5K!

Hello Earthlings,

I met my goal for the weekend!  So jokes!


I’m not allowed to herd sheep.  The general theory is that, because I am only a half-blood Herder, I can’t possibly be competent in the herding department.  I don’t really believe that and, honestly, I’m pretty certain that my Mistress believes it, either.  In fact, I’d be willing to bet that, if my Mistress asked Master Athanaric, he’d be willing to give me a sheep or two to practice on.  Unfortunately, I’m pretty certain that all of the ‘real’ Herders do believe that I can’t do it and would not be very happy if I was given the chance.  
Take my cousin, for example.  She seems to be pretty well on her way to living up to all her mother’s aspirations for her.  She is a beautiful example of all that the Herder breed can be.  She is strong, fast and I’m not completely convinced that she doesn’t have some sort of mental power over those sheep the way they fly to do what she commands of them.  She also hates me pretty much with a passion.
We might have been practically sisters, all things considered.  Her mother, my Aunt Rosie, nursed me through my infancy.  Sure, she had to be essentially forced to do it.  I heard that she even had the audacity to tell my Mistress that she would not do it, until Master Abidan had to step in and threaten to punish her if she did not mind.  And granted, she had as little to do with me other than feeding me as she could and then had me weaned as early as she could manage.  But, despite all this, I wasn’t sure what real reason Bud had to dislike me.
That my Aunt Rosie detested me and why was never a mystery.  She never withheld a chance to share my long list of faults, the primary two being that I was a disgusting dilution of her proud bloodline and the second being that it was my fault that her gentle little sister was killed.
There’s only so many times that you can be told that you murdered the mother that you never knew before you become pretty much immune to it.  I hit that point when I was about four.
Still, I couldn’t understand why Bud made it her personal mission in life to make me as miserable as possible as often as she was able.  Like mother, like daughter, maybe?  She certainly wasn’t upset over my mother’s death, given that she was far too young when she was killed to remember her.  Regardless of the reason, I’d stopped trying to be friends with my cousin.  Though I did take the chance, whenever I could, to watch her work from the sidelines.  She was beauty in motion.
My aunt had born a number of other cousins after Bud, but all of them were sold by the time they were old enough to be away from their mother.  I sometimes wondered if they would have liked me any more than Bud.
Occasionally, I would try my hand at herding on the chickens.  Can I just say that chickens are incredibly boring and resistant to being herded?  Fortunately, everybody pretty much ignores the chickens during the day, so the only one who ever saw my ridiculous efforts was my Mistress, and she loved me no matter how silly I was.
I grew up in the big house, with the Master and his family.  I had my own little bed in my Mistress’s room.  The only other humans that were even allowed in the big house were the dainty twin Coccinelles and Cara, the old Faylinger.  The Coccinelles belonged to my Mistress’s mother and always fascinated me.  They were so tiny!  They couldn’t have been more than three feet tall, though they were both much older than I was.  They had silky blond hair and their skin was creamy white, though one of the two, Chichi, had one hand and forearm that was the same yellow color as her hair.  Her sister Mimi was unbroken white.  They generally did not deem to acknowledge my existence, as I certainly wasn’t your typical house-human, but I liked them anyway.
Sometimes I would sit unnoticed and listen to them gossip while they did needlepoint.  They told each other little stories about meeting beautiful male Coccinelles (usually twin males, to match them) and having wildly heart-pounding romances that culminated in living happily ever after in the big house with their new beloveds.  They sounded like little birds chirping when they giggled together, and it always made me happy.
My aunt was one of the few other humans ever allowed in the house, and that was only when I was a baby so that she could nurse me.  I never really wondered about that until I was older and, being curious, decided that it woudl be great fun to sneak into the Herders’ cabin.  It was the middle of the day and so most of the Herders were out with their charges, but I managed to find my aunt and cousins’ room.  I felt delightfully naughty sitting on my aunt’s bed and looking around at her meager possessions.
Apparently, though, not all of the Herders were out working that day.  I saw a man walk by the door that I had left foolishly open.  There was a pause and then he stuck his head back in and stared at me.  I gazed back at him from my cross-legged position on my aunt’s blanket.  I remember thinking that he was very large, for a Herder.  Almost as big as one of the Hunters.  
Then he snarled at me.  “You’re Daisy’s mongrel,” he spat.
I wasn’t really used to hearing my mother’s name.  It was exactly off-limits, but most of the folks by whom I was surrounded at that point in my life had treated the name with a sort of sad reverence.  All wide-eyed innocence and stupidity, I had nodded, wondering if he knew any nice stories about my mysterious progenitor.  
Instead, he lunged at me.  I’m not entirely sure how I managed to squeak and fall off the bed before he got to me, but I was smart enough to take advantage of it and, while he plowed over the top of the furniture, I high-tailed it out of there on my hands and knees from under the bed.  I risked one quick glance over my shoulder at the bizarrely violent man as I ran at top speed out the door and the cabin.  I was very glad that he wasn’t terribly clever and was still looking surprised that he hadn’t killed me yet as I hit the door at a headlong pelt.  
I was a quick little thing but he was a full-grown man and, even with my head start, he would have had me had it not been for a bit of luck on my part.  Master Athanaric was just outside the cabin and I threw myself behind his legs, whining with fear.  Master Athanaric never really liked me, but I knew that he adored my Mistress and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her pet human while he could help it.  
I don’t think that the brutish man even realized that Master Athanaric was there until the master stopped him in his tracks without touching him.  I had always been impressed with the way that the masters could affect humans with just the force of their powerful minds, but I’d never been so grateful for that gift before.  The inexplicably angry man looked momentarily confused and surprised, like all of the rage that had been flowing throwing had slammed up against a brick wall and now he didn’t know quite what to do with the smashed remnant of emotion that was left.  
“Go back into the cabin, Hayl” Master Athanaric told him, calmly.  I could hear the power of suggestion he employed and, still looking dazed and a little lost, the large man did as he was told.
I lifted my head to thank Master Athanaric, but he cut me off, turning and sternly saying, “You must never go in there, Lali.  He would have killed you without a thought to the consequences.”
“Why?” I asked.  Questions were my downfall.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, giving me a light mental slap that caused me to withdraw, more stung in young pride than hurt.  “You do as I say and don’t go back there.  Now off with you.”
He did not need to use persuasive abilities on me.  I turned quickly and ran for the big house, seeking out my Mistress to rest my head in her lap and wait for the shaky waves of shock from the experience to fade and to be comforted that the world wasn’t such a horrible place after all.  
I learned two important things that day.  The first was to stay away from Hayl, a rule that I did not follow as well as I should have, resulting in some near shaves as he was relentless in the pursuit of my demise.  The second was that it was only safe to ask questions of my Mistress and the other humans.  In fact, I determined that by and large, the masters were better off left alone.
My Mistress, though, was the most lovely creature that existed in all the world.  She was far more beautiful than the other members of her family or any of the other masters that I saw come and go in passing on the estate.  Her skin was the softest and the light violet color that she flushed when she was pleased with me was my favorite color.  She was gentle and kind to me and always put up with my questions, even if she didn’t have answers.
“Why are the Coccinelles so small?”
She would flutter her fingers in thought for a moment and then explain, “Masters took the wild humans, who were living out in the forests and deserts and doing horrible things and hurting each other.  They brought them into society and tamed them.  Then they made them even better by  breeding them to fit certain roles in society.  Like they made Herders very smart and fast runners so that they could do a good job taking care of the domestic animals.”
“Then why did they make the Coccinelles so small?” I persisted, not seeing any purpose to such a thing.
She considered a little longer this time, then flushed violet in pleasure as she drew a conclusion.  “It was so that they could catch bugs and mice better.  And so that they would fit in their little beds.”
I nodded.  This made sense to me.  Chichi and Mimi were always quite proud of themselves when they caught something and could bring it to one of the masters to be congratulated.  Sometimes they were even given special treats as rewards, though they always shared those treats.  
Whenever I was feeling restless from sitting around the house and wanted to get outside to exercise myself, I would seek out the Hunters.  Sometimes they were gone with the Master, but if they were on the estate, I knew that I would have a good day.
No one ever said anything, but I knew that one of the West Barrow Hunters was my father.  My Mistress had a mirror in her bedroom and I had looked in it many times and examined the pale yellow eyes that stared back.  Only one breed of human that I knew of had those yellow eyes, and certainly only one breed on the estate.  Knowing what had happened to my mother, I never mentioned my conclusion, and they never spoke to me about it, either.  I had my suspicions about which one was my secret parent, but I was sadly aware that I would probably never know for certain.
Whether my suspicions about the leader of the West Barrow Hunter pack were true or not, all five of them had adopted me and treated me like my unofficial uncles.  This was such a delightful change from the snubbing that I received from the Herders that I preferred to identify myself by the West Barrow breed, though it felt sort of disrespectful to my unknown mother.  I could never think of myself fully as West Barrow, though, for two reasons.  First, I was not allowed to hunt any more than I was allowed to herd.  The one time I had tried to follow them out, the Master had sent a sharp rebuke back at me and I had retreated, severely chastised.  Second, despite my eyes, I didn’t look like a West Barrow Hunter.  My skin was covered in black spots that gave away my mixed parentage as clearly as a sign tattooed into my skin.
Despite my muddled appearance, the Hunters acted like I was their little princess, and I revelled in it.  
Westy was always the first to announce my impending arrival.  He was smaller and thinner than his pack brothers.  Even I could outrun him and he seemed rather timid compared to the others.  He made up for this, though, by having an incredible sense of hearing and an ability to track that, according to the other Hunters, made him an irreplaceable part of their hunting unit.
Lion was always the one who would immediately leap to his feet when this announcement was made, rushing to scoop me up and spin me around.  If he was feeling particularly jubilant, such as after a good hunt or shortly after eating, he would toss me into the air a few times, as well.  Lion was always up for a wrestle and wouldn’t cut me slack because I was smaller, younger and female.  I nearly had an arm dislocated by him once, before Jack called him off, and we had all laughed about it for an hour afterwards.
Rocky was the tease.  He could never pass up the chance to crack a joke at my expense.  To be fair, though, he cracked jokes at everyone's’ expense and it was simply understood that, from Rocky’s perspective, we all had big, red targets painted on our foreheads.  Occasionally, I managed to get a jab back at him and then all the other Hunters would laugh riotously and pat me on the back in congratulations.
Gentle Joe was the one I sought out if I needed comforting and my Mistress was not available.  He was, without a doubt, the heart of the pack and usually sat and watched everyone in quiet thoughtfulness.  He often managed to produce nuggets of wisdom that stayed with you for a long time.
Finally there was Jack, and what could I say about him?  He almost never said anything to me and from time to time I caught him watching me with a deeply sad expression.  Sometimes, even when I was nowhere near the Hunter pack, I felt his eyes on me, though I could never verify this for certain, as he could be invisible when he wanted.  But, in spite of his silence, I found him to be the most dignified and accomplished human possible.  I think I idolized him a little.
It had been raining for three days and I was absolutely dying to get out of the house, so when the sun had risen with the promise of a beautiful, warm spring day, there was no way I would stay in the house.  I wolfed down my breakfast, earning an annoyed stare from my Mistress's mother, though Mistress Ayondelle just laughed and told me not to choke.  After getting my required nutrition, I touched her hand and told her that I was going for a run.  She already knew that, of course.  No one knows me better than my Mistress, possibly not even me.
The run was glorious.  My legs stretched out before and behind me like they could never end.  The world passed around me like a dream that I was very happy to wake from and for a long time I just lost myself in the sensation of flying through the air in whatever direction I wanted to go.  
A sound caught my attention to the east and I recongized it and turned to follow.  I was curious as to whether I heard my cousin's flock or if they were the sheep of another Herder.  As I got close enough to see that it definitely didn't belong to my cousin, a blur to my left registered just in time for me to hit the brakes.  
Hayl's ungainly pounce landed him in a heap before me and I leaped over him with a laugh.  "You're getting old, Herder!" I shouted as I flew down the hill and towards the concealment of the forest.  I wasn't too worried about Hayl for a number of reasons.  First, I wasn't lying.  He was getting old and I had long since become faster, smarter and able to exert myself longer than him.  I was also relatively certain that Hayl wouldn't leave his flock, even for a chance to finally end my life.
The third reason that I felt relatively comfortable kicking the Herder hornet's nest was the pair of yellow eyes I saw watching me from the forest's edge.  I raised a hand in greeting, but Jack just turned and disappeared into the shade of the trees.  
By the time I reached the area he had been, Jack was nowhere to be seen, but I could still smell his train and see the minute signs of his passing.  A slightly bent twig or turned leaf read like a blinking arrow pointing me towards my target and I ran on, dodging around trees and leaping over rocks and fallen logs.  Before long, I could smell the other West Barrow Hunters and my excitement grew.
Suddenly, I was caught around the middle and found myself literally flying through the air, only to tumble back down to the waiting arms of a grinning Lion.  I laughed happily as I wrapped my arms around his neck and exclaimed, "You're way better at that than Hayl!"
"Fortunate for you," grumbled Westy, "Or he'd be picking you out of his teeth."
I gave the worry-wart an impish grin.  "You all taught me way too well to ever be caught by him."
Though I had never been allowed on a hunt, and was assured that I never would be, my West Barrow uncles had taken it upon themselves to teach me everything they knew.  They were particularly keen after my near miss at the Herder's cabin when I was little.  So they taught me all about using my senses, fighting, tracking, the different plants and animals that surrounded our estate and which were useful and which were poisonous.  
Jack, in those rare moments when he deemed to talk to me, gave me my most interesting lessons.  He would walk off with me alone, out of earshot of the other Hunters, and teach me about life.  "You have to care for yourself, Lali," he told me.  "You can never count on anyone else to take care of you, even if they want to.  You have to be strong or the world will overrun you."  
One time, when I had gotten too close to a master fence and been badly shocked, he had come very near to scolding me.  "You are full of questions and want to learn everything there is to know.  That's a good thing and part of your nature, but you must be smarter about it.  If you just plow into every situation like a squinty-eyed wild boar, you're going to get yourself killed and then you won't be able to learn anything else ever."
"You are different," he said, once.  "Most people will say that it is a bad thing, but they're wrong.  You are unique and special.  You have the skills and senses of a Hunter and the cleverness and curiosity of a Herder."  He'd stared into my eyes that day, eyes that looked just like his, and told me softly, "You are beautiful, Lali.  Beautiful and worthwhile and don't ever forget it."
In the shade of the thick forest, being dripped on by the remnants of three days of rain, Jack didn't have any deep insights for me.  He just smirked a little and gave me a nod that said that he knew full well that Hayl would never take Lali.