Red is not Pink

I had a chance to get the know the woman called Red over the past few days. Red is not Pink, the slave I was told already belonged to Master, like I originally thought. I sometimes wonder if Master has a whole other set of wagons, maybe at the other end of this great wagon city, where He keeps His family and...Pink. There had been this man that traveled with the Caravan for a few days. Everyone said he had two companions, and children with each of them. Each family was in a different city. Some said, maybe he had more families in other cities. I always wondered, how does a man keep all that straight?

Red is a woman from the north who seemed to get caught out there on the plains pretty much like I did. She is young, pretty, has more freckles than I have ever seen on a person, and haughty. She acts like a free woman from somewhere. On the ranch, Yama was simply entitled to every one's respect. Every man, woman and child knew it and acted like it. Red must have had to remind people she deserved it. I think part of it is simply fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the moment, fear of what she is feeling. These are all things I can understand, having been right in that place not so long ago. I -still- am uncertain and wading my way through this new life of mine, so another wading through it with me is pretty welcome.

We have talked a bit through the past days. Red is anxious to be unchained, and at first I thought she would do something foolish, like try to run. She had offered to exchange places with me, and I have to admit, there was something very dark and compelling about that. A feeling inside that made me squirm and have to take a long deep breath. She also asks a lot of questions, has a lot of expectations and, I think, has listened to one too many dramatic stories. She reminds me of my one Aunt. Bright, funny, cheerful and often the life of the party, she is a woman who says the boldest most bizarre things out loud and to your face. While you are stunned a bit, trying to swim out of the idea that she just said this, you tend to start saying all sorts of things back. Things you might not have let out into the open before. Which is her whole point and purpose. Aunt loved gossip and to be in the know, and her methods often earned her everything she sought. Until people got wise and just ignored her.

I cooked up my favorite meal the one night. Buttery basted vulo, stuffing tucked under the skin right over the breast, keeping everything so juicy it would run down your chin. I had gotten the vulo from a woman about a 20 ehn walk away. She had hundreds of the birds kept in a makeshift pen, and people seemed to favor her fresh eggs with the large yolks. She had told me that my Master used to have His own small pen of the creatures and offered a few to get things started again. In the mean time, I could come get eggs any time I wished if I would just fill her water barrels every day. The first day I did so, I stayed to help her boil up dozens of eggs. They had been a treat back home on the ranch and I was eager to pack a few into Master's pouches for snacks and something to eat during the day. The vulo Lady, as I started thinking of her, for her face was weathered and sunk in below the cheeks, her eyes tiny dark dots in folds of laughter wrinkled skin that perched above a slim hooked nose, had thrown in some grasses and herbs into the water. When we took out the eggs, the shells had taken on pretty swirled colors. Each batch was made with something different and the eggs came out in pale caramel, tender sky blue, even a light sweet pink. I didn't know if she would part with the actual vulos for a meal, but she was more than agreeable. The price was all the feathers and bones from the fowl in return. I took three of them.

Red seemed to truly enjoy the meal and I was pleased. Of course, by this point in time, Red was probably starving. I helped her get cleaned up a bit and promised to bring her something to work on while she sat. The days seem very long when you don't have much to do, and I at least got to see the passing landscape at times. I left her to go fill botas with water at the stream, but I also had a date with Dee.