The final leg

I didn't think twice before I started off after him. He knew the way and I didn't, and I was not about to take off on my own again. This was some one's land. Who's I didn't know, but I had heard enough about the wagon peoples to know they staked their claim and held firm. I suppose when you can not build fences and battlements to keep danger out, you must learn to protect everything at all times and at all costs. It was a very profound feeling I got at about that time. My possessions, at least some of them, were always in place, in my home, back on the ranch. I thought little of protecting them, or holding on to them. Not until I was forced to pick and choose which ones I would take when I had to leave the crippled wagon. Now, I do not even have those meager few treasures. How precious and important things like the ability to survive becomes. Shelter, food, water, breath, life, and those you share your struggle with. As wonderful as that dress given with such kindness by Goldie had meant to me, it meant just as much if not more to use it to such means to help another.

I recognized early on that all my Brave Warrior's insistent words had a purpose. To protect, both himself and me. I trusted him to save us. Though I kept watch on our backs, pausing now and again to turn around and examine the horizon. Light was quickly fading, being consumed by the hungry darkness that hovered over the plains. I couldn't shake the fear, or feeling, that at any point in time someone might appear, even the Paravaci again. Anxiety was pushing my feet forward, for my body was too tired to do so.

The Brave Warrior and I had not spoken since fixing his wounds. I was in a way, grateful. I was too tired to expend the breath to speak, and didn't want him to do so either. His pace was quick enough to keep me moving smartly, even having to pause and catch my breath now and again. There was a moment when nature called, and I thought to ask him to wait, but modesty bid me to just hurry up and get the deed done and over with. That was when I discovered that my dress barely covered my hoohaw in the front, and the back of the dress was a wet second skin to my buttocks. I had lost my modesty on the plains this day as well.

Walking through the whispering grass in the silence gave me time to think, to take a much needed pause in the day and let my whirlwind of thoughts settle to a mild hum. The crazy man did not look so wild and crazy from behind. He is tall and lean, with a long length of blue black hair that beckons to be stroked. His gait, though hampered by his injuries, is with purpose and swift. In all I have seen of him, he is self assured, comfortable in his skin, and wise. I had placed an immense amount of faith in him. That is partly my nature - to believe in the good until shown otherwise. It is partially what he had shown me as well.

I now allowed the thoughts of possession to drift to things I had heard today. I felt a bit of discomfort traipsing over the idea of being a prize, won or bartered. From the mouths of the Vaci it felt demeaning and despicable. I was acquainted with slaves. I was aware of the variety of connections between a man and a woman. I was not familiar with them, for I was still the "Ubar's cloistered daughter". I did not know, not for myself, what brought a woman to her knees, and another to a man's side. What motivated each, and what was sought from within. I did not know what my Brave Warrior considered me, and for the time being, I was more than content to believe he had simply rescued a lost woman on the plains.

It was not much longer before riders appeared in the near distance. Instinctively I closed the gap between us, the Warrior and I, until I was almost secreted by his body. I could almost feel his relief when he realized they were friends and not foe, and something drained out of me as well. I could feel happiness in the exchange between them all, and the immense pleasure that filled me back up left a giddy feeling. I was taking my cues from his body language, even without meaning to. I didn't even protest ...much...when tossed over a saddled kaiila. I was just so damned happy to be saved. I recall lifting my head and asking if my Warrior would be okay. The stinging slap on my ass to better seal me against the saddle's grip took me by surprise, but it was accompanied by laughter and I could only take that to mean...yes. Yes he would be okay. I let the exhaustion take over then.