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........
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........
