The Call

He is not what most would call a companionable man. Not one that you would walk out of your way to spend time at his meager fires. Long ago he had moved his wagons away from the family wagons, craving his solitude. At first, his mother came to visit often, bringing food, advice and even a young woman by at times. After awhile she had realized that he was interested in none of these things. It was not that he did not love his family, in fact, he loved them deeply, and that was part of the reason that he kept his distance. He did not want is morose temperament to dampen the normally convivial mood that swirled there. His mother still visited, as did his father, and from time to time, loneliness would send tendril around his heart and he would visit them.


But, for the most part, his existence was monistic, simple and severe. He did hunt, and the bounty of his hunts were shared with others. People would awake to find a brace of prairie fowl or a tabuk carcass on the platform of their wagons. If they knew who it was from, they never said. Actually, had they known, there may have been those that, no matter how hungry, that would have shunned the gift of meat. He knew this, and it was the reason that he usually left them during the dark of night.


He asked nothing of no one. When he hunted, he dried and preserved his own meat, he tanned the hides, and in a very rough fashion, he made most of his own clothing. From time to time, he would trade tanned hides with the leather workers of the back wagons, but it was rare. He would venture to do his own trading with the caravans that came near, and even the regular merchants had grown to respect, and to hold a bit of fear of the man, simply because of his restrained manner.


But, being solitary did not mean he did not love his family or his people. He would lay down his life for any of them at any time, but until he was needed, he kept his life unto himself.


He had heard of his brothers' challenge for the gray furs, and had actually laughed out loud, something that was rare to hear. He was not making light of the fact, he was simply wondering what had taken the son of a sleen so long? And knowing this, he was not surprised to see his brother materialize at his fires late one night.


They talked late into the night of many things. Of family, the Tribe, Ba'atar's views on what was best and what he wanted to see happen for his people. The man was wise enough to know that some of the changes he wanted to talk place would take time, and that some of them would not be popular, but he was steadfast in his views. This was nothing new, Ba'atar had always been one to stand up for what he thought, even when they were scrawny boys, fighting the scraps that boys have a tendency to get into. And Ba'atar had always known that his brothers would stand behind him against everyone else, especially Ayguili.


Perhaps that knowledge is what brought him to his younger brothers' fires that night. If a man is going to assume a position, where his very life was in jeopardy daily, who better to have at his back, that the brother that had been there all of his life? To say no, had never entered his mind. He was not all that fond of people, but the love that he felt for his older brother ran deep within him. And in that reserved, quiet way that he has, he agreed.


And that is why, again during the darkest hours of the night, he moved his wagons into the circle that belonged to his brother, the Ubar. The first rays of the Central Fire, found him sitting on his platform, lance close at hand waiting for his brother to finally rouse himself from between the thighs of whatever wench he had chosen that night, to begin their journey to the outer wagons.


For many days he had walked and ridden with Ba'atar as the man made himself known to those that rarely saw the Ubar. As he soothed away fears that were a natural effect of a change in the upper echelons. Ayguili had to admit, his brother had a certain way of dealing with people, of letting them know that he was concerned for the well-being of each and everyone of them. Ba'atar had always been able to do that, even when they were young boys. He had watched many times as his older brother had charmed their mother, and he still did it. Was it wrong? No. Did it cause jealousy among all of the brothers, sometimes, but it was short-lived. They all loved their mother, just some more than others.


Again, they had squatted around a fire late in the evening to discuss what was going on, and to talk of some of the messages that they had received from the inner circle, some that had made Ba'atar frown, not only in anger, but in worry. It was finally decided that Ayguili would return to the inner circle, and watch over his interests there until he returned. He seemed to have some concerns about his pregnant woman and his sons.


So, this day found him winding his way along the rows of wagons, working his way back to what are known as the first wagons. He had met the woman before, and would know her on sight. He was just not confident that she would exactly accept him. She was a woman, after all, and he truly had little use or trust for them.