It wasn't so bad sleeping by the fires, it was warm out and the fire kept the night bugs away. Not sure if anyone noticed before, but damn. Yaz snores. I listened to him all night, some counted verr ewes, some stars, me....I counted Yaz's breaths. Strange things that made me feel at home. The glowing yellow of eyes under the shadows was one of them. I pulled up the blanket Master tossed to me the first night of my arrival and watched the sky. I liked the woven pattern and colors of my blanket. It made me think of the rich pastel colors of evening, as morning always brought bolder hues. There were so many stars out tonight. The lights flickered, like a beating heart, it was beautiful. Yasmine had told me earlier that day, the Ubara was sick. I knew She was my Master's friend. The woman with the fiery will and quick hands. I almost smiled at how intense She was at setting me straight with Her demand of respect. It was a mistake I didn't make twice. I was sorry...She was ill. She was one of the rare few who took the time to make sure...I learned. I decided I would ask Manga if we could make some of that broth for Her in the morning. Right now, I was enjoying the here and now with the moments of quiet to reflect on the day, and embrace the evening. Tonight I got to breath in wonderful aroma's of life. I really loved these moments. When I didn't fall instantly to sleep but could, truly become one with everything around me. I heard the sounds of bosk that were a constant background, the wings of birds, even that magpie that was a bit scary. I have taken to wrapping the edge of my blanket around my head to hide some of flare of red that seemed to attract it. I looked a bit foolish with my hair wrapped but it saved me from having to run from one wagon to another or down the alley of wagons when the magpie would watch me. Mean bird. I swore I saw bits of my hair along the perch up there.
I dreamed. I saw my Father and this beautiful woman with red hair at his side. I saw Blushes just leaning against his leg as she knelt there. The woman was embracing Big Red, who looked so happy and at peace. The woman was beautiful. I don't remember my Mother, but I have to say this woman had to be her. She had just a few sparkles of freckles along her nose, nothing like me and Big Red have. I wondered where I would be in Valhalla. Or would I fall to the realms of their beliefs here. Their's was a life in the sky, it seemed a lot like ours, but who....who would I be next to? I never thought of death before. Nothing that vivid. I have never worried about it. Death was a good thing, everyone gone would be there waiting for you. You never are far from someone you love in life or death. I have so many questions in my mind, I didn't know what to do with them. Nothing I would really talk to Yasmine about. Me and Catch just seem....to not have those moments as much as I would like. I think these are the times I feel my heart weep for Big Red. I know death is not a bad thing. Odin makes no mistakes. Does he know how much I miss her? If she was here, would my life be better? She has a tender heart like Catch, and was wise like Mistress Mezoo, firm like Master, looking to make me learn things like Yasmine and Selene....Oh.
Damn.
I guess...she is here. She is in all those around me. It was the first time I had thought of it. For some reason....that made me feel good. I can't remember falling asleep, but I knew I was smiling when I did. I could feel the smile match like the touch of love at lips as pure as a simple kiss goodnight. Life was good.
Morning camp started, far before the light did. I tossed a few more bits of dung in the fire, and it was like Catch was my morning norm. I would hear her, feel her move and I was up with her. The morning rolled into its normal mode. Dung, bath, scrub pots, it wasn't a fur or laundry day, so I would walk the wagons looking for boots outside the platforms. Would clean and polish them. Sweep out platforms, check the weathered flaps, scrub steps that were really bad, then toss some feed to the vulo's before going out to milk bosk with a girl named heather. We would take the milk to use it for butter and cheese. I am so not good with verr. I don't think they like me. Northern verr like me, but these..nope. There is this little one with a black splash on his head that chases me all over when I go with heather to get the milking verr. He has it out for me.
My fingers were sore from churning. I still had no idea who heather belongs to. She was not Tuchuk, born, that was clear. She had old pale blue eyes and golden hair. She was pretty, yes, but not in a sexual way, but in a natural way. She had a dina brand, but reminds me of someone who was once of high standing. She is clad kajir like many around here. She has told me many times she likes my black shift. I walked towards Manga's wagons, to get started on spices. A few days ago I had helped her lay out some different stalks to dry, I knew they would be ready. Keeping them in bundles of their same kind, I would take them to her wagon. She was inside, making oils for ailments and for keeping leathers soft and pliable. I told her of my Master's ill friend, and she seemed thrilled to give me a bota of the broth to take over. She said it was a slow day, so I could go and rush that over. It was much more important. I wished her a wonderful day, and off I went..towards the Mistress's wagons.
Once I got there, children were around, the two slaves there around the slaves pointed out a wagon where I found a huge older Warrior there. I knelt on the platform, lifting the bota up
explaining it was broth scent over by Manga. I figured He would have me hand it over to one of the slaves, instead...He told me to follow Him. Honestly..I was scared. I followed the Master into the wagon. It was warm and smelled of fear and sorrow. The Mistress looked peaceful asleep on the layer of furs. She was warm as the Master rested beside the Mistress, brushing some hair from her face with His fingers. It reminded me of something a Father would do to a tired child. I would carefully pour some of the broth that was luke warm into a bowl, and use a rep cloth. Again such things bring so many memories. My older brother came down with a fever once from a wound fighting with a snow sleen. It had gotten infected when he tore the stitches getting up to go after it again, and didn't come back until he was dragging the body by one of the legs and half alive himself. Me and Big Red would take turns while Blushes was sleeping dabbling water from a rep cloth at his lips while he fell into a fevers coma. Blushes refused to leave his side, Father made her sleep, with a promise from Big Red and I, to not leave his side while she was. The Mistress looked so pure and beautiful, even there at these sad times. I was very careful to put a few rolled furs at the back of her shoulders and keep her head up. Even at moistening lips, one could choke on a drop of liquid that would fall wrong. I would dip the edge of a rep cloth in the broth, just letting it moisten against her lips, and tease a drop or so against her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm also. I would watch the play of throat working a swallow out of natural reaction of the body. I would give a look up at the elder Master who had a mist at eyes and I could smell ache of coco and hot spice. That would be the smell of love, a breaking heart. I would break the feeling of broth for a moment to find a mug and offer it to the Master, who took it. The soft smell of nutmeg told of some calming, maybe because a shared meal with the Mistress gave hope. I have no idea. But I liked the smell. Hope. I was careful and only tried to give a little bit more before trying a follow up of just plain cool water. I asked the Master if I could get Him anything after I cleaned up and put the broth to the side that was left. He said He was fine, but I would make sure to bring more broth again..for the both of them.
Leaving the wagons left me feeling a bit of the ache also. Death was so much easier then the fear of unknown. To see a loved one there, and you can't do anything to make it better. Helpless, as you could only let tears fall against their finger tips. It was the worse of feelings. I tried hard to shake that off of my mind as I went to get the molds I made the day before. Lose my thoughts in work, they were firm and ready. I was happy I used woven baskets as they were flexible and I was able to get the mud bricks out easily. I used them to stack up the boards in the vulo wagon. The vulo woman said they liked that, cause their nest were up off the ground, even in a coop like fixture, makes them feel safer. I think that is what we all want. Someone to care enough to know what to do. To feel safer.
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