping a ripe melon and hearing a new howl of ... oww.

My rage, frustrations and admittedly now extremely confused emotions stormed my boot treads right up the wagon steps, carrying me under the flap to safety. I just stood there within the closure trying to catch my breath and maybe a bit of sanity. That will teach him. Yes, indeed, that will teach him won't it? I peeped back out to make sure he was gone except that ... he wasn't.

There he was still stretched out, lying right next to my fires with his boots crossed lazily and his hands tucked beneath his head, simply smiling at the stars. I couldn't help reaching up to touch the warmth I still felt at my lips. That was when he caught me staring at him and called out .. 'Dream of me tonight Nette'. I slapped that flap closed with a snap and a growl.
Did I mention he was a bosk headed ... stubborn ... bosk headed Tuchuk? Still !!