Flashback Chores and training

[Ashka Windrunner]

Endrykas, morning of the 14th of Summer, 514


Ashka woke up from a heavy slumber to the smell of meat grilling on the fire. Rubbing her eyes and stretching, she sat up and listened as the household awakened. Iris*her mother was already dressed up, and she could hear her brothers talking outside, as well as the babies babbling with their mothers. Her cousins were still asleep next to her, so she reached for her clothes in silence and, once ready, stepped out of the room.

Siyah*her grandmother was alone in the main room, sitting on the softest fur they had and already at work. Ashka stood there quietly to observe the elder at her task. A small fire was burning in front of her, in the middle of the room. Over the flames water was boiling in a cooking pot. Her wrinkled fingers carefully opened the small wooden box she was holding, and took out a pinch of dark, dried-out roots. With great caution, she dropped them in the water and move the container away from the fire.

Ashka stepped forward. Smiling, her posture signed greeting, aid.
Can I help you Nan ? She asked. Her grey gaze met the older woman's hazel irides as she kneeled next to her. There was strength and wisdom in those eyes, a knowledge laboriously obtained through the years. The elder smiled back at her.
It's very kind of you, little fox. But there is no need, everything is ready, it just has to cool down.
As she said those words she stirred the decoction slowly, allowing the roots to infuse the liquid with their soothing properties.
Is it his legs again ? Ashka inquired, her voice heightening with worry. Lohar, the Pavilion's Ankal and Ashka's grandfather, had recently been troubled by aching knees and feet, causing him to walk with difficulty. The young woman was concerned for his ability to go around freely in the future.

Siyah's eyes looked straight into hers. It was neither fear or trouble they showed, but love and insurance that all will be well.
He will be better, she said simply. This is Connal root. It will feel good. Soothes the body.
As she pronounced those words she signed relief and care. The light in her eyes was shining bright with determination. Ashka understood that, if that was necessary, her grandmother was ready to prepare and use the remedy every day.

The grandmother stood up slowly, and, without one more word, walked to the adjacent room, carrying the warm and precious liquid to her suffering husband.

Ash's lips stretched in a smile ; she was grateful everyday to be part of such a caring and strongly bonded family. Windrunners were ready to go to great length to ensure safety and comfort to one another. Siyah and Lohar were the best example of this unity, having been together for many years, through joy and difficulties, and supporting each other no matter what. One day perhaps she'll be fortunate enough to be part of a similar story...

The young woman shook her head out of her reverie. Before thinking of days long to come, present time required her attention. She had work to do, and the day was already well started. Today, as her uncle promised her, she will participate in the training of the young horses of the herd. It was a welcomed change from her usual grooming tasks, and the young woman was really enthusiastic at this idea, although slightly nervous. She could not mess it up, or this would be the last chance she'd get before a long time. Toril would not let her waste his time.

[Ashka Windrunner]

Ashka walked out of the pavilion. Her brothers were already there with their wives and sons, all playing together in the morning light. Drathan was mimicking a fight with his father who pretended to be defeated, a spark of pride illuminating his umber eyes. Reyn and Idathi watched, smiles bursting with love, as their son chased a beetle through the grasses.
In the warm air, Ash felt safe and happy, surrounded by a caring family under the clear blue sky.
Dalor, who, as always, woke up first, was grilling meat from yesterday's hunt on a large stone, over incandescent ember. Delicious scents filled the still air, and the woman realised her stomach was growling. She sat next to her cousin*Dalor and grabbed a piece of venison.

After a short conversation and an even shorter meal, Ash got up and hurried to the left side of the camp. She had chores to take care of before meeting with her uncle, and the faster whe would be done with it, the faster she'll get to the interesting part. On the big carriage next to their tent, she looked for her first tools of the day : a simple wooden basket containing brushes and combs. The Drykas picked it up and turned to a group of horses on her right.

The family's Seme were peacefully grazing about a hundred feet away from the main tent. As she got closer, all of them looked up, seemingly awaiting to greet the young woman. Syna's rays danced on their dark coats, golden beams on a chocolate-coloured canvas. The Windrunner Pavilion was blessed with four Seme, three mares and one old stallion. Doan, the youngest, whinnied at her, head high. She knew the Drykas was coming to groom them, and she was obviously looking forward to the feeling of the brush massaging her back.

As Ashka approached Doan, signing greetings, friend, the mare nickered gently at her. In spite of their impressive sight, the Seme were gentle giants, docile and eager to work and help. Endrykas and the entire Drykas community were very dependant on them to drag around their huge tents, and Ashka's family was thankful for them every day. But the Windrunner Pavilion had only settled a few days ago, and was not going anywhere before another three. There was no work for the Seme yet and they were enjoying these days of rest.

Ashka raised her hands and stroke the mare's head ; hair tangled with dust and dirt stuck to her palm as she ran it on Doan's back, and the woman realised she will need to use more than the usual soft-hair brush. She dropped the basket on the ground and picked up a wooden, round brush with rounded wooden tips. She began vigorous, circular moves on the Seme's shoulders, back, and sides. Doan snorted with satisfaction as patches of dust and loose hair flew off from her coat. She was the most lively of the band and found much enjoyment in time spend with humans.

Picking up a softer brushed made with vegetable fiber, Ashka worked on the rest of Doan's body : neck, belly, legs, everything was cleaned and checked for parasites or wounds. With this hot weather, examining the horses regularly was the best way to prevent pest to spread to the whole herd.

Doan's coat was now free of dirt and the mare neighed with contentment. But before letting her go back to her grazing, the hooves had to be taken care of.
Stay calm, beautiful, calm. With her soft tone and gentle touch, Ash had always been well received by horses and other domestic creatures. Doan was no exception ; the Seme stood still while Ash reached for a bended piece of metal especially designed to clean under horses feet. Standing sideway to the mare, the woman ran a hand along her leg and, using the weight of her body to push slightly at elbow height, she demanded and lifted the hooved foot.

[Ashka Windrunner]

The extremity of the tool dug into the dry mud and removed chunks of soil from the foot's sole. She worked carefully around the centre part of the sole, much more sensible.
The operation had to be repeated four times, while making sure to not be stepped on by a heavy foot. As comfortable as she was around horses, Ash couldn't help but think of how unfortunate a misplaced hundred-pounds-leg would be...

Luckily for her the mare was well trained and no such incident happened. Toril really had done a great work with her, and she was of a very complying nature. The woman congratulated her for her good attitude with a stroke of the head and a brief massage of the neck, softly palpating the muscles to release tension. Doan nickered, satisfied, and turned her attention back to the tasty grass beneath her.

The next one on the list would not be so easy-going. Bujir, the old stallion, was by far the most irritable and moody of all. As Ash walked to him, he raised his head and, facing the woman, ears pinned back, whinnied loudly. Bujir didn't get along with many people. He'd do his work fine, of course, but wasn't the horse to go to for hugs and cuddling. Ash kept walking forward, showing nothing of the unease creeping on her. If he sensed her being nervous, he would ignore her orders and maybe refuse to comply, and Toril would not let her train the horses if she wasn't able to even approach one.

She breathed deeply, to keep herself calm, and approached the stallion. Her steps were confident but measured. As she reached him and raised a hand to his nose as a greeting, Bujir seemed to quiet a bit, and answered her greeting with a soft snort. Ash knew that horses could feel people's emotions, but she was always impressed of how much of a difference it made when she composed herself. Tranquility filled her mind as tension left her muscles.

Her hands ran along the golden mane, while grey eyes glanced at the ears, looking for signs of fear or annoyance. He was still wary, but repeated strokes of the neck and soft-spoken words tempered the moody Seme into a more compliant mood. The Drykas began her usual task, gestures made natural and precise by time and practice. First it was the hard brush, to relax the horse and get rid of most of the dirt. Then the soft one, allowing for a more in-depth inspection of the horse's state of health.

A rather unpleasant sight struck her eyes as she examinated the rear legs. Inside the thighs, where the skin was soft and thinner, three grey and gleaming little domes could be seen, anchored to their position, soft and squashy like pearls of water.
Ticks.
Ash's face frowned at the parasites. They were common find in the high grasses but often carried diseases, which made them a pest to get rid of automatically.
She searched her basket for a pair of thin-tipped pincers and a small, round wooden box. Carefully, she approached the tips of the first bug and grasped it as close as possible from the skin. A firm but delicate movement of the wrist detached the tick from Bujir's skin, and the grey gaze checked with caution to make sure nothing stayed under the skin. The cautious fingers repeated their task twice to clear the stallion's skin, then rummaged through the tools to find a small jar containing a cleansing salveJile, from Miz lore. Ash then applied it to the area she had removed the bugs from, to avoid further infection. Bujir was old, and his health more fragile than other's.

Hooves were taken care of and it was with a certain relief and satisfaction that Ash moved on to the next horse. The memory of Bujir's last kick was still raw in the woman's mind, and it was with a certain pride that she acknowledged her progress with the moody stallion. Even though he had been wary at least this time he didn't try to kick her away.
All in the attitude, she thought. The better the approach, calm and composed, the better the outcome. Hope it works for humans as well...