To Dream.. Or..Not

I don't know how to explain to him that it is different. Somewhere in the course of the last day, I am different. Maybe in this strange communication we have in silence, words will not be needed. Sometimes I think they complicate things when the looks passed back and forth, and the touches given speak much more and differently than what our words may say.

The ahn was late when he returned, but I waited as I had promised myself I would. No sooner had I heard the sounds of his boot falls step into the wagon, I had drawn myself down into a kneel at the foot of his furs, alongside a tray of fresh squeezed juice and an assortment of finger foods he may enjoy before resting. I had gone to the woman who I has asked so frequently of beading, asking favor that I may come across a flute. So, while he undressed and relaxed with a few bites of food, I knelt beside the furs and simply played for him. A soft, gentle song like that of a gentle breeze yet with a haunting sound of rhythm kept by my fingertips. If he was surprised I could play, he said nothing, only finished his business and stretched out into his furs. I offered him a smile when he leveled his eyes on me expectantly then crawled in beside him to find the warmth of his arms. I dotted his chest with caresses of kisses before my cheek came to rest there, listening to his heartbeat. If he minded, he showed that neither. Only closing his eyes with a hand placed on my hip to still any motion.

It was a deep, exhausted slumber I fell into. Peaceful. For all of his pushing and prodding into my mind, for all of his venomous words that challenged me, there was no tension I could feel between us. If there was, it was being hidden well. Something stirred me from my sleep, however, finding that my arm was no longer draped over him but over a bundle of furs in his place. I barely got glimpse of him leaving the wagon, so I hurried to my feet so to follow. "Master.. is something wrong?" I asked him. But as I came out of the wagon, I did not see him. I looked around for a moment, trying to decide where he could have gone when I noticed movement in the distance, so it was there I took off toward. "Master?" Keeping as quiet as I could, not wanting to wake anyone.

He stayed steps ahead, so much so that it was impossible to catch up. He is used to this land, while I am still learning where the knolls and dips are of the land itself. I stumbled many times, only to hurry and try to catch up once more. It was clear he had no intentions of answering me. Maybe I was not supposed to follow. As I started to look around, it struck me as eerie. The leaves of the trees seemed to move. A tree that was not there before would suddenly be there when I looked back, making me think perhaps I was taking some sort of zigzagged path in my effort to catch up. It felt like there were people moving in the shadows, as I could hear voices whisper. "Go back.." "Be careful of what you wish, slave." Surely it was all figments of my imagination since I was still half asleep. Every so often, I'd glimpse a face from the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing. Other whispers followed, some I could make out, some I could not. Some no more than sounds of some sort of laughter.

Finally, in a clearing, I was able to pause, since he had stopped and was seeming to stare down at something on the ground, his back to me. "Master?" I whispered as I started my approach. "What is it you want slut?" Came the reply. Husky. It almost didn't sound like him. At first, it startled me. "Are you all right? What bothers you so, Master.. please speak to me." As I approached and drew down to my knees. I wasn't sure if I'd met with more venomous tones or a backhand, or granted the very thing of which I had asked. For a long time, the silence held. He did not make a move. I wanted to reach out and touch him, offer the comfort that I was there, but before my hand could make that contact, he turned suddenly and glared down at me.

What had happened to my Master? There was this swirling energy, much like a vortex that seemed to surround him suddenly. Protectively. In his eyes danced flames. I scrambled back, more out of shock than fear, only able to stare at him. "What do you want from me?" It was demanded. I was still in such a state of shock that I wasn't sure if I could speak. If I did, would I even make any sense? "I was worried." Came a timid reply. Again, those flames seemed to burn brighter and the question was demanded once again. "What do you want from me slave." It was one of those times when he had me cornered. What could I tell him but the truth? "Inside, Master. Inside of you. Please.. talk to me. I only want to be allowed close to you. Please believe me when I say.. my place is with you."

It looked as though I had angered him. The flames grew ever feverishly hot. But then suddenly, everything around me was darkness. It was like being in the middle of a tornado, everything spinning around me yet I was still. I could not see anything, not even him. Only blackness. Hands touched my body, then I felt breath against my skin. Words, almost chanted seemed to be spoken, though I have no idea what they meant. This was not any sort of sex, nor was I granted a kiss as I had yearned for. This was something that felt as if it reached into my very soul and grasped at my being. There cannot possibly be any sort of physical gratification that comes close to what I felt right then. He could have used me for hands upon hands, and still it wouldn't have come close to the euphoria I was basking in. It was though he had moved within me, thru me, all around me at once and yet consuming me from the inside out. All I could do was whimper and plead. "Let me love you, my Master.. please let me love you." From the heart those words were taken, said in place of where blissful moans should have been. I do not know how long this lasted before I was allowed to fall back, panting in breath and beating thunder of heart. My eyes were so tightly closed as I felt entirely intoxicated.

I rolled over, to see if I could struggle to my feet only to find that when I rolled over, I bumped into him. Back in the furs, back in the wagon, as if nothing at all had ever happened. He was deep in his slumber. And here was I, trembling and still surging from whatever it was that just moved literally thru my body. My heart beat so fiercely that it almost made me feel queasy, so I once again put my head down on his chest while I looked thru the darkness of his wagon. The whisper was oh so faint.. "Be careful of what you wish for.. " Yes, my mind was playing tricks on me and it had just been a dream. Either that or I had simply gone mad. In any case, I nestled back into his arms to try to find that peaceful realm of sleep again, trying to not think too hard on things.

I might have believed it all to be a dream had there not been a skinned spot on my knee where I had stumbled. Was any of this possible? For now, I won't think about it. I won't bring it to him lest he chain me to the wagon and think my mind is gone. This time, I intend to watch and listen closely. To everything.

By Star's Light...

I did it. I think I did it anyhow. As much as I wanted to be angry, I still couldn't help but go to his feet the moment I saw him. The Mistress, Cana, was there and spoke with him for a time which allowed me a while to gather my thoughts. What I could anyhow.

My eyes hurt. My hands hurt. My heart hurt. When he asked what had disrupted my peace, all I could ask him was a simple question.. why not me? I knew that would open a can of worms, but I had no idea how big those worms were going to be. His words bit into me hard. Lashed at me in a sharper way than a whip could ever touch my skin. I wanted to flee, run from his words and cry until it didn't hurt anymore. But I didn't. I stayed there, refusing to allow myself that and forced myself to calm. He pushed me with his words, taking me to the brink of anger and to the brinks of wanting to scream. The more he saw that emotion inside of me, the more he pushed. Perhaps it was out of desperation of not knowing what else to do, I clashed head on with one of my greatest fears. I reached out to him, and asked for his guidance. He must think I fancy myself so smart that I try to figure it all out on my own. Perhaps in many ways, I do. Not so much think I am smart, but that I do try to figure things out. I can only liken it to riding a kaiila. You can put a person on there, and teach them to ride, but what pride do you have until you see the person do it on their own? I want that pride in his eyes.

Yes, I got jealous. No, I don't understand why. He says its because I think that I care. Think... I care? My fears have manifested into a huge dark cloud that now hangs over me. Rejection. From him, from his people. Yes, I fear. But inside that fear also comes a determination. I have seen the most timid of people, so filled with fear, that they would kill swifter than the one who holds his sword so mightily. He may not understand being my anchor in this new world, but as I explained to him, my fate can change so quickly, without regard, that I draw strength from that which is secure to me. He may never understand that. But he is right.

Our conversation ended on a semi gentle tone. He seemed neither pleased or displeased. So tonight, while I sit by the fires, I speak to the stars. That small tri cluster that seems to always be the first ones to twinkle so brightly.

"I do not understand why it is that I was brought to this land, but I know in my heart, this is where I belong. With this man who owns me, is where I belong. Give me strength to find what it is that I need to be, need to learn and need to understand. Give me wisdom to find the right words to approach him with. Give me the wisdom to get into his mind and soothe calm into the silent storm that rages. I am not so foolish to think he does not want me truly. He had his choice during the raid, many a pretty slave, yet he chose me. He doesn't have to allow me to sleep with him at night, but it is in his arms that I do, each night by his wish. He has kept me, when he could have easily cast me to another or cut my throat. I know that I am wanted. So why does he not allow me close? Does he fear me? Fear allowing me close to his heart? I can look upon this woman now, because it is me, not her, that belongs to him. It is me who belongs to Fonce of the Tuchuk, and only me. Give me the wisdom to remember that, no matter what fears rear their ugly heads at me. I am like no other here. Not because of my color, not because of my breeding. Because I do belong to him. I am his. Not one, not a single one of the slaves can take that away from me. Only he has that right. Never again let my eyes be clouded by tears of an empty emotion that has no place with us. I do not need his collar, or his signature knot as I am made fun for. I do not need his brand. I need no outward signs or reason to prove anything to anyone. I have let my city ways taint my mind, and allowed their ways to eat away at my vanity. These things have no place here, in this land, with my Master. Take them from me. Take these things from me. I have held on to bits and pieces of things I have claimed to surrender until I find I do not want them any longer. They burden me. Help me to stand tall and with pride. Because I am his Pink and I belong to him. That in itself is enough."

He will find me waiting for him tonight. He will find me warm and inviting and thankful. And if he allows, it will be in his arms I will sleep tonight. Not out of fear, not out of needing an anchor in this land, but because it is where he has allowed me to be, and where I need to be. The heaviest of all chains are invisible chains, and I am finding them wrapping tighter with each passing ehn. Now, if only I can find a way to crumble that wall around him, so that he will let me in. I won't give up. My learning, or my trying. I will succeed one day. I must. I am his Pink.

Courage.

Such an easy word to say yet it takes so much to manifest itself. Maybe it took too long. I did what I had avowed to myself I would do, or at least attempted it. I went seeking my Master with a determination that even if I had to gnaw and get into trouble, I would get him to talk to me. I made sure everything was perfect. Wagon was cleaned, furs rolled back and aired out, plush and comfortable, black wine ready, even some extra sweet rolls should he hunger. Then set off to go find him, unsure of what to expect or exactly what words to say once I did.

He had gone to the main fires, so that was the path that I took. I had no sooner come to the edge of the shadows than I see another before his feet. My own feet became like lead. I should have turned away and gone back to the wagon. I should have done anything but stand there and stare. I knew the moment he took her by the arm what was to happen and inside of me, flared this rage.

In this camp, there is not much that goes on that you cannot hear if the sounds are loud enough. And while I returned in a run to the wagon and to the smaller fire, I couldn't drown out the sounds that I heard, not even with my own sobbing. How could he? Why not me? What is wrong with me? "He is just a man. Just another man I am to serve." Says that little voice inside my head. If this is so, why does my heart ache so? Time in, time out, the words come.."slaves are not to be jealous" but with every pore of my being, I hated him right then. I hated her. Even more so, I hated myself. I was trapped with nowhere to run without the risk of becoming bait for sleen. The love I had for the darkness was also suddenly gone. Even when I had buried myself, inside the wagon with the furs over my head, the sounds of the mixed pleasure haunted me. I wanted to scream with frustration and yet I knew that soon he would return to his wagon, ready for sleep.

He did. I pretended to be asleep when he came in, having wiped my cheeks over and over in hopes of no tears leaving their mark. I could smell her on him. I'm sure, he thought nothing of it, hunkering down to finally drift off into sleep. I could not. I couldn't even get my eyes to close for long. After so much peace, now was only confusion. I couldn't wait for the first signs of day to come, counting down the ihns until it was safe to leave the wagon. His food was prepared, as always, and left beside his furs. But this time, no sooner had the cracks of light filtered thru the clouds, I ran.

Finally some release from the tears I had held, too shamed for him to see them, too angry to let him know it hurt me. I ran so I didn't have to see her, or anyone else who knew of what happened. I am his, yet I am not good enough? What did it matter? My owners used other slaves all the time. If anything, I was relieved that it was not me that they chose. Why does it matter so much now? Maybe its because he is all I have in this new world I am in. He is my anchor and my guiding light. Maybe its because I meant those words, that I belong at his feet and no others. I wish my mind would stop. I ran until I could run no more, unsure of where I was since most of the way had been blinded by tears. It was there I sank down, beating the soil with my hands and let loose all the screams that raged inside of me. "I hate you! I hate you!" Each time I screamed those words, I knew I lied. I wished it were true. He had ripped from me not only my courage, but reminded me.. I am the worthless one. I had cried myself into a daze, exhaustion setting in. I wanted to curl up and sleep, to stop thinking and feeling for a single ehn. I looked up into the same sky that gave me such peace and hope and begged aloud.. "where did it all go?" For the first time, I truly felt alone.

There is no way to mask the fact my eyes have swollen and reddened due to tears. There is no excuse I have to give for why chores were neglected this day. I won't even have tears left if he chooses to whip me for this. I am numb. My courage has gone, words have failed me. My desire to fight and learn this way of life suddenly hurts. Peace has turned my mind into chaos and I have no direction to turn. I doubt I can hide the contempt that will show if I see this woman. I am not real sure what he will see when he looks at me, though I know for a fact I will not be able to look upon him fully. I don't know what to feel. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I reached too far for those stars. All I know is that for tonight, the silence will remain unless he breaks it. He won't. I'm only a slave. Why should he care that my heart hurts, or my mind has taken such a hard spin? I'll just accept whatever comes and pull back into myself for awhile, as I have with every other man who has owned me. With him, I wanted to be true. I wanted to drop the masks and when I offer of myself, make it real. He has demanded it so. But that is something I am not sure how to do now....

I don't know what to do now..... find my way back.. eventually...

Freedom

Today, I am proud. I made the first real basket that actually looked as it was supposed to. Such a small feat for the other slaves here but a milestone for me. Part of me wanted to run over to that woman and show her, bounce up and down and tell her how ready I am to learn of the beading. But no. I'll place this basket in the spot where the other worn one was, and keep making them as they are needed. When she feels I am ready, she will come to me. That is something I have learned of these people. This isn't like in the city where I am competing constantly for some reward. This is living. My life. My Master's life. Necessities. I can have pride in the things I do, but yet not brag of them, for without them, I contribute nothing of value.

The work on the jacket has been started, though it is much harder to piece together than the quilt. Everything has to be measured, and it is impossible at times to place my arm over hi s chest while he sleeps so I can measure off a distance for one thing or another. At times, he must think I am trying to seduce him by sliding up and around him since I often find myself with an arm coiled around me and a tug back down to his side. I never question if he is sleeping or not, as his eyes are not open when he does this. Not a word gets spoken, so I usually fall silent and just curl against him so he will rest peacefully.

Peacefully. I have to admit, that is not a word I can describe for him as of late. A night he woke in the middle of the darkness, so drenched in sweat that I was nearly drenched too. I'm guessing it was a fitful dream. We all have them, but it seems as though his sleep is anything but peaceful. I have tried to soothe him, warm him and offer what comfort I can while he rests. I can feel the jolts sometimes when he wakes, yet I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to disrupt that moment of privacy while he pulls himself from whatever dream has stirred him so. I have to wonder too, if he is truly asleep while I offer my affectionate touches and whispers. His face, even his body, so beautiful in my eyes, as if hand carved by some celestial artist. Within that, such a depth, most of which I cannot yet fathom, but I am trying by the day to understand and learn. Never before have I met such a walking complexity of a man. Is it any wonder why I find myself drawn, and drawn deeper with each passing day, into the man that is now my Master. His depth is like some bottomless well yet my thirst, I cannot sate. If he looks at me, I want more. If he speaks to me, I want more. When he allows me at his feet, I want more. So much goes unsaid, yet at times, words seem to have no place. His eyes alone tell the story of what goes on in his mind. No, I do not profess to understand, only that whatever it is, it is raging within him like some wicked storm. Even sleeping at his side, I almost dread the rise of day, because I want more. Sometimes, I think I am crazy for feeling this way of a man, a Master, that outwardly, I scarcely know. But if this is crazy, I hope that I can keep drinking from that well and stay drunk forever.

I am learning too, there are more tasks at hand than the ones I have taken on, even if it is just a little at a time. I followed one today, under the pretense of going to gather the bosk chips, just so I could watch her in the task of milking the bosk. I must say, how intriguing. I have always seen bosk milk in bottles with the Merchant's wares, but never it come from the bosk itself. I must have stood there for half an ahn, watching, tilting myself until I was nearly bent over and on my head to watch how she was doing it. I suppose I unnerved the poor woman since she finally motioned me over so I could watch a little closer, even offered to let me try my hand at it, literally. I did try, but seems I am far too gentle. Barely did I squeeze where she looked as though she may yank the teets off the poor bosk. I cringed since if someone were to yank mine like that, I'd be making more snorting sounds than that bosk! I politely took my leave, feeling rather foolish that I could not do as she did. But.. ouch! I know the milk is needed but it has to be in the wrist motion, because my fingers sure did not have what it takes. That is a task I will attempt again one day, when I am feeling much braver. Besides, I am not sure that bosk cared too much for me staring at it anyhow.

It was actually the first day in many that the skies were so clear that at first glance, you'd think you'd not need a hat or anything. It was glorious! So much so that after I completed most of the chores, I decided to take a little walk. Well, I say a little but it felt as though I walked for quite some time. No matter how many times I take a direction, there always seems to be something I didn't notice the last time. Of course, I take the basket with me, just in case I happen upon a goldmine of chips that have not been picked over. But today felt special. I cannot explain why. The rays of warmth beamed down and seemed to engulf my entire being. I usually always sing to myself while I am out on these ventures but today, singing did not seem enough. No one was around. No one was watching, so I put the basket down and just started to dance. No reason. No particular dance I had learned in the years of training. Just dance. Reaching my hands toward the skies, twirling and laughing as though I was entertaining an entire crowd of people. Yet.. it was just myself. For that little bit of time, I felt so very free. My spirit soared. Just as I am with my Master, I wanted to keep dancing and twirling around and singing until I collapsed with exhaustion and giddiness from joy. Why so joyous? That, I cannot say I understand as of yet. My audience could not clap and give their praises yet for once, it was not that I sought. My dance was that of simple happiness, of being who I am, where I am, and the fact that so much beauty surrounds me. When I did finally fall to the ground and lay there, looking up at the sky and laughing to myself, I could have sworn I felt eyes on me. But I saw no one. Even when I looked around, I saw no one. It had to be my imagination, but for that ehn, it felt very strange. Not threatening, just a sense that I had not been as alone as I thought. Maybe that is still part of the city paranoia that still lingers within me. One day, I will dance for my Master, to show him my gratefulness for the gift he has given me. Of this, I have made up my mind.

Another thing, too, I have made my mind up of. Enough of this silence between us. It is time for me to stop being so timid. I know he will not speak to me first, for as he said, he should not have to come to me to seek company. It is I who must go to him. And go to him I intend to do. I'm still not real sure what I will say, but it is time to break this wall of silence between us. After all, if I can sleep in his arms every night, I should be able to find some sort of words to offer. Maybe I will try with small talk and see where that goes, since I cannot just blurt out..."Master, talk to me, I know something is on your mind." He'd think me looney. On this one, I'll have to play it by ear and feel my way as I go. But talk we will, if he will permit it so. If not, it won't be for the lack of my trying.

Which brings me to another thing. I sleep in his arms. Each night. An arm wrapped here, a leg there. Flesh to flesh and yet, he has not even so much as kissed me. Part of me questions if he finds me desirable or not, but if he didn't, then why would he have gone thru the trouble of taking me as he did? He could have had any one of the others, but he chose me. There have been times I thought surely he was just going to take me then and there, half asleep and pressed back against his chest, but no. Nothing more than a pass of hand or adjustment of body. Even so, that is just sex. Animals have sex. I want his kiss. I want to feel what stirs inside of him in how he would kiss me. Any other slave would probably laugh at me for saying such a thing, but yet its the truth. There is something greater that is held within a kiss than all of the times spent in the furs. Something that gives a deeper part of yourself, of your very life, your breath, that is shared within a kiss. I cannot say I don't ache for him to take me, as that would be a blatant lie. But its not that of which I crave. Silly I know, since if I cannot find words to make small talk, then surely a kiss would be even more frightening.

It's time I take a few chances and risks. All that can happen is that I succeed or fail. I'll never know until I try. If it means a chance of growing closer to this man called Fonce, then it is well worth the risk and the chance. Next I see him... the attempt will be made. Until then, time to summon what courage and strength I have, and hope somewhere in the warmth that was showered upon me during that dance, I was given a little wisdom as to what to do.

Baby Steps

To my surprise, there was a small bundle of leather that was left beside the basket that I use to do the mending. I remembered the warning I was given as I touched the soft leather, but I still think it will be worth the chance if it means it is a step toward something that will please him. I wish to thank the elder Master, and shall do so verbally one day, but for now, I think he just waits to see what I will do with it. I hope to make him proud as well as my own Master. Had I been back in the city, I would have taken him something. A bowl of stew, or some pastries. But I have learned that what is here is not mine to offer. The people eat well, but I am also learning how hard it is to work for each meal. One mistake and it could mean going without food for a hand. Maybe longer. There is much coming to my understanding. A much simpler way of life than I am used to, but it is also a much harder way of life. I've always been told slaves must earn their way. I never knew the depth of that statement until now. A simple way of life, but it has its complexities. So much to learn still...

He has said nothing of the quilt. In fact, I am not quite sure he has even taken notice. If he did, nothing had registered in his voice. I have not been reprimanded nor praised, which when I thought about it, is that what I really made it for? My own selfish desire for praise? I can say no- that I did it for him, so he would be pleased. Which is true. Then I find myself waiting for judgement. Even somewhat disappointed that there was nothing given either way. It was then that I looked into myself and questioned my motives. Perhaps that was his lesson. In any case, it was a good one. It really made me think, and rethink myself. I'm not a bad slave. I'm not a bad person. The desire I have to please him is a natural one. But. It has made me a better slave. I will make this new jacket for him. Because for one, he needs it. Two, a slave must see to her owner's needs. Three, it shows him his slave is not an idle slave without any skill. And this time, if he says nothing, I may should consider myself lucky after the elder Master's warning. In any case, I look forward to the time when it is made and can be laid out for him to wake to.

We don't speak much, Master and I, though sometimes I think there is something that weighs heavily on his mind. I want to ask him, but I don't think he'd share with a simple slave. At times, there's a storm that swirls in his eyes as if there are so many thoughts, or emotions, something, going on within him, that his very presence can be overwhelming. I try to soothe whatever is on his mind with soft touches and smiles. One day, soon in fact, I'll get brave enough start talking to him. He may regret that then, since I may never shut up after. I've not been so quiet since .. I can remember!

I've gotten down most of the basket weaving, though I doubt I'd win any awards just yet. They still look a little lopsided to me sometimes. The vulo and I, well, that is still a challenge, but I am learning by watching the other slaves. The one woman came to inspect the basket making and said I was doing better. When I inquired of the beading, she just smiled, pointed to the basket that I'd made and walked off. So, I will keep trying. I'll have to so I can bead the jacket before it's given to him. It has to be perfect.

I sat outside of the wagon the other evening, watching the snow come down. Nothing heavy. But the flakes that came down seemed so huge. I caught one and looked it closely, at the shape of it and how it glistened. Then another landed while the first had started melting away on my palm. It is fascinating to me, these snowflakes. Never the same, no matter how many may fall. I watched it dust along the wagons, the fires. It was such a peaceful feeling. And I realized just how much like these snowflakes we all are, no matter our station in life. I may be of the city, but I am learning to adapt. I am but one of many yet whatever fate designs destiny, I was drifted to come here. And Master is certainly not like any other I have encountered. Ever. In my life. A simple beauty. A simple understanding that most take for granted. " It's just snow. It makes it difficult to get around. Makes it too cold to do anything." And so on. They should slow down for an ehn. Look at the snowflakes. Look at the patterns and appreciate the unique beauty in each one. Just as I am learning to do with what has been placed before me.

This self reflection thing isn't so bad. I see a lot in myself that needs to change, to make me better of a slave for him. Now all I need is the chance to show him, even if its just little bits at a time. I'm trying. I want to be worthy of him. The others still make fun of the collar I wear. No sign that I belong to him other than his claim. Its a good thing here, that is enough.

So far, I've been allowed to sleep beside him. Even have woke a few times to find myself wrapped around him, or his arm over me. Words do not describe what feeling this brings. This is where I belong. With him.

Drowning

Happy go lucky. That was once used by some of Port Kar to describe me. I have often lost myself into the daydreams and thoughts of the moment, and for some reason, no one ever seemed to care. I was so very pleased with myself. I had prepared a special meal for him, right down to a tasty dessert. I had even attempted my first time at weaving a basket, though no sooner than I tested it with a stone, the left bottom side fell out. I asked one of the other slaves to teach me, and while I could tell she disliked me and felt I was an intrusion there, she said she would show me but one time how to do certain things. The first lesson was to be the basket weave. She showed me where the strength of the basket needed to be, and how to cross the layers just so to give it foundation. She said once I showed her that I had brains enough to do that, she'd teach me the next thing I asked. Beading. I so much want to bead the jacket if I am allowed the leather, but I didn't dare tell her of such a secret. She walked off after asking what I was called, and when I replied "Pink", she said it fit for a dweller. I could tell she too did not think I will survive here. But in my mind, despite all else, I see no other option. Not if I am to remain with him.

After several ahn of trying this basket weaving, I finally put it down for the day and would try again tomorrow. I noticed some of the girls tossing out feed to the vulo, so I asked if I could help. BIG mistake. Oh sure, they laughed and gave me handfuls of feed, and off I went, sprinkling it out there like they had been doing. Somehow, somewhere, they forgot to tell me that the vulo will chase you if you run out and they are still hungry. I don't think I have ever run so fast to his wagon since having arrived. Nor did I realize such small fowl could be so viscous! I'm sure it gave them all a good laugh, and subject for the evening talk amongst themselves. City slave feeds the vulo and almost becomes vulo food herself.

After cleaning the wagon, and so forth, I had put the finishing touches upon the quilt just in time to hide it when Master approached. I was feeling so good about things, even finding a bit of humor in the antics of the afternoon. He crouched down, and I greeted him from my lounging position, giving little to no thought of it. What a mistake that was. I soon found myself thrust down to the ground, first upon my face, then soon shoved to my back. At first, I had no idea what I had done to anger him, but I begged forgiveness even so. Another mistake, in that since I was unclear in what I had done wrong, he questioned to what it is that I was begging forgiveness for. My reply of his displeasure was too vague, for it provided him no answers as to what I had done.

When it all started to dawn on me what his anger was over, when he explained to me of how I had sat there as though I was an equal and spoke to him over the fire as one of the free, I felt foolish. It was an act that could have been prevented had I only been thinking. I knew better. At this point, though he had not struck me, my body was sore from hitting the ground and my insides ached from the tone of his voice. At that moment, I was so angry with myself that I wanted to burst. Burst I did. Right at his feet, weeping uncontrollably. For all that I had held in, it came out like the breaking of a dam before I could stop it. All of the emotion, the fears, everything, all unloaded into the tears on his boots.

He allowed me to beg, for forgiveness and for his guidance, though I am unsure his forgiveness was ever granted. Not that I deserve it. Perhaps I am just as he calls me. Worthless. For nothing of my past can help me now. He did not need a whip to lash me. His words left welts deeper than my skin. All of the efforts made, they seem so trivial, so useless when it takes only a single act such as I committed to destroy any hope he had in me. He didn't have to speak it. He has no like for dwellers, as he calls them. None here do. How could I be so stupid to try to convince him that I know him inwardly when I am the epitome of that which leaves such a distaste in his mouth?

He left me so to go to the fires, while I was left crying in the snow. He had given me so much to think on; to work toward. But would it keep me there, with him, at his feet where I need to be? Need like I need the air to breathe...

Reason tells me if he didn't want me, I wouldn't be here. There are enough others in camp to who he could pass me off if he really wanted. Or he could cut my throat and be done with it. I cling to that small bit, as minute as it may be.

Lost

Mistakes. It is inevitable that mistakes will be made. I try to learn from each, taking inside of me whatever lesson is reached by the err of my ways. I'm not perfect. I'll never be perfect. Though I hope- hoped- to one day achieve to be perfect at least to one man. Him.

There have been times in my life when I felt alone. Misunderstood. No one to reach out to. No one I could talk to. If I compiled all of those times into a single moment, not even that moment could compare to what I am feeling right now. Lost. Completely and wholly lost.

Every lesson I have learned over time; every bit of training I spent years upon years learning; every way I was taught to please another; none of them hold even a droplet of water to the cup that I now hold in my hands. Meaningless. Every single one of them meaningless. I don't grieve for this loss or for the stripping away of what I thought I was to be. A myriad of other emotions have replaced what once was. Where do I go from here? This journey he has put before me. How do I find my footing upon this unseen path? This path is foreign to me, and to everything I 'thought' I knew. I'm scared. More scared than I have ever been in my life. With fear also comes determination. If only.....

He has set me on a soul searching mission. One that I feel he expects me to not survive. Am I so shallow? So much of a shell that I will not be able to find my way? I'm not afraid of what I may.. will.. learn. I am not afraid of how those lessons will come. What I fear most is what awaits at the end of the journey. Yes, I will be stronger, better, and have a greater understanding of not only myself but of what things mean. My incentive to keep this fear from overcoming me is him. Only him.

I sense in his words he does not expect his ownership of me to last. Part of that challenges me in that I must show him that I can and will learn these things. But at the same time, I am left torn. I begged of him. Begged to be his to the fullest extent; deeper than just flesh. He claimed I did not know him. But I do. I told him as much. Perhaps not in the ways he speaks of, or of his ways of life, but I do. I tried to tell him, but he thinks I speak untruth. Had I pushed the subject, I would have likely been punished.

Then again, is it just me? Is the feeling I have so deep within me that screams and begs to be released just a fabrication of my own mind? I was always told when you meet that 'one', IF it ever happens, which is so rare in a slave's lifetime, it would be known. It would be felt. Is that part too, to be stripped away with all else that I have learned? Were they wrong?

Then comes another challenge. Do I suppress this feeling and do the things expected of me, without allowing emotion to become a part of it? That essentially denies him of part of me. That would be wrong. Do I succumb to it and hope that one day, he will see it, feel it, even believe me? And if I do this, what happens if I am sold to another? Do I beg death rather than be cast from him? I do surrender to him my heart, even though he says I do not know him? Do I hide it?

I look around me. The vast lands, the animals, the waters, the people. I search for my place in the midst of this. I search for a way to be what I need to be; what he needs me to be. I am determined, but somehow even that doesn't feel to be enough. He says he is there to guide me, for now. For now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, he says. A dagger in my heart is what that brings. For once, there is no wall around me, protecting me, allowing me to be this person that I was expected to be. What he sees is simply me. I have my pride. I have my strengths. I have my desires. I have my curiosity. What I need more than anything is him. But it is not my own needs I must concern myself with.



I look up to the skies and release my tears, begging for something, some sign. Help me understand. Help him to understand my words were true. Or strike down the feeling inside of me so that I no longer must live each waking ehn with that raw ache within. Damn my bloodline. And these emotions that confuse me so. For all of the torment, I'd not change a thing.

I'm so lost.