Omitted [Flashback]

[Evarette Karmine]

22nd of Fall, 509 A.V.

The fall afternoon fell short of blistering. The sun had begun it's evening descent, and the grassland was kissed by the bronzing light. Dust flavored the air, as though clinging to the remnants of the afternoon's heat. The breeze kicked through the waves of grass in spurts, creating the only whisper of sound...save for the sedate plod of hooves marking at least one herd-beast in it's midst. Evarette sat astride the russet, sun-bleached back of Dusk, a juvenile Seme mare. She was a creature of reputable good nature, one who had become a favored mount when Eva ventured out to tend the other horses of the Opal Clan. Today's impromptu ride had nothing to do with the daily chores of Pavilion life, however. Today, the afternoon glow did nothing for the flushed, tear-stained cheeks of the Drykas girl...nor the anger brewing in the glower that traced the ground before the Seme mare's heavy footfalls. "Tora again," muttered the Drykas girl, her tone afflicted by the recent swell of emotion that had trapped her expression somewhere between despair and fury. The back of her hand scrubbed roughly across her eyes, and Eva drew a shuddering breath. Dusk's ears tipped back towards her in consideration...but the mare plodded on. There was something therapeutic about being able to spill her worries into the ears of horses. Eva had adopted the habit as a child, and it had grown into something of a restorative practice as she got older. Now, with no one but the gentle sway of the Seme mount beneath her to judge her words, Evarette let them fall... "She...she said I'm worthless, like my father..." Eva's could almost taste the bitterness flavoring her tone. The words, when uttered from her haughty cousin, had both stung and infuriated her. It was widely known her father's disappearance had not been well appreciated. This had cultured some frigid attitudes towards both Evarette and her brother. The source of this frigidity was specifically nursed among a group of her elder female cousins, all married women who spent their days debating amongst themselves the lives and worth of everyone else around them. Gossips. Circulators. Scandalizers. It had been weeks since Evarette had succumbed to any snide remarks. While she barely managed to hold up her chin to those uttered about herself, when it came to those spoken about her family, her temper became a fierce and volatile thing. Tora had aimed to strike a nerve, and Eva snatched the bait--hook, line and sinker. For the most part, an unsteady truce had been kept tentatively in place...especially since Evarette had pressed her uncle for more shifts working with the herds. This kept her out of the pavilion, and in the wide open spaces of the Sea of Grass, tending the horses and Zibri. Secretly, she'd been hoping to spend more time with the Striders. Evarette had not yet been claimed by one of the legend-spun equines, therefore her skin had been devoid of wind marks... Yet another sore spot for her cousin to prod with her relentless criticism. "Why can't she just..." The thunder of hoofbeats rose as a monotonous tattoo, drawing Evarette's attention to the horizon in expectation. The pulse of the earth, she thought wistfully, spotting the dark wisp of a mane or tail tossed over the waving grasses. Sitting up a bit straighter atop the Seme mare, Eva strained forward...watching. Waiting. They pounded over the horizon like the wind sculpted into physical form. A band of four, comprised of three mares and a stallion. The speed with which they parted the grasses was otherwordly...Kicking up their heels in a spray of manes and tails, the Striders came rushing towards Evarette as she sat frozen atop Dusk. The Seme mare had lifted her head and halted to witness their approach, nostrils quivering in a wicker of salutation. The Striders did not appear to take notice. They plunged past them, liquid eyes rolling as they expelled great snorts of air in passing, the plumes of their tails flagging in their wake. Evarette shut her eyes against the dust cloud that followed them, leaning to one side and feeling Dusk respond beneath her. The young mare pivoted on her sturdy frame to bring them both about in order to watch the Striders lope away, gradually wheeling as they topped the next rise... "Ay, Eva!" ...the cry rose from behind her, and Evarette turned glimpse a horse and rider. Narrowing her eyes to fight the distance separating them, she recognized the pair as Yarrow, the grizzled horse doctor, and his aged Strider mare, Singer. A much younger Strider was roped into following them at a more sedate pace. Yarrow raised his arm in the grasland sign for Come. Evarette nudged Dusk into turning from the small band of Strider's who had paused to regard them with mixed expressions of curiosity and mild interest, and they loped to greet the rugged Drykas man and his steed. As they neared the elder and his mount, Evarette's eyes switched to the yearling in tow. It was a young grullo colt, his gait uneven and strained. A frown furrowed between Eva's brows as she drew to a halt, ducking her head respectfully and awaiting Yarrow's address. The man was old, but he possessed a coarse nature. Revered as one of the best equine healers of the camp, Yarrow's reputation was well earned...as was the reputation of his razor sharp tongue and his cutting wit. The grizzled man's green eyes raked the young girl over as though trying to determine she was up for the task at hand. "Get off that pack 'orse and get over 'ere." Evarette obliged silently, approaching as the lean man dropped from the back of his Strider mare and raised a steadying hand to the colt. The young grullo tossed his head and stepped back a pace or two, eyeing Eva with uncertainty. Yarrow clucked to him, soothing a hand over the youth's angular head and gripping the head-halter firmly. "Daft young 'uns. Always in too much of a 'urry to keep an eye on th' world..." The man worked as he grumbled, using the excess rope to bind the colt's knees. Eva stood to one side, bewildered as she watched the yearling succumb to the complicated twists of rope... "Oy, but y'learn from yer mistakes. Y'learn, or yer dead. C'mon Eva..." Evarette stepped forward, and the elder walked her through assisting the yearling gently onto his side through the use of pressure points and cues...the colt struggled once, when Eva's hands first fell upon him, but Yarrow's soothing and familiar tone overcame the young strider's initial panic. Evarette had placed herself bodily across the colt's neck as directed. The healer's complex series of knots prevented him from rising further, and Yarrow was able to see to the grullo yearling's affliction. Evarette's eyes widened as she noted the blood caked to the animal's flank...As Yarrow shifted his position, a four-inch long laceration was revealed along the inside of the colt's thigh. "Ah." Yarrow slung a satchel from his shoulder, fishing through it. A small water-skin was produced, along with a tiny spool and a wrap of soft leather containing several bone needles. Yarrow eyed the selection critically before plucking one from the midst of the others. Holding the needle pressed between his lips, he folded the rest away. From the spool, he carefully unwound a dark strand of horse-hair. The spool was then traded for a small wooden bowl, into which he poured a sample from the water-skin. "Are you.." Evarette's words were brought up short by the severity of the glare Yarrow cut her, and she clamped her mouth shut. Proceeding in silence, he threaded the needle, cleansing his tools with the liquid in the bowl. Eva watched in fascination as the elder bent over the wound, flushing it with a splash from the waterskin before pinching the lips of the laceration together. He plucked up the needle and its tail of thread..."Talk to him," he demanded gruffly. Taken aback, Eva opened her mouth, grasping for the words... "Ah...well," she bit her lip, eyes flitting from Yarrow's needle poised above the colt's flesh, to the eyes that rolled towards the sound of her voice..."Be brave, young one. This will hurt, but much less than you think...Yarrow knows his work, and will have this done in no time so long as you lie still. The heart of a strider beats in your chest, and this little flinch of pain will be nothing. Be still, and all will be well..." Evarette dared a glance, to find that Yarrow had begun his stitches, his weathered hands dipping in slow, precise motions. "See? Nothing but a tickle..." The colt sighed heavily, his coal-rimmed ears flicking at the sound of Eva's voice... Minutes later, another splash from the water-skin rinsed the fresh blood forming around the pricks from the needle, and Yarrow collected his supplies and tucked them away. The coils of rope were loosened, and with a nod from Yarrow, Eva relieved the colt of her restraining weight. Splaying his forelegs, the yearling hoisted himself up...craning his neck around to snuffle in the direction of his repair. Yarrow's strider mare ventured forward to partake in the colt's curiosity, and Yarrow moved to affix his satchel to her Yvas. "Good work," he grunted, without bothering to look in Evarette's direction. Her shoulders hoisted in a shrug he could not see..."Thanks." The Strider mare moved off to pluck at a few blades of grass with the grullo colt in tow. Yarrow folded his arms and gazed across their backs to the four other sets of eyes trained on them in the distance. "I'm forced to wonder why one who spends 'er days with horses has yet to impress a strider." Eva frowned at the statement, certain that she would be subjected to the same sort of criticism often bestowed upon her by her cousin Tora. Bitterness welled up within her, and she turned away from the healer, stepping towards Dusk... "But then, I think...P'raps its' in yer eyes." Evarette halted, arrested by his words. "Yer eyes are always trained to th' horizon, far away from 'ere. P'raps, I'm thinkin', these Striders don't want any part of that. They'll be liking it just fine, here on their grass, on their home. Yer eyes, they ask for too much, more than they want to give..." Yarrow clucked to his mare, and she turned to him. Stunned into silence, Evarette watched the man as he swung lightly upon his strider's back, and the pair began to walk sedately away...continuing their trek homeward, the grullo colt stepping lightly after them. Eyes trained on their departure, Eva was startled by a nudge to her shoulder. Dusk lipped at her sleeve, and the young Drykas woman ran a hand distractedly behind the Seme mare's ear...lost in the healer's words that kept circling through her head. "Yer eyes, they ask too much, more than they want to give..."