Father and mother both felt it was time I made my place in the tribe.. I know I am one of many young prospects from the outer wagons.. but hey.. they are not me.. I thought I was ready but boy was I wrong..
Question after question.. how many kinds of bosk are there... what do I bring.. how do you cure leather... I could not think fast enough.. So when I went back to my fathers wagon.. my brothers were standing there.. laughing.. teasing me.. saying look at the baby... How many bosk are there Yammiekins.. Well I knew that answer.. it was 15 but could I think of it when the woman asked me.. No it went right out screaming past my lips and out to dead air..
My father stood on the step of his and mothers wagon... a stern look on his face.. damn I knew I was in trouble now.. He prided himself on teaching us the ways.. and I had blew it... Looking at my eldest brother Sam.. he pointed to the kurt.. he kept on the side of the wagon.. I knew I was in for it now.. I had shamed him because I could not speak fast enough.. My mother stood, arms wrapped around her waist as she watched her only daughter... who had tried to step into the adult world.. just make a mess of it.. but she knew I would not give up..
My father pointed to the wheel of his wagon.. and Sam took me by the arm.. and held me against him.. My father was not a harsh man. he was fair and loving.. but in this moment.. I had brought my family shame and for that he would punish me..
"pull her tunic up Son" :my brother did not hesitate.. if anything my brothers.. were warriors.. their lives were rules and obdience.. and Sam lifted the back of my tunic as my father laid to my back 9 lashes.. one for each of my brothers my father and my mother... I will give my mother credit.. she did not flinch nor turn away.. my father would have doled out 9 more had she done that.. I on the other hand.. did flinch.. no matter how many times I had been whipped in my young life.. it still hurt.. but at least I had the cushion of my brother to somewhat soften the blows.. My other 6 brothers stood and watched in silence.. I was their baby sister.. but still a woman of the tribe.. and this in their eyes is a rightful punishment. I would be sent to my wagon.. to think and to study.. tears stung my eyes as I could feel the eyes of each one as I slipped into my wagon.. I would show my father.. I would make it to the first fires..
For now though.. I pulled a soft piece of leather I had been working on... and just held it.. and cried.. I hated to shame my father.. I would do better next time.. I would..
Question after question.. how many kinds of bosk are there... what do I bring.. how do you cure leather... I could not think fast enough.. So when I went back to my fathers wagon.. my brothers were standing there.. laughing.. teasing me.. saying look at the baby... How many bosk are there Yammiekins.. Well I knew that answer.. it was 15 but could I think of it when the woman asked me.. No it went right out screaming past my lips and out to dead air..
My father stood on the step of his and mothers wagon... a stern look on his face.. damn I knew I was in trouble now.. He prided himself on teaching us the ways.. and I had blew it... Looking at my eldest brother Sam.. he pointed to the kurt.. he kept on the side of the wagon.. I knew I was in for it now.. I had shamed him because I could not speak fast enough.. My mother stood, arms wrapped around her waist as she watched her only daughter... who had tried to step into the adult world.. just make a mess of it.. but she knew I would not give up..
My father pointed to the wheel of his wagon.. and Sam took me by the arm.. and held me against him.. My father was not a harsh man. he was fair and loving.. but in this moment.. I had brought my family shame and for that he would punish me..
"pull her tunic up Son" :my brother did not hesitate.. if anything my brothers.. were warriors.. their lives were rules and obdience.. and Sam lifted the back of my tunic as my father laid to my back 9 lashes.. one for each of my brothers my father and my mother... I will give my mother credit.. she did not flinch nor turn away.. my father would have doled out 9 more had she done that.. I on the other hand.. did flinch.. no matter how many times I had been whipped in my young life.. it still hurt.. but at least I had the cushion of my brother to somewhat soften the blows.. My other 6 brothers stood and watched in silence.. I was their baby sister.. but still a woman of the tribe.. and this in their eyes is a rightful punishment. I would be sent to my wagon.. to think and to study.. tears stung my eyes as I could feel the eyes of each one as I slipped into my wagon.. I would show my father.. I would make it to the first fires..
For now though.. I pulled a soft piece of leather I had been working on... and just held it.. and cried.. I hated to shame my father.. I would do better next time.. I would..
No comments:
Post a Comment