The winter season with the horse people of Endrykas had proven to be far different than that of the ones she shared with her Chaktawe people. It was an environment she was still not used to, and she was unsure that she would ever adjust properly. The days she had spent with the Drykas had been few, but she knew deep in her heart, although she felt as if she did not belong, that this journey would be a monumental one.
Chitsa had encountered very few Drykas that spoke her native language of Tawna. Most of them spoke their own language, Pavi, knowing only short, simple Tawna phrases. Chitsa’s Pavi knowledge consisted of half a handful of broken phrases, one of them being, ”Speak Common? as she had heard her people ask the Drykas when they would make the trek to the Tatsuwaat tribe to trade. She studied the phrase carefully the previous season, so that she would be prepared when she left with them in the winter.
Today was a different day for Chitsa, though. She was mentally exhausted from the taking-in of her new surroundings. Although the traveling tent city reminded her of her people in a way, this grassy sea had been unlike anything she had ever seen. Water was scarce in the Eyktolian desert. The Tatsuwaat tribe had carefully skilled individuals that would harvest the pulpy roots of the keerdash trees for their water. This new region, the Cyphrus region, however, was grassy. It was so grassy! The Sea of Grass, she understood it to be called. Her first thought when she saw the abundance of grass was, ”Green dye! The grass would be perfect for making a vivid green dye. She could mix it with other colors, the black ash and coals from a dissipated fire to darken it, even. She was excited, but it seemed the grass would be around, so she was in no hurry to start working on her painting.
So much had overwhelmed her in such little time, and when she left her tent that day to stretch in the sunlight, a sudden sensation whooshed across her fingertips like a tough gust of wind. The black gel-filled pores on the pads of her fingers tingled. A thick tangle of jet black waves fell across Chitsa’s face as she looked down at her hands, startled. She looked up from her hands, around her immediate vicinity, and then back to her hands. She recognized the feeling to be that of a signal that there existed a body of water nearby. It was not traveling in a fast current, like that of a flowing river. No, the motion was slow, more relaxed, almost calmly pulsing. A small pond, perhaps, with gentle waves from the movement of the inhabitants, fish and the like.
Solid black eyes narrowed as the young woman smiled. It was the perfect sign, a gift from the goddess Makutsi! Water! After such a stressful and sudden change in lifestyle, the idea of a cool bath was appealing, to say the very least. Chitsa concentrated on the sensation, but as she moved from her tent closer to the tents of the Drykas people, their movement diluted her ability to discern anything of the water source. Slightly discouraged, but not defeated, the copper-skinned woman weaved her way through the busy tent city and its people, peeking around corners to investigate her surroundings. She began to feel silly, wandering around. She finally turned to a tall, blonde man clad in blue clothing with a sword strapped to his hip. Uttering carefully each syllable in Pavi, she asked him, ”Speak Common?”
Although at first he blinked at her, taking in her empty-looking stare, he answered with the Common tongue, ”Yes, I speak Common.”
Replying, also in the Common tongue, to meet the man in the middle of their language barrier, Chitsa asked him if there might be a place to bathe nearby. She made a solid point to bypass the explanation of the sensation she had picked up in her hands. The man nodded and pointed her to the end of the collection of tents. Bowing her head with gratitude, she turned and made her way forward, this time with urgency and determination. Not too far from the edge of the city she could see some large rocks, and just barely the edge of a lake. Sighing with relief, she half-jogged her way through the tall grass.
Though her legs were long in comparison to her torso, she was still relatively short, and the grass slapped her shins and calves as she made her way through the sea, understand why, now, that it was indeed referred to as the Sea of Grass. Upon reaching the large rock, she turned and looked around her. The area was near silent, only the little waves of the lake patting the terrains edge disturbing the air around her. Chitsa quickly pulled the leather ties on the side of her vest to loosen it, slipping it over her head and setting it in a crevice of the rocks. She pulled similar ties on her feather skirt, stepping out of it and placing it carefully with her vest.
Webbed toes prevented her from sinking into the silt at the edge of the water as she snuck into the water. She wasted no time at all making her way to the deepest, coolest part of the lake, where she dipped her head underwater. Her head bobbed at the service as she ran her hands over the opposite arms. In Tawna, she turned her head skyward, eyes closed, and thanked Makutsi for the blessing of water that she had bestowed upon the Sea of Grass, and for guiding her to it.
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