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.
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