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Old 03-12-2004, 09:09 PM   #137
Hilde Bracegirdle
Relic of Wandering Days
 
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Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: You'll See Perpetual Change.
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Surinen

As the wind had risen out of the north, Surinen had found shelter from the wind on the leeward side of a camel lying quietly among the gorse bushes. Covering his nose with his curling tail, the maenwaith had formed a circle, his ears alert, shifting with each crack or bleat as he waited out the storm. Whipping through the camp, the wind severed by the tent strings had sounded hauntingly like the weird call of a jackal loose in the camp, and the wool panels joined in with their erratic thunk. It was not a bad storm, he had reassured himself, but still he had found that he wished for the peace that would come once the blast had lessened into a breeze again, and the sun had climbed down from the sky, relieving the heat that fed it.

But even that would not end the unrest that he bore in his heart. Too many strange occurrences were pressing on it. Ayar, who was in this troubling state, lay in bed so indisposed that the flocks could not be moved to fresher grounds – a thing he could not recall having happened before. And of course Rôg’s appearance as well, but more deeply distressing to him was learning that his uncle had not alerted the other elders to his report of a stranger in their proximity, as he had thought him sure to do. In fact, he had seemed quite reluctant to even hear his nephew’s account, when the young man had transformed panting and bewildered in his tent. At the time the outrider thought it mere distain that governed his uncle Fador’s quick dismissal, but that he should discount the message as well as the messenger was not fitting. And Surinen felt not only slighted, but also disturbed by it. Was he no longer to be trusted? Were his accounts taken so lightly? No, the gathering of elders had paid heed to his voice. He was not out of favor with them.

The outrider decided that it must be on account of his sister that his uncle mistrusted him. Perhaps he had heard some unfavorable news of her that had not been told Dinsûl. But he was not as Mîrya, though the same blood flowed through their veins. She, though maenwaith , had seemingly little real love for what she was, or else she would surely have returned to the clan long ago. Perhaps when Thorn returned he could be persuaded to speak on his behalf, and knowing Surinen’s character well, he could vouch for his loyalty, calming any doubts the uncle might have. But then who could say when Thorn might return!

More so today Surinen wished that Thorn might see that he should stay where he was needed and not go out among the others, who were bound to bring him only sadness and disappointment. The clan need not so much trade in horses or goods, for their needs were few and simple ones. They needed more Thorn’s presence and common sense than his dealings with the caravans.

But now as the storm was subsiding Surinen lifted his muzzle eyeing the goats and sheep that grew restless around him. As the weather further improved the flocks became more adventurous, straying outside the confines of the brush, and the mottled dog slowly got to its feet. After shaking the sand from his coat, Surinen leaned back with a yawn, stretching his front legs. And loping easily around the errant ones, he silently and gently brought them back into the group.
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