The Madrea smiles as she shoos the children off, softness of expression betraying the annoyance in her voice. She did want some peace though, as they worked eastward. Her feet were sore from walking, but all of their feet were. No use complaining about it. Some of the women had seen horses in the plains, and their husbands had requested the privilege of trying to fetch them. It would take a few days, that was true. But they had the food for it, at the moment, and new animals would be welcome. She decided to let them, and called over her niece, Juniea, to let them know. Around an hour later, as they began making camp, the hunting parties set out led by their huntmistresses, and the baskets of food were sorted and counted, those men would set out. Hopefuly they would bring back horses from the expedition, and perhaps even some meat as well.
The Mother had told her, in the winds and the stones and the flames, that the east was bountiful. Here, it was good, but they could not sustain themselves here. Not easily. The ground could not be tamed well, and the rivers, while full, were few, though they followed one now. The Madrea settled down at one of the fires, fed by the fallen and dead branches of the few trees they'd come across in their journey this day, and the droppings of the beasts they led and the beasts they followed. She relaxed as she sat, watching the sun set, and began to pray, humming softly as some of the clanswomen began to drum. She asked the Mother for her portents, that night. The moon would be full; it was usually the best time to ask. What would she read in the stars, what wisdom dripped from the fire, or the swirls of smoke above it? She was the only one who could tell, and even she felt as though she scarcely knew what she was doing to Listen to their goddess, half the time. Ah well. It was a good night, and the Mother's people were, for the moment, warm and full through the night. With Her guidance, that would last.
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Topic: Clash of Empires (Read 3837 times)