A little something different

Everything here, to me, is different. From the almost constant movement, the living conditions, and even my status, everything to me is new and untested and...different. I feel like a small child at times, marveling at some new flower I spot, or a new way of cooking bosk, or the things you can do with a hide. When we are on the move, eating the plains beneath our every step, the vista of experiences changes by the ahn. I began to notice things, like the change of color in different grasses, showing some that must have sprouted before nature sent an icy breath of cold to temporarily halt production, to others that were verdant and lush in soft packed earth, having benefited from consistent warm rain. Little patches of wild flowers and herbs were always mentioned, if we found them before the trample of foot and hoof, and I started gathering samples whenever I could. My dreams had started blooming again, and I often was racing over to share my find with Dee and the others. I would search the horizon if a particularly delightful find was in hand, hoping to share my little treasure with the Brave Warrior if I could. At first, I was teased without relief each time I danced over to find Dee, exclaiming..."Look at what I found! I can put this in the corner of the wagon and it make it all sunny!" 0r.."Wait 'til I show Him this!"

Dee and a few others appreciated my discoveries and more than once pointed out something of interest as we walked. I wanted to show Him everything, see it through the glint in His eyes, and share the marvel I felt. That wasn't easy with all that it took to keep moving, heading always for the southern home. I started carrying baskets or pouches so that I might bring all my finds home. Every now and then I noticed another digging up herbs and flowers with roots in tact so that we all might have little potted patches of specimens to keep. Someone told me I was like a little boy, tucking frogs and stones in my pockets. Another said I was going to get kicked out of the wagon, because there wouldn't be room for everything and me. Nya told me that all men wanted from slaves was sex, food, and clean clothes - and not necessarily in that order.

I just chattered on without pause. Life was new and brilliant and everything had the potential to delight. I asked Dee, didn't everyone like seeing, touching, learning something new? I didn't really wait for an answer, for I was already planning the way I would leave something for the Warrior Fonce along with that nighttime snack, and morning beverage. Every evening I set up the little display in His wagon. Sometimes the trail of beads led the way, sometimes it was just the gathering itself that spoke. A small bowl of purple flower buds, or a new stitch learned on the leather strips. It was my own form of communication when I couldn't find Him personally. I missed Him, but if I saw Him working in the distance, I was happily mesmerized. Dee said I was smitten..and she was right.

Each day when I returned to the wagons, I darted through each one, making sure they were clean and looking for signs of differences. With the pause in travel, repairs were an ongoing activity, and I looked for my own communication from Him.. Evidence of a repaired wheel, a torn canvas put back together, the movement of a crate or even the empty bowl of what once held stew or meat. One evening I had two special treats in my hand to leave for Him. A length of leather strip with a series of makeshift beads attached. It started with a tight knot of the remains of my white dotted dress, followed by a silver stone streaked with blue, and lastly, a circle of leather with a rudimentary animal scratched in the surface. It was in a way, my calendar string, keeping track of important events in my life - the one begun with the use of a muddied white dress. I had also fashioned a soft doll out of the strips of binding fiber that had trailed from my wrists after leaving the healer. I had heard that the woman Asria's daughter was ill. I could feel it inside of me, an empty ache of worry. I had no doubt that the family of people here were taking care of her, including Warrior Fonce, but every little girl could use another doll to hold and talk to. I had intended to show Him, then find out how I might get it to Asria and Lei, but I got a bit of surprise myself instead.

The inside of Master Fonce's wagon is usually simple in shades of black. There are a few small details of color, things that appeared to be remnants of a feminine touch. Set off against the dark lines, His wagon spoke to me of order, control, and a passionate elegance. Not..any...more. Everywhere I looked color danced before my eyes. Reds and purples, gold and blues. As if a wildflower patch had taken up residence, and brought along a few cousins. I laughed and circled around several times, then simply sat in the middle of it all. The mish mash of designs reminded me of Goldie's wagon. Like treasures found, that were all too dear to part with, and they all needed to be present. I thought of my dreams, at first a simple sketch, then broadened to include a hundred pictures, with more growing on the edges. I couldn't pick just one to be ..-the one- I had to have them all. Nothing seemed untouched by His hand, nor was there any clear theme here. Except for the lack of ...black. I wondered now, had Brave Warrior Fonce changed? I couldn't wait to see.