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.