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.