A long overdue delivery of gifts.

Things have began to settle down somewhat, and I cannot even express the pride that I have in the way the people have come together to rebuild. It does not totally absolve me of my responsibility in what happened, but I draw a small amount of peace knowing that we will survive. Each day, I see new signs of life among the people. I see them working hard and working together. That is what we are about.


There is still much to do, but I have found that my faith in them grows stronger each day. It is my faith in myself that wanes some of the time. I wonder if other Ubar's have gone through this, second guessing themselves, their actions, their decisions when it came to their people? Perhaps soon, I will talk to Fonce, ask him. But for now, all I can do is take each day as it comes. My problem is, I find myself wavering when it comes to decisions and that has to stop.


Today, I finally took a mental and physical deep breath and went to do something I should have done long ago. I am not sure if anyone really realizes how much I miss my contact with Oren, and those of her wagons. I have found myself avoiding them because of the situation with Mezoo. I do not want to cause any undue stress to her, them or myself, to be honest, but I have some things to deliver, and damn it, I simply want to see Oren, even if she cracks me on the shins. It will be a welcome pain.


I carried the wooden box with the precious gift in it that I had for Oren, not trusting it to anyone else, and was followed by two of my men carrying the more bulky gifts that were for Astar. As I approached, I had to stop and just watch. There is life here, a simple, honorable life of people surviving. There is strength in these women, that give me insight into Mezoo. I still hope she finds what she seeks and the happiness that it will bring her.


I think that Oren saw me, but at the moment decided to see exactly what I would do. I nodded to her then went to find Astar. I can see where Mezoo gets her beauty, for Astar is a beautiful woman and exudes a certain kind of peace and grace, that just makes you want to smile. With the men following me, I walked up to her, and for some reason, felt like a smoothed cheeked boy. I simply blurted out, that I had brought these to her, and turned to motion to the two new looms that my men sat down. Damn it all Ayguili! I babbled about having gotten them in Turia when we were there for the Love Wars, and of being assure they were well made and would serve her for many years.


She placed her hand on my arm, smiled and I began to calm down. She asked me why? Now, at this point, you just don't tell a woman that they had been intended for her as gifts because you had intentions of mating her daughter, that was not going to happen now, do you? I got a firmer grip on the box that I carried and explained to her that my mother was a weaver, and that I knew how important a good loom was to her, and that I wanted for Astar to have these and looked forward to seeing the blankets and cloth she made from them.


She knew, but was gracious enough to not say anything. Skies love that woman. She inspected the looms then turned to me a little surprised, I think, that I had chosen well. Thanks were offered, then a small chide about friends needing to come around more often. I promised her that I would come around more often, or as often as my duties would allow me. She motioned for the men as to where to put the things, and that she had found out that Alma was also an artisan who dealt in making pots, and that maybe someone should think about seeing if I could find a potters wheel. She was subtle about it, and I had to laugh, and promise that if there was one to be had, the woman would have it soon. What is it about these women, that make you want to do exactly what they say?


Astar walked off laughing softly, but not before giving a cant of her head to where Oren was sitting on the platform of her wagon. It was a subtle hint, but one that I took. Walking towards the wagon I gave the woman a respectful nod and asked how she was. Wrong thing to do. I believe she said something along the lines of friends came around more often, to see how a poor, frail, old woman was faring. I need to explain here, that there is nothing frail about Oren. If anything, she is one of the strongest people that I know, and not only physically, but mentally. But, I took that scolding in stride, then made a bold move, did not even ask, but sat down on the platform beside her.


Her head turned, brow arching and I could almost feel the impending blow to my shins from that ever present staff, so I shoved the box to her before she could deliver it, and told her these were for her. I could almost see the thoughts going through her head, on whether to lay these staff aside long enough to take the box, or to keep it in hand and ignore the gift. Thankfully, she propped the staff against the step and took the box. For a moment, I had a reprieve.


Placing the box on her thighs, she lifted the lid, and I will swear I saw a softening of her features. Inside, nestled in a nest of straw were four cups. These were not just any cups, but delicate cups made from something known as china, each one painted with an intricate scene of birds and flowers. Not the kind of heavy, clay mugs that our people usually used, but something more beautiful, more acetic. When she went to lay the lid aside, I reached out to steady the box on her lap.


I want you to have these as a gift, because although I do not come around as much, I still have a great deal of respect and affection for you, Oren.


One gnarled hand reached to lift one of the delicate things from its' nest, so very carefully, so very gently. She turned it in her hand, one finger tracing along a painted flower, that was a myriad of shades of blue and purple. I am not sure, but I think I saw a mist of tears in those old eyes.


She asked how I knew, and I mumbled something about being Ubar, and knowing many things. She actually laughed, and told me that we would have tea. Tea is not one of my preferred beverages, but there was no way that I was going to refuse. My shins were still safe at the moment and I had no intentions of tilting that balance in the wrong direction.


She stood from the platform, carefully carrying the Itth the cups in it and motioned to me to follow her to the fire. When I stood she told me to bring her staff. Bring her staff? Now this was hard for me. Touching that thing almost had a feeling of irreverence to me. It was like the Sky asking me to lift and carry the hem of her skirt. Just not something a mere mortal man was allowed to do. Was it a trick? Some sort of test? As I hesitated, that woman never even turned her head. She has those magic eyes in the back of it, and told me to stop dawdling. Dawdling? I am Ubar of the Tuchuk, I don't dawdle.


Much.

We are Tuchuk. And Our Strength Comes from That.

I had returned to help at the pyre wagons, stacking bodies. I hated it. To me, each burned body was a failure on my part. Maybe someday, I will get over that, but right now, I feel responsible for each and everyone of them.


I finally set down with my commanders, and we talked of what needed to be done. Part of me wanted to stay right here until every soul was put to rest, until every ounce of goods was salvaged, but I knew we could not do that. Already the ash was blowing into the stream, polluting our one source of clean water. There was no grass for the bosk, the game had all run off in face of the fire, and we could not stay. There were those that argued for sending the herd on ahead to the new grasses, leaving the wagons here. That was not an option. I had no intentions of splitting the tribe up like that. It just was not wise, nor was it feasible.


Over the next two days time, we would salvage what we could, have pyres for our dead, then we would move. I charged one of my commanders of an Orlu, to stay behind and salvage what they could. But only for one more hand. Only one hand, no more.


The meeting had just broke up when one of my men approached me with an outrider in tow. The man was part of Trilok's company, and when he said that, I felt my stomach knot up. I had him brought food and water, and bid him to sit and tell me his news. It was as I had thought.


They had been returning from their hunt and were caught on the other side of the fire, where they took a stand to fight it from there. One of them fell, thrown from his kaiila and Trilok rode into the conflagration to save his man, lifting him up to put him on his own beast, then slapping the flanks so that it would carry the man to safety beyond the fire line. He was trying to run back, where there was a flame up, and he perished in the blaze. He died sacrificing his own life and safety for another. A most honorable death.


For some reason, this hit me harder than some. He was a good man, a likeable man, and his death affected two women that I had a great deal of respect for. Noya, his mate, and Cana, his aunt. I do not even have the words, for how heavily this lay on my heart, when I went to seek these two out.


I found Noya at the stream with her children, and I think she knew the moment that I approached her, the news I had. There was no way to soften the blow, to make it less painful. There was nothing that I could do, but to draw her away from the others and tell her honestly how her man had died.


This woman is an elder, and no stranger to loss and the harshness of our life. But, everyone has that point where they break, even if it is just a little. I held her, and promised that she and her children would want for nothing, as long as I sat the grays. It was a promise that I committed myself to, and I think she knows that. Her eldest son, from her first mating, arrived and I stepped away to speak to him, to tell him what had happened. I do not know him well, but I cannot help but be proud of how he stepped in to comfort his mother and his younger siblings. A good man, an honorable young man.


There were those at the stream that tried to get me to stay but I didn't have the time. My duties were not over, I still has one more to tell, before I could even think about rest and food. As I approached the wagons that belong to the woman that was once mated to my brother, the woman that I still consider Ubara, my heart was heavy once more. How much more loss could she handle, where exactly was her breaking point? I think she knew too as soon as I stepped into the circle of light. I sat with her, told her what I knew in as few words as I could. The old warrior was there, and he pulled her into his arms to let her cry. I can't help but wonder how many times he has just, been there.


When she calmed, she asked if I had told Ephrim and Anya yet? Who the hell are Ephrim and Anya? When I realized she spoke of Trilok's parents, I know that I gave a heavy sigh. No, I had not told them. She offered to do it. I refused, it was my task. Finally we came to an agreement. I would tell them, but she would go with me to do it. Another long walk to be taken.


I was thankful for Cana. They knew, just like everyone else knows, but she took the woman aside, so that I could talk to the father, Ephrim, man to man. I told him of what I knew, he thanked me, then went to get his woman, to tell her what he now knew.


Other's began to arrive at the fire, and you could tell the ones that were Cana's brothers. They all share a certain look, a certain way of carrying themselves. I introduced myself to them, told them why I was there, and from the corner of my eye watched Cana with the other women, preparing food. I think they do that as a form of comfort to themselves. It is a woman thing, I guess. If you are upset you eat, or make sure others eat.


I tried to leave, but was drawn back, and told I needed to rest and share a meal with them. How can you refuse? There was Cana with a plate, and I began to eat, realizing how hungry I really was. They all began to talk about Trilok, how he was as a boy, things he had done. There was just this love and laughter thing with them, that made me want to watch, to see how they bonded as a family.


I got a lot of insight into Cana that night. I know her parents are both gone, but seeing the rest of her family, I can understand where she gets her strength, her empathy and her compassion. It is a family trait among these wagons she came from. And strength. It almost radiated from these people, and sitting there it hit me, that it is this strength and bonds among family units that will help us get through this horror, and to move on. It is this bond of family that keeps this tribe strong.


The night was an education for me, a lesson learned that I will not soon forget. And in a way, it gave me strength to get up and continue what I knew had to be down.


As I was leaving, the woman Anya came to me, wrapped her arms around me and spoke to me. She thanked me. Thanked me for taking my time to come tell them, and for not just sending word. She thanked me for being who I am and told me that I am a good man. Well damn! I was not ready for that. With all that I have had on my mind, it struck a cord in me somewhere deep inside and I had to leave. I had to leave quickly.


But as I walked away, I was overcome by this sense of awe and pride in the people that I call my tribe, at their strengths, and how they come together in times of trial like this. And with this knowledge, I was able to sleep that night. I was able to be a peace for a few ahn. My people would do fine, whether I was there for them or not, and that gave me a reassurance, and took some of the guilt.

Losses.

In the aftermath of the fire, there was confusion, but it was to be expected. My duty was to make some sort of order from the chaos. People still looked for family members, living on the hope that they were safe, but carrying around the knowledge in their hearts, that they weren't.


Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, br0thers and sisters, all searching for someone that was lost to them. At one point I saw a woman, grabbing onto every child of a certain size that she came across, turning them around to see if they were who she sought. It was gut wrenching, because often the child held hope in their eyes, this this person was the one they were looking for. I can't help it, inside I cry for them, all of them, because every loss, is my loss.


We are gathering the remains of any that we find, putting them all together in on place, to make it easier eventually, when people give up hope for finding family alive, they can come and maybe find them among the dead and have at least a bit of closure. It was later in the day, when I was helping to carry three bodies in, that had actually been burned to the point, that skin, tissue and bone had melded together. A gristly sight, when I saw the woman again. She sat by one of the pyre wagons, holding a small boy of about the age of Also in her arms, rocking him back and forth, completely unaware of the flesh that was sloughing off of that poor little body, singing to him. I crouched down beside her and began to talk to her, and eventually the story unfolded.


Her name is Alma and mate has been dead for many years, her eldest son she lost to the larl attack last season, and all she had left was her youngest son, his mate and the small boy she cradled in her arms. The son and his mate had been found early in the day, both dead, and she had been looking for the grandson all day. I will admit it, it touched me. Here she was, alone on the world, having nothing. Her family all gone, her wagons lost, all the tools of her trade gone. I was finally able to get her to relinquish the body of the child, and to follow me.


Honestly, I was not entirely sure of the reception that I was going to get from Oren, but at the moment, I needed her. Alma needed her. It did not surprise me to see that there were other refugees there, that is just how Oren is. For all of her quirks, she is the most generous woman that I know. And I did not give a thought as to whether she was angry with me about the situation with Mezoo. All I knew is that Alma needed someone closer to her own age, that had suffered loss, and that would be Oren.


I settled Alma by the fire, then went in search of the woman. I guess it surprised me, when I did not get a crack to the shins from that staff, but instead she lifted her gnarled hand, lay it on my cheek and told me that I needed to wash my face, and get something to eat. At that moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I was not going to press my luck. I told her about Alma, how lost she was, and how she needed someone right now, and that I had more work to do. I promised that once we were settled, I would take the woman into my circle of wagons and be responsible for her, but that right now, I needed for someone to watch over her for me.


Well, the old harridan asked me if I was going to mate the woman. After that initial shock, and I realized this was Oren teasing, I just grinned and told her that the only woman for me would be Oren herself. I swear, she blushed. Patting me on the arm, she told me to go do tend to my duties, and she would keep the woman safe for me. At this point, I did lean and place a kiss to her temple, thanked her, and walked away.


Knowing, that there were people like Oren and Astar among the tribe, uplifted me somewhat. We would survive, because of people like them. Little did I know, that I was soon to meet others, that would restore my faith.

Thoughts in the still of the night.

I am tired. I can't ever remember being this tired. And it is not just the weariness of the body, but more than that. To see so much death and destruction makes me want to curl up for a time in hopes that it will just go away, even if I know it won't.


And the assurance and support of others have helped me to keep going, but I still can't help but shoulder a burden. Should I have moved us earlier? Even a day may have made a difference. I was waiting on the scouting reports about better grass, and maybe I waited too long. Maybe I should have had everyone packed up and ready sooner, so that when the reports came, we could have gotten on the move instantly. Would it have been different had we not tarried that one extra day? I will never know, all I can do, is carry this responsibility, but carry it in a way that it does not impede me in my future decisions for the tribe.


When I lay down to try and get some rest, I feel as if there is a bosk bull sitting on my chest robbing me of the deep breaths that I need. I am haunted by that night and all that happened. It is if I wish there were more of me, or that somehow I could split what there is to be in more places at the same time.


I was fighting along the fire line, helping with the trenches when I saw Tarra with Mezoo unconscious across her saddle jump the trench and head towards the healers wagons. At that moment, I wanted to abandon my post, to follow, to make sure she was alive. But I did not. I stay where I was until I was no longer needed there. Only then, did I ride towards the safety of the wagons, to see how she was.


It was such a blow to me to see her laying there, covered with soot and ash and unconscious. Thankfully the healer did not send me away, and allowed me to draw closer to sit beside her. Holding that delicate hand in mine, I was glad there was no one there to see me, and the tears that fell. She looked so small, so delicate, that it actually made me hurt to know that she had been in harms way.


And then there was the guilt. Our last conversation had not been pleasant. I think we both struggle to find the balance that we need to go forward with our lives. The frustration of not having the time to spend together was the third party to that conversation. And with us both being stubborn, and being Tuchuk it was hard for either of us to yield. I had hoped she would understand where I was. I had always had this thought in the back of my mind, that Ba'tar would return and we would be able to start our life together. I still had that hope, but I sensed something in her, that I had never seen before. A reticence to continue this journey with me. I will admit, it hurt. And at the time, I thought that maybe both of us needed some space to cool down and to think. I guess I was wrong.


I love Mezoo. I love her gentle nature, her smile, her laugh, her sense of humor, her compassion. All of those things I love. I had given up all hope that I would ever meet a woman that would be able to touch that part of me that I thought was dead, but she did. And she did not do it by any supreme effort, she did it by simply being who she is, and by making the effort to learn who I was. I love her for that.


When I saw her at the stream tonight, I sensed a difference in her, a distance, a coolness. I can say here, that it hurt me more than any of the wounds my body has ever absorbed. We had to talk. There was this part of me that did not want to, but there was the other part that knew it was necessary.


I have watched that beautiful face for so long, that it can't really hold secrets from me. But, for some reason, I think she has gotten the idea, that I don't love her, and nothing is further from the truth. I love her so much that it is a pain to me that I can't spend the time with her that I want, and I know she still loves me, it is there in her eyes. But there is something else there. I can almost see that she is searching for something that I cannot give her. It is not because I do not want to, but because right now, I just can't.


My father is a wise man. He once told me that if you have a treasure that your hold to be most precious, that the time may come that you will need to release it. To allow it to grow into what it is meant to be. If the love you have for it, and that it has for you, is true, then it will return to you, more beautiful than ever. If it does not return, then it was never meant to be.


I realized in talking with Mezoo, that this seeking that she had to do, would have to be in a direction that I could not walk. We have made promises to each other, and if I were the man that I was at one time, I might hold her to these promises, but I am a different man now, partly due to her. I will release her from these promises, to go her way, to find that thing she seeks.


I think the hardest thing that I have ever done, is to carry her back to Oren's wagons, set her on the platform then to walk away. The pain in my chest was so overwhelming, that I could not breathe.


And so I find myself here, alone and in the dark, with tears falling, and my heart aching for the loss of my precious Little Spex. I hope she finds that thing that will give her happiness, that person, that calling. As for me? I will always love her, but right now, I have found the strength to let her go, to let her find what she needs.


Fly my Little Spex. Soar and find your hearts desire.

What to do now?

When I tried to open my eyes the glare from the Central Fire stabbed through my head like sharpened quiva making me moan and turn over. Keeping my eyes closed tightly I realized that those small tickles that seemed to find my nose of interest were blades of grass. Batting them away I finally set up, drawing my knees up to rest my arms on, dropping my head on to them. Damn! Was that reek of soured paga coming from me?


Cracking one eye open I see the pile of empty paga skins. Not just the two that I had hauled out here myself, but a pile of many more. A hand moves to rub the back of my neck as fuzzy memories begin to come of others coming out to join him, to pay homage to the fallen. That's what you do for heroes, right? You drink to them and tell stories of their exploits. From the way I feel, and the empty botas laying around, we had given Ba'atar a fine warriors send off.


Sitting there for a long time, I was almost afraid to move and disturb my head that was pounding, not to mention my stomach that was turning over at the paga smells. An absolutely overwhelming need for water is what finally drew me up and made me face the day. Stumbling tomy feet, I turn around to look for Lestat. Spying the beast, I whistle. The black beast trots up, and I swear the damnable animal sniffed in disapproval. Screw him!


Mounting, we rode in the general direction of the stream and once there, I tumbled from the saddle and lay on my belly on the bank, scooping cool water up with my cupped hand to drink. Occasionally I would turn and spit the water out onto the bank to try and rid myself of that foul aftertaste and to maybe wash that fuzz that seemed to be growing on my tongue away.


Sitting up, I tugged off my boots, then lay back and unlaced the leathers and squirmed out of them, kicking them to the side. Standing, I was unsteady as I walked into the waters and with absolutely no thought to grace or dignity, simply plopped down in them, allowing them to wash around me. It took awhile for the paga induced clouds begin to clear. Looking along the bank of the stream I see what I need, and basically crawl over to it. Pulling the soap root up, I take it back out into the deeper waters and scrub from head to toe. It makes me feel more human, being clean.


Stumbling out of the water, I found Lestat and took a half-empty water bota down to the stream to fill it. Sitting there on the grassy bank, I drank and thought. The pain of losing my brother was physical, something needling away at me, but I needed to move away from it right now.


Damnit, I have never given thoughts to being Ubar on a permanent basis. There was always some sort of comfort in knowing that Ba'atar would return, take back his rightful place, then I would move on with my life. In fact, I have even promised this to Mezoo. We would not mate until after Ba'atar returned, and we could start off our life together as simply the scarrer and the spex.


Well, hell. You lied, bosk ass.


I could step down, but that was not an option. That would be too much like a failure and I have had enough of that to last for awhile. Besides, I think I do a good job for the most part, and my decisions are right for the people. So no, stepping down is not an option. Right now, the people need someone to help lead them through a difficult time. That is my duty right now, and I will not shirk it.


Taking another drink, I allowed the bota to dangle between my hands that rested on my knees. Staring at the stream I caught the movement of a leaf as it floated in the water. There was this dipping, whirling, almost fascinating on how it traveled at the whims of the waves. I began to wonder, if we are not like that leaf, simply floating along the stream of life at the whim of something higher. Some capricious power that found amusement in our struggles, maybe even some sort of rancor in our joys and successes.


One who finds some sort of perverse amusement in taking a life at the pentacle of it's success, just because it can. In the past, I have never given much thought to what happens when a life is lost. I mean, I have seen what happens to those left behind, I have even seen that with the loss of three younger brothers. I have known that pain and what it does to a family. My mother grieved then, but not to the extent I think she will now.


Hopefully, when Mother has her time to accept this, I will be able to step in, take my place as eldest son. I still have younger brothers that need guidance, and I want to be there for them. I also want to be there for my parents, now that they are growing older. Our life is difficult, but I am in a position to make it easier for them, and I hope that I am allowed to.


But at that moment, I knew there were things to be done, people to speak to, problems to solve. Dressing, I took the reins of the kaiila and walked back towards camp. I turned him over to a handler, then walked in the direction of Cana's wagons. This was not something I wanted to do. What do I say, how do I make things right. That is my duty as Ubar, right? To make things right.


I am about to fail in that duty, miserably.

My Brother

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.

So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me.

If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's hear
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another.

It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.

He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
(Rufus Wainwright)

When the word came, I just sat there. I think I had known for a long time that my brother was not returning, but I just didn't want to speak of if. Some would not know how close we really were. We had our moments when we fought, when we disagreed, but we were brothers and we were close. It was a strong bond, tested by time and the trials of brotherhood.


I had began to feel that bond fading. I had felt him fading. Do I feel guilty. Skies yes! Guilty that I was not there to fight by his side, to die with him. Guilty that I had lost faith in him coming back. Guilty that I still live, and he does not. I think that is how it is with brothers.


I sat for a long time with my memories. Memories of us as children, memories of the fights, and the times that we stood side by side, to fight others. Black eyes, bloodied noses, broken bones, we shared them all. There is this thing with some brothers. It is okay for me to pick on him, or for him to pick on me.......but, you let someone else try it, then they have to fight us both. That is just how it is with brothers.


I have spent all of my life, just a half a step behind him. He earned his name, I earned mine about a moon later. He earned his first scar, I was not far behind him. I think that is one of the reasons I took a mate first. I wanted to be the first to do something. In hindsight, I should have let him lead there too.


I loved my brother, and no one can really know how much I will miss the arrogant, bosk arse. He could charm gold out of Turians teeth, when he wanted, then turn around and make them so angry they wanted to kill. That is just how he was. I will miss him.


I knew there was one thing that I needed to do before the gossip got around camp. I needed to be the one to tell our parents, before anyone else could. It was not something that I looked forward to.


When I arrived at their wagons, I think our mother knew the moment that she saw me. To say that she was livid and inconsolable would be an understatement. And I thought I was ready for the guilt and recriminations, because it was him, and not me. But I am not sure you can ever be ready for that. It has never been a secret that Ba'atar was the first son, and the favorite of our mother. The rest of us grew accustomed to that long ago. And I know that because of some of the things in my past, she doesn't care for me much. She loves me. She is my mother, but I don't think she likes me much.


As for our Father. He knew how I was feeling, and the loss that weighed so heavy on me. And he know, that if I could have, I would have taken Ba'atar's place within the blink of one eye. It has been a long time since my father embraced me as he did that night. He knew that I needed it, and maybe he needed it too. Releasing me, he cuffed me on the cheek and told me to go tend to my people, that he would calm Mother. He is a good man, and I do not envy him, and what he has to deal with right now. Maybe someday, she will look at me in a different light, but it will not be tonight. Tonight is her night to grieve for her First Son.


And, I could already feel it. Tonight was going to be a paga night. I took a couple of botas, rode out past the herds and got down off of Lestat and dropped to the ground cross-legged. I drank to my brother, I drank to his companions, I drank to their lives and to our loss.


And then I sang. I sang a song for Ba'atar. A song for my brother.

Wards of the State....Sorta.

It has not been all that long ago, that I was basically living the life of a hermit in my wagons, on the edge of camp. Back then, I told myself I was content, and I think I was. I had built this shell around me, this persona meant to keep people at a distance. I hunted, took care of my needs, shared the bounty of my hunts with others, secretly. An occasional warrior would come to me for a scar he had earned. Usually one that I had the honor of scarring before. A repeat customer.


Occasionally I would venture to the wagons of my family for a visit, to try and keep the connection. I still think family connections are important, even though I had basically lapsed in mine. And these visits were where I learned the gossip of camp. People will tell you that women are the worst gossips. I will disagree with them. My brothers are no slouches. They kept me caught up on things that were going on in camp.


Those days are long gone. Ba'atar came to me, needing someone he trusted at the fires with him, now that he was Ubar. You do not deny your brother, that is all that there is to it. I came, but I still tried to keep myself separate, at that time, not wanting to be involved any further than what was needed by my brother, my Ubar.


All of that has changed. I am now Ubar, not by choice, or by challenge, but by request of my brother. I am doing my best to do what is right for my people, and I will admit, it is not an easy task, but I am muddling through.


One of the responsibilities that I have is for women. I am the guardian to women, imagine that. What were not all that long ago, my least favorite people, are now my wards. The Sky definitely has a sense of humor.


I imagine right now, Seveya is not real happy with me, and eventually I will have to deal with that. Besides Seveya, there is Asria. Asria, the year keeper that is not a year keeper.


I inherited Asria from Fonce. What happened between them, I don't know, and I haven't asked. All I know is that the woman is under my care. Not only her, but two small children. Recently, she approached me and told me that she wanted to change clans. This is not something that happens often, but I got the impression that she never really chose her first clan, and that made it a little different.


She wants to be a singer. Believe it or not, she has come to the right person. One of the best Singers that I know just happens to be my father, Aamon. He is not only an excellent singer, he is a patient teacher. I know that first hand, because he was very patient with me, right up until the point I finally put us both out of our misery, dug in my heels and said I was NOT, going to be a Singer.


He will be good for Asria. I am thinking that she needs someone to work with her, that did not know her late man, Trayu. That has no pre-conceived ideas about who she is and who she should be. My father, will treat Asria, as Asria, fledgling singer. It will be interesting to see how this progresses.


My main ward is Cana, the mate of my brother. For the most part, she is no problems. She knows who she is, she is self-reliant, a woman with direction. Not a complainer, and asks for very little. Even her children are no more problems than most children are. They are spirited, but also disciplined, and well behaved, considering their ages. And the girls, are special to me. Even as young as they are, I find them beautiful, and can see in the future, how they will grow even more so. And I don't give a damn what they say, these girls will be no problem.


Recently, I do have a problem with Cana. Not one that she has really brought on by actions, or deed. She doesn't talk to me much, and I get a lot of what I know from others. Ergo, Mezoo. I know that Cana is having trouble sleeping. I can understand this. She is a woman whose man has been gone for over a year now, without a word. What woman would not be having trouble sleeping, under those circumstances?


But, from what I am being told, she is having nightmares. I don't dream, so I don't know anything about this. All I know is that she is losing weight, and when she smiles, it does not extend to her eyes. It is almost as if she thinks it is her duty to smile. Her clan work has not suffered, she still manages to take care of her children, but there is just something off about her. I have a great deal of respect for her, and because of that, I am worried.


And besides, if anything happens to her, Ba'atar will kill me when he returns. But there is definitely something amiss, something terribly wrong.

Is the Price too Steep?

You know, I have about decided that Cana has as many spies in this damn camp as I do. She knew about Another One, Oren and the verr, but she made me sweat, worrying about a reaction. I don't know why? I have yet to see a mean streak in the woman. Not even a small one. But, I have this feeling, that she might now have a mean streak, but she does have it in her to get even with me, sooner or later. But for now, everything is smoothed over, more or less.


That is when my next challenge presented itself. Damn!


What do you do when a man, a friend comes to you to ask a bride price. You give it to him, right? I can't just do the easy thing, name a few baubles, a number of bosk, maybe a fine bull, and be done with it. I have to ask a question, that I already knew the answer to.


Do you love the woman?


Well, no. You see, my friend is a very intense man, one of deep thoughts on many things, but I have learned long ago, that there is the one thing, that in all his wisdom, he does not understand or know. That one thing is love. He loves his tribe, he loves the land, and I think there are even friends and family members that he hold great respect and affection for. But does the man know love? I don't think so.


And therein lies my problem. We have both just turned through ourselves to make things right with the woman, to place her back where she belongs, to make her feel safe and protected. In doing that, did he really think I would set a price for her, to a man that admits that he does not love her? Not even for the man I consider my best friend. Not even to a man that I respect above all others.


Was I being narrow minded? Maybe so. But I just can't help it. I feel the both of them need more time, that this is coming too soon after the situation that we have all just barely managed to make right for the woman. I have got to know down deep in my soul, that they are right for each other. Now, what makes me the judge of that. Nothing.


There was a time, with me, that love would never have even entered into the equation. A time when the price would be set, paid, then they would have been on their own from that point on. But I am not that same man.


I am a man who has floundered himself when it came to the subject of love. I am a man who has known first hand what it is to be in a situation where one loves, and the other doesn't. I know how deadly that can be. I know how it can suck the very life out of you, make you act in ways that are uncharacteristic for you, as a person. I do not want that for Seveya. And I do not want it for Fonce.


The man Fonce possesses a standard of honor that I truly see in very few. He has an integrity about himself, and all that he does, that we should all look to as an example. Do I doubt that he would take care of Seveya. No. That is just not who he is. He would mate her, take care of her needs, and I even think that in the beginning, he would try to love her, in the only way that he knows how.


It is down the road that I worry about. What if the day comes when that integrity and honor is not enough? What if the day comes, when he realizes, or she realizes that what they have is not strong enough to withstand the day to day vagaries of life together.


Right now, I have no doubts that they both feel something for each other. I have no doubts that she loves him, and I really have no doubts that maybe incites something in him that no other has. My hope, is that something can grow from all of this.


By denying the bride price, and I trying to dash all of this? No. All I am trying to do is to get them to take more time. More time to look at what they have together, and see if it is something that will endure past these feelings of passion, and maybe even new emotions that are boiling in them both. I want them to be sure.


We mate for life. Good, bad or indifferent, that is how it is. I have seen matings set aside, but I have never seen anything really good come from this. There are always deeper emotions flowing beneath the surface, some that maybe never get resolved.


I do not want this for either of them. She has been through enough. And from what I know of him, so has he. All I want for them to do is take time, to know each other. To see if what they have can grow into something more.


And I realize, that in denying the price to him right now, I may be affecting my own future. But I have come to realize something about Mezoo and myself. What grows between us will endure. Each moment we spend together, brings us closer, makes us stronger. And understanding grows between us, a bond that it will grow stronger with each passing day.


This is what I want for Fonce and Seveya. This knowing, that they can endure life together, with all of the hardships that come with it.


I have no doubts that he will speak to me of this again, eventually. Maybe by that time, my answer will be different. But it will not be tomorrow, or the day after. They still need time.

Another One and Oren

All my problems are over, right? Well, not exactly. There were still a few rough edges to smooth out.


The next morning I gathered up Another One, explaining to him that he was going to learn to herd verr. To say he was reticent would be an understatement. We stopped and I sat on the steps of a wagon, drew him closer and spoke to him in this conspiratorial whisper, like I was imparting great knowledge to him. I explained that the woman Oren was lonely, and needed someone to keep her company in the herds, but that this was a warrior's secret, and he could not tell this to anyone, especially, Oren!


Mezoo has been spending quite a bit of time with Cana's children and they adore her. I don't mean like her, I mean they think the Central Fire rises and sets in her shadow. So do I, but that is another story. I will admit.......I used this. I explained to him that if Oren got too lonely, that Mezoo would have to move her wagons back to be with her, and the children would not be able to see her everyday, as they were now. The look of shock and consternation on that boys face, was almost painful to watch, and I will admit to a twinge of guilt. But only a small twinge.


Hastily, he agreed to spend his time with the verr, making it seem like the supreme sacrifice so that his siblings could still spend time with Mezoo.


Ha!


I think it was more along the lines of him being able to spend more time with the little spex, but I did not let on that I knew.


I should probably be beat for what I used as the closer. Leaning in closer, I look around to make it seem that this was the biggest secret of all, then I appealed to that thing which all men have, no matter how young, or how old. I told him to remember, if he learned the verr, that was something that none of his brothers would know about, even Tug. I'll be damned if I didn't see this almost avaricious twinkle in his eye. He was about to learn something that not even his older brother knew.


From that point on, I could not move fast enough to get him to Oren and her verr. Introductions were made, and I slowly backed away as Oren began to explain those foul little four-legged eating things to the boy. But, I was not quick enough. Oren looked up, and eyed me, studying me, and somehow, she knew, and for now she was going to let me get away with it, but I have this feeling that I will pay for it later on.


I did not tarry, turned on my heel and escaped the verr herds as quickly as I could.


Ayguili, you are a manipulator, not a good one, but you got by this time. Next on your agenda of manipulation, will be selling this all to Cana.


Good luck!.

The Sacrificial Lamb, So to Speak

Apologies were accepted, and we began to make progress, and I was feeling better. Oren, being Oren, started right in on me about all the things that Seveya needed now.


I had already thought of this, and had been working on it. Since my talk with Fonce the day before, I had procured a wagon, and had set my girls to taking things from my "stuff" wagon, that they thought would make a woman more comfortable. I had even gone to my scarrers' wagon, and gathered up a box of pigments. I think that sometimes people forget that I am a scarrer, and that I do know something about pigments and colors. I also includes some roots, dried flowers, and other things that she would need to make her own paints. It as a start.


When I mentioned this, Oren got into a huff again. She said Seveya was staying right where she was. Finally, finally Fonce stepped in to help me, and helped me to make her understand that right now, it was tantamount for Seveya to return to the First Fires, her head held high. If this did not happen, then all of this would have been for nothing.


I think right now, with Mezoo having moved her wagons to the circle of the First Fires, Oren is feeling that I am taking everyone away from her, and that is not my intent. Blazes! If I had my way, I would move them all there, but Mezoo has said that they do not wish to be there, which I can understand.


Oren began to cluck about I was taking everyone away, and what was she to do for verr herders? I stepped right up, did the Ubar thing and told her that I had thousands of men under my command, and if she wanted verr herders, she would have them. Did I just see Fonce pale?


Suddenly an idea hit me, and without giving it a lot of thought, I acted on it. I knew that I would probably pay for it later, but right now it just seemed to be such a good idea.


You might say, that I tossed the verr herder a sacrificial lamb, of sorts. I had to be very careful of exactly how I did this. I offered to send my nephes, Cana's son, Another One to learn verr herding from her.


I explained to her that the young man was going through a difficult time, and needed someone with her wisdom to help guide him. And there was not a hort of bosk shit in that. The boy was having a hard time with the only man that he knew as a father gone for so long. I actually think it would be good not only for the boy, but also maybe for Oren.


Now there was this delicate balance that needed to be reached here. I had to make Oren realize that she was doing me this huge favor in talking the boy under her wing, and not be too obvious, that I was also trying to save my own skin at the same time.


She reacted just as I thought she would. She put on this air of long suffering, and of being very busy, but willing to do this favor, just for me. I could have kissed her!


This was working out well. Oren was going to get her verr herder, but much more importantly, another young person to guide and teach, and Another One was going to not only learn about the verr, but he was going to get some one on one attention that I felt he needed. Fonce and I had bit the proverbial, lance head and had escaped the verr herds, momentarily. It was a win, win, situation all around.


Now, all I have to do is get this by Cana. Skies! What was I thinking?

The Ins and Outs of Apologizing, with a Staff Hovering Near.

What is it about one little woman, and one big stick that can put the fear into a grown man? Maybe, it is because that little woman, is wiser than all of us put together. That, and the damn stick hurts!


And there she was, leaning on that staff as if she were guarding the entire camp from me and my folly. Or that is how I felt at the moment. How is it that I always feel like a chastened boy when I come in contact with this woman? Like one that needs to confess to sins that he had not even committed, simply because she wanted such? The fact that she immediately removed Fonce from every thing, almost made me bolt and run. But the fact that he quietly went and sat on the furs she indicated, did have its' own amusement. But I only had a moment to reflect on that before she turned her attentions back to me.


I knew I was in trouble when she addressed me as.......Ubar. Not good, not good at all. Twice she did this. Can we say.........fear? I knew at that moment, this was not an easy task that I was working on, but it was an important one. And in that realization, I knew that the best thing for me to do was be honest, and I was.


I told Oren that I needed to speak to Seveya about trust. She seemed to understand this, even agreed with it, and even called me by my name! Maybe I would survive this yet.


Oren called Seveya out, told her that I wanted to talk to her, and to come listen, and if she didn't like what I had to say, she could march right back inside the wagon.


The first thing that hit me was her face, and the anger bubbled up inside me, and I had to push it back down. I have seen the results of beatings, and I have seen slaves that had been beaten, but what that man had done to her was beyond the pale. Beyond anything that might have been necessary. At that moment, I think somewhere inside of me, made the decision to have him dealt with, but not now. Right now it would have just added more fuel to this fire that I was trying to stamp out.


Seveya was not pleased to see me, you could tell that by her body language. And in all honesty, it confused me, but I would later learn why she was more than reticent to speak to me. It had more to do with Fonce, and how I had treated him, than it had to do with her. I was saved by Oren, who encouraged her to sit on the steps and talk. Skies bless the little woman.


Suffice to say, I was not quite finished with making mistakes. The fact that Seveya had not come to me before she had made such a rash decision, still bothered me. Am I not a fair man? A man that wants only good for those around him? My next mistake was in mentioning this to Seveya, and her responsibility to do that very thing.


Damn that staff hurts!


After a verbal lesson on how to apologize, I tried to made Oren understand that I really was trying here. And not only to protect my shins, but to get across that I was sincere, even if I was flawed. A woman understands that right? A flawed man. In fact, I think they like us that way just a little. Those bony fingers began to beat a tattoo on my chest, and I did the very first thing that came to my head. I took that gnarled hand in mine, kissed the fingers and asked her to please hear me out.


It worked!


I was allowed to continue to speak with the young artisan, in hopes to make her understand how much I wanted this all put aside, and for her to be safe. And, that there was no way that I would have allowed a woman of the First Fires to be bargained away to one of the outer wagons. When she mentioned that I did know, I was shocked. I did? She said that Karvek had mentioned it, but I'll be damned if I remembered it.


I may have been dead in the water there, had not Oren stepped in and asked if Mezoo had been there at the time. Well, I didn't remember it happening, so how did I know if Mezoo had been there or not? Seveya stepped in to toss me a life line, by saying that yes, Mezoo had been present. I had to admit, that I was often distracted when the little spex was there. And you know, they forgave me for it.


I went on to explain to Seveya that I wanted her back at the First Fires as a free woman of the Tuchuk. I just could not see her on her knees to any man, I had far too much respect for her to see that, and I feel that she has too much to offer her people as a woman that is free, than as a slave. It was all true. She had faltered, but don't we all? It was now time to put her back in her proper place, and to stand behind her, protect her and to support her.


She accepted my apology, then began to trim my ears over my treatment of Fonce. What? I am going to pat myself on the back here. I accepted the dressing down, because was this not what I wanted....for her to be a free woman, and to have the ability to express her opinions? It is that double edged sword thing, I think.


I had to explain to her, that even though I had made my mistakes in all of this, that there was not a man in this camp that I trusted or respected more than Fonce. It worked. Maybe it worked because it was the truth, and I find that if you speak the truth, it is always better.

Take This Job and Shove-it!

As I write this, I am weary. Not only of body, but of heart, soul and mind. There are not enough ahn's in a day, days in a hand, or hands in a moon to handle all that comes to me sometimes. Much I give to Fonce, my second in command, for he is better at dealing with some things than I am. And he is the only one that I trust, to speak in my stead.


Ok, let's talk about that trust. I have let my second in command down. But more importantly, I let my friend down, and that bothers me more. He came to me to talk about what had transpired with the woman Seveya, to make a request of me, and damn it, I bungled it badly.


Go figure.


For some reason I got it into my head, that as Ubar, not as a friend to Fonce, or a guardian to Seveya, but as Ubar, I needed to hear all sides, so I had the man Karvek brought to me. Mistake, big mistake, probably. I listened to him, to what he said were his concerns, and in a moment of clouded vision, I saw some validity in them. First mistake.


Second mistake? I asked Fonce to join us so that we could get to the bottom of things. It is not always wise to bring two men together to discuss something this delicate. Especially when they have hugely differing opinions, and one of them is actually crazy as a marsh loon.


Go figure.


In some sort of mistaken idea that I needed to be fair, I lost sight of my objective. The objective was not to work things out between these two men, my objective was to take care of and protect a woman that was my ward. I think that is where the waters muddy a little for me. When Karvek returned to camp, and I found out that he was her uncle, I never got the opportunity to speak with him on this matter. In fact, each time I saw him, he either basically ignored me, or left. That should have raised some red flags, but it didn't.

Bottom line, and mistake number three. I said things that I should not have, and lost the trust of a man that I respect above all others in camp. Fonce was angry when he left, and Karvek? Well, it is hard to say what Karvek was. There is much about the man that suddenly did not ring true, and was my first clue to how badly I had handled this entire situation. And at the time all of this was going on, I still did not have all of the facts that I needed.


Go fuckin' figure.


What I found out later served to make me reassess what I thought of the man. The actions that he took, were far and beyond those of a family member, and bordered more along the lines of a jilted lover. And, no matter what the idiot thing, he did not act like a Tuchuk. When I found that he had been burning fires within the harigga, my anger knew no bounds. He put his own madness and jealousy ahead of the safety of his people, and had he not chosen to leave on his own, I am not real sure that he would not have been visited by those that I have at my disposal to take care of problems of this nature. A madman in camp, just what we needed..


The next day I was finally able to talk to Fonce again, and it was rocky, and I understand that. I had erred and I knew that, but it was not intentional and it took me a long time to get this across to the man. He was still angry with me, he didn't trust me, he didn't exactly understand where I was coming from, and that I knew that I had made huge mistakes.



I did the only thing that I know how to do. I finally put aside the Ubar, and tried to speak as a friend. I had to speak from my heart and acknowledge that I had made mistakes. I am not real sure even then, that he understood. But somehow, someway, I had to make him understand that this was not about him, me, or even Karvek.


This entire thing was about Seveya. Did I agree with what she had done. No way. However, I had seen a glimmer as to why she did what she did, after seeing her uncle's reactions, and the devastation his jealously and madness had imprinted upon my camp.


I told Fonce, that right now, she was the most important thing in all of this. I know that there will be people that will scream to the Sky herself over what I wanted to do, but I will deal with them in time. I wanted to instill the artisan back to her place at the Ubar's Fires. I wanted to give her that rare second chance, that some often do not get. I just could not see her on her knees before any man. She had fought too hard to earn her place, and damn it all, I did not want to see her lose it over something like this.


I wanted her back under my protection. I want good things for her, and to protect her from anything hurting her again. That is what I wanted.


That is what I had lost sight of when all of this started. Fonce had come to me to ask for that exact thing, and I had lost my way in giving it to her. Now it was time for me to step up, fulfill a promise to her that I had made in the beginning, and not to falter so badly this time.


He finally relented, and took me to see Seveya. She was at the wagons of Oren, and I had to get past Oren, in order to talk to Seveya..


Go figure

Chapter 3: In which our Hero herds verr, tries to dodge the staff, and hopefully makes a friend.

I was there early the next morning, in fact, I had hoped to beat Oren up, but no such luck. When I rode past her wagon on my way to their herd, she was up puttering around the fire. I nodded then went on to tend to the bosk. I could feel her eyes on my back, but I did not turn my head to look. Was that a cackle of laugher that I heard behind me? I can't be sure, but I did hear her pounding on the side of a wagon, and speaking in a manner that would brook no foolishness.


"Pacu, Pacu, get up! That Ayguili is here to help you with the bosk!"


I had not come unprepared. I had brought along reinforcements. Two outriders, my girls odd and kasra, along with a couple of camp slaves to help. The riders and I moved the small herd to a nice, lush patch of grass, then the girls set to work to brush and oil their coats, and to polish their horns. As is our custom, the shaggy coats of the bosk were brushed and the hair that came from that brushing was put into bags and kept for later use. During the cold months it is used for insulation in wagons, women stitch it between pieces of woven cloth to make warmer blankets for sleeping furs, warriors tuck it into their boots to keep their legs warmer. Nothing from the bosk went unused, even their hair.


I was pretty damned pleased at how things were going when Oren appeared out of no where, thwaped me on the leg and told me that I could not herd verr from a kaiila. I actually groaned at the herding the verr part, but dropped down from the saddles to follow her like a scolded, dweller school boy.


I understand the necessity of the ver. Their milk is used for drinking, making butter and cheese. There are those that even eat the meat, and the value of their wool coats is known to everyone. There is an entire clan that revolves around the verr, their wool, and weaving. Now, with all of this said, that does not mean I have to like the wooly demons.


Any out rider will probably side with me. There has ben an almost internal feud going on since the beginning of time about the bosk and the verr. Everyone reveres the bosk, care for them, honor them to honor the sky. And most of them do not like verr. The main reason is the difference in grazing patterns.


The bosk are huge, lumbering, hump backed creatures and it is a long distance between their heads and the ground. Therefore, they crop mostly on the tops of the grass, as they cannot reach those lower, tender shoots. However, the verr, being closer to the ground, tend to eat the grass right down even with the dirt. Sometimes they even pull it up by the roots. This is where the problem comes in. If you graze the verr first, there is nothing for the bosk to eat. It is always imperative to graze the bosk first, then to bring the verr in behind them to graze on the lower stems and shoots of grass. Try convincing a verr herder of this.


Also, as Oren said, you do not herd verr from a kailla. You try to keep the ornery little bastards in a group by chasing them on foot. Or you do if you are a big footed warrior, who has exactly zero experiences with them. It took me over half a day, to realize that the old woman was poking the occasional verr in the ass with her stick, to make if break from the herd, so that I would have to chase it down and bring it back. You see, very like to remain all bunched up together, finding safety and happiness in numbers. Or they do, unless someone pokes them with a stick, which startles the little beast and makes it suddenly want to jump over the backs of the brethren, and run.


And if you do not catch them quickly enough, somehow that woman was either right beside you, or behind you, hitting you with that damn staff. There was more than once when I was tempted to grab the thing from her and break it in two over my knee. There is a fallacy in this logic. If you do this, then she would have two sticks to torment you with. So, I took my punishment in stride. This has to be some sort of punishment, right?


You might ask what my first clue was that something was amiss? That damn cackling laugh from her, then the snickers from that damn young whelp. Was I being tested, maybe? Either that, or I was being had. Either way, you would not see me giving up, that is just not in my character. Rivulets of sweat poured off of me as I chased the damn little beast around. Finally the old woman took pity on my maybe, and called me over to get some water from her bota.


Suddenly the verr did not seem so intent on escaping, maybe it was because that damn stick was not up their asses. But the woman decided that we needed to talk. We talked through most of the afternoon, mostly about my family. She made me recite all of the names for several generations, that I could remember. I noticed that she would nod occasionally, or that wizened brow would arch at the mention of a name, but she would say nothing.


Now, she had an opinion or two about my mother. Imagine that? In Oren's opinion, Mother is overbearing. Ahh, what did she just say? Is that not the pot calling the kettle a bota, or something like that? But she was magnanimous, and said she would not hold my mother against me. Big of her, huh?


We finally got to the subject that all of this had been leading up to. Mezoo. Again, I felt like some unscarred, wet behind the ears young boy as I tried to explain to this imposing woman, what I had on my mind. I want to get to know her better, I will never do anything to dishonor her, or harm her. I had not idea exactly where this would lead, but I also promised that I would not do anything to interfere with her clan and her studies, because I knew how important that was to her. And Fonce would probably thrash me in the offing.


To say that the woman did not mince words, would be another of those understatements, that I have mentioned before. She let me know that if I harmed the young spex, physically, emotionally or mentally, that I was not prepared for the wrath that would be rained down on me. Why did this not surprise me?


I am not totally sure, but I think that Oren and I came to a sort of understanding that day among the verr. I would be allowed to spend time with Mezoo, to see where it would all go. I tried to keep my dignity when I walked to my kaiila to mount. All of the sudden, I decided that riding was not what I wanted to do. Did it have anything to do with how sore my body was from wrestling verr all day. Hell yeah!


But the walk back to my wagons was satisfying, in an odd way. I think that the old woman likes me, or at least she is going to tolerate me.


I usually bathe in the stream, but after all of that, I needed something more, so I had the girls prepare me a tub of hot water to soak in. It helped the sore muscles some, but did little for the bruises from that stick, or the knot on the back of my head, or my sore jaw. Damn! The sacrifices that I made for one small, young spex.


I had to laugh. She is worth all of it, ten-fold.

Chapter 2: In which our hero gets beaned by an old woman, and sucker punched by a young whelp.

When the young spex paled and all the bones seemed to leave her body, I could think of nothing but getting her help. I swept her up into my arms and began to run through camp towards her family wagons, a multitude of things running around in my mind, but first and foremost, was that she be alright.



Arriving at that grouping of wagons, my first glance was to the one I knew as the mother, Astar. The immediate look of concern in her eyes for a moment made me feel like a sleen. I did not have a chance to try and explain, for the next person I saw was a woman that has to be as old as the plains themselves. There was no mistaking the fact that she was definitely in charge, and if you doubt it, look at the notches on her walking stick. I knew the woman by reputation mostly. She was Oren, pretty much the matriarch of the family.



She motioned me into a wagon and pointed to the dais of sleeping furs. I lay Mezoo on them, reaching my hand to stroke her temple, more worried now that I saw how still she was. I had intended to stay until someone worked some kind of magic and woke her up and made her perfect again. My thinking was wrong.



The crone began to hustle me out of the wagon, all the while I am trying to ask her if Mezoo will recover, trying to find out something about what was to be done. I had turned to look at the prone figure on the furs, when....THWAP! Did that old woman just bean me with a bowl? I heard a crack and was not all too sure if it was my skull or the bowl, but I was not given anytime to reflect on this, because the old woman was ushering me out the flaps of the wagon, aided by that damn stick!



Stumbling out onto the platform, my hand was rubbing the back of my head, when out of no where, a fist flew up and hit me in the jaw. I the Ubar of the Tuchuk, the most fierce and feared people of the plains, had just be sucker punched by a young warrior, whose dyes were still drying in his scars, not to mention the amount of mosture behind his damn ears.



I looked down at him, and the only thing that kept me from going after him, ripping his head clean off and feeding it to the sleens, was that he was at these wagons, so that meant he was probably family, so it would not be very good form of to kill him on this night. Another night maybe, but not this one. I could see him bouncing on his feet, fists lifted like he wanted me to attack. The boy is lucky that I was on my good behavior tonight, and he would remain unscathed.



What the hell was wrong with these people?



The only one that seemed to have any sense about her was the woman Astar. She even had the good manners to thank me for bringing Mezoo home. Now, I brought her home limp as a dead fish, but the woman thanked me. All I could do was not do her, because I was keeping an eye on that young whekp of a warrior. I still watched him as Astar told me that they would let me know how she was.


Let me know? Oh hell no!


I was going no where until I knew how she was, until I saw some color back in her cheeks with my own eyes. And again Astar showed great wisdom as she attempted to send the whelp to find the kaiila Mezoo had been riding. I had settled myself against the wheel of a wagon, prepared to wait.



The young warrior seemed reticent about leaving me with what he probably considered his women folk, but I was not budging. Finally the woman Oren came out wanting to know who or what an Ayguili was. I was immediately on my feel, telling her that I was Ayguili. Now, was that fear I saw flash through that young man's eyes? Did he just groan? Suddenly he was ver interesting in going to find that kaiila, just as his mother had suggested.



I approached the wagon, putting my foot to eh step intending to go inside, but it was not to be. There was that damn stick again. At first, she struck my shin with it, then placed it to block my way, damn it! She then proceeded to dress me down, telling me that I should have come around before now, and unfortunately, I had to agree. She made it very clear that she was an old woman, unaccustomed to having to repeat herself. I was then invited to share a meal with them. No, I lie. I was commanded to come share a meal with them. At that point, I would have agreed to anything that would have gotten me closer to Mezoo.



I could see her inside, sitting up, which relieved me greatly. She reached a hand to me, and I reached to her. Her fingers brushed my sleeve, and at that moment it was enough. She looked better, and the wan smile that she gave me, somehow assured me that there was nothing amiss. I longed to gather her in my arms, to tell her how sorry I was for any part I had played in her falling into a faint, but as I mentioned, there was that barrier of that damn stick in my way.



I have seen some dweller men, that take a notion to belt their slaves, fools that they are. I can tell them of another way, and that would be to find some old woman with a big stick to follow them around. It would work much better than any kind of belt you might use.



I was determined to stay until I was positive that Mezoo was fully recovered, and Oren was determined to send me away. I could have asserted myself more, called upon my position as leverage to stay, but I have this feeling that it would have mattered little to the old woman with the stick. So, out of respect for her, I did neither.



Loathe to go, I did step back and tried to regain at least a modicum of dignity, and told Oren and Astar that I had spoken to Fonce, who was Mezoo's guardian about spending time with her at the fires to talk and get better acquainted, and that my intentions were honorable, and I was now requesting permission from the two of them.


Pretty damn cheeky for a man that had just brought the young woman in question home passed the hell out, but I still stated my intentions.



Oren allowed that if I stood around much longer I would be having the morning meal with them, because it was growing late. I relented and told her that I would be back first thing in the morning to check on her.



"Good, then you can help with the bosk!"

Chapter 1: Our Hero confesses all and makes a woman faint.

I had just finished washing the dirt of the day off at the stream, and was struggling into a tunic, when I looked up to see a familiar figure riding down the stream, water being thrown up from the claws of the kaiila. I had raised my hand and called to her, then noticed that she spurred the beast faster, riding right down on me. Just before she got to me she had leaned forward and extended her arm. Grasping it, the momentum of the kaiila helped me to swing up into the saddle behind her. I said the first thing that came into my head. "Is this anyway to treat your Ubar?"


The laugh that came from her instantly lifted the stress of the day from my shoulders and put me into an infinitely better frame of mind. Reaching around her, I grasped the reins in my hand and took control of the beast, and maybe just a little more control of the ride. It has been a long time since I have even wrapped my arms around a woman like this. Sure, there are slaves to sate needs, but this was something more. She was warm and soft in all the right places, and if I slid a little bit more to the front of the saddle, to capture that body closer, then sue me. Everything about her assaulted my senses. The smell of her hair, the sound of her laugh, the way her body felt against my chest, and the look of her. The only thing I did not do was taste her. I was oh so close when I bent my head to speak into her ear. How easy it would have been to run my tongue around the shell of that ear, then down the slim column of her neck, but I refrained. Not yet, not just yet.


I am a warrior, not a poet, and the words to describe how beautiful she was simply fail me. And it is more than the beauty of her face that I talk about, it extends to the beauty of her spirit, her heart. Since I was holding the reins, she stretched her arms out and leaned her head back to feel the rush of the night air on her skin. At that moment, I felt my heart miss a beat or two because she was magnificent. In that moment, I finally found something that rivaled the beauty of the night sky, that put the moons and stars in perspective. In that moment, I felt an almost overwhelming need to know her better, to know everything about her.


And in that moment, I knew that before I even began to know more about her, I needed for her to know about me. I will not hide anything from her, or shadow it with words to make it prettier than what it was. She will get the truth, in all of it's ugliness, and if she can digest that, get her head around it, and still wants to spend time with me, then we can move on.


As I guided the kaiila out of the water, I knew that I needed to place a little distance between myself and her body that was so warm, alluring, and damn it, down right sensual. On the bank, I dropped from the saddle and helped her down, told her that we would walk. In an earlier conversation that we had, I had told her that there may come a time when I would tell her things that might change the way she saw me. Some men would have kept the secret buried, if they had been able, but I had told myself at one time, that if I ever found a woman that I seriously wanted to know, she would know the truth before things progressed too far. I felt it was only fair to Mezoo, to know this truth.


As we walked, I held that delicate hand in mine. It is odd, in a way, that it is so small, so seemingly fragile, but there is strength in it, just like I think there is strength in the woman. I did not try to pretty it up, or to make it less than what it had been. I did not hedge words, I simply told her a story of love, betrayal, jealousy, death and me. There was no other way to tell it, for me, but in simple, blunt terms.

Did she tell me that it was okay, that she understood, that she would help me get over it, that it didn't matter. No, that is probably what most women might have done, or rather the ones that had not ran from me as fast as their feet would have carried them.



No, she stopped us, and looked up with me with those unfathomable eyes, still holding my hand, still connected. It was she, that stepped closer, placing her hand on my chest and whispered, that the pain and guilt was not mine to carry, that it belonged to another in another place. Easy words to say, but not something that is easy to do when you have carried those things with you for ten year.


What happened that night by the stream, I will never understand. Just that simple gesture of touching me, and telling me that I no longer had to carry the burden, had a way of not only connecting the two of us, but gave me the courage to let it go. Leaning my head back, I looked at the stars, and I can say now, that I felt it leave me. For so long, I have lived with it like some sort of parasite that fed on my heart and soul, and had robbed me of what most would consider a normal life.


Did she take it from me upon herself, or did she take it only to release it into the Sky. I still do not know, and someday I will ask. All I know is that I felt freer than I have felt in many years.


Right up until the point she grew pale and fainted.

Of Stuff and Nonsense

My conversation with Mezoo had jogged a memory, which sent me in search of something in my wagons. I am a simple man with simple needs.


My personal wagon would probably be called spartan by some, but it suits me. It has a sleeping platform covered with warm furs, rugs on the floor to insulate my bare feet on mornings when I get up and the frigid outside air had seeped into the floor boards. I have a locked chest to hold my weapons, and another to hold clothing. Simple. It is all that I need.


I have found, that women are all the same in some respects, whether they are free or slave, and my slaves are no different. There is something in a woman that makes her want to fancy things up, to make them appealing or pretty. Even my girls are guilty of this. They had this habit of bringing things into my wagon, that......match. They can't quite understand that I do not want or need a tapestry that matches one of the rugs on the floor. Flowers belong on the plains in their natural home, not in some jar in my wagon. I believe that my hand across their cheeks has finally convinced them that my personal wagon is just fine like it is. It does not need to match.


Ok, this does not mean that I have nothing. Quite the contrary. I am a Tuchuk warrior, I raid, rape and pillage with the best of them, and over the years, I have accumulated a lot of......stuff. Stuff that I do not use, or need exactly, but that I do not part with because it can be of value to someone else, maybe, and can be traded for some stuff, that I do need. It is a simple concept. Or to me it is.


There is a downside to this accumulating of stuff. While my personal wagon, and the wagon I use in scarring are quite basic and organized, the wagons where I keep this stuff, are not. And it has gotten even worse since I have become Ubar because people keep leaving me gifts of....stuff on my platform, and I have one of the slaves take it to what I jokingly call..my storage wagons.


So that morning when I had the singular thought of purpose, to find that one small item, I was actually dismayed that it was not in the chest where I kept my clothes, nor in the one where the weapons were, which meant that I needed to go look through my stuff for it. The very idea of that is daunting in itself.


In the first one I began to open chests, peek in barrels and even slit open the tops of bags. Ah, there was that dagger I took off a dying Arian. Why was he dying, that is another story for another time. But it is of nice quality steel, blade and handle all cast as one piece and well balanced. The handle is wrapped in leather that is darkened by years of skin oils and sweat from the hands that have held it. I slipped it into my belt, I think I will add mine to the handle.


The next barrel was bolts and bolts of cloth like women like to make tunics with. I drug this to the platform. It will be sent to Cana, she is a woman, she sews so she will know what to do with it.


The next that I opened, when I pulled the straw away that was protecting the contents, proved to be a chest of toys for children. Small leather shields and wooden swords, even some leather greaves and bracers sized for a child. I amused myself with a wooden bowl on a stick, with a cork ball hanging from a tether trying to get the ball into the cup by swinging it. Now so easy as it looks.


There was a small box of warriors cast from some metal, all brightly painted with the ridiculous red tunics and tiny weapons in their hands. There seemed to be two factions, painted with different styles of tunics. I could see the value of using these to maybe teach the value of battles.

There were all manner of animals stitched from fur and stuffed with somethingm and with these shiny discs for eyes. Even a couple of larger dolls dressed in the robes of free women. I turned one of these over and just as I suspected, nothing of interest under those robes. Maybe Canas' girls would find them amusing when they were older.


There were also animals carved from wood. It is always amazing to me how dwellers waste something as precious as wood. Some of the animals had small wheels on them and cords that ran to a large wooden handle. It seemed they were meant to be pulled over the ground. Interesting. There was even a small wooden wagon with metal wheels and a long handle on it for pulling. I can almost see Also pulling his sisters around in it.


Amazingly enough there were also toys made from another metal. And if I am not mistaken this metal was silver. Out here on the plains, mothers often find dried gourds that have the seeds still in them. When you shake them, they make a noise that seems to fascinate babies. Some of these silver objects were like that, but when you shook them the sound they made was more musical. These would go to his nieces. They were the daughters of a Ubar, the nieces of a Ubar, why would they not deserve engraved silver rattles. It made perfect sense to me.


At the very bottom I found something that did puzzle me. It was a bundle wrapped in leather. Taking it out I sat down cross legged and untied the thongs that held it shut and folded back the leather. There was this thing I know is called a frame. Dwellers often used these wooden frames to put around portraits. I have seen this before. But there was no portrait in this one, only what appeared to be a smooth, flat stone. Odd.


There was a canister and when I took the lid off of it, there seemed to be these sticks of candy like I have seen in the cities in it. Taking one out I sniffed it, but did not get that aroma of mint that I had expected. In fact, it did not smell. Taking a bite off the tip, I immediately spit it out for it had no flavor. Stupid dwellers. It fell on the framed stone and when I reached to brush it off, something curious happened. It made a mark. Taking the small bit, I made other marks then rubbed them off with my fingers.


Another distant memory made its' was through my head. I remember these things from a city once. There were shops that sold goods and the merchants had bigger pieces of this same stone on stands and wrote the prices of their good with something someone told him was chalk. That is what this was. One of those boards and the canister held several new pieces of this chalk. Immediately, I thought of Also, and his penchant for drawing pictures on the ground with a stick.


Carefully I wrapped the bundle back up and tied the thongs. All of the toys were placed back in the chest with the bundle on top and shoved it over and between the flaps to the platform. Then resumed my hunt.


Two barrels of salt were found in one corner, a large bag of blackwine beans, Damn I could use a bowl of blackwine about now, various bags of herbs and spices, sugar and some dried fruit. All of this found its' way to the platform.


Opening the drawers on a standing chest I found other oddities. In one, there was an intricately carved box which contained those golden chains and what not that the Vaci were so fond of. But in there, I also found a few simpler pieces that caught my eye. This box was tucked into his tunic as he continued his search.


Finally, I found it, wrapped in a small square of cloth. Taking it out I held it up to the dim light that came through the smoke hold in the top of the wagon. It was a small disc of bronze, a perfect example of two metals that had been brought together each with a different property to it. One for strength, the other for pliability, then they had been shaped, the rough edges filed off, to make this simple object. This would be a gift for Mezoo. It would need to be cleaned in polished, but even in the dim light he could see how it would pick up the light and cast the gold and amber back towards her. A simple gift, but one that I thought would suit her.


I was still admiring the disc when I threw the flaps of the wagon open and stumbled over the....stuff, I had shoved out onto the platform. I turned to look over my shoulder and had to admit the wagon looked emptier, more organized. But that is because all the stuff was on the platform blocking my way!


Fortunately for me, and for him, a passing out rider asked if he could take some of the boxes and barrels somewhere for me. Bright lad, he did not mention that I was trapped behind all this stuff, he might earn a promotion for his discretion. Soon, he and one of comrades were carrying the chests, barrels and bags off to where I wanted them delivered.


Me? I was on my way to polish my gift, already thinking of the light it would bring to her eyes.

Branding

For the most part the branding went well. There were several of the women that came to help that had never branded before, and I tried to teach them how it was done. I am a firm believer in women knowing how to do such things. Think about it. A woman that has no mate should be able to do these things. I have a great deal of respect for those women that are independent enough to want to do things for themselves. I will admit to getting irritated at times with women that will not ask for help when they need it, but that does not mean I respect them any less.


I know that in many ways they are considered weaker than men, but trust me, in my way of thinking there is no such animal as a "helpless woman". There may be those that manipulate a little more to get men to do things for them in the guise of being helpless, but most are quite capable. Case in point, take women like Tarra, Noya and even Cana. Most of them would fight you to keep you from taking things from them that they are capable of doing. Trust me, I know this, I have tried. And all three of these women know who to go to for help. They will not stand around looking forlorn and helpless, they will find a way to get things repaired.


If your wagon cover needs repair, find a leather worker, if the metal bands on your wagon are worn, find an ironworker. Axle's need greasing, grease them yourself or get a slave to do it. My mother was that way. She considered the things around her wagons as falling under her domain, and Skies help you if you tried to take that away from her.


But I digress.


It is always good to see our people working together, it brings a flavor to the work being done. Yamka caught onto the branding really quickly. I will not worry about her not being able to take care of her herd as she accumulates it. And watching Cana is amazing, she just has this way of working that beast of hers' so that they make cutting the calves away from the herd look simple. I have some out riders that I want her to teach that to, including me. You could tell that Tarra and Kaeli were also adept at branding, and that this was not their first, and it is always good to have them around to help guide the younger ones. Asria did show up, and I would not expect her to participate in her condition, but I got the distinct impression that branding was not for her. Too dirty.


Mezoo even showed up, and brought her curiosity with her. I think the women in her family have tended mostly to their verr herds, and less to the bosk, so much of this was new to her. With Yamka's help, she even tried her hand at branding a few. With more practice, they will all be first rate branders.


Taking a break to share food and drink and conversation was even nice. And it gave us a chance to relax. I took Mezoo over to see where the iron workers were working on the branding irons. Sort of a I am man, I will show you how it is done thing, but it did not turn out that way. In that manner of hers, she began to ask questions. Clear cut questions. Those questions that always surprise and interest me when they come from her.


We talked about metals, the ones that were stronger, the ones that were more pliable and how when you mixed them you had something strong, yet flexible. What made me say what I did, I have no idea. But, I shared with her my view that people were like metal in some ways. You took something strong, mixed it with something more malleable, honed off the rough edges, and you were left with something much more interesting. At first there was puzzlement in the look she gave me, but I stood there and watched it in her eyes. The growth of a new idea, from that small seed that I planted. That, is what attracts me to Mezoo.


We did not get to finish our conversation, as there was a commotion near the branding fires that I needed to tend to. It seems that Yamka had been kicked by one of the calves. Kicked badly enough to have broken a rib? Or so Kaeli diagnosed. I will have to keep an eye on that particular little calf. Seems he is stronger than most.

When And How Did it Begin?

To think back on when he first noticed her, it is hard. At first, her face seems to melt into the crowd of others that all came around the same time. In fact, his first conscious memory of her is in the company of that drummer, who seems to have outgrown his leathers, or maybe it is that he is trying to wear leathers that are too big for him, yet.



It is not like someone, or something, yanked him up, pointed to the spex and said......Look at that one there! Look at her closer! But he did listen as others spoke of her. Her father was killed in the same attack as Asria's mate, and she was now under the guardianship of Fonce.



Maybe it was that night she tossed the stone to him. The moment he caught it, he could feel a warmth radiate from it. Was that from simply having been in her grasp? But the warmth lingered. Again, was it from the warmth of her fingers, or was it from the fire that seemed to burn in the stone, the reds, golds and ambers that shimmered there? All he knows is, that there was just something so elementally right about holding it in his hand, running his calloused fingers over it. His hand extended to give it back, but her hand lifted to block its' return and she told him to keep it.


Probably if anyone else had told him that, he would have refused, but there was just something about this stone, something that felt right about it. For the briefest of moments, a thought flashed in his head that the stone was where it was supposed to be. In his possession.


Since receiving it, he has kept it with him constantly. Often he unconsciously takes it out, fingers moving along the smooth, polished surface which still seems to hold that warmth. Now of course, that is foolish, but that is how it seems to him. The stone has become almost like a talisman, something that he worries with his fingers as he things and ponders thing.


But, that is not what is important. What is important, is that is when he truly took his first, long look at the young woman, seeing an amused intelligence dancing in her eyes. Something that he did not see in everyone. In fact, something that he saw only in a few.


She caught his eye and his interest, so he took the next step, being the "honorable" Tuchuk that he is. He spoke to her guardian, Fonce about being allowed to speak with her more, to get to know her better. Permission granted.


That is how it started. He thinks.

Women Who Are Not Osts,...Or Not Osts, Yet

Turns his thoughts to the women who are not osts in his world. The ones that he considers friends, who he has some sort of trust in.



Kaeli of the sense of humor. He enjoys the conversations that they have had. After he had first come to these fires, she was the one who had extended the effort to get to know the man that stood in the shadows leaned up against the wagon simply observing. Having a friend among the healers is not an entirely bad concept. She is the mate of Jai, the iron worker and a trusted friend. Never has he seen two people so meant for each other, unless it might be his parents.



Aponi, the struggler. The young woman has overcome much to gain favor and her place at the Ubar's fires. Beautiful, funny and loving. She is not Tuchuk by blood, but she has found a way to be Tuchuk by heart. If it weren't from his past experiences and the promise he had made to his parents, perhaps he would have gotten to know her better, but that is no how it was to be. And rightly so, for she has found her heart in Tengfei, another that had to overcome many obstacles to secure his place here. It has turned out to be a productive union, thus far.



Tarra, the spex. A woman of talents and hard earned wisdom about life. He values her input; however he does not always heed it. He is a man, and will set his own destiny, as any man will. Often her words can edge up to the line of being disrespectful of others, but that is who she is. She is open with her ideas and her words, does not hold back, which is sometimes appreciated, and sometimes not. He considers her a friend, someone that he can trust and gain wisdom from. Strong, determined, but there is also a softness to her towards those she cares about. He has seen it often. How can you not respect her and want her to be counted among your friends?



Cana, the mate of his brother. What can he say about her, other than Ba'atar is one lucky bastard, not that he always realizes it, but he is. But she is more than simply the mate of a man. She is a mother, a sister, a friend, a confidante to many, and one of the best kaiila trainers they have. She reminds him of the willow trees that grow along the banks of some of the streams on their lands. Beautiful, graceful, dignified, but possessing a strength at the core that makes her able to withstand the harsh winds of life that assault her.



Then there are the newer additions to the fires, the younger women that are just coming into their own. The fact that he would be made guardian over some of them had never occurred to him when he agreed to sit upon the grays. Now just how do you do that, and remain unbiased?



Yamka, the leather worker. Over many moons he has sat and watched her grow, mature into a beautiful young woman. She is no longer the childlike creature that thought to tackle him at the fires one night. At that time, she had reminded him of a sleen pup, all feet and legs, and not sure what to do with either of them. But no more. A beautiful woman with a tenderness about her. Still naive in many ways, but he can see her growing into her own almost daily. She has asked to get to know him better, and he actually thinks she will make a good friend. She just has to get over the ost thing, because she does not fall into that category.



Seveya, the artisan. They have probably gotten off on bad footing, but perhaps that will change. He simply wanted to test her mettle, to see if she was as closed to ideas as she seemed to be on first blush. He does understand how she feels about her art, sort of. He just hopes that she will soon learn that she has to be more than her art, that there is more to her than colors upon a canvas. That is what he wants to see. Will the real Seveya step up? He hopes it is soon, because he has already given permission for her to be ringed and he hopes that is not a mistake.


Asria, the year keeper? Not exactly sure where to classify her at the moment. A woman that has just lost a mate, who has a child to guide, that needs to pick up the strings of this new life that has been thrust upon her. She will be given some leeway because of all of this. She too needs to find her niche' at the first fires, her offering of what she brings to them. This is one of the reasons that he has asked Cana to guide her, to mentor her. Besides, he likes the child Lei. Beautiful, smart and not one to back down. A lot of spirit in that one.



Mezoo, the spex. That is for another time.