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I had figured it out. I had been asking many to find me herlit feathers. I was great at outsourcing to get what I need when I was having overloads of patients. I thought I would look through those freshly brought to me, and something would tell me which would be the right one. For some reason, the answer came to me, while I was on patrol. I was at the post just outside our lands, letting Cure have his head and pace the grounds, as we were both alert in the light of the stars and moons. Seeing wings overhead be the only break in the light, was when it, all made sense. I felt like some young man bringing in his first kill. I had figured it out, like the wager was based on a riddle. For some odd reason, I pondered if Tarra would be impressed. I got it. Or of how I would interpret it. In inner chuckle cleared my head of it. Here and now. Looking out across the night, did I see something, just as soon as there was a low growl in the breeze from Kado. It was small, thin legged. I sent Kado out to bring it to me. It would be a fitting task, as I had been working with him in herding at night. I was looking around for any hint of any others that might be around, for this was obviously a woman. She was wearing torn clothing, not of a slave, I did a quick assessment once the girl was brought back to me, by the young dark sleen. She was speaking, screaming, which I took no heed to her, but would send off Kado to search the grounds, while I entertained myself with tearing the bits of cloth from her body, and bind her to my saddle. She was lucky I was just doing another round before going back, or I would have kept her bound to the back of my saddle for the rest of my patrol. I took her back to my wagons, and found that she was no stranger to slavery, even if her clothing had told tales of something different, her body and soul didn't.

I was impressed, very much so, at her strive to learn and adjust. I am not an easy man to serve, but in time, she will adjust to my schedule. Over the days that have pasted, I think her and Tasha learned a lesson. One that you respect what is mine. Takara's ignorance was Tasha's mistake. I think the strikes of my displeasure was an impact on Takara, but the beating she received later, was a lesson to her. Jealous behavior would not be okay when it came to the well being of what is mine. I blamed Tasha for Takara being to stupid to feed herself. You are not in the city anymore, eat to work, eat to work harder. Drink to stay strong, be smart. I think she is use to coddling Dwellers that like to puppet their slaves every motions. Here, slaves had to think. After that, I doubt there as any issues anymore. At least on the minor stuff. I have heard some pleased with her. This makes me proud. She is a vessel of heat and passion, yet, yearns to do better. I see it in her actions. She is beautiful. I have yet to see what the core of her desires, right now I just have seen the generic slave. A slut that serves in want. I want to see what her heart has to say, not any past imprints of others, I want to see, her. There are times I wonder if I see that glow of pure self. I have noticed with Dweller slaves that come over, that glow is a mere wet wick barely holding a flame. Self has been taken out of them, but after time, it starts to show, in a life that needs personality. Like here on the plains. I feel almost excited to see it shine. To peel away the layers of past and find, the being that has been dressed and trained in palms of many. I can't find fault in it all, for she brings me water with cloths when I sit. Such a simple gesture, makes me feel at home with her. I watch her walk, and it stirs me. Not like a common lust, but with a pride of owning a girl that seems to have a heat that wraps around her body as naturally as her own skin. I think of my name craved into her skin, that when any touch or use her, enjoy this vessel of insatiable passion, when she is fucked, its my name she feels bleeding against her flesh. Mine.

She was there, when the strangest thing happened to me. It was like everything around me stopped. There was just, me, her and the hand. I know I was talking I know she was talking, I know Takara was talking. I was fixing the hand. I was very worried about the hand. The owner of the hand, I liked, a lot. She was very caring, almost had this mothering feel, that brought me comfort, even if she was giving that soothing compassion to someone else. I wanted to fix her hand, make her happy. Heal her so she can again rock the anguish away from all that encounter her. I wondered if she knew, it wasn't just the binds of colored wool she could knot, and make warm and safe. Even with this, I scolded her like a child. Perhaps a daughter. At my age, it was an obvious feeling. But...She. She was haunting me. Just there, touching the hand while I worked so hard to repair it. I brushed the side of her fingers, just in a moment of picking up a thin bone needle and thread. I felt a warmth, a memory. I worked, and I looked up, to her eyes, and my mind spoke, though not my lips. 'Do you know I feel in love with the feel of you, generations before you were born? A feel that has nothing to do with touch? Did you know that?' I felt a firm growl of inner sleen of logic telling me...to stop. I finished up my stitching, telling myself to avoid those eyes. They were too wise. Did not my heart seem to be concerned when she was off on a journey? It did. But the growl told me, not to worry about the Ubar's woman. He had that well taken care of, foolish man. I dismissed it then, why was I having issues now? Ignore it. We joked and laughed, in our world. The Weaver, was a joy. The line of sanity I needed, along with the brush of flesh of my girl. She had no idea how I used her to center myself with the reality of here and now. We walked the Weaver to her wagon, still a bit off on her balance. I let her, held the Weaver in her sleeping furs while I waited outside the wagon to walk her back towards the first fires. I looked to her, as we said our Be Wells. I wondered, if she felt it? Do you feel it? I wanted to know. Sanity was waiting for me at my wagons, I had to find it. I ran to it.

I fucked it with such violence, I think neither of us will look at blue ribbons ever the same, and I slept with her blood still at my tongue. And a rage that was brewing deep in my dreams.