Salt tears of the heart

To die: to sleep; No more;
and, by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,
'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd.
To die: to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream:
ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life

William Shakespeare

Grandmother, Mother and I had brought oils and reps for Enhasan's Father. Many had turned out for my own Father's pyre and it was a time to give back. Each clan has its own small ritual to add to the saying 'Be well' to the dead but I was taken aback by what I had heard was to be done by the salt hunters. The tale of its origin was an eloquent one but it did not lessen what was to be done. To me once the last breath leaves the body, we no longer exist inside our bodies but still .. the thought of sinking a quiva into the chest of a Tuchuk to pour salt into the heart... alive or dead just did not settle with me. The late elder had asked his youngest son to promise he would see to it after his death. Six son was adamant that it be done. Quite a virtue of an unsacrred boy of just six turnings. Sahnka would see it through and Six would stand as witness but that meant it was going to take several days before the rare mineral needed could be found. By the time I walked away from the outer fires fires I was deeply disturbed.

To keep a body preserved during the hot season was a tedious undertaking so I brought them new oils a few days later. It was a good will gesture that in hindsight I wished I had not. Sahnka's tirade had struck me at first as simply another warrior behaving like spoiled brat. A tantrum. Of late that did not seem so unusual. I'd witnessed quite a few now: men ... women ... slaves ... small furry animals, all demanding their wants to be heard with all the pleadings in their eyes of the two year old child inside that never grew up then storming off when they were not handed them instantly. That isn't fair to two year olds. Most of them have behaved well.

The salt hunter had felt like an insanity unleashed with his all over the place demands but it was when he spat the word 'Ubara' at me as if it were something tainted that it struck home.

No matter that I tried to explain I was not the Ubara and perchance may never be. Even if Ayguili and I were mated, there was no automatic that I would take the place of the woman that held that position. There was in many ways no need to, she was doing an excellent job seeing to the needs of the Tribe. My argument had no affect as if I had any need to argue this particular point in the first place with anyone but the Ubar himself. That only served to set him off again in an altogether varied tangent.

"Do something!'

'What do you want me to do?'

'Nothing.'

The reasoning escaped me.

No matter how hard I looked I found no logic in this ... in any of it. Could I chock it up to the ravages of grief as the weaver had suggested? Perhaps. I simply tried to shake it all off and continue along my day.

On a different plane a voice seemed to come from no where growled above me. Something low and gutteral without host to form it ... "You hate me don't you?" Before I could even question where it came from or why, I answered. 'I do not know you well enough to have an opinion one way or another' Then it was gone, as if it was never there in the first place.

Visitation

The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem,
Though beautiful, cold — strange — as in a dream
I dreamed long ago, now new begun.
The short-liv’d, paly summer is but won
From winter’s ague for one hour’s gleam;
Through sapphire warm their stars do never beam:
All is cold Beauty; pain is never done.
For who has mind to relish, Minos-wise,
The real of Beauty, free from that dead hue
Sickly imagination and sick pride
Cast wan upon it? Burns! with honour due
I oft have honour’d thee. Great shadow, hide
Thy face; I sin against thy native skies

Textured Creations

“We all know, from what we experience with and within ourselves, that our conscious acts spring from our desires and our fears. Intuition tells us that that is true also of our fellows and of the higher animals. We all try to escape pain and death, while we seek what is pleasant. We are all ruled in what we do by impulses; and these impulses are so organised that our actions in general serve for our self preservation and that of the race. Hunger, love, pain, fear are some of those inner forces which rule the individual's instinct for self preservation. At the same time, as social beings, we are moved in the relations with our fellow beings by such feelings as sympathy, pride, hate, need for power, pity, and so on. All these primary impulses, not easily described in words, are the springs of man's actions. All such action would cease if those powerful elemental forces were to cease stirring within us. Though our conduct seems so very different from that of the higher animals, the primary instincts are much alike in them and in us. The most evident difference springs from the important part which is played in man by a relatively strong power of imagination and by the capacity to think, aided as it is by language and other symbolical devices. Thought is the organising factor in man, intersected between the causal primary instincts and the resulting actions. In that way imagination and intelligence enter into our existence in the part of servants of the primary instincts. But their intervention makes our acts to serve ever less merely the immediate claims of our instincts.” Albert Einstein

Watching her open her eyes and begin to speak, wasn't the revelation of accomplishment that I had expected. She lived, she breathed .. she felt. No longer broken. No longer unwanted. She was going to thrive as the beautiful creature she was always meant to be without ever knowing what had brought her to this moment. She did not even know to be graciously appreciative. She wasn't caught between Eros and Thanatos any longer. I don't know why that upset me so but it did.

The burns on my neck and chest that flared white hot made me cringe as I stood up. I have never known the agonies of real pain. I have never known the crushing weight of defeat or the sweet glories of victories. Orahjinn's bare nod of approval did little to salve anything ... anything at all. When I left the wagon the flashes of light and energy still blinded my sight. My eyes felt raw as if they had been poured full of salt, my skin so sensitive I could have sworn it peeled itself away from the sinew beneath.

I just needed air, the cooling caress of the breeze so a walk along the stream was just the thing. Managing to find a grassy spot on the bank, I sank into it as if I were melting into the plains itself. I only noticed the girl when she moved. A different slave: the one I call red hair. She moved toward me wearing her feelings on the outside as if they were painted on her skin. Her hunger a thin icy layer that flared my sense of smell except that it was buried underneath a different emotion ... fear. She settled to her knees away from me. Afraid. Afraid to come close.

Without turning to spare even a glance her way I asked her why ... why she came to me. Her answers told me what I already knew, she yearned to please me but her fears kept her from coming closer. I began to narrow the ledge she stood on until she had to balance there where I wanted her. Why had she chosen to bring her fears first and not her hungers to me? A razor's edge honed sharper.

She was raw, bleeding, oozing from every pore with emotions. It glistened in her eyes, it spilled from her tongue, it rose and fell with every breath she took now. My abilities allow me to feel the essence of what others feel but I do not know where they come from, the reasons they are there. Here I had a chance to submerge into what had created such delicious sensory delicacies. I pulled her closer, to lay her cheek on my thigh so I knew where she was. So I could control how much she moved and in so doing assault the already garish sensitivities I was experiencing. I gave her chance to explain. Why she was gathering rocks along the banks? She said she was gathering them for Fonce. Interesting but more so the why. Different cultures have different customs. I'd learned this during the Love Wars. She wanted to throw the rocks at her Master. It might have been odd to me that the slave would want to throw rocks at her Master but I knew enough about her so far to realize there was purpose beneath the concept. I would not presume to speak for his thoughts but I wasn't so sure that was a good idea. It is a lethal gesture here on the plains for a slave to try and harm a free person and that sounded an awful lot like an attempt. I didn't tell her not to, just to be prepared for the consequences. Fonce just might relish offering them to her .. the consequences that is.

There was an inherent beauty under what she was trying to tell me. In the places that she came from these stones were to bring good omens. She said she wanted to stuff them into the open hurts and pains of her Master .. into mine .. She wanted to be the fingers that pinched together every wound. Of all the things I have learned of healing the mind and the body this was quite an unique twist to modern medicines wasn't it? To fill the crevices of needs and wants with .. rocks ... with good omens. I gave the girl credit of such an imaginative approach. While I gave her permission to continue to give that "all" she was attempting to pour over her world, I reached up to pinch the flesh of cheek between my thumb and forefinger, pinching the wounds of the heart and mind closed just as she had offered for Fonce and myself. The tender flesh crushing, the vessels and capillaries breaking and collapsing to a dark bruise that would mark the place of this miracle medical cure.

She was pleased despite the pain. Eager to turn the other cheek for more.

Narrowing the pathway I was allowing her, I stood up abruptly and let her spill to the ground like a puddle at my feet. I was furious. How dare she wish to defile the beauty of the art I had just created on her skin? It was just as I wished it to be. I warned her not to defile it. I back handed her, then stood watching the reddening make a frame for the already bluish streak I'd left moments before. I wanted her to fall and she didn't. I even tried to push her on the tip of that edge and she still remained there however waivering, she held. There was something very satisfying in that, something soothing and solid to me.

Regardless, her apologies fell on deaf ears, her pleadings for forgiveness only honing the slim gap I was carving beneath her. I did not want her sorrows unless they were mingled in the midst of her hungers and fears. She could coat them until they were icing thin before she would hand them back to me again.

As I turned to walk away I had to admit that the indention of red over the darkened purple when it finished its flare was quite beautiful. Perhaps I will tell her next time I see her that her addition had been well worth the effort.

Axon Terminus

O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities;
Then save me, or the passèd day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,
And seal the hushèd casket of my soul.

I knew the way without knowing the way beyond the Margins of Silence. It was a place with the feel and often the charge of the air like that of a summer thunderstorm only without any sound. Lightening. Flashes of intense light that streaked from where this world began all the way to where it was anchored on the other side. Brilliant. Beautiful. It was striking to me this absence, peaceful lucidity in the most disturbing way I had ever known. I passed the drummer who sat motionless. In his hands the hammers of his clan, chiseled with a perfection from bone were poised above the skin of his drum. Frozen.

It is a hollow world, is it not ... one without communication?

There was no looking back as I took ownership of his stasis. I made myself an inward vow to set at least this much right again. Not to make the plight of the great communicator of any less importance but there were more pressing matters to be seen to at this moment.

All is not the same in the Realm of Id. I sought the woman and found her. A giantess even among Tuchuk women reaching across the dimensions of the sky. I had to look up to her to find her. The inky blackness of her hair caught lights of ambers and reds gleaming in the sun that wasn't a sun. It spanned around her head like slithering osts .. no .. like spider's legs. One spider's eye both spoke and heard gaped open. Pulsating. It moved with all of the things unsaid, all that she screamed but no one could hear. I could not hear it either. Silence not of a blissful kind. It hurt to not hear her. The woman's arm, like rows of wagons on the trail of a move, extending its way across the Valley of Shadows. Her fingers like branches of a tree turned upon its side. She was reaching, reaching for the drummer yet not able to touch him.

There where the wagons connected I could see the break, the tongue no longer hitched to the wagon before it. Disconnection. It was clean and precise with only the canvas cover of the next had been ripped. The protrusion had caught against its side, loosening the hide and leaving what was within exposed. I prided myself and chided myself both in an instant. Almost perfect .. but not quite.

Time will make it better.

I could see the break even from this distance. That was where I knew I needed to be so I crawled my way up her fingers then crossed the back of her wrist. The closer I got the greater the roar of the ripped canvas, like the desolate flapping of a herlits wings in motion. It was deafening. The way was narrow from this point on with only margin for one foot in front of the other. I inched my way forward. Spreading myself thin, my back against the rails with fingertips catching in the rough surface, holding on until I could lean out over the abyss ... reaching to make the pieces fit together once more. Then there was that wonderful fluttering echo of a heartbeat beginning to thrum once more.

Time began again and stopped in the same instance.

The moment the channel locks clicked, marking where everything fell into place, I heard the sound of hushed hiss behind me.

Shh.

She.

She did not belong here. Why was she here ... here of all places? The unringed child, innocence personified. Her presence was startling. Precious. Terrifying. Confusing. The sound of her hush crumbled the ledge beneath my feet and I felt myself falling.

Falling head first into the lightning.

At the ihn just before the radiation burned my neck I felt the bronze disc slide across my skin, the tether that held it wrench tight. The heat searing its way across my chest, across my heart and I ... suspended by the one thing I had been unable to leave behind. Pendulum'd at the end of it, swaying in a rhythm of an unsung melody, I could not prevent my looking down into the horrors of the distances.

Motion severed the view below as I felt myself shift. Swung by the symbol that draped from my throat, I was flung like a wet dish rep to the safety of my wagon. Landing hard with a more than audible thunk that shook it on its axles. Before consciousness escaped me I looked into the face of my rescuer, into the white nothings of her sight.

She.

The other She.

Aunt.

I should have foreseen that between the darkness and the light lay the shadows. I had passed every test that had been given me but I had failed in this one in ways no one would or could ever understand.

Cutting Ties

Seventeen.

It is right that I stand at this precipice in solitude just as so many others so closely steeped inside of me have done , do even now. To know among One Hundred Thousand and more tribe, family, friends; the emptiness of feeling alone. How better for me to understand the loneliness, the anguish that rests in the hearts of some of those around me?

It is not so simple a matter the cutting of ties, that last filament of connection that holds me bound, this excruciatingly painful moment that renders me able to stand on my two feet.

My family ...

The visions of them and their smiles, the essence of their kisses, the warmth of their embrace, I turned them loose ... each and every anchor. How I wanted to cling to it all as if I were still a suckling babe and I know I could not. My thoughts of them, my pride in all that they are, in all that they do ... breathed in a whisper that I hoped they would hear.

My beloved Ayguili ...

How much more difficult it is to let him go. For that reason, one small reminder I could not bear to part with; unable ... incapable of leaving it behind. I reached up to curl the small bronze disc within my fingers then I stepped out into the unknown ... on my own.

Unwanted

Enosh would stand watch over the children, I had made sure of this before I started. Only then would I make the coffle my complete focus. Along the line I walked then circled behind them. Feeling each one, reading each one .. not their thoughts but what I heard inside, I slowed behind one. She was an ordinary beauty with deeply slanted eyes, skin of a mocha hue different than our own ... one that immediately shifted her head down just with the feel of my presence there.

Not me, I am flawed. I am tainted. I am broken ... unwanted.

It wasn't because she had no wish to be chosen but the very fact that everything inside of her cried out to be and her own belief that she would be passed by was why I singled her out. My fingers touched along the side of her face and drew her head back to expose her throat in a long silky column, her chest as a banner of who and what she was to me at the moment ... nothing.

It was then I cracked open the delicate shell of her mind and delved head long into the sweet gray delicacies within. I became lost inside of her, inside of her insecurities, thrashed my way through the delicious doubts and unimaginable horrors of loneliness that she clung to. I could hear her gasp. I felt her tense. I felt her hands rise trying to claw me away and I refused to let go. I coated myself with all of the pangs of self destructiveness she had to offer. I opened my eyes, reaching up to wipe my hand across my mouth. I was not ready to relinquish her just yet. I could still felt her on my hands and curled them closed to make it last a little longer.

There was nothing left of her.

She was gone.

I felt as if Orahjinn eyed me, that that bird of his eyed me. I felt like the whole clan was standing there ... eyeing me. I wouldn't look up. I refused to.

So they would not see, so they would not know.

It would be days before I dared to venture out in the open again.

So no one would see, so no one would know that I smiled and whispered ... Do you feel wanted now?

Time to grow

... passed.


The sliver of sleep I caught was in no way enough to carry me through the day. I could not shake the heaviness of lethargy that cloaked every thought, every movement the next morning.

I had a test with Orahjinn today and I needed to be at my best.

Blackwine was the answer many sought so I stumbled to the fires hoping there may be some of that magic potion brewing. There wasn't. I should have paid more attention to such a small task as knowing how to make it. I knew how in the smaller kettles at Grandmothers fires but not this over sized contraption that swung from its hook over the main fires. How hard could it be? It never dawned on me that my formula could have been drastically wrong when I took that first taste ... it was horrible so I added creams and more sugars and more sugars and finally dumped half a bag in the cup. It still didn't help.

Yamka came to my rescue to fix a bowl for me so that when she asked I could honestly say it tasted ... better. I was not awake enough to sit and find common ground with her. A long time back there had been a line drawn in the sand between us. I didn't draw it but I'd tried time and again to cross it without much progress. Today we were both trying and in a way it seemed as if part of the line was fading. I wanted it too, I was willing it to. If only I could find my way beyond this fog.

Asria cut through the haze with the cheerfulness of her greeting but it only served to make my head pound. She needed me. That made me smile until I found out why. The news she shared was good, she had decided to be part of the singer's clan and needed to go speak with them of her decision. How wonderful. Could I watch First Son? Of course ... oh wait ... what?? Me? Brave up Mezoo ... say sure. I did despite every warning signal clanging in my head.

Karvek wandered to the fires looking a lot like I must have when I arrived but for whole different reasons. He was good with children so I leaned to ask in a most conspiratorial way if he would help me with Trayu's son. Probably a bit too soon for him. His heart still weighs heavy from much of those events in the past hand that I refuse to talk about. A lot of that is because I do not know the details ... just a jumble of rumors. Even if someone sat me down to tell me all that had happened it would still be hearsay or one sided wouldn't it? I wasn't there.

Here I was thinking I had erased a few lines when Tarra and Sahli spoke off to the side and even from this distance you could see they parted ways without kisses and hugs.

There were just all these lines in the sand to mark where it had happened. One couldn't take a step anywhere that didn't have a line to cross, a side to take, someones feelings to stumble over. If nothing else I would shield Trayu son from all that by spending a day in my wagon, singing, playing, getting whopped with a rattle, doing what ever I could and it not be enough to ease him when he started crying until he cried himself to sleep. By the time I got relaxed enough watching him slumber so peacefully that I felt it beginning to lure me in too, Magda arrived to take him off my hands. I felt a disappointment there and at the same time I was ready to vow never .. ever would I have any children of my own. I had the argument already set in my head for Ayg when I saw him again.

I love you but ... no children ... nope ... nuh uh, not any time soon!

There was a few ehn before I was to meet with clan so I was hurrying through the lanes toward Mother's circle of wagons when Pacu caught me and drew me aside. He was so serious when he told me I couldn't go there. He said I could not talk to Grandmother or Pei or even Tao. What?? He said, this whole thing had taken its toll on the family and because I sided with Ayguili they didn't want to talk to me. What did I do? I didn't side with anyone. I didn't ... want to side with anyone. What I wanted was for things to be just as they had been ... before.

I would see what Mother had to say about all of this .. what Fonce had to say. He shook his head. They were not going to talk to me until Ayguili came to talk with them first.

This was absurd. It was ludicrous. I was straining to get past his arm because I could see Grandmother in the distance. She was with Seveya then they turned and walked away. He was not going to let me pass.

"Its your fault Mezoo ... if you hadn't brought him here then none of this would have happened. Go back to ... him."

I finally eased from my brother's arm to look at him with every bit of confusion, frustration and hurt I knew how to feel. I stood there watching as he walked back to the wagons.

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't know what to think.

This could not be true ... none of it ... not one single solitary bit ...

I wouldn't know that he might have been kidding ... a boy of some thirteen passings' joke ... retaliation for my letting him believe he was in trouble with the Ubar? I wouldn't know that maybe he was trying to be a big warrior with all the wrong information to base decisions on? I wouldn't know if he believed that because Aunt Issu had submitted, Tzuri and now ... another ... that maybe he thought that was how it was supposed to be ... that maybe I was going to as well ... and that this ... this was his way of handling it all.

I wouldn't know anything except that I was late meeting Orahjinn and one thing you do not do ... is keep a Haruspex waiting. The only thing I knew for sure was my mind was blown apart and there wasn't enough sand to fill the crevices and there wasn't enough glue to put it all back together with right now.

I ran to the fires of the clan through a heavy mist that stung my face and made it all puffy and red.

The heart of the fires

You tell me that silence
is nearer to peace than poems
But if for my gift
I brought you silence
(for I know silence)
you would say
"This is not silence,
this is another poem"
and you would hand it back to me.

Leonard Cohen

There had been a quiet that permeated through-out the harigga unless you listened closely. Surrounding the fires were the voices of women, speaking together of importance's that perhaps only women understand. Stories of beginnings wove their way through our hearts and our memories.

Jaella may have began it all when she told of when she and her mate first met. A romantic tale of shyness and a courage to reach beyond it. Cana began to talk of her first love and the union that resulted from it. I heard an Or scoff stumbling upon us, something about women and their soft ways. I think he failed to see the picture as a whole. These were the stories that would be handed down, not merely the weaving of a life history that would be sung by the singers but of the depths of hearts of fire. The glimpses inside the very nature of a human beings alive with more than just breath. These were stories of passions, of loves, and of sorrows.

Cana had her reasons for reciting the beginnings of her histories with her children's fathers. I had reason to listen to every word, inhaling them intensely enough to be able to breathe them once more as if to bring them to life. I had to even as the tears well up inside and choke my throat until I feel as if they will take my own life and I inhale them deeper still. The life calendar had not been made for these beginnings so I would be the one to tell Tug, to tell Another one and to tell Also and his brothers and sisters. I would hold the treasures of their histories and return them to their rightful places when the time came to release them.

They had not been a day in the making but spanned envars and so too it would not be a day in the collecting. Time was of an essence to gather them all now because I no longer felt there would be envars to save them.

We would speak beyond the late ahns of dusk ... far into the nights until exhaustion itself would rock us and the sudden jerk of realizing it had its hold and then we would rasp ragged promises to each other to begin again tomorrow ... desperate with hope that tomorrow there would be one more chance.

Extrications

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”
Buddha

Come morning I rose early to speak with Pei. I met him with some blackwwine and asked if he had an ehn or two to talk. I hadn't gone to tell him how I think his decisions should go but to simply tell him how I felt about a particuar warrior. It wasn't that much of a surprise. He was an observant man, he had seen a new face among Grandmother's fires and had figured he might have a few motives for being there.

All that I wanted to tell him was that I had grown to care for Ayguili, that he held my heart in his and his had become part of my own. He asked if I was sure of this, did the warrior have these same feelings as well. Yes, it was my understanding from the conversations we have had that what we felt was genuine although untested by any trials. Did I need it to be tested, he wanted to know. Did I need proof? Did Ayguili need reassurance of what we felt, if so then perhaps we needed to wait. I had to smile. We had no insecurities of what we shared. I loved him. He loved me. He nodded though it was easy to see there was still a great deal of thought going on inside the man.

He asked me of my responsibilities to family and all that I could tell him was that I did not have any intentions of relinquishing my love nor care for Grandmother, Mother, my brother or my cousins. I was merely adding Ayguili and his family to them. It was a lot of family to add and we both knew it. Cana's son Another One might come and help Grandmother with the verr though it had not been discussed with everyone involved yet. He thought that was a sound enough idea. It would mean she was not alone and might be good for the boy too.

The topic did come up of being Ayguili's mate and all that I would inherit of that position. It felt good to have someone with a level head to talk to about the apprehensions and the concerns that brought. "Be yourself, Mezoo. Hold to what Uncle Pacu and Aunt Astar have taught you ... to what Grandmother and the verr have spoken." It was the third time I had heard the same words and time to take them to heart. All that I could tell him was that I would try my best. It was what I had promised each of those that had offered the same advice.

The rest would be a matter between men. I trusted that my feelings mattered to him regardless of his decision. At least he had them to base it all on when it came time.

I was thinking as I walked back to the main fires that this trek between the inner fires and the outer ones was one I wanted to keep well traveled. There was much to see to ahead but I had no will nor want to leave anything behind.

The rest of my day would be filled with going through a few of the store wagons Ayguili had. I already knew of a few provisions people were low on and hoped to see they had what they needed. If added what we had to what they had then perhaps there would be enough split or to trade for bulk with the wagons of Tarra's sister.

The division would benefit all.

Insinuations

Today I sit looking at the fires wondering where in all that has transpired in the past hand did ... Tribe above all ... go?

Grandmother's timing and wisdom to send my wagon forward among the main fires was on a scale of a Haruspex herself. Her concern for Cana and her children had been the bottom line reasoning. When I had conveyed to her the fact that the Ubara had come to a point in facing this ... this whatever it was that invaded her nights that she feared her own existence and more so that it would affect her children there was no hesitation.

Mezoo, you go. Do what you can.

Fear is a powerful force especially when it touches the very makeup of our survival. The Ubara was facing her own mortality. We were all aware that Fonce had been consulted to help with the night terror. We had faith in him. Grandmother did, I did, and Cana as well but time was slipping away. There was no question that I would try to be of help. A world without her was not conceivable. I would not stand by idly and see her slide through our fingers. Nor would I see the safety of innocents left to fall by the way side. I did not have to be Tuchuk for that to stir deep within me. There is nothing greater than the well being of my Tribe,

I would, if need be, take the bosk by the horns.

One would have thought it was a high priority. It is what we stand for ... this standing together for one another ... isn't it? Is that not what the past envar of petitioning to be a part of the first fires was all about learning?

I am incensed over the whys of the past hand but my query is still the same.

Ayguili caught my hand to pull me to the saddle with him. He was silent and that alone sent every warning signal I had to full alert. We rode across the plains as if the demon of Cana's dreams were chasing us and in some twisted sort of way perhaps it was. If it was a apparition of mean-spiritedness to try and destroy the way of life we live on the plains, if it was the epitome of egocentricism then it was gaining on us hard and fast.

Egocentricism is a learned response ... “I am struggling to survive against the world” (the mantra) then becomes the core theme of our relationships with others and ourselves. Of every relationship we ask the question, “Are you out to hurt me or to help me?” We are so focused on ourselves that what others need or want is relevant only when it furthers our own needs and wants.

The Victim position is one of powerlessness, hopelessness, and despair. The pain of the Victim position drives the entire cycle. Because we cannot tolerate constantly feeling like Victims, we find ways to gain a sense of control. Without it, we scarcely cope.

The Self-protector is one of the two ways we pretend to gain control. Through either withdrawal from others or offensive self-protective measures, we feel more power over our fear. Self protectors are sometimes seen as angry with a chip on their shoulder.

The Rescuer is traditionally cast as the opposite of the Self-protector. Rescuers, believing themselves to be the “good guys” in the dynamic, do the same things Self-protectors do: they try to gain control through the illusion of power. Rescuers take care of others and make sure no one sees how ashamed and powerless they feel.

Ownership is the opposite of the Victim role. Through Ownership of our lives, we regain a sense of personal power and competence. Ownership is taking action, doing something overt to move toward positive change in our relationships. It means recognizing that we alone are responsible for the quality of our own lives. We cannot control other people’s reactions or needs (that would be rescuing), and we cannot push our needs and wants onto others (that would be self-protection). Insistence on control is an addiction to a fantasy. Through Ownership, we discover true personal empowerment.

Empathy is the opposite of the Self-protector role. Empathy requires leaving our protective shell and stepping into someone else’s shoes. Our boundaries must flex enough to let us see another person’s point of view and emotions. It is not enough, however, to feel empathy for others. We must also express empathy for ourselves. In fact, before experiencing empathy for others, we must first offer it to ourselves. Self-Empathy is recognizing we are individuals worthy of understanding and compassion. By accepting that our defensive nature is a result not of our badness, but of our woundedness, we can then approach others on stable and even ground.

Respect is the opposite of the Rescuer. Rescuers do not respect victims. When we jump in and “take care of things” for someone, we show them we do not respect their ability to manage their own lives or even choose the desired outcome. We rob them of Ownership of their problems and circumstances. Self-respect is as important as respect for others. Respecting ourselves, we don’t allow someone to do for us what we can do for ourselves.

In all that had come about this past hand here was the crux of the issues. Respect had been thrown to the wind. First and foremost Ayguili whether he held my heart or not was and still is the Ubar. He holds the responsibility for the well being of the Tribe. His word IS the law. He is a compassionate and reasonable man. Much could have been diverted before coming to such a festering head, had anyone involved merely come to him first with level heads and be rational enough to work through the problem.

The second was not one person took time to look at how any one else thought or felt. The view points of anyone other than self was tossed to the way side and in many ways not merely stepped on but ground beneath the sole until it was surely pulverized and no trace left behind to rear its head again.

The third was no one taking ownership of any responsibility for their own actions much less how it would effect the Tribe as a whole.

Will I discuss what transpired?

no

It is not really all that important in the grand scheme of things is it?

Just the aftermath left behind of it all.

The Tribe still lives and breathes and faces the future as a whole despite the fact that some have insinuated themselves into situations as above the law ... as more important.

Cana still faces her dreams. Her children are still under the protection of the Haruspex, their family and those that love and care for them.

And I have learned that my cousin, Pei, will be the one that will speak to Ayguili of my future and not Fonce.

This was the point that brought me to sit at the fires staring into the embers and ash pondering it all.

Family

The ties that bind

This was to be the tale of my first meeting of Ayguili's family, his mother more precisely. With my little troop of marching musician's otherwise known as Cana's children .. my soon to be neices and nephews playing the songs they had learned. With my Grandmother and my Mother and Imke ... and how this blend of heritages was going to start out.

I had it in my mind how it would all begin and at least several points in between that would be as comical as they could be poignant. I was almost certain I knew how to relate it all. It was to be epic in its retelling but there were going to be other things take more precedence.

Perhaps another time.

Gift from Oren

From the mountains to the seas
Across the miles of memories
Through the endless dark
Say you'll walk the distance to my heart
Past the walls of fear and pride
To a place where love can't hide
Searching for a spark
Say you'll walk the distance to my heart

For well over a hand now Mother had kept me busy with cleaning out one of the small store wagons. More like two hands trying to see to it a little each day when I returned from the fires of the clan or those of the first wagons. I could have sworn it was not all that long ago she had me putting things in there. In fact it wasn't but I would not argue that now she had changed her mind and wanted everything ... out. Not just out but have it scrubbed all nice and neat. I had begun to worry if perhaps she felt we needed more supplies or something and was going to trade it.

Finally I was fnished and sat back with the scrub brush in hand to study the little wagon. That was when I felt Mother's hand rest on my shoulder and I leaned my cheek there. "I thought you might need a place to put your jars and herbs and all of those threads you hve scattered around your wagon." It took a moment or two for that to sink in and I turned where I could look up and make sure I heard her right. It was for me? She was saying this was ... mine? My own little store for all of my things of clan? I felt that big ole lump start up in my throat and wanted to jump up and hug her tight, to dance around and make her dance with me. It was all a bit too much and I reached up to wrap my arms around her hip.

I don't know how long I just held her or how long her hand stroked in my hair. I needed this ... not the wagon but this moment with her. I had closed my eyes to savor it all when I felt the back of another hand just soothe over the other side of my cheek. Grandmother was standing on the other side of us and just that one touch connected us all together. I found my feet to stand between them while we did something so simple and to some it may have been silly to look at the little wagon together.

Three generations sharing a glimpse at the future together. It was Grandmother that broke the silence. She said quietly that it was alright to move my wagons forward. I was so happy. I began rattling off all of the things we would need to start moving so all of the wagons were ready and how I would see to it. They could both rest this time ... it wasn't that far you know ... just up closer to the main fires ...

There was a new thickness that I found hard to swallow around when Grandmother told me that it would only be my two wagons this time. But I could go with her blessing, she had only one request to make of me. I wanted to tell her I wouldn't go without her, not without Mother but there was that look that seemed a little too frail to argue with. I am a sucker for her you know. I could only promise that whatever it was she wanted or needed I would see her request .. just ask .. anything .. anything at all.

"Say you will remember the way back."

There on the tip of my tongue was this fervent vow that I would everyday, several times a day but in those old wonderful eyes, I knew she was telling me something the verr spoke to her. I looked down the lanes toward those first fires and it seemed a such a long long way away.

"I will Grandmother."

"I will."

Sing a song ...

Guard me while I sleep tonight;
And wake me safe at dawn's first light,
For now I lay me down to sleep.
Dear Sky, it's you my soul doth seek.

Of safe

One by one they followed behind me with little Ba tucked at my hip and pretty Fonce perched on the shoulders of Tug. In their hands each held a kazoo, a rattle or a thumper drum. Music makers of every kind I could think of and new how to make. The night came alive with a cacophony of sounds from each of them. There was a melody there if you listened close enough. We were certainly a motley crew of miniature musicians. We marched over hill and down the dales of the stream not caring if we could be heard as far away as Turia. We were practicing their special songs Also had the job of pulling up the rear with his own small drum and even Ba and Fonce helped him keep time with the smack of their rattles either on my head or Tug's.

The sight of their Mother broke up our band and they circled her in a chaotic chorus of look Mother, look and each wanting to show her and tell her of the accomplishments they had made. For anything the jumble of voices didn't convey I just smiled and told her we had been busy. She awed and oohed and stroke tiny egos with that .. "you made these yourselves?" and beamed with pride at the beaming pride they each wore. Two urted me out that I had helped so I shook my head pointing at the rest of the artisans .. not much .. they did most of it all on their own. It didn't take a lot of encouragement to get them to show her what the noise makers did. In unison with sweet voices that held the beauty of the wind itself they sang their song and shook each instrument to the tune they sung.

In the Middle of the night
when things go bump
we take our rattles
and give it a thump
we sing our songs
and before very long
we are sleeping once more
and we might even snore

It was all just nonsense verses but they were passionate and lusty sounding as they showed her with fervent delight. Here was fact though I had relished this day far more than they did. I just didn't tell Cana a lot of detail about the broken jar of red paint or the terrible spat the rattle and the kazoo had. Two stood forward to admit he had broken the jar and Also One and Another One admitted there might have been a misunderstanding over who had which instrument there for a bit. How admirable they were for their honesty. How admirable Cana was when she touched each of them and told them that is how families are .. right? They work things out.

Yes they had taught me that among so many things.

We had a grand time but they needed baths and they needed something to eat. I was still new at all of this, Someone else could step in there and take over. It was juneau that came to the rescue. She kissed them all even Tug who had bowed up in that I am too big for ugh .. kisses but she won the battle by kissing the top of his head anyway. Tomorrow I was going to take them with me to meet Ayguili's mother. I was figuring I needed all the reinforcements I could get and these little folks were as rough and tumble s you could get. They could stand with me through thick or thin and I trusted we would defeat any foe .. large or small or even gray and crotchety.

Once the children had departed it was actually disturbing how quiet the world felt without them. I think that is why I stood tall and caught Cana's gaze. There was far more seriousness to my tone than I intended to convey but she would know .. know well that I meant my words.

"The children will be safe" I did not mean simply because they had spirit chasers they could make noise with. This was to be the third time I uttered those words to her. They were no longer hope. They were no longer promise. They were pure fact.

We settled into just throwing pebbles at a limb on the other side of the stream while we talked. She told me she had one more thing to ask of me. Always if I can was the answer and it came without any hesitation of heart or thought. Her throw missed and bounced off the bank. She said I will help Tarra watch after the children if anything .. if something should happen to her. I never treated those words as being preposterous. My smile was bittersweet as I took a pebble of my own to throw. It hurt somewhere deep inside when I released it knowing I had handed her a small hand full of these things when we first met. This was my first true taste of being strong in the face of everything that went on inside .. I wanted to cry. I wanted to rage. I wanted to deny her feelings and insinuate my own .. that she wasn't going anywhere, dammit because I said so. I let go the stone and watched it disturb a moth on the other side. All I told her was that I had already promised Tarra I would give her gray hair so this just might make that happen faster. I would see to what she asked but it was going it cost her. For a few moments I wasn't sure she had heard me while she told me more about each child. Tug had no blood family so he would stay with Rook. Tarra would take Another One because he was her grandson. Aamon and Birmmah would get the four younger ones as they were blood and once Ayguili and I were mated it would be expected that we help. I saw the logic of her decisions and would of course agree.

What will it cost me?

The click of pebbles dance on the shore and in the middle of the stream itself as we felt the weight of this discussion. "You will return to talk to me the way your Mother does for you .. to let me know things will be alright and to keep my chin up the way you do now. It wasn't a promise carved in stone or drawn in blood. She merely told me she would if she could. It sounded so sure didn't it when I told her she would. My next shot wasn't t the bush on the other side it was at her arm and the strike was true. She wanted to know if I planned on stoning her to death just to find out? Well no, but if she was going somewhere, I might as well get my licks in now ... later her aim might improve.

She told me that her Mother had not come to her for some time now. I didn't look at my friend, the woman I call my sister. I couldn't. I just said quietly .. perhaps she is busy. The dead get busy? Leave it to Cana to want to now details. I could surmise what I wanted to of the dead couldn't I? They did not stick around to defend themselves so why not? Of course they are busy .. forever would be a really long time to sit around and do nothing. She watched over Cana and she watched over her grandchildren.

Cana said that was all she could ask. Could I stand there and be so elegant, so gracious and regal if I were standing in her shoes? I'm pretty sure, it would be a different tune I would be singing.