Irresistable Force

What happens when an Irresistible Force meets an Immovable Object? The movement of the Tuchuk is a force of such magnitude that it thunders the ground. We can not resist the siren song of another meadow for the bosk, another stream of crystal purity to slake a thirst. There is nothing ... no immovable object that stops the flow across the plains unless … it is a bosk that has decided to lay down across the path. Then the shout echoes back through the ranks, “Wagons Hold!”

The serpentine wave of colorful wagons and parade of hundreds of thousand Tuchuk, kaiila, bosks and all their belongings begin to bunch up trying not to run over anything in front of them and sputtering explicatives in immense proportions. This would be one of those times when having invitation to the first fires was both blessing and curse.

“Go see what has happened Mezoo.”

The wagers were being thrown fast whether the lead wagon had fallen over a cliff and everyone had pulled rein to watch which side of the ravine it landed on or the sky had opened her mouth to swallow us as a Tribal whole. Surely, it was a horrendous event and the last Tuchuk standing would reap the wealth of the bets.

Venturing in among the inner wagons, I found Fonce speaking seriously with a red haired woman and Seveya duffed to the ground by a mob of renegade youth. Seemed a pretty typical day despite there being a massive bosk blocking the path of the trail. That was not the disturbing part of it all. It was that the rest of the harriga was strung out like a winding thread across the open plains. That was the news that one of the other commanders was pointing out to Fonce. The outstretch of his arm looked like a compass needle as it pointed forward then around the side of where we all stood then hovered straight back behind us.

I hadn’t meant to be rude to Sev when I walked away from her to speak to Fonce. I could feel how upset he was even before I got close enough to see the anger flare in his gaze along with so many other emotions that I had to turn back to the fires. I’ve known Fonce all my life and there are times I can read a little of him, not often but enough. What I saw there was so distinct that it curled my fists in on themselves. I wasn't afraid but I began to feel whatever was bothering him too and I didn't even know what or why.

There was little I could do except see that the camp was set, fires lit and meals begun. Even Seveya returned to her Father’s wagon and I stood there looking back along the pasangs long row of Tuchuk then back toward the front again. Why would a bosk lay down on a beautiful day?