25
I awake to the sound of a camp preparing for the new day. At first, I think I am back with my people, my mother is rising to prepare the tea and milk that is our morning nourishment. Then I remember where I am, the rhythm of the morning and language different.
As I roll up my bedding, a small band of men rides away, Klim on the black horse at the lead. Now is the time I could slip away, continue my journey, but to where? More importantly, the old man and boys left behind are cutting chunks off the carcass that had been roasting overnight in the ring of charcoal and hot stones. The smell of roasted meat and my growling belly draw me to it. One of the youths points at me and then at the fire pit and chatters to the man cutting meat from the shoulder. The man grins at me and says somethi
