bhaskara recognizes the look on the painted stranger’s face… it is the same one she had worn over and over and over again on her travels back to these isles in search of her family, her home… solemn understanding and disappointment. there is something else in the look, a strange familiarity of the soft brown eyes of the stranger that causes her head to tilt. bhaskara smiles her own small apologetic smile, almost wishing she had cause to delay the mare, to speak a while with her and draw out the conversation. without fjodur’s constant scolding she almost felt lonely. her dark lips part as she prepares to wish the mare well, but she is pleasantly surprised when it is the other who speaks. the breath she was holding swishes out in relief and her posture, poised on the edge of a goodbye, settles into the unfolding conversation. ”there are herds there now, and robust ones at that. i had hoped to take land there, where i was born, but have failed twice now to gain control of it.” there is a sense of shame in admitting it, but also redemption. she had tried at least… and she would likely try again someday, to take the land her father had ruled over. bhaskara looks away somewhat sheepishly, wondering if the stranger will think her odd for attempting such a thing and even more so for making such an admittance to a stranger no less, but it feels good to speak it aloud. ”were the companions you seek borne from salem as well?” |