The Dying Season of winter had reached the barbaric lands of Llothgar. Passed the craggy horizon of the great mountain range, to the west in the lands where the Se?Leqi tribe moved from one hunting ground to the next in their nomadic ways the snows had begun.
The tribe of Se?Leqi was known for their talents with wool, furs, horses, and leather. These things were worked expertly and traded with the other tribes when movement within their seasonal path brought them in contact with them normally during warmer months.
The tents of the Se?Leqi were of varying sizes of animal skins that were painted brightly and colorfully with figures of men and animals as well as simple handprints to show to any that neared each of them which tent belonged to whom.
People moved among them or crouched beside local fires to each or at the central firepit at the core of the encampment. Children ran and played, chasing each other and laughing. A dog could be heard barking in complaint of something. One posts and poles of wood, seasoned meats were hung nest to pelts and skins.
Free born men and women along with their property were at work with things that were needed to keep the encampment and tents alive, from gathering food and wood to tending to children and animals.
Feathery bits of snow were floating on the air, errant in their fall that seemed to take longer than usual on the cold, flighty wind of the midday.
At the rocky bank of the river than ran nearby the slave of the tribal lord Gracus u?Lor stood. A few others of her status were busy dipping the mouths of jugs and leather bladders into the cold, rushing water to fill them while Ghetra stood there with two water skins in hand. The full weight of them pulled at her, digging their leather straps in against her palm but she ignored it. Leather halter and low-riding panels of leather worn as a version of a very short skirt did little to warm her. A wolf pelt about her shoulders did better for her and wraps of cured leather on her feet lay between her flesh and the bitter ground beneath.
Exotic eyes watched the opposite bank of the river and a stag that stood there to watch her in return. Other than its wild beauty, Ghetra watched it for other resons that lips told nothing of at that time. The creature did not bound off but remained there a long time before taking a quick drink, then wandering back into the thick forest until Ghetra could no longer see him. She smile and a quick, quiet sound of mirth was in her throat.
The hand that held the full water skins lifted and bared the metal cuff about that same wrist in order to adjust the pressure of the skins against her palm. Then the slave girl made a clucking sound of her tongue from the top of her mouth to just behind her bottom teeth. The sound was enough to turn the heads of the other slaves. Some hurried with filling their vessels while others drew to their feet and moved away from the river and headed back to where the tents stood.
The tribe of Se?Leqi was known for their talents with wool, furs, horses, and leather. These things were worked expertly and traded with the other tribes when movement within their seasonal path brought them in contact with them normally during warmer months.
The tents of the Se?Leqi were of varying sizes of animal skins that were painted brightly and colorfully with figures of men and animals as well as simple handprints to show to any that neared each of them which tent belonged to whom.
People moved among them or crouched beside local fires to each or at the central firepit at the core of the encampment. Children ran and played, chasing each other and laughing. A dog could be heard barking in complaint of something. One posts and poles of wood, seasoned meats were hung nest to pelts and skins.
Free born men and women along with their property were at work with things that were needed to keep the encampment and tents alive, from gathering food and wood to tending to children and animals.
Feathery bits of snow were floating on the air, errant in their fall that seemed to take longer than usual on the cold, flighty wind of the midday.
At the rocky bank of the river than ran nearby the slave of the tribal lord Gracus u?Lor stood. A few others of her status were busy dipping the mouths of jugs and leather bladders into the cold, rushing water to fill them while Ghetra stood there with two water skins in hand. The full weight of them pulled at her, digging their leather straps in against her palm but she ignored it. Leather halter and low-riding panels of leather worn as a version of a very short skirt did little to warm her. A wolf pelt about her shoulders did better for her and wraps of cured leather on her feet lay between her flesh and the bitter ground beneath.
Exotic eyes watched the opposite bank of the river and a stag that stood there to watch her in return. Other than its wild beauty, Ghetra watched it for other resons that lips told nothing of at that time. The creature did not bound off but remained there a long time before taking a quick drink, then wandering back into the thick forest until Ghetra could no longer see him. She smile and a quick, quiet sound of mirth was in her throat.
The hand that held the full water skins lifted and bared the metal cuff about that same wrist in order to adjust the pressure of the skins against her palm. Then the slave girl made a clucking sound of her tongue from the top of her mouth to just behind her bottom teeth. The sound was enough to turn the heads of the other slaves. Some hurried with filling their vessels while others drew to their feet and moved away from the river and headed back to where the tents stood.