Of Mud and Men

I couldn't believe I slept all night. For I knew it was morning when I felt the sting of a switch at my thigh, and I quickly moved to dodge the next swing. Would have worked if she didn't know I would do that and aimed high this time. I stubbed my toe. It hurt.

Ouch! Ouch! What did I do?

Oh Grandmother was on a rampage. Very rarely did she ever get to yelling, if not over more, it was at me when I did something to question her sanity. Which I did often enough. Usually just little things. When I was mad cause she sent me to bed early cause I just happened to trade her expensive bag of roots for a newly dyed leather for boots, and since I was in the furs before it was dark I was awake before all, getting Grandmother up only if my brother had over night patrol saying its morning, and Eesamer went to the stream to wash up, and wants breakfast, the special one she only makes. Of course, Grandmother would make it, giving it all to me when it was clear Eesamer got tied up with something instead of coming to eat. I would have a full belly and be happy. It would work until I had woken up again from my full slumber, ready to ask for lunch and Eesamer walked in asking for Breakfast. I learned to run fast from that.

This time, it was the basket. Its my job to do the laundry. The slaves have been out helping my other brother and his mate with new born twins, as if their other four kids weren't enough. Both slaves gone, leaving me to have to do most the cleaning, and laundry with no help. So I let it pile up, so Grandmother wouldn't feel an over flowing basket, I would just keep getting bigger baskets until after a hand she couldn't find a tunic and Eesamer was complaining about no clean verr wool socks. Not my fault he changed them like four times a day. I guess she found out, as she was yelling at me the whole time I dressed, I didn't even know Eesamer was there until I heard him laughing walking out. Grandmother roughly oiled my hair pulling it back in a braid, just telling me she should beat a hort off my height for making her think her back was bending cause the basket seemed bigger every other day. She thought she was shrinking, and was seeing the healer about her back. Cost her two dozen eggs for him to say...Elders shrink. He was next for that. For now it was me. I couldn't get my boots on fast enough lugging that huge basket out towards the stream with the Sky Warrior walking over my fingers as if to laugh at me too. I knew he was. There were only a few there at first, giving my Tal's. I liked the young Warrior. We had a secret. I told him that we shared blood. One day we will have to get Eesamer to explain it better to both me and him. Something about Fathers, Fathers and Brothers...or something. Easamer was in a hurry when I asked him about the marks on the wagons, so it was quick run down, which drove me crazy cause I liked names and history!

More started to come, many new faces, a few I had seen before. I couldn't wait to get my boots off and start soaking my throbbing toe in the cool water. I spoke to a few, I saw some I have sought before, and some who seemed to be a new from the past as the girls gossip well via the first wagons or the last. Old Ubars were a hot topic all the time. I couldn't wait to go back and tell Kayla he looked nothing like she said! I felt a bit bad people were giving him a corpse comparison, but yes, he did have that...needs a few bosk steaks...look. I was curious, but not enough to get near the gathering of people that were talking. I was a little shocked over two coming to speak to me, though the quiet one still had that mean discontent look even holding young children. Now that was a bit amazing. The other was giving me and anatomy drill, from the head to toe connection and I think he wanted to drown me. Interesting.

Then Old Lady Boots tried to make a point that didn't quite amuse me, but I know older women tend to be a bit threatened by us younger ones. So what if I'm a prospect, I'm still Tuchuk, her blood was no better then mine. Her wagon was just in a different location. She probably got there by mating anyway. So I didn't fall into it. I try never to let anything bother me for to long. A boot in the face today, and I will be standing tall tomorrow. Again, I didn't let words of ill tempered whims bother me. I found it amusing. To each their own. I savored the thought of a future of testing the will of some in a more intelligent way then silly threats. I am Tuchuk, a young one, but strong. The girl beside me puzzled me but it was nice to see a young face. She might call her family strict I found them a bit mean. I wasn't a stranger to a lashing but it was in lesson not demand. I enjoyed helping her out a bit, and I have never seen leathers so big!

When most had left, I enjoyed walking closer to the Warrior I was curious about with the other prospect. He amazed me. It wasn't just the familiar of the Sky Warriors, but it was just the way he spoke. His tone, his demeanor. He spoke of lost things, and I of not really seeing the importance of worrying over what is now gone, for things still here are what mattered. I could see the anguish, even in the very dark of his eyes. The other woman came, and I liked her thrill over him. I really didn't need a seal of deal to assume he was truly special but her thrill was enough to do just that. I told him a bit about me, I felt selfish but he asked, and even offered more then he asked. I like to talk. I think it could be a lift time debate, of water and ground, but the mud in my fingers showed me it really didn't matter. For life is what does. He gave me life in my palm. Beautiful shimmer of rich green that fluttered even when the beetle tumbled from my palm. His mood changed as did life. Dusted beetle all across my skirt. I gathered it up and asked him to fix it. No he didn't. He left.

Oh well, I took care of it, and sent it right back to him, as I watched old lady boots color the water in some incident that left her in a sticky moment.

Yes, laundry, had to take it home.

Three hands.

Goodness.Now, I had to find Kayla. Tell her, she was so wrong....this man wasn't what she said, he was so much more, for to me that slender outline of flesh was just a mere silhouette of what he really was. I found it beautiful.

Designs of life

So the day started, how would I? I was faithful polishing the shell. I listened to the drums, but though I didn't walk up and fight fully to get to the first wagons, I was listening. Learning, offering my little wares of amusement right now. Listening mostly to my Grandmother as my brother would finally show me a few things. He showed me how to start to gain some control of my thoughts. I had a semi idea from Grandmother. Eyes were sometimes more blind when open. I would close my eyes to find what I was looking for. He was trying to show me how to expand my mind to sort the many things in there. The feelings that would try to flash all at once. Don't think...feel. It was hard, for my thoughts would linger to the far blue sky, and the cloud I saw earlier that day. I would hear a faint sigh knowing he knew my concentration was gone. He knew he couldn't teach me. Age had been a hinder as much as being left to my own vices for so long.

One of things I enjoy the most, is watching when my Grandmother paints. Its a painful thing, but worth it. Since age has gotten so wrapped on her poor flesh, the gift of watching tends to be at my own palm. To create from your own essence. Pictures stained into leather. They hung around our wagon, without a thought one might thing it red dye, but we knew better. Hers were so detailed, every blade of grass was a stroke from the single end of the thorn stem or by her own finger tips. Sometimes when I was younger I would be so engrossed and her pictures so elaborate, I would feel light headed and need to rest. To see the result while I ate after I awoke was worth each prick. I lay here now, working on my own picture. It was just the sky, each cloud had its own delicate lines within lines, within lines. There was a distant hill, with someone riding over it, there was the stream and each circled rock. A sweet solitude found as I continued watching every crimson line soak into the leather. It was for a saddle blanket for my kaiila. Ulita was growing restless and I wasn't in the mood to ride. I really had been a slug. As much as a slug as Tuchuks can be. I still cleaned about the wagon, cooked with Grandmother. We had a couple verr, as Grandmother loved verr milk, so I milked and brushed them everyday. People were always in and out the wagon asking my Grandmother for things, looking for my brother. My brother had this gift, or just a really good skill of reading futures form the bottom of a baby's feet. He only did male babies. He was good at it. I doubt there wasn't a back wagon baby around that hadn't had his feet touched by my brother. When I was about ten, a mother , her mate and a newborn came to see my brother. He simply told the mother to kiss her son, and the mate to kiss them both, and said, to the Warrior, memories last forever. Confused the couple and the baby walked out and I swear on my own feet...if a bolt of lightening didn't strike down right on that mother and son. Right on our steps! It still has the burn marks on the railing. Since that day, people came twice and much now, bring even kids who were already walking. Don't know why he won't do those after they take their first step, just his thing I guess. Something about the lines, the thickness of the heel, the mold of the ball of the foot. The body knows, what their path will be like. When I asked about the bolted baby, he said...he never saw feet to smooth and soft. Not a line, not a single line. And that is all he said about that.

I finished the surface of my blanket, tired, I ate a piece of bosk strip so I wouldn't wake up with a headache, leaving the stem back on Grandmothers chest, I slept well, and dreamed of very tired feet.

Gone again

I saw her just melt away the same way she came. This meant so much to me in an array of feelings that might fly high into the clouds or linger in a gasp of air within the warm yet suffocating mud. She gave me a light. That glow of learning. Made me stronger, gave me a shell like the one I polished faithfully every day. She gave me so many books, with pictures that told stories that now swarmed in my mind. Her touch had been cool like the feel of ice across my lips. The chill wasn't one of ache, it was one of being alive! So when I watched her form melt away with a single drop of water suckled by the grass and ground, I did weep, not of pain, but of thankfulness.

Her wagon would be kept warm for her return one day.

This left me in a fit of question on what to do? I was weary, yes, my first step had been one that slipped on the grass like fresh dung under a blind fools foot. I could do it again. I had to. For that is what the grass showed me. Forward Noelani forward.

I walked home, and saw my brother sitting on the lower wagon steps. Which was odd, cause he never was home this time of day. I smelled the sage, and rich strong herbal smell of combinations I didn't know from him. That told me he had spent some time at the Haruspex wagons. The older I got the more time he spent there. I remember ahns in the afternoon we would be out in the plains, I chasing bugs as a little girl, and him telling me to settle down and just watch the clouds while he was looking for, something. Even then I knew every Haruspex was different. I didn't get the gift of growing up with my parents. A wagon of warmth and learning. Eesamer kept me sheltered. Ignorant. I didn't feel remorse for it, but I felt bad he struggled now I was old enough to go find myself. It was a fight him and Grandmother had ever now and then. Mostly when the buzzing was too much and I couldn't make the confusion go away.

That is when I discovered the Sky Warrior. Or so, he captured me. The fair Tuchuk Maiden every Warrior fought for and captured in the battle by some Lone Rider to take me as his mate. Of course he wasn't some speckled red bug at first, he was a brave strong Warrior, who came and right before he took my hand his heart burst into flames cause he couldn't contain his love for me, and the sky opened up taking what was left of the ash and flames in a cradle of the breeze lifting him away. All but one smoldering red and black ash..that flew down to my finger tips, and has stayed with me forever.

When I woke up from the surrounding of grass on the hill with him on my hand, I knew it had to be true. Not just a dream. It was enough to help me stop the tears when the buzzing came, and she would whisper in my ear, how it was the sound of wings. The Sky Warrior's off to battle. Watch them with pride, fly to battle and come up in honor of our souls. They were saving me.

So I would I would sit on the steps, like Eesamer was doing now, hearing the raised voices trying to muffle emotion argue about me. "They are saying she is a curse, we should have given the water back what was taken" "Eesamer, you know better then that. No child is a curse, you let old vulo hens gossip get to you cause people fear what they don't understand" "She keeps telling people her parents died before she was born, does that not give off an eerie sense enough?" "Why would she lie..they did" "That is not the point, the point is, they say she is the reason they died, that it was the seeking that found death when it came to her" "Then the only fool there is..is you Eesamer, and you of all know, we need not question the sky" Yes, I remember those fights, to let me learn, or not to let me learn. Grandmother taught me to listen when he tried to teach me to mute.

I walked up to him, smiling, a kiss against his cheek, before finding a seat beside him. A hand against his side, embraced, my sweet brother who only did his best for me cause I knew he cared. He would place a hand around my shoulder, kissing my forehead.

I'm sorry Noelani.

He said, and all I could in return was...that it was okay. I understood, I did. I took away from him also. No mate who couldn't get past gossip to enough for her parents to take a bride price to help raise a cursed child and care for a blind old woman. I understood, everything and I loved him more for taking care of us, without a thought, other then, what I should become. Now I had seen sixteen years of my life, and was still reckless as child first learning to make fire. The gift was there, I just didn't know how to control it. For now, it was just me and him. I forgot the pain of seeing my teacher melt away before me. I was, content.

A single drop of the future

It was the press of finger tips painting the ground of sparkled diamonds. They were just drawing pictures in its surface that would not leave a colored mark, but one of frozen dazzle of ice. Elegant pictures, but it was the form that would be breathtaking. They looked like ancient inscriptions I had seen drawn on pouches of my grandmothers herb and root leather sacks. They had to mean something, I wished I knew what.

It made me think of all the pictures in the books I found in the wagon. They were drawn pictures, some could have been from a child's hand. As I flipped through book and book did the detail become more understandable. From the drawings of leaves, and pictures of organs taken from a body. There was three words I have learned. I could draw it against the snow. I saw it over and over in the books, that told its pictured story. Heart. I knew heart, blood and water.

I felt a tight wrap start it snake around my heart. It was as cold as the ice sculptured drawings I was doing on the ground with my finger. It would squeeze so tightly I could feel my blood fighting to flow from within. The pain was white. Whiter then the landscape around me. I lifted up grasping one of the icicles and I felt it pierce into my palm like a sharp fang that would cut through bone and skin.

I didn't cry out, I just watched...I watched the blood roll down the ice fang that went through my hand, from its curled tip, it slowly made the fall towards the ground. When it met upon the snow, its impact was more then I could explain. The ground split in two, a crease that swallowed up my blood, I hear the crack of wheels, the cry of children, the weep of fear.

The words breathed into my ear once all had finally stilled were clear as if someone was beside me. "She will test the faith of all against the one she loves. The people can fight the right, but the right will win. The people will suffer, but faith will heal. Believe....believe"

Cold burn

I couldn't help but enjoy the lingered feeling of warmth that was a buzz in my chest like the delicate and dangerous beat of bee wings. So revered these winged workers, giving the most elegant of treats, yet, if touched one might find their flesh swollen and pained from assault. This feeling was one of just watching them work. Flow around the hive that might give just a hint of golden droplet when its overfilled and prime for dipping.

This feeling was one of two bees, the women from my dream the flutter of children, I walk to the wagon I was cleaning to run my fingers over the oiled surface of the shell. I buffed it at its prop at the back of the wagon. I like to sit in the wagon while we moved and just watch the stories from the shadows against the sides and upper canvas. It was so very cold out, even the vines seemed to shiver, and evening bloom smell of its honeysuckle aroma mixed with frost.

Funny thing about cold, how violently it can take a life, yet, even in its most simplest of forms, it will allow one to live in the most lacking of times. Stepping out to the platform I breath in the cup of my hands. I feel the moist of my warm breath and the cool steam of air melt and moisten my palms. Perhaps it wasn't enough to drink fully but the water was there. Like a single drop of a snow flake against my tongue. I hear the sound of laughter again buzz its echo around me. Girls in boots running in the light fall of snow. Their mother laughing as she watched.

When things seemed so peaceful is when I saw the fire shoot up across the top of a wagon. One not of red, orange or yellow. One of blue, white, and purple. Its burn wouldn't be slow and popping, it was pure stone frozen in its fury.

I tried to call for help, it was going turn all the wagons to stone! We needed water, water from our fingers, warm from our touch to stop it, I knew we did! It would be a banging sound, not one of a drum but still throbbing, did I finally awake, my cheek against the shell, tears down my face, and watching Shadow walk in, asking me if I was okay.

He heard me scream.

Treasured Darkness

When the wagons had finally ceased the days move, the heavy breath of bosk were dampened with water from a barrel we kept in our own wagon, bring them out by the buckets they their thirst would be pacified. One swung its horns at me when I seemed to be a bit impatient wanting to run back to the wagon to see what it is I needed to do. I snapped out of my daze when I felt its base of horn hit me good in the back of my shoulder reminding me who had been working all day. I apologized to the Bosk, slowing down my work of fingers and oil along his hooves. Once the teams were all released the girls brought me water to wash up with, and I was so about to take off once more when I felt the press of a switch right at my thigh. Grandmother threatening to use it if I didn't sit, and join her and my Brother for the evening meal. Did she not know she was killing me here! I already had a nice bruise I could feel still at my shoulder from the Bosk, I wasn't going to be wanting matching switch marks on my thigh to join it. My Brother called her switch..the focus stick. For she used it well when we both started to lose focus. I have to admit, I would run away behind the wagons to giggle when my eldest brother a grown Warrior would be made to sit by the fires after this little blind old woman snapped him a few times with the focus stick.

So we sat, the three of us, I think I downed my broth and boiled meat quickly, about to get up when I would be asked a question. Did I make sure the girls tended to all the bosk. Yes. Did I make sure the chains were rolled back. Yes. Did I make sure the yokes were back on pegs. Yes. Did I tell the girls to look around with the others for a stream to refill the barrel. YES. This went on for another twenty ehns. Before my Brother said...go.

It was a long run down the rows. I watched the stars above me looking back, and the puffs of cool air form its own story with misted bosk and wagons. I was afraid to walk in. I was. I knew I had permission to go in the wagon, but I was still weary, it was like I was finally afraid to do what I was meant to do. I searched for so long for what was right, it was here and my heart flowed with deep throbbing beats that would play like a drum of announcement in my ear. I was here. The night had brought an onslaught of beautiful flowers that seemed to sparkle before me. It took a few good grasp to push the mass of vines overly grown around the canvas from the entrance flap. The leather was stiff, it had not been opened for a long time. I would see to bringing it down and oiling it soft again. The smell wasn't stale like I expected, it was very green, something one wouldn't expect until after the ride home to the South. It was alive, and filled me with a mixture of moss and sage. It felt warm even though it was very cold. There was....so much. I could see everything even in the darkness. The plants inside were also as overgrown as the vines. I loved the burst of scent from the flowers. Reaching in my satchel, I pulled out a small pouch of dung, with a few flickers of fire flint it started to glow and warmth seemed to burst into the wagon. Exhaling, there was so much more then I had thought....all over! We were moving so I wouldn't replace things to the shelves, but put them in easy top crates, as if this was a living wagon and not sealed crates of storage wagons.

I started to dry dust the covers of the many leather bound books, opening a few to look at sketched pictures, as the words meant nothing to me. I was careful making sure the scrolls were warm before rolling them so nothing would crack. I then started to collect glass and pottery jars.I wouldn't look in them, but I would lift the lids to smell each, as a few would send me outside of the wagon to try to find a breath. Those that had twine over the corked lids I wouldn't dare remove. I set those on top so they could be gathered quickly. I would also leave the crate with mixing bowls, and other important things out. Finding small metal mesh walled cages, I couldn't think of anything that would go in there...but bugs. Every bug I found I put in there. They didn't seem to mind from Wind Warriors to spiders they would crawl from my fingers into the various small cages. Those I would layer crate with furs, so they wouldn't be tossed around to much in the travel, telling myself to bring some bits of fruit for each later.

I started to wash down the sides, and upper canvas. Sweeping out the floor, and shaking out fur carpets I would bring them in, combing them out and oiling each before rolling them to the side. I felt myself getting very tired, as I wanted to finish the cleaning and storing before finding my furs. I would just close my eyes for a little bit. Yes..just a bit.

I dreamed, I knew it was a dream, to women in the warmth of the wagon speaking, smiling, working. It felt so real, as if I was there, I wanted to be there........

Cloaked in future.

I couldn't help but just stare at him for an ehn or so, and it just slipped out of my mouth when I muttered "Three and a half fingers, a possible four" which would have made no sense to him, but if my Friend Kayla was around, she would have understood as she created the 'Five Finger Ubar Scale' which simply was, if the Ubar was Five fingers in how he looked, strength, and just the air around him, then the rest would be judged on that comparison of him. It was clear the Warrior had no idea what I meant. Did he not know I was on a mission, and he had completely thrown me off of it? I looked up for where the black bird was, who I would just call Poe. Where had Poe left to? He was not on top of the wagon, the shadow was gone? This Warrior ruined everything! Turning to let him know how I felt about his interruption my jaw about dropped to my lap.

Poe was sitting on his shoulder, just looking me over with the turns of its small slick dark feathered head. I was happy for the windscarf over my face, it would hide the burn of crimson at my cheeks in my own personal shame. Letting my tongue finally release from the roof of my mouth did I speak.

"You must be Shadow?"

He was. He didn't speak much, telling me, I would know soon everything I was to know, but for now, I had work to do. He explained to me, there was a wagon I needed to prepare. The arrival would be soon. It had to be ready, and I had to do it. I wanted each time to ask twenty more questions on top of what I was being told. I didn't get it. Why me? Did I not already know this would happen? Is this not the reason I was followed Poe? Who was arriving??? Nothing...nothing would be given to me in words.

Just when I was about to ride closer to the platform to see what work needed to be done to the now moving wagon, he simply would stop me. Telling me to come back tonight, once the wagons had stopped, in the darkness I would see clearly what I needed to. Return then.

I promised I would.

Seeking a Shadow

The following morning was cooler then the others of the past since the move. I could taste its chill melt against the warmth of my tongue. It lingered always a crispness of a first drink of stream water after a great melt. I liked it, and yet, with every breath of rich swirl did it make my lungs feel heavy. Standing on the platform I watched the start of wagons moving ahead, the long Hith of wheels, canvases and wood of so many hues one would think it real. Just making its way along the valley of the plains. There was rich grass still green near the stretch no more then a few ahns from the city of Turia. We were moving closer before turning fully. Rumors would say this trip would be the longest in the records but the Omens were not something to be reckoned with. I felt almost sad the rain had stopped. Its chilled splash would instantaneously warm once it rolled along my skin. For now, it was just cold, with a bitter bite that would breeze its way across us like the surface of water during a storm. I felt a fear of thought cross my mind at how the fury of water waves melt away even the most solid of ground, as I looked around the wagons before us. I almost felt that fear start to tingle its dance from my toes along my body in a shiver when I was snapped out of this sudden feeling with a delicate fall of an ebony feather before me.

It was then, did my fingers curl against it, so warm, strangely heated in my touch, forcing my eyes away from each little strand that was embedded into the shaft. I saw the whirled flight, and the whisper of "Poe" long and drawn out at my ear. There was no point in watching the sky, the bird again was gone, leaving me only the trace of its shadow that stayed against the glossed frost laden ground. I would saddle Ulita, letting my satchel hang off the other end with a cross of my legs, and a single boot in the stirrup we were off. Not ahead like the rest, but down, I saw the shadow of the bird on the ground lead me down. I felt the glances as I rode against the grain of motion, past the other riders and guards. The tease of children saying I wouldn't be able to catch up to my own wagon if I go to far.

I saw many wagons, one caught my eye, the way the colors just seemed to melt into each other, and the pattern that would make me think of water's lifted dance of love with the breeze, in a gentle ripple of caress and not the rage of passionate fury that storms bring. Looking up with the whisper of name again did I see that black bird on the totem of design over the vent of one wagon.

"Don't stop to rest now Bird of Blue, How am I to find a Shadow when its disappeared from the ground?"

I didn't even hear the kaiila come up beside Ulita. It was a voice that spoke that finally made me look.

"One doesn't just seek Shadows they find them, or they are found by Shadow, either one"

Blushing I looked at the Warrior who had a grand black Kaiila beside mine. He was just looking at me, couldn't be more then a hand full of years older then me, was my guess. Before daring a question.

"How am I suppose to see a Shadow when its gone?"

The Warrior seemed amused by this, a chuckle rolling from his chest as he spoke.

"You don't, for I have found you"

Once upon a midnight dreary.....

It was like a heated whisper at the shell of my ear. The kindle starting from flesh weaving deep within the thick of muscle and every crimson drop of blood that flowed within me. I was lost in a hazed line of being very comfortable in my furs layered on top of me, with only the shadow of my sleeping grandmother to the side seen with a half open of my right eye falling back to a close as soon as it was opened. I didn't need to see, to see, and I knew in the center was the brazier warming the wagon, and the front was boxes, trunks and crates lined along the bare walls tethered back with leather to not move. Snuggling back, I tended to favor my moss filled fur pillow, I tried to let the slumber of the night again find me in its peaceful cradle. I was about there when it happened again. A sound so hollow it could only be the breeze, yet enough to sound like a questioning beckon. Told in two fold, like a start of breath exhaling and finishing in its gather of lungs. It was rich exhale of....a long..sound of P drawn out fully. Then another of a long sound of...O following. It wasn't until the third time it swirled the warmth of each breathed into my senses did I finally fully rouse from my furs. Was it a name? Finding my feet, I would give a little sign as I left the lush of furs and found the chill of bare wagon floor moving towards the flaps. Pausing only to take my brown cloak and drape it along my shoulders. I could hear the tender beat of rain that was seemingly endless since it started. A light tease, only ranging from a tender droplet ever few ihns to a light shower that was barely of sheet of glance.

The nights were chilled, well chilled, a foretelling a spex wouldn't be needed to know...soon it would be frost. I wished I had taken the time to work on my boots, but figured this wouldn't take long. Who was near our wagon? One could hear the sound of bosk out in the herds, then the snarls of kaiila and sleens. When I was about to turn around into my wagon did hear it again. The only warmth that would brush along my flesh with each sound the same as the others. It was coming from...up. The sky? Was the Sky speaking to me? I child myself. I am not a man. She may show me things, but rarely does she speak to women. We needed no words, we understood the signs. Those of us who are suppose to. Moving around the side of the wagon my feet prickled at the cold as I paused at the side looking up. Again, it filled me, as I half wished it would speak to my toes which were freezing. Reaching up, fingers curled around the band of rope that was thrown over the top of canvas, half pleasured knowing our wagon tops were double coated and extra boning for travel. I knew I was a bit thicker on the body then most girls. What can I say? Grandmother loved to cook. With the strength of my upper arms, working my toes into the pegs at the side of the wagon I pulled myself up. Goodness I haven't done this in many seasons since I was young, and Brother was looking for me to see who painted over his inner wagon designs with red hand prints. I smiled through the burst of sweat that started to bead along my forehead as I climbed up fully to the top. Our wagons had a small lift of totem that the girls tended to bind colorful strips of leather to dance in the sky while we moved. I followed the wooden craving up, trying to ignore the throb of my palms from the burn of rope that tore into my skin, from the warmth and smell of rich copper were bleeding. When I saw.

It was not the only thing there waiting for me.


I was letting the brace of my feet help keep me against the rope and not slip down the slick leather of the canvas from the rain. I saw the raven bird watching me. Its eye blue like an afternoon sky, and bright like the stars. He seemed to be watching me. The great span of wings seemed to spread out, no! I didn't want him to leave yet. I called it out then seeing him find flight towards the upper northern wagons. "Poe!" It was then, did I find him gone, but back. Before me was a shadow. A beautiful form of shadow close to my finger tips. I reached out for it, watching the stain of droplets burn the surface with crimson color. I saw it then move. Then I knew what I had to find. A Shadow. I had to find it. I reached again when I felt my feet lose its gripping and I started to fall, I could only call to the shadow that was leaving me.

"Wait! Wait!"

"We can't wait Noelani, get up, the wagons will be moving soon" It was my grandmothers voice I heard. Lifting up, I was still in bed. My head on my beloved pillow, my furs around me. Was it all a dream? It had to be, then why did I feel like I had to finish something up. There was something I had to do. I felt it deep in my chest, and the ache of my feet that needed to walk. It was my grandmothers snap at me to get up again did I finally push the covers back and reach for my leather skirt. I didn't even touch my leathers when I turned my hand seeing the burns of ropes across my palm. Angry and red, just a bit sore. I couldn't even think as I heard nothing but my grandmothers voice rushing me. Dressing carefully , trying to work on my boots when Grandmother walked up handing me a jar. I opened it, a rich herbal sent told of salve. This shocked me..how did she...

Before I could say a word, she was gone.

I shall drink.

I was up in the darkness, tugging on my boots on the platform when I felt the first droplet against my lips. I started to laugh softly. Who would have known? Well...duh, me! In the delicate sprinkles I started pulling the last of the wooden braces from our wagon wheels with my brother. Grandmother was making us a light meal of boiled vulo meat as we bound the blocks to pegs with leather under the platform in a rack. I was wearing my long cloak under my sleeping gown, I would wash up as we waited for our turn. We had two slaves, Turian girls, my brother called Lika, and Nika. I was helping them get the bosk tethered.

After I washed up, my grandmother oiled my hair braiding it back tightly strips of blue leather bound in the weave. With small jars we went out, me and the girls, painting pictures across the horns and toed hooves. Artist I am not, but we had a good time. The girls took baskets of jerky to help with the other slaves of the back wagons to move along the rolling wheels to offer some meat to those riding who just got off patrol and had not been able to get the hot meal, and baskets of warm bread, the last to be made here on the South. Our wagon was blue, the one me and Grandmother shared. It had white clouds, and deep grey droplets across the spokes of the wheels.

I had Ulita by the wagon. The fun thing about her was.....I was working on my whistling. Once it was coming to our turn to join the ongoing line of the caravan, I lifted to my saddle, with one of my Brothers eldest son's sitting beside my grandmother on a bench driving our wagon, I would start beside them on saddle. North here we come. Looking to the sky as the drops coated my face. I could only smile.

Two birds with one.....smile

Lingering at the cool waters with a basket of colorful tunics, I had my thoughts lingering still the thoughts of the other night, the dream, was it a dream? I could taste the crisp of water still along my tongue and at the depths of my throat. Perhaps is the ahns of deep thought and meditation with my Teacher that was starting to awaken my mind. Or simply see what has always been there. I try not to pick it apart, but the logic of many things make me question then accept what is happening even with the questions. What it is, is what it shall be. Was He really in my dream? Or was it the essence of everything around me allowing its feel...its force to cause a reflection of these visions to form? I was creating them? Was I? Or where they created for me? What was being said? Shown? Would it be this rain to bring a Warrior long gone home? Would he find what he was hunting for? Or was he a sign of a thirst to be quenched? That his searching shall ease my needs. For I wanted for little but I needed, food, water and knowledge only. I felt the heat of flush run under my skin with the part I had shared with my friend. When one wakes up blushing a friend wants to know. So the only thing I told was a dream of a very handsome Warrior coming home from a hunt. Perhaps if I find him, I will point him out to her.

I could feel the form of the smile at my lips watching the water lap against my feet at the shore. The surrounding wrap of leather at my hips holding up the leathers of my skirt from getting wet. Bare footed for now, my boots were to the side in the grass. I was mostly leaning against the basket in a half crouch when I heard claws pacing closer. Lifting up I was saw a most beautiful deep roan kaiila, letting my toes press at the edges and corners of tunics that were slipping in the waves from the basket falling over.

I met a....friend? A hopeful in the clan of friends I would say. She was very kind to me, not to mention from the first wagons also. I could see clearly she was not born Tuchuk, not that we don't vary in our looks, we have light hair, light eyes, some skin not as tanned but we can't get away for the almond form, or strong cheek bones. Our nature is born in us also. She...was nice. Mated, invited me to visit her and of all things, said the kaiila picked me. She was mine. The price was a ride along the plains, company, something I would be willing to play a hundred fold with pleasure.

What a beautiful beast. I took the grub that was lifted from the earth putting it in my basket. Another gift. Placing it in the small pottery bowl I kept that clover in. I saw the grub just work its way under the deep rich grains.

I must give now. Not sure what, but I knew...I had to give.

I believe.

The light of the moons was a beautiful reflection of sparkled luminous dance across the surface of the waters. Its vision would swirl and vibrate each time I lowered my hands to break the calm in a lifted drench of its droplets across my face. It was a fall of each opal sphere that would never moisten my skin, but the heat from flesh would cause each sprinkle to evaporate in mist of steam carried away with the breeze. How was I able to hold the water? I saw the shimmer of droplets I attempted to drench myself with. This time my eyes did follow the motions of my hands moving at their own whims. Lowering to the water, only to watch it part at the point of impact. I wasn't cupping it, but just causing a lifted splash trying to reach me. I was just about to look more into this when I heard another break of the water close to me.

It was a strange sight, one that might have scared young children, but I felt no fear. The kaiila was a foul view, for he had the skin one might find on a hide dragged the whole trip North behind a wagon, then left to close to the fire while attempted to being mended. There was a fury in his eyes that showed a feel of eternity. Immortality. It was the Warrior riding upon this creature that I was feeling my breaths a haze of misted struggle formed into my lungs. It wasn't over fear, it was a simple shock of revering emotion. I knew him, but not. He was here but not really. I just watched him, lost in the luminous silhouette of him. The soft dark shimmer of black hair that traced across his spine, to the scars at flesh, face, and soul that glowed so much brighter inside of him.

When I felt that deep thirst once more scratch my throat like granules of sand slowly filling, like the delicate small glass formed vials one might use to count the ehns. That was when I finally saw him looking to me. I wanted to offer him a cup of water, I had no vessel, so absentmindedly would lower my palms to try to capture some, watching it again part away from my fingers with each attempted dip. My heart was beating in a song of yearning, as I tried over and over again to get the water to offer for him though with each sweep the grains were filling my throat no matter how I tried to swallow.

I only ceased when I heard the pull of string from a bow, watching him aim the arrow in the sky. My eyes followed the flow of shafted arrow and its feathers there were dyed in red, yellow, blue and black mix in the rich lights of the evening sky. There was a flash of light, like a flare of a star that had been struck. The lights were fabulous that designed the dark blue between the glowing stars.

It was then, did I feel the first drop of moisture land against my lips. Evening rain falling against my mouth and I drank fully of its gifted flow. The rain was coming, I wanted to sing. How I loved the rain.

Watched him as he started to turn the kaiila around and ride down the stream from where he came.

"Thank you Warrior, I hope Your hunt is as generous as you were with me. You find what you hunt for, and return home to us"

Turn where?

We made our way towards the edge of wagons, a fine worn alley that was almost bare of grass as most young men would play with leather balls, staffs, and blunt lances there. A ground between the wrap of first wagons and the second, as all young men were equal in all ways as Warriors here. I watched a few spar in wrestling moves. I didn't watch for long as my Brother and the men started towards a group to the east. I lifted my hand so the last bug left would move into the thick of my braid, as the men spoke with the other men, one I had met before. I would just watch from the side. I couldn't hear everything that was being said, but a few pieces here and there. I saw my Brother point to me a few times, which sent a few flush waves of warmth through me as he pointed all would look.

Call it a young girls crush, but our Ubar is handsome. Yes, perhaps he might be close to twice my age, but he is very handsome. I was happy to see I wasn't the only one that thought this, when Kayla walked up, a friend of mine, just a year older then me, saying the same thing. I could only give Kayla a huge hug, I was so happy to see her! She laughed, saying I was going to mess up her braid, and there were young first wagon Warriors around!

We started to look around and both of us laughed seeing a group of girls around doing the same thing we were! A few were rushed off by older brothers telling them to get back to work, or threatening to tell their Fathers.

I stood there for what felt like an ahn, before I saw my brother and the Ubar grasp arms and he walk back towards me, telling we are going home.

Grandmother set bowls of boil meat in broth before us as he spoke to me. He said I would train under a Haruspex from a long line further recorded by the year keepers then our own. She was called Jo, and my Brother said he once had a thing for her sister Spiirit. I had to laugh softly, thinking of him crushing on anyone. I was so very thrilled. I was given a teacher. A starting one for there would be many in my learning, but I was finally starting. I asked him...why he allowed me to fail at first? He said perhaps it was denial on his part. Fear of my soul might have its tender essence of our Mother. Maybe he wanted to keep me young, and home. He had to let me see, learn, stretch out beyond our wagons and those of near neighbors. For how do we know to respect a bitch sleen if we don't see her bite first? That made so much sense to me. I let the run of juices down my fingers fall back into my bowl. The rich dark broth giving its dance of ringlets across the surface as I could see the haze of my reflection in it also.

I let them talk of things as I walked out after the meal, looking for a variety of things on a list. A leather satchel at my shoulder, and a hooked root knife at my hip, I walked the plains looking over the sparse of grass, and the lines of lowering water. So close was the time. I found clover between the wilt of plains flowers. I wondered why it was still there, had the verr herds missed it? I couldn't bring myself to pull it from the ground, pressing my palms upon the ground, I lowered feeling every bit of grass trace my form. I would dip down to smell the rich tart and green smell of the clove still in the earth. I could smell the grass, the dirt, the light sour of the dying flowers, but it was the clovers send that filled my lungs and rejuvenated me. There was a sound of my own laughter watching the Warrior of the Sky land on one of the leaves. He claimed it his. He knew things he would show me when I needed to know. I would dig it up placing it in a small little jar I had brought for roots. I would find who this belongs to, I knew the Warrior would show me.

Sky Warrior

I opened my eyes and I saw the fluttering of wings that echoed around the sky like a rage of bosk in stampede. The colors were vivid and powerful like the uncontrollable grass fire wrapping around the lands like the breath of sky themselves. It made me smile. It wasn't the swarm that I followed, no. It was just one. One that walked along the railing of my wagon, waiting for me. Grandmother was singing this early afternoon while I was grinding herbs she asked me to. I didn't know the words to her song, something I'm sure from her childhood. I think its the only time there is no tears. Its the melody I adore. I had just finished the grinding of the mixture when I saw him. Did I know it was a small bugged Warrior and not a maiden...yes. I did. He was very proud looking even with the most delicate of wings. I tapped the last of the mixture into the small pouch, it was for an elder lady whose daughter was weeping still from her second stillborn. Grandmother promised there wouldn't be a three. Three was all there was allowed in life. Three chances, Three signs, Three pains, Three aches, and Three souls all entwined. Not sure what any of that meant, but Eesamer teases me, that it means I have to get out the wagon soon so he can get himself a mate. So he will be sending me off for the first Warrior that wants me when I'm old enough. I asked him, what will he do when his mate is with child then? He simply said, then I will have to wait to have children until Easamer goes to the sky. We have wagered since I was 9 years old over this. We are still tied. Of course we tease, Grandmother says she is waiting for a young strapping Warrior to come offer to mate her, cause it will happen before the two of us. Kinda takes the joy out of our joke. Leaves the woe of....what if it really happens? My other siblings long mated and out of our family wagons scold the three of us for talking like such, but its our special moment of teasing.

I thought of my siblings as I walked out to the Warrior bug, following him as he took flight. I listened, for every beat of his wings in my following. Pausing only when it was lost in the choirs of the other wings. That is when I saw them. I saw three, a Woman and two sons. One she carried the other at her hand. I wanted to touch the young man, but that is rude! One can't just go around touching other folks kids! Plus, I was close to the first wagons, I didn't know who these people were. I reached up to feel the ribbons of bugs coil around my fingers. "The Sky is sending us signs that she will soon give us the omens that will tell us the time is right. Her Warriors will lead" Not sure who I spoke to, perhaps the ground, perhaps the three near me who seemed to really need a few words. I could only feel happy, rejoiced, a burst I needed myself filling my lungs with breaths from those fanning wings and giggled vibrations at my lips. She seemed, the one with the two sons...to question why I needed to say such. I didn't want to ruin the moment of the words that belonged to only her, so I said only the truth, the truth of life, no secret in what is given to us, just some see it better then others, and some see more or seek more then the truths of nature, I...just embrace it.

"The Sky, the spirit, talks to us all the time through her messengers, the earth is her flesh, the breeze every breath, and the way the water flows like the giving blood, and how the smaller creature act...her words. We have but to listen."

As I turned to walk home, I heard another voice asking a question of me. A young Warrior seeking more then my name, I shall give him his first command. My finger brushed along the family that still wove its play on my other hand, finding my Warrior bug who brought me here. I placed him on the tip of the child's nose, before giving him my name. I gave a little bow to the two men of honor, whispering lightly in the child's ear.

"For he will follow you everywhere, make sure he is there to keep your new brother safe...for when you see him, and not always with your eyes mind you, there is luck, even when it seems so dark, there is always luck as long as you..believe"

I left him with that whisper, and home I went. The wagons I passed a few would fly off and walk the binding ropes of the leather canvases, some even seemed to melt into the painted designs. I made to the back wagons, with only a few left on the top of my hand. I stood in the shadow of those to my left hearing my Brother have words with men I have never seen before at our home. They carried jars of paint, that were left on the ground, that droplets around the edges of the lids told of its deep crimson color.

He went walking with the men past me, only when I thought I would be safe to slip back in with Grandmother, did I hear.

"Noelani, follow"

Waiting Game

I have been waiting, looking seeking. I wait out of respect, for this woman the Ubar told me to find. I lingered around the fires of the first while she spoke with others. It seemed she was busy, I didn't want to invade her time. When the ahn's grew late I returned to my wagon with hopes of perhaps trying again. The next day, I went back, having a delightful conversation with a Warrior, who didn't have much to say, but said what he found much. He was very mellow, yet, I could feel a warmth beyond the scars and leathers. He drank paga from the camp slaves, but seemed to have much more to say then was worded. I found I liked him very much, even long after he left, I knew he had been there. A lasting warmth of thickness even more formed then that which swirled up above the flames.

A nice Warrior.

The next day I met another. I spent a few ahns in my wait speaking of bosk. I could talk for days about bosk. They all seemed to hold a power that was a center of tribe. From the way their noses lift up to the sky at first morning breath. The flare of heat across the golden band at flesh, the shadows it left in misted fog along the surface, the first step towards the light. It all meant so much.

A very nice talk.

I went back to talk to my Brother Eesamer, the eldest of us all, and the one who took care of me and Grandmother. He was a Haruspex like our Parents. Their parents, and many beyond, countless lines of my Father's blood that the yearkeepers would only know. He touched the stray hair at my forehead, told me to stop worrying.

Things will happen as they should.

I am here

I did just a weave around the wagons. I didn't know where to go, but I did. I could smell a hint of dancing sage. Its swirls of phantom play was merely a figment of my own mind, but in a way it wasn't. It was the curled beckon of fingered trace of the path I am to go. So away I went. I walked in the colorful darkness. Letting my eyes close, and fingers curl in the hold of the breezes hand. One can be amazed at what they can see when their eyes are closed. It was always a thrill for myself as a child. My Grandmother can't see, so I didn't need to also. I would sit for ehns content with stories told from the breeze from the music of each blade of grass strum like the most magical of harps. They always spoke to me. I was just thinking on the fight of the ebony of birds, so perfect in the base of the blue Sky. It would swirl and swoop, flying so far, yet not moving one hort. It had a golden beak, and pearl talons. Flawless the rich color darker then anything that can be seen.

Just as I wanted to reach out and cup the bird in my palm when it just combusted in a sparkled shimmer of gold across the formation of clouds. It was then I opened my eyes and saw a man. Not just any man, but THE MAN, himself. I was in a locked moment of revered glory, suckling the air of suspense for whatever words might be said. "Did you fall off a kaiila or something?" If this was what I had been living my life to hear, then I was just confused. I let the pondering of maybe finding a kaiila and just leaning over enough until I did fall, to get the inner explosion of what these words really meant. I decided, that would be rather silly. Not that I might not do it later, but right now, I was busy. From the odd look THE MAN gave, I was doing this inner dealings a bit to long. I proceeded to introduce myself. "My name is Noelani, I am the Seventh Child and Third Daughter of the Warrior and Haurspex Yenastat, who died 16 years ago from a battle on Paravaci lands, and his mate Egasinu, who died just hands afterwards from a broken heart. I was raised by Tachila, mate of the Warrior and Haurspex Gillex. I have come to try to find my place amongst the first wagons and learn from the elders of the Clan, so that I might find where I belong, and how to serve my tribe fully." I am still not sure if maybe I said to much in my spill of family, cause the only motion I got was a thumb to the wagons to the East, and told to find the Haurspex Tarra. Repeat everything I just said, and add something more stuff for flavor. Flavor? I wondered what the flavor would be across my tongue when I said it. I was sure I would soon find out. I thanked him, and with a kiss of lashes at the close of eyes, fingers curled back in the warmth of my palm, me and the breeze were off towards the wagons of Haurspex Clan.

I paused by the outer of the wagons, they were very warm. Warm against my skin, and I felt its warmth just absorb into my heart. I have a "Tal" to any that neared giving out my linage with confidence, though I didn't hear a bit of my own words in the struggle and bang of my heart just a furious song in my chest. I told of whom I was waiting for, and I would wait all day for her arrival. I was sitting in the grass, running tips of fingers over the delicate blades. I was very careful, never would purposely let one crease, or even be released from its earthen home. The ground told of steps, the air of its musical tune of beads and shells. The dance of sage seemed richer in its wrap around me.

I gave a polite smile, what would happen next I had no idea. I stood solid ground, glad I wore my good boots. Introducing myself, adding in a story of my Mother, the beautiful story of course, of love so binding, nothing would break its hold then a bit of Grandmothers blinded weeping, that her soul would weep until the end of her days, but in happiness of the years that were gifted to her. Yes, I liked sharing that story. I took a moment to let my tongue press against the roof of my mouth, it tasted smooth and rich like caramel. So yes, I hoped it was a flavor she would approve of. I told how I wished to learn, and was prepared to learn. To work hard to earn a place in the wagons, the clan, and work to give back to my Tribe, everything it has given me so far.

I was ready.

I watch

I have been watching the first wagons for days. For lunch while there, and meeting others I have entertained their children with what I like to call bug readings. The kids enjoy it, even if it had nothing but surface entertainment value. The young boys and girls bring me plump bugs they have found, and I count the legs, the wings (most gone by the time the kids bring to them me, or after awaiting their turns) and tell them of future hunts, children, skills in clans, or even pending doom from an older sibling who will find out they took their favorite item.

I do this by taking what is left of the brought bug, snapping its head off, of course handing it back to the child's empty palm and with a little squeeze I close my eyes, giving a hum, cause children love hums, makes them think I'm really in deep thought, drawing pictures of Lar Torvis, Bosk, Birds, Snakes, or even Stars and Clouds along their for heads of cheeks.

I enjoy hearing Parents laugh, and the giggles of the young as I give them what is left of the bug carcass to bury. Telling the Parents of course I am not responsible for those who forgo the bury and just eat the bug. Future hunter...be proud usually ceases the frowns from new young Mothers whose barely walking son's have a wing popped from lips.

I am taking my time, learning the people, the way the grass circles, the breeze flows around these wagons.

I see

So today I walked closer, closer to the wagons of the center. I wanted my face seen, the Sky had whispered in my ear, and its breeze cloaked me with strength. The grass bent under my feet to show the path I should take. I saw it when I bathed, the way the water swirled to the north, and rippled around my legs. The way the droplets rolled up instead of down, warm instead of cold. The way the water bug danced along the hazed blue surface closer to me, showing me the break of stream reeds I should walk across to the grass.

Yes, today was the day. I kissed my grandmothers cheek, I tasted the salty flesh that was always moistened with tears. She said she could see my path. I said funny, now I'm the blind one. We laughed. Grandmother said to not worry, she knew, she knew the day she brought me out of the water and breeze gave me my first breath. She knew the first time touch of grass upon my body before I was swaddled. She knew. Again, would be nice if someone told me.

I walked the path of the wagons to seek out the First of First. That is what was told. I was excited and afraid.

I stepped from the water, bare except for the small necklace I wore. A birth gift handed down. A tiny glass vial of blood and blood tears. Blood so old, I would have to sit all day to remember every name I knew I had locked away from the story told so long ago. Each carried a grain of dirt, and a tear, locked away in that seal of glass. Sand, fire and water formed that glass Grandmother would say, we are all captured in gifts of the land. Our blood is all we have to give back to it in honor.

I watched the wagons, I have never been to the Clan wagons of the First Wagons. Only the small of the back. Since I was a small girl sitting outside the platform reading the beats each flow of butterfly wings, did I know, I could feel. I could sense. I was one with the land. I didn't have deep inner power of some, but I had the embrace of spirit to give back to the Sky the gift given to me.

The day the ring found my nose, was the day I was allowed to step into the wagon and learn. A woman of my people. My Tribe. Did I have what it takes to join those in the core of it?