Frost 10, Year 119
[Memory]
[Closed]
Nearly ten days' ride out of Tertium, the line of camels were getting closer to their destination as the sun shone overhead. By Frost, it wasn’t as harsh as Searing, when the brutal heat made daytime travel much harder and it was simply better to bed down for the day and travel happened at night. But now, the land was much more hospitable and Vorenus was leading his team along at a steady pace. Each of the camels that sported a rider had sunshades attached to the saddles, keeping the worst of the sun off of the Vastian nomads that walked in each other's steps. Hilana rode on Sakima, her dark-furred cow, and Sakima’s son Hayima’el walked behind her, a lead rope secured to his halter. He was still too young to carry a proper load, but his lessons involved a good deal more than hauling. She had her second camel, Juttia, with her. While bulls could carry a bigger load, Hilana enjoyed the pale-haired cow, as spirited as she was. She was more assertive than Sakima, and she certainly kept Hilana on her toes, but Juttia had been put in her place more than once by the camel that the Vastiana rode on... especially where her calf was concerned.
“Overhead,” one of the men called out, and Hilana looked on, turning her head to look past the sunshade. They could see a number of wyverns flying in formation, each showing gear indicating that they were being ridden. She smiled, looking on. The teenager wondered often what it would be like to fly, but she hadn’t wanted to sacrifice the life she loved to find out. Chances were, opportunities for flying a wyvern would happen in Tertium. This was going to be one of her last trips out, at least for a while, if not the last one. Her apprenticeship under her great-aunt Eliana would be starting once she got into the city, and as a result, it meant having to submit to her father’s desires for her to finally act the way she was expected to as an Equestrian. And, more importantly to her father, as a Chenzira. The girl couldn’t hardly say that she was thrilled, but if anything, it would be temporary. Learn as much as she could, and see about disappearing into the sands. By then, she would have a good foundation, and she could make her way out and earn her own way. She wouldn’t have to worry about the cities, this nonsense about the merchant princelings of Tertium, and her father’s expectations for her to have a big brood of children and be a housewife. She didn’t get why he was so insistent on that, not when there were so many women who had careers outside the home. She knew she would go insane without one herself, and being stuck in the city was already going to be bad enough.
Within a few hours, they had stopped to make the goods exchange, loading the camels up with the supplies from the deserts, and making the trades - coin and supplies that were harder to get in the sands but were often regular staples for those that could travel to supplement what they found through foraging and hunting. The group would camp with the nomads for the night, and catch up and find out what news there was to be had down here. Hilana always enjoyed it - she loved talking and meeting people, and it would be fun to catch up with this tribe. There were a few of her father’s tribe amongst them, and that made them kin. It had been over a year since she had seen them last, and who knew when she was going to get to see them again? It was funny in a way; she got on better with them than Beyond that, she was on night watch as was her usual habit; but that didn’t bother her at all.
It was a good evening - lots of food, lots of stories, music, and laughing. When her pack had bedded down for the night, Hilana kept the fire going, enjoying tea and the quiet. She didn’t just sit there and rest in the sands, but she got up and moved regularly. The fires were kept burning, and she checked in on the camels where they had bedded down. She had the dried fava beans soaking overnight, and the sun hadn’t yet started to shine before Hilana had the stew going - with the beans starting to break down, she ground down the dried chili pepper in the mortar and pestle before it went into a pan with garlic and cumin seeds to start toasting. All of it went back into the mortar to be ground down, before she added heaping spoonfuls of tahini and squeezed out a couple of lemons into it. Salt and olive oil went into the pot, and she stirred it and let it go after putting the lid on the sturdy copper pot.
After another round of checking on the perimeter, padding silently strolling around the outskirts of the group that slept in tents or on bedrolls, she could continue on. Now it was time for making pitas, and that was something else she enjoyed. The girl poured the warm water into the enormous mixing bowl before opening the sack of dried yeast and sprinkling it on, letting it foam and bubble while she lined up the flour, salt, and lard. Once the yeast had woken up, Hilana scooped in and sprinkled the flour and salt in, before cutting in the lard. She started with an oversized fork to blend it, adding more flour as she went, before turning it out onto the kneading board that was covered in waxed cloth and more flour. Now she could get down to business, settled as she was on her knees, kneading away at the dough in the light of the fire until it was elastic and no longer sticky. It went into yet another bowl that she drizzled with a bit of olive oil, and covered with a cloth to let it rise while she cleaned up from the first part of the work. Inasmuch as she was a hurricane of a girl, it had been impressed on her from a young age that when it came to cooking spaces, she had best keep them tidy. That way she didn’t have a huge amount of cleanup to do later.
She could activate the portable oven to get it hot to prepare to bake the pitas, and considering how many of them there were, she would be doing it in batches for quite a while. She had another cup of tea, giving her stew a stir and making sure nothing was sticking. She let the scent of the spices and beans and oil and lemon waft up. Just the way it was supposed to be, and she confirmed it with a quick taste test. She did add a touch more salt to the mixture, but other than that, Hilana was satisfied. Once the pita dough had risen for the first time, almost doubling in size inside the enormous mixing bowl, the girl turned it back out onto her board and started to portion it, deftly eyeballing and measuring them with her hands for weight, but as long as they were similar, it didn’t matter that they were exactly the same. It was, for all of its stops and starts, a fairly labour-intensive process. Because space was limited compared to the amount of pitas that she was baking, Hilana portioned, let them rise, then rolled and flattened, rolled again, and then put them in the portable clay oven that all but blasted a rather brutal heat. But high heat worked best for a short period, because this way, as each of the batches came out, the next was ready to go in, and once they were done, they could go into a basket to rest.
Not far off, some of the nomads were already doing the same - getting breakfast ready for their families, though Hilana had been the only one on watch duty. They trusted her to wake them if something came up, after all, and some of them had left food cooking down overnight in order to have a thick porridge ready for breakfast. Larger pots of tea were hung up over the fire, knowing that her pack was going to be waking up soon, and as soon as the tea was ready, the rest of her crew was wide awake. They could eat, and while they would talk a bit more with the tribe that they had traveled to meet, Vorenus was always all business and it was going to be time to get underway before too much longer. All the same, the girl enjoyed her breakfast, Tiaz draped around her shoulders and hanging out rather contentedly, and helped with the cleanup and packing. Her large bengal cat, Risdra, got her breakfast: leftover sandcock from the night before, and Hilana tucked her young python in his cloth sack where he had spent most of the night before.
The camels were groomed, repacked, and organized. Now that her calf was older, Hilana was back to riding Sakima, and her spare cow, Juttia, was helping to haul supplies and goods. Hayima’el was still used to getting packed - but he was also young, and still growing. He wasn’t quite ready to carry her, or much else right then, either... even if he was developing into a good-sized boy. His sire had been considerable in size, and now Hayima’el... the Vastiana was looking forward to seeing how he did. Much of what he was doing now was learning to follow the herd, learning to carry and haul and listen. It was bonding, and getting used to everything. The commands, the touches, the people, the jostling, the weight. She pressed a kiss to his muzzle before putting Risdra in her basket at the front of Sakima’s polished wooden saddle. Tiaz went back into his cotton sack, though it was attached to her belt just to be safe. Sakima was roped to Tobias’ saddle in front of her, and her son was roped to her. Juttia was secured to the back bar of Sakima's saddle. Once they started out, it would be Hilana’s turn to sleep since she was up all night, settling back against the cushion positioned against the back bar of the saddle. For her, and for her pack, it worked out well. The rhythm that she was so used to, the gait of her Sakima beneath her, rocked her to sleep as surely as any babe in the cradle.
[Memory]
[Closed]
Nearly ten days' ride out of Tertium, the line of camels were getting closer to their destination as the sun shone overhead. By Frost, it wasn’t as harsh as Searing, when the brutal heat made daytime travel much harder and it was simply better to bed down for the day and travel happened at night. But now, the land was much more hospitable and Vorenus was leading his team along at a steady pace. Each of the camels that sported a rider had sunshades attached to the saddles, keeping the worst of the sun off of the Vastian nomads that walked in each other's steps. Hilana rode on Sakima, her dark-furred cow, and Sakima’s son Hayima’el walked behind her, a lead rope secured to his halter. He was still too young to carry a proper load, but his lessons involved a good deal more than hauling. She had her second camel, Juttia, with her. While bulls could carry a bigger load, Hilana enjoyed the pale-haired cow, as spirited as she was. She was more assertive than Sakima, and she certainly kept Hilana on her toes, but Juttia had been put in her place more than once by the camel that the Vastiana rode on... especially where her calf was concerned.
“Overhead,” one of the men called out, and Hilana looked on, turning her head to look past the sunshade. They could see a number of wyverns flying in formation, each showing gear indicating that they were being ridden. She smiled, looking on. The teenager wondered often what it would be like to fly, but she hadn’t wanted to sacrifice the life she loved to find out. Chances were, opportunities for flying a wyvern would happen in Tertium. This was going to be one of her last trips out, at least for a while, if not the last one. Her apprenticeship under her great-aunt Eliana would be starting once she got into the city, and as a result, it meant having to submit to her father’s desires for her to finally act the way she was expected to as an Equestrian. And, more importantly to her father, as a Chenzira. The girl couldn’t hardly say that she was thrilled, but if anything, it would be temporary. Learn as much as she could, and see about disappearing into the sands. By then, she would have a good foundation, and she could make her way out and earn her own way. She wouldn’t have to worry about the cities, this nonsense about the merchant princelings of Tertium, and her father’s expectations for her to have a big brood of children and be a housewife. She didn’t get why he was so insistent on that, not when there were so many women who had careers outside the home. She knew she would go insane without one herself, and being stuck in the city was already going to be bad enough.
Within a few hours, they had stopped to make the goods exchange, loading the camels up with the supplies from the deserts, and making the trades - coin and supplies that were harder to get in the sands but were often regular staples for those that could travel to supplement what they found through foraging and hunting. The group would camp with the nomads for the night, and catch up and find out what news there was to be had down here. Hilana always enjoyed it - she loved talking and meeting people, and it would be fun to catch up with this tribe. There were a few of her father’s tribe amongst them, and that made them kin. It had been over a year since she had seen them last, and who knew when she was going to get to see them again? It was funny in a way; she got on better with them than Beyond that, she was on night watch as was her usual habit; but that didn’t bother her at all.
It was a good evening - lots of food, lots of stories, music, and laughing. When her pack had bedded down for the night, Hilana kept the fire going, enjoying tea and the quiet. She didn’t just sit there and rest in the sands, but she got up and moved regularly. The fires were kept burning, and she checked in on the camels where they had bedded down. She had the dried fava beans soaking overnight, and the sun hadn’t yet started to shine before Hilana had the stew going - with the beans starting to break down, she ground down the dried chili pepper in the mortar and pestle before it went into a pan with garlic and cumin seeds to start toasting. All of it went back into the mortar to be ground down, before she added heaping spoonfuls of tahini and squeezed out a couple of lemons into it. Salt and olive oil went into the pot, and she stirred it and let it go after putting the lid on the sturdy copper pot.
After another round of checking on the perimeter, padding silently strolling around the outskirts of the group that slept in tents or on bedrolls, she could continue on. Now it was time for making pitas, and that was something else she enjoyed. The girl poured the warm water into the enormous mixing bowl before opening the sack of dried yeast and sprinkling it on, letting it foam and bubble while she lined up the flour, salt, and lard. Once the yeast had woken up, Hilana scooped in and sprinkled the flour and salt in, before cutting in the lard. She started with an oversized fork to blend it, adding more flour as she went, before turning it out onto the kneading board that was covered in waxed cloth and more flour. Now she could get down to business, settled as she was on her knees, kneading away at the dough in the light of the fire until it was elastic and no longer sticky. It went into yet another bowl that she drizzled with a bit of olive oil, and covered with a cloth to let it rise while she cleaned up from the first part of the work. Inasmuch as she was a hurricane of a girl, it had been impressed on her from a young age that when it came to cooking spaces, she had best keep them tidy. That way she didn’t have a huge amount of cleanup to do later.
She could activate the portable oven to get it hot to prepare to bake the pitas, and considering how many of them there were, she would be doing it in batches for quite a while. She had another cup of tea, giving her stew a stir and making sure nothing was sticking. She let the scent of the spices and beans and oil and lemon waft up. Just the way it was supposed to be, and she confirmed it with a quick taste test. She did add a touch more salt to the mixture, but other than that, Hilana was satisfied. Once the pita dough had risen for the first time, almost doubling in size inside the enormous mixing bowl, the girl turned it back out onto her board and started to portion it, deftly eyeballing and measuring them with her hands for weight, but as long as they were similar, it didn’t matter that they were exactly the same. It was, for all of its stops and starts, a fairly labour-intensive process. Because space was limited compared to the amount of pitas that she was baking, Hilana portioned, let them rise, then rolled and flattened, rolled again, and then put them in the portable clay oven that all but blasted a rather brutal heat. But high heat worked best for a short period, because this way, as each of the batches came out, the next was ready to go in, and once they were done, they could go into a basket to rest.
Not far off, some of the nomads were already doing the same - getting breakfast ready for their families, though Hilana had been the only one on watch duty. They trusted her to wake them if something came up, after all, and some of them had left food cooking down overnight in order to have a thick porridge ready for breakfast. Larger pots of tea were hung up over the fire, knowing that her pack was going to be waking up soon, and as soon as the tea was ready, the rest of her crew was wide awake. They could eat, and while they would talk a bit more with the tribe that they had traveled to meet, Vorenus was always all business and it was going to be time to get underway before too much longer. All the same, the girl enjoyed her breakfast, Tiaz draped around her shoulders and hanging out rather contentedly, and helped with the cleanup and packing. Her large bengal cat, Risdra, got her breakfast: leftover sandcock from the night before, and Hilana tucked her young python in his cloth sack where he had spent most of the night before.
The camels were groomed, repacked, and organized. Now that her calf was older, Hilana was back to riding Sakima, and her spare cow, Juttia, was helping to haul supplies and goods. Hayima’el was still used to getting packed - but he was also young, and still growing. He wasn’t quite ready to carry her, or much else right then, either... even if he was developing into a good-sized boy. His sire had been considerable in size, and now Hayima’el... the Vastiana was looking forward to seeing how he did. Much of what he was doing now was learning to follow the herd, learning to carry and haul and listen. It was bonding, and getting used to everything. The commands, the touches, the people, the jostling, the weight. She pressed a kiss to his muzzle before putting Risdra in her basket at the front of Sakima’s polished wooden saddle. Tiaz went back into his cotton sack, though it was attached to her belt just to be safe. Sakima was roped to Tobias’ saddle in front of her, and her son was roped to her. Juttia was secured to the back bar of Sakima's saddle. Once they started out, it would be Hilana’s turn to sleep since she was up all night, settling back against the cushion positioned against the back bar of the saddle. For her, and for her pack, it worked out well. The rhythm that she was so used to, the gait of her Sakima beneath her, rocked her to sleep as surely as any babe in the cradle.