Lesson the Second (Isalie)

[Colt]

2nd of winter, 513 a.v

The morning was bitter, though not as bitter as it would be when winter finished its crawl into place, despite what the watchtowers might have to say about the season change. The sun was high when Shahar made his way back to camp, a ferret and hare in hand. Lean pickings, it was true, but that was the lot of a hunter in winter.

He knelt by the firepit and deposited the hare nearby. The pile of fuel was getting a bit low, but it would serve them for right now, at least. He would have to gather more before nightfall. The hunter stirred the banked embers with a stray stick, feeding them bits of dried grass and twigs until he had enough o a flare to catch a small branch. He let that burn, then added a few more branches and let it sit. Slither could take care of the rest.

Shahar passed by the snake-man’s tent first, uttering a firm “Good morning” to let the Dhani know that the day had begun. Next he came to the smaller tent, where an altogether different creature dwelt.

“Hope,” he said. “Come.” He had resolved to say as little common as possible around her, and to supply it with as much Pavi as he was able. He had said the word “come” around her often enough; he hoped she knew its meaning by now.

He left her to do whatever she needed to rouse herself, and continued his circuit until he came to a stop by the prone travois. It took a bit of rummaging, but in due time he found what he was looking for: the bag of tools for taking care of horses. It occurred to him that if he wanted Hope to grow familiar and, if Priskil be willing, possessive of the implements, he would have to get another set for Akaidras and himself. Another thing to do, and soon.

With the tools in hand, Shahar returned to the tent where Hope slept and held them out.

Here.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * A season had passed since the once-runaway slave had been recaptured. Her situation, she knew, was very different to the kind of slavery she had known in Taloba and, despite the fact that she had become accustomed to relative freedom and was aware of what Shahar, her 'Master', expected of her, she still viewed herself as little more than property, lower than the rest of the Drykas. Hope, as she had come to be known, had long since settled into a regime, and she liked the familiarity of what she was expected to do each day. Slowly, she had begun to eat more, and strength and mobility returned. With said things, came life, and a little light could now be seen from the girl's crystalline eyes. It was dim, but to those who were growing to know her, they could see it. Despite her reservations, she was beginning to care for her captors. They seemed to care for her, and she had never once been struck. Yes, her owner's bondmate would haul her about, forcing her to act, rather than sit and stare into nothingness, with only her thoughts for company, but no one had ever raised they hand to her. This confused her, and still did, but she was getting used to it. Much of her free time - of which there was a lot - came to be spent with the mare Shahar had first introduced her to, and the three felines, who she watched grow up each day. Shahar's own horse was one that Isalie quickly learnt to avoid, fearing the creature, though she wasn't sure why. She wondered if the animal was so ill-tempered because of it's master, and whether she would become that way too... but she held onto her thoughts on the matter, hardly daring to ask the man. The wordless, but no less noisy, companionship she found in the animals was comforting, to say the least. She says only her name, which was still a meaningless word to her. The other word, one she heard most frequently, was one in her slowly growing vocabulary; even Khida barely spoke common around her, though Hope knew that the Kelvic struggled with Pavi too. Though still a little lethargic, her pace was much faster than it had once been, and she rose quickly, brushing down her clothing of dust, and exiting her small home. It wasn't long before she arrived in Endrykas before the encampment was on the move, and she had quickly learnt that she had to pull some weight in assisting. Much help was given, and she was still surprised at the assistance she received each day... and she knew she had to find a way to repay him, as it were. She was waiting for Shahar when he returned; with her growing, if confusing and strange, care for her Master, came an odd sort of desire to please the man. She had been in service before, and knew what men liked, but this Drykas was different, and she found it hard to place his desires. First, though, came her drive to at least try and, on occasion, she found it easier to push her way through the apathy to do such a thing, though on other days, it was impossible to rouse her. The light in her eyes brightened a little when she realised what the man was carrying when he returned to her tent. Without being told, she stepped towards him and took the items from his hand. Without meeting his eyes, she turned away from him and began to lead the way to the paddock, glad to be returning.

[Colt]

She was improving, of that he was certain, and it was something that Shahar couldn’t help but take pride and relief in. The apathy was not gone, not at all, but every now and then he could see little cracks in the sheer wall of not caring; a smile for Dainellas or one of the cubs, even the rare spark of irritation when Khida dragged her to do something expected, though that was less often.

Hope actually led the way to where the horses stood, and since she was not facing him the hunter allowed himself a smile of his own as he followed. She had grown close to the horse, and seemed to genuinely enjoy caring by way of the brushes. He could expand with the hoofpick today, and after that could start her getting acquainted with the yvas. It was probably best for her not to ride just yet, not until she learned how to tack the mare properly, but that milestone lingered tantalizingly close on the horizon. Shahar had to shake himself out of his thoughts when they reached the trio of horses, so exciting was the thought of Hope finally riding like a Drykas, in practice if not yet in cold hard fact. But if her interactions with Dainellas were anything to go by, she’d be worthy of a Strider in due time.

“You brush Dainellas,” he said, hoping she’d retained the words since the last time he’d uttered them. “I watch.” He made exaggerated gestures alongside the words, first to his chest to indicate that it was himself he was talking about, then a line from his eyes to the space between Hope and the mare to illustrate what it was he would actually be doing.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * The walk to where the horses stood was not far, though Hope still found herself becoming impatient in the journey, looking forward to seeing the animal as she was. She was not a mind reader, not could she attempt to know what the creature really thought of Hope, but, from Dainellas’ reaction whenever the young woman approached, she imagined that the horse appreciated her company as well. It was a comforting thought, to know that her presence was wanted, and even enjoyed. The same could not be said for the majority of language based beings the girl had encountered. Upon entering the paddock, the horse is ready and waiting, and Hope only has to take a few more steps before greeting the creature with a quiet, “Hello,” as she ran her hand down her neck, the smile growing ever so slightly. Dainellas wasn’t Shadow, and they didn’t share the same bond – they probably never would, given the completely different circumstances that she was in with the horses. But this mare was just as friendly, sweet-tempered and patient as the other. Hope considered herself incredibly lucky to be allowed the freedom to spend time with her. The greeting was short-lived; they had seen each other mere days ago, and this time they had company, and Hope was expected to brush the mare again. Shahar spoke, breaking the greeting, and if Hope didn’t understand the words, she did not show it, reaching forward to take the brush from her owner. She had done this before, and the Pavi words settled further into her conscious mind, furthering her learning of the language. Polite as ever, she said, “Thank you,” to the man, and turned away to begin her work. The brush strokes came quicker than before; the lethargy that still rested like a blanket upon her mind was lighter somehow, and the fog that clouded her thoughts had somewhat dissipated. Despondency was still present, but it was less obvious, and she could focus on the task at hand. Because of this, though she was moving faster, her actions were much more careful. In her fist attempt, the mare’s hair still had patches of dust and dried mud when she had finished, but this time, though her efforts were still not perfect, she was not missing as many spots as before. The mare seemed to whicker in approval of the touch and Hope looks over from where she stood, which was only a little further beyond the horse’s tall shoulder. "You’re not even that dirty, Dainellas." She said softly, "You just like the attention, don’t you?" Always conscious of the Drykas who stood near, still watching her work down the horse, she glanced over to her hand, which continued brush strokes along the grain of the hair. She noticed a spot that she missed and backtracks a little, brushing over the dusty hair until it appeared to shine.

[Colt]

She said thank you––in Pavi, to Shahar’s great pleasure––and so the hunter signed back an exaggerated you’re welcome.

Her form with the brush was still a bit lacking, but her hands were much more driven and confident than the first time they’d made the same motions. She made her way over the mare, who responded with an approving noise. Hope said something, and though Shahar identified it as common he couldn’t pick out what it was she was actually saying. But her words were gentle, bordering on playful, and he didn’t need to understand them to know that they were meant to soothe and show affection. The mare seemed to recognize this, too, and remained quite comfortable with the woman giving her that affection.

Hope progressed in her work, and Shahar took note of the regularity of her strokes. With more time they would progress into habit, then muscle memory, and he wanted what was happening here to become a part of Hope’s daily routine before the season was out. She currently spent more days without brushing than she did brushing, but the brushings had definitely been getting more frequent. It would develop naturally, and in any case, he was now confident in her ability to properly clean a horse's coat.

When Hope drew to the end of her chore, Shahar reached for the bag once more and pulled out the hoof pick. Dainellas was still focused on Hope, but the nearby Akaidras recognized the implement, and was not about to let any suggestion of a grooming slip by. The stallion sidled up comfortably, nosing his rider’s hand curiously before noticing that the brushes, which were supposed to come first, were in the hand of someone else. He snorted in mild bemusement, and Shahar scratched at the base of his mane to keep him from wandering off in disinterest. When Hope’s work seemed at an acceptable place, he spoke.

“Hope,” he said, brandishing the tool in his hand. “Hoof-pick.” He made a hoof-picking motion in the air. “Pick hoof.”

He pushed Akaidras a few feet to give them all more room to see and move, then pointed at the horse’s hooves. “Hoof.” He made the picking motion again. “Pick.” He pointed at the hooves. “Hoof.” He pointed at himself. “I,” he made the motion, “pick,” he pointed at the stallion’s hooves, “hoof.”

With the words given, Shahar made a show of running his hand down the back of Akaidras’ foreleg, and when the stallion shifted his weight the Drykas picked it off the ground and tilted it for Hope to see. He ran his fingers along the outer rim, then across the accumulated dirt, then the sensitive frog at the center, each with distinct pauses in between to show that they were three separate things.

“Hoof-pick,” he said, brandishing the tool before tapping it against the outer rim.

“Hoof.” He gently drew it over the dirt, dislodging a bit but leaving the majority intact.

“Dirt.” He made a disgusted gesture and mimed throwing it away. He paused for a moment, then picked up a handful of dirt from the ground. “Dirt,” he said again, gesturing to the dirt in his hand and then the dirt in Akaidras’ hoof. He tossed the dirt away, then gently drew his fingers over the frog. He traced around it, crumbling the debris in direct contact and defining the triangle of flesh. “Frog,” he said, voice becoming suddenly soft. He didn’t have the words to tell her in common, and he knew she didn’t have the words in Pavi to understand, but this was a message he needed to get across. He treated it gingerly, much more gingerly than he needed to, but she needed to comprehend the fact that it was to be left alone. Hefting the hoof pick once more, Shahar tapped the rim of the hoof.

“No pick,” he said, shaking his head and giving an exaggerated no.

He tapped the dirt. “Yes pick.” He accompanied this with an overdone yes and a nod.

He very gingerly tapped the frog. “No pick,” he said, much more strongly and accompanying the statement with no, extremely bad, never.

With his point made to the bast of his ability, Shahar set to the task of actually cleaning the hoof. He made sure to point the hook to the outside, away from the frog, and dug into the built up dirt and grass and manure that had taken up residence in his Strider’s foot. When the task was finished, he let the hoof down, gestured for Hope to come and made his way to Akaidras’ other foreleg. Again, his movements were large when he ran his hand down the back of the leg to signal a weight change, and when he picked it up he did not set into it immediately.

“Hoof,” he said, tapping the outer rim.

“Dirt.” He tapped the dirt, then picked up a bit of dirt from the ground. “Dirt."

“Frog.” He didn’t tap the frog with the hoof pick, but instead used his fingers.

He mimed the action of picking a hoof, accompanied by “pick.” He then tapped the outer rim again. “No pick.” He tapped the dirt, “pick,” and nodded. Once again, he did not use the pick to tap the frog and substituted his fingers. “No pick. No pick.”

He cleaned the hoof, let it down and gestured for Hope to come again. He repeated the process for both of the remaining hooves, making a show of the signal for Akaidras to give his foot, reiterating the word for pick, tapping each part of the hoof, naming it and then making sure she understood what was to be picked and what was to be left alone.

When all four hooves were done, the Drykas stood.

“I,” he pointed to himself, “pick,” he made the motion, “Akaidras,” he pointed at the horse in question, then held out the hoof pick. “You. Pick. Dainellas.” He didn’t make any motions this time; his words were simple, Hope knew the horse’s name and he certainly hoped she had retained the work “pick” after he’d said it so many times.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * She was finished and, at the movements she could hear from behind her, she turned to look at her owner. As she waited in silence, her hand continued to brush along Dainellas’ neck absentmindedly as she allowed her mind to wander back to her meeting with Taylani when they were foraging. The other captive had been pregnant with what she later discovered was a Drykas’ child. Up until that moment, Hope had just assumed that the Drykas were like any other peoples; they just wanted slaves and she was in the most recent bunch. Taylani had taught her differently, however, that there had been a disease of some form, and the slaves had been captured in order to repopulate Endrykas. It explained why there had been so many of the weaker sex. But now that one question had been answered for Hope, a new question was now swimming around in her mind, towards the surface. “Why hasn’t he touched me… it was an obligation he made when he bought me…” She thought of the man as he turned back to Hope. The girl, however, shied behind Dainellas as his Strider approached the trio; she did not like the other horse and the mare was a good enough shield against him. A barely audible groan escaped her lips as she realised that she needed to be closer to watch what Shahar was going to do to Akaidras. She edged closer, but still far enough away to avoid the horse if he were to do anything sudden. Watching his movements as he described the objects, she runs the concepts through her own mind, amazed at how little care she had taken of Shadow. She had thought that she had done right by her old mount, caring for it as she would family, but none of the things she was learning to do now had she done to the black creature she used to call her own. “So the Hoof-Pick exists to Pick the hoof...” Shahar kept repeating the words to her; clearly this was important, that she was to avoid certain areas of the hoof. She didn’t understand why, but she took the message on board nonetheless, including how she was apparently supposed to get Dainellas to lift her leg for her. So far, Dainellas hadn’t had a problem with Hope cleaning her, but that was only brushing; nothing too intrusive – she wondered whether the mare would take kindly to Hope trying this when she could theoretically cause a lot of damage to the leg. “Pick around the outside, but not in the middle… just to get rid of.. dirt?” She followed her owner around each of the legs, half guiding, half dragging Dainellas with her to continue as he shield from Akaidras. Eventually, she Shahar was done showing her on each of the Strider’s legs and she nods to show her understanding. “Pick dirt with Hoof-Pick.” Struggling to find the words, she resorted partially to Common, hoping that Shahar would understand and clarify or agree. "I cannot pick… Frog with that? Will hurt Dainellas?" Gingerly, she reached out for the pick in Shahar’s hand and, stroking the mare’s neck, whispers softly, “Work with me, Dainellas… we can do this together.” She brushed against the horse’s neck and shoulder a few more times before leaning forward and running her hand down the length of the horse’s leg. “Come on…” To her relief, the mare lifts her leg and she knelt down, finding it easier to rest it on her leg than hold it in her arm. Overly-cautious, perhaps, Hope’s work with the Hoof-Pick is slow; it took more effort and more concentration than the brushing had and Hope, ever good-natured, was terrified of hurting her friend. The first leg she completed simply by dragging the Hoof-Pick against the top layers of dirt until she finally reached the bottom, which she then decided to clean out with her hand. Once finished, she glanced up at Shahar as she released the leg and patted Dainellas in thanks, wondering if the work she had done was alright, before moving onto the next hoof.

[Colt]

“Pick dirt with hoof-pick.”

Yes, exactly, vast approval.

She paused, then put forth common words. Shahar picked out “not,” and when she said frog he assumed what it was she was saying.

Yes, he said, then paused to separate that thought from the one that followed. “No pick frog.”

She took the pick from him and warily made the gesture for Dainellas to pick her foot up, which the mare did without much fuss. Hope was hesitant in her care of the hoof, and she scraped the dirt out more than she really picked it, but that was alright. It was a start, at least. After a while, the woman had reached the bottom of the layer of dirt and then changed to fingers to get the final traces out. Shahar couldn’t help a touch of amusement, but he said nothing on the matter and instead signed vast approval when she turned questioningly back to him before continuing to the next hoof.

After making sure she was well started, Shahar left her to her task and returned to the travois. Dainellas’ yvas had not been used since her purchase, and so had been left nestled between so many of the things they traveled with where it would not be damaged by wind or rain. It was supple in his hands when he unearthed it from its resting place, though it would be some rides yet before the newness was broken out of it and the pad molded to the comfort of a regular rider. It was similar to Hope, in its own way; they would learn from each other if he had his way, the woman and the yvas.

He returned to Dainellas and Hope and set the yvas carefully on the ground, then the pad on top of it so dirt would not cling and irritate the mare’s back when it was strapped on. He made no motions for Hope’s attention, not yet––he simply stood, and watched, and waited for Hope to come to the end of her task.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * Following the man's approval, Hope got quickly to work through the other three hooves, a task which she sank completely into with little effort. Just like brushing the horse's fur, she was able to switch off, though here she had to remain wary of not scraping along the frog of the hoof. Dainellas was surprisingly helpful, not once resisting when Hope ran her hand down the each of the legs, asking her to lift them up. And throughout Hope spoke to the mare, unconsciously using words from all three languages, as the thoughts came to her. Shahar was around, she knew, but she paid little mind to him as he heaved things around, no doubt preparing for the next thing she had to learn for the horse's care. It interested her, but not enough for her bother breaking her concentration. By the final hoof, Hope was beginning to dig a little more deeply with the hoof-pick, and the action was closer to what Shahar had initially shown her. More dirt was being removed from the hoof with each scrape, and it was happening at a faster pace. Shifting the pick into the free fingers of the hand holding the hoof at the correct angle, Hope used her fingers to brush away the loose dirt. Taking the opportunity, she looked up as her owner returned to where she was, carrying a number of things, but most interestingly a large leather contraption and a blanket. The device was shaped similarly to the type of saddle that Hope was familiar with, but it had some marked differences and the young woman began to wonder if she had gotten her initial assumption wrong. “What?” She asked the one word; she knew the word for that in its basic, statement form in Pavi, but she didn't know how to use that word in an interrogative, so she uttered the simplest phrase she could to get her question across. Pale blue eyes questioningly looked over to Shahar, occasionally flickering back to the curious object on the ground near to her. As she did so, the hoof-pick moved back into her right hand and she absently scraped against the hoof. The reaction of the horse was the first sign she received of something that she had done wrong. The whinny was loud and sharp, an unforgiving sound, which was in synchronisation with the sharp jolt of the leg she was holding. Moving faster than she had since arriving in the tent city, Hope quickly let go of the leg and shifted out of the way. Rising, she wasted no time in approaching the mare, desperate to soothe the creature in anyway she could. “I'm so sorry, Dainellas... I'm so sorry,” she murmured as she tentatively reached out a hand to touch the neck. The scrape hadn't been a particularly hard one, as none of them had been, and she imagined that it was shock of the pick that rubbed against the frog that had frightened Dainellas, rather than actual damage, but Hope was upset all the same. The horse wasn't particularly impressed, Hope could tell, and she wasn't as friendly as she usually was when the girl was around. Hope accepted this and continued to stroke the mare, calming her down and constantly apologising in soft whispers as she leaned closer and closer, waiting for Dainellas to forgive her properly. A few chimes later and the horse uttered a second whinny, this one lighter, and matched with a flick of the tail, which Hope took to be what she was waiting for. Smiling, she whispered, “Thank you.” Wincing, she eventually remembered that Shahar was near, and had probably seen the whole thing, seen the carelessness of his property in caring for his other property. She shuddered, frightened of the gaze she would meet when she turned around, but she had no reason not to now. Biting down on her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, she rotated on the spot, staring resolutely at the floor. “Sorry,” she whispers, this times Pavi. It had been the first word she had learnt in the language, and in her second tongue... it was probably the first word she had spoken in her mother tongue too, such was the child-slave's upbringing and nature. Her eyes flickered up to meet Shahar's, but they dropped within a tick.

[Colt]

She had made her way to the final hoof when Shahar returned, and she looked up with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

“What?”

“Yvas.” After a few moments, Shahar added “Saddle.” An yvas was probably unlike any saddle Hope had ever used before, but that was the point of this training. She would become familiar with this, too, in due time.

She didn’t seem quite sure what to think of this, or of Shahar, for that matter, and as she glanced back and forth between him and the yvas her hands forgot what they were doing.

Shahar jumped at Dainellas’ whinny, and when Hope moved to avoid the mare Shahar had to move to avoid her. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but then Hope was moving back towards Dainellas, apologising, asking forgiveness, apologising again in both Pavi and common, along with other words Shahar couldn’t recognize.

It took a moment for him to realize what had happened, and he quickly glanced at the foot that Hope had been cleaning. It wasn’t set gingerly; Dainellas didn’t appear to be even favoring it, which brought some measure of relief. The mare didn’t seem particularly happy with Hope, though, and had no qualms about letting her know it. And still Hope apologized, stroking her neck, scratching, murmuring in foreign tongues until Dainellas whinnied again, softer and and less sudden. Shahar sighed to himself; such a mishap was bound to have occurred sometime. He was glad it hadn’t done any damage.

After a moment, Hope seemed to remember his presence and turned, eyes glued to the ground. He crossed his arms, but his posture was not one of anger. Perhaps a bit of annoyance, but not a great amount; it was Dainellas she had to apologize to, not him, and she had earned the horse’s forgiveness. It was not his place to deal out more punishment.

She didn’t seem to think so, however, as was evidenced by her refusal to meet his eyes. He couldn’t help a chuckle.

“Hope,” he said, exasperated amusement. “Mistake. Learn, and don’t make it again.” He gestured low, where her downward gaze would catch it, in an attempt to regain her attention.

“Here,” he continued, gesturing to the tack at his feet. Do this, now. He picked up the pad and held it out to her. “Pad.”

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

* Hope * * “Sorry.” Despite Shahar’s words, the discomfort continued to show as she absently stroked the horse behind her. Even though she understood most of what he was saying to her, the words went in one ear and out the other. A quick glace up showed the man standing there with his arms crossed and a relatively irate look on his face, at least, that’s what she read in his expression. The Taloban-born ex-slave had never known a master to be kind or understanding when she had made mistakes, and those experiences weighed heavily on her min and were clouding her vision now. “Sorry.” She dropped her hand from the horse and scratched at an itch on her upper arm, though she continued to do so after the itch vanished, partly as she wanted something to do but mostly because she was too distracted to even consider stopping. “He hates me, he hates me,” her thoughts began to take over, “he saw what I did, saw the horse’s reaction, saw how the horse reacted. Is she hurt, really, I can’t tell, but maybe he can…” the scratching grew a little more fervent as her anxiety rose, though, after years of practice, her breathing didn’t increase and there was no other outward sign of her panic. “He saw, he saw. He told me not to do that, and I did it. Why did I have to be so stupid, why didn’t I just pay attention? He’s going to-” The brunette girl flinched as something brushed against her, violently dragging her out of her vicious cycle of thoughts. “Sorry!” Hope couldn’t help it; her eyes refocused to notice that the man was now standing right in front of her. After over a Season of him not touching her, she had grown complacent, she realised, which was incredibly dangerous for her. Her complacency had made her forget what brought her here, and how the man in front of her came to know her. The auction, which had felt like a distant memory, was suddenly brought back to the front of her mind. And she was about to pay the price for forgetting her place. But as she shuddered, her gaze fell to what had actually touched her – a blanket. Dumbly, she took it from his hands and glanced between it and her owner in mild confusion. Then pale blue eyes, which were now growing slightly red-rimmed as she forced herself to hold back the tears threatening to fall, drifted down to the saddle-like object… the yvas, as he had called it, she recalled. Dimly, she was aware of what the blanket’s purpose might be, but the hazy fog had returned to settle over her mind, and she was resolute that she would not move without being instructed on exactly what to do, lest she make a similar mistake again. OOCI have no idea where I was going with this – it seemed to fit and not fit all at the same time… but, even though it's so short, it took me forever to write and I gave up! Hopefully you can make something of it o.O