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Seeker has been learning well. She picked up on staying at the outside of the boots after a dozen times of stepping on her paws when she tried to weave between them as I walked, and half a dozen times of me tripping over her for a graceful spill to the ground. It was almost thought worth it when the pretty Tuchuk Maidens would run over with sounds of awing, though I was the one totally bypassed and Seeker given all the embraces and kisses. Yes, my luck. Though a young child walked up offering me a piece of his jerky as he stood next to me while I was peeling myself off the ground stating the obvious. "I think they like the sleen better then you" I could only chuckle, dusting myself off as I stood up again. Sharply I called Seeker over. Quickly she was back at my side, and I ruffled the boys hair as I started back towards the Healer wagons I was headed for to begin with.

During our walk I meet a young Weaver, and Salt Hunter. They were not mated, but seemed to work well together as a duo. I was impressed at the compassion both had with a young child, the Weavers brother, they were caring for. The boy had taken a spill, and seemed like a brave young Warrior. His wounds were minor, only needed to keep them clean. We did an exchange of goods and services. I would go see the ailing Father, and I offered the Weaver the wool from my herd of Verr. I would dare say I had as many as I had Bosk. It was a good handful of seasons ago I call the year of the Verr, I swear by the Sky it was the only payment I got. It was a good year. The Salt Hunter said he would be able to get me salt from the Thassa. That was rare in this parts, something that was a prime prize to remove from the Dwellers who dared the plains in wagons. The thought of raids made my blood kindle. I considered going to talk to the outer ring of riders. They and the hunters knew the winds and travels well. I felt the burn. The taste for victory in battle and will of the sky so be it, in death.

I swallowed it down, a Warrior with a heart that surged with anticipation of feeling blood between his fingers, the breaths taken by the fist that would tighten at a throat until its jerk of struggle was gone. This Warrior that breathed desire of violence. Made it just on time, with a pale yellow blanket in his hand, a sobbing Warrior on the steps of the wagon saying the only woman he has ever loved with his last breath was dying. I ran up the steps, to find Hannah in Labor. She had been suffering all day and refused to let her mate come for me. She wanted to be strong, prove she would be a good mother. I have to respect that. I let the birthing women surround her and I waited out with her Mate who was looking pale now. She was screaming, it was times like this, I wish I worked with a woman Healer. It still made me uncomfortable to invade a woman's personal space, no matter how many times I do so. Once we both get past that first moment of lifting leathers, things were all business. I waited until her mate gave me permission to go in, which was in the form of, him lifting me up and almost throwing me into the leather flaps of the entrance when she screamed again. I quickly talked to her calmly, looking at the blood that was staining the furs. The child was having hard time getting out. Cleaning a quiva, I told her honestly, this would hurt, needing to do a slice to make room for the baby to come out, for she was starting to tear, and to cut would reduce the damage, and give the room the baby needed. Within two ehns, a new Warrior joined the tribe. The women cleaned him, wrapped him in the pale yellow blanket I brought as a gift from the Weaver, and quickly stitched her as I was amazed how the two women who had to be three times as old as myself, were keeping the massive Warrior out until I was finished.

The night ended well. Blood was on my hands as I had craved, but it was a victory sweeter then death. A victory of life.