I usually travel by myself (ch7)

Synopsis: Madga arrives in Nahmin in the middle of a storm. She finds delicious food, a warm bed, and unwanted attention from a travelling bard.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Nearly warm rains assaulted the beach. Ragged ocean waves crashed down, leaving driftwood ashore, before dragging it back in an instant later. A sudden gust pushed against a wave; it splashed and arched high, glittering in a thin slice of moonlight before the moon disappeared behind the clouds.

With the Nahmin tribe finally in sight Madga picked up the pace, climbing the gently sloping hill that rose above the beach. New visitors would quickly mistake the houses for smaller, oddly placed hills, but a careful eye could discern square wooden structures sitting on top of each hill, allowing smoke to rise from within, protected from rain and snow by small, peaked covers made from tightly woven reeds and grasses.

Madga dashed to the largest rectangular house and the entrances along the lengthwise side. No one dared brave the winds and rain, and as she neared she could make out many voices and music.

Sudden laughter rose as she stepped in. Someone shouted for her to shut the door and she did with a small gasp.

Outside the wild weather pawed at the door and roof, but didn’t break through. The instant heat sharply reminded her of her soaking clothes. Separate hearth fires crackled and hummed along the centre. People gathered around them, faces rosy from warmth, drink, and company.

She didn’t spot any particular hair colour other than auburn, and certainly not a shock of red or blond. She licked her lips and rubbed them together in thought. As she made for an empty bed she removed her wool hat, deeming it safe enough to reveal her long, wavy black hair.

She leaned her spear against the wall next to the cot and removed her pack. Her grey wool wrap and brown cloak came away easily, if heavy and weighed down with water. She stepped away, hanging them on a small wooden rack to dry next to other clothes. She untied her leather shoes from around her feet and placed them by the fire, also next to a few others. She put her hat and socks beside them before returning to the bed.

Everything in her pack had remained largely dry, if just the hint of dampness, like reaching into a rabbit’s hole in the cool ground. With a glance around she pulled out her long-sleeve linen tunic, leggings, and cloth shoes. No one seemed interested in her. She relaxed further and went to the end of the long house to change behind thick drapes. After remerging she hung up her wool tunic and leggings next to her wrap and cloak. Although the height of summer, the wool helped to keep her dry longer than linen would have.

She shook out her hair with a hand. It was already beginning to dry. Reaching into her pack she retrieved a cloth tied into a small bag and turned toward the largest fire. The chief would do, but she didn’t want to bother her. Or had enough time passed and they had a new chief? Perhaps a man, as was usual in Nahmin.

The sound of music grew as she wandered through the building. A happy flute and rhythmic rattles accompanied a deep drum. The thrum pressed against her chest, and together with the heat of the fires, it held her like a warm hug. A small smile spread across her lips.

A woman’s voice sung above the conversations. She sang of life’s bodily pleasures and Madga’s smile faltered. The tune was fun, but those songs weren’t her favourite. She altered her steps, turning away from the music and once again looking for her goal.

She followed the enticing, welcoming smell of cooked meat and spices. As she grew closer more and more hands and laps were full of food.

People parted and a large, metalshaped cauldron sat on one of the fires. The cauldron’s base had long been blackened by the flames of many meals. Steam rose from inside. Someone stepped forward to stir the stew, then scooped some into a waiting bowl.

Next to the cauldron stood a group of three people chatting rapidly in a debate about the food in front of them. A small fire crackled amidst a circle of rocks. A pan sat on top, cooking fish while a bundle of sticks were lying on the ground next to it. One of the people, a woman, absently stepped away, adding more into the discussion while tending to the meat.

Madga turned toward the man at the stew.

He glanced at her, then again in surprise. A smile appeared under his small moustache.

He said, “Local Leaping salt fish, Yellow Flame mushrooms from EreTaam, Suuroo beans, Hygtah hazelnuts, and spirit greens” His brown eyes were warm. “I’m Ahoon, great-grandson of Igwik. Do you have something to add?”

With bright eyes she swallowed and nodded. She held out the little cloth bag and untied it, keeping the pile of small, dried chopped greens cradled in her hands. She raised it carefully as the man leaned down to get a sniff.

Pleasant recognition passed over his face.

Then a small crease formed between his brows as he straightened. “I don’t want to add spear-leek to this particular stew, buuuut….”

He looked over with a knowing look just as one of the two women in the group of three quickly joined them.

“You said spear-leek?” she asked excitedly. Her eager gaze shifted from him to Madga.

Madga said, “Ye-yes.”

She showed her and the woman’s eyes lit up. She beamed and swept the cloth and its contents out of her hands.

“This is the perfect substitute!” she said, spinning back to the group.

The others quickly agreed.

Ahoon chuckled. “I guess that means your offer is accepted. Here, want some?” He turned and picked up another bowl, this one made from clay. The spoon was of wood.

“Oh, yes,” Madga quickly said, “Thank you.”

He filled the bowl and placed the spoon inside before giving it to her. “Not a problem.”

Madga the warmth of the stew heated up the bowl and warmed her hands. She turned, but started and nearly lost her spoon when the woman suddenly spoke again.

“Come over later and have some smoked crab!” she waved, and said with a grin. The other woman and the man eagerly removed the cooked fish to prepare for the crab. People nearby overheard and began avidly chatting in excitement.

Madga nodded with a small grunt.

She returned to her cot where she sat down and pulled her legs up. The next bed over had been happily claimed by a woman, resting with her hands behind her head. Madga glanced at her. She shifted and focused on the tantalizing smell of the stew.

The steam rose steadily from the bowl. She scooped up a spoonful and gently blew on it before cautiously popping it in her mouth. She quickly took it out to blow on it again before trying a second time. She hummed in delight—the stew was warm and hearty, and the salt sparked on her tongue. She scooped up some more, slowly enjoying her meal.

As she ate a stray, cool breeze drifted toward her. With the spoon in her mouth she glanced up in time to watched as one of the doors closed. The people greeted each other before peeling off their wet layers. The woman in the other cot shivered and looked in the same direction with a frown.

Madga scooped up some stew and a lock of her black hair fell forward. She inhaled, quickly shifting to move it away from the bowl, at the same time trying to avoid spilling. But another small gust of wind tossed her hair and splattered a few drops on her tunic.

She gasped and shot up, putting her food aside to run to the nearest wash basin. After a good scrub with soap and water, she returned to the bed with a lighter heart. The front of her tunic slowly dried while she finished her meal.

She licked her lips as she considered the near empty bowl. She raised it to her face, licking inside and earning a wet line on her forehead from the rim. She wiped it away and instead used her fingers to clean the bowl. She hummed and sucked on the spoon afterwards.

She stood and headed toward the cauldron. The music had long since settled down to gentle tones and the voice was gone. Conversations became quiet murmurs as the time for sleep had come. Some people had left for their own homes while the rest remained to sleep on the visitors’ beds or nap by the fires. Anyone with food in their hands quietly enjoyed their meals.

“Hey, is it good?” a woman said as she suddenly walked beside her.

Madga jumped and held tight to the bowl. It was the woman who had been lying in the other cot. She was about half a head taller than Madga, with wavy brown hair that had been cut just below the tops of her shoulders. Her skirt of criss-crossing brown and green stripes swished around her cloth boots.

Madga nodded. She quickened her steps but the woman kept pace.

“That’s good. I haven’t ate’n yet.”

Madga didn’t comment.

Still at the cauldron, Ahoon accepted her bowl and spoon with a sleepy smile. “Would you like more?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

Uncomfortably close to her, the woman smirked. “I’ll have a bowl.”

He nodded and stepped back, trading the dirty set for clean ones. Meanwhile, Madga took the opportunity to slip away.

At her sudden absence the woman looked around with a noise of surprise. She quickly spotted Madga, but before she could speak, one of the other cooks waved.

She gestured for Madga to join them.

With a glance at the first woman, Madga reluctantly approached.

In a quieter voice than before, the cook said, “The spear-leek you brought was perfect, just as I thought, and popular!”

“We saved you some crab meat,” the man said. His long beard and moustache were gathered and tied in a tight braid, then tossed over his shoulder to join his hair and keep it out of the food and fire. The woman’s long hair was held up and out of the way with a metalshaped hair stick. The third woman of their group was absent.

Madga’s mouth watered at the smell of spices and smoked meat.

She sadly put a hand over her full stomach.

She tentatively asked, “May I… take some with me?”

“Sure,” the man said, and the woman began removing it from the fire. “But be sure to eat it as soon as you can, okay?”

The woman smiled. “Come back before you leave and we’ll have it ready for you.”

Madga nodded eagerly. She eyed the food again before turning away.

She inhaled and coughed on air. The woman from before stood a few steps away, watching her intently and with a bowl in hand as she ate. With Madga’s gaze on her, she winked.

Madga walked around, giving her plenty of space. Her heart sunk as footsteps soon followed.

“I’m Tuah, by the way,” the woman said. “Druid-bard. You?”

Madga glanced. “Ma-Madga.”

When she didn’t mention a mother name, Tuah’s eyes lit up. She smirked, licking her lips. “Nice to meet you, Madga.” She smacked her lips. “So, how did you come to Nahmin? I’m travelling, of course.”

Madga didn’t answer. Her heart slowly quickened as they came up to the cots.

“A bit breezy in here, eh?”

Madga glanced up at her. Green-brown eyes watched her closely, not looking away as she took another spoonful of stew and loudly sucked on it. There was a person in the bed on there other side of Madga’s. They stirred at the noise, but didn’t wake.

Madga firmly focused on her pack as she shifted it to the floor. “I-I’m going to sleep now. Goodni- goodsleep.”

Tuah’s head tilted in curiosity, but Madga slipped under the linen blanket. She closed her eyes and curled up. Her heart thumped loud as she waited—hoped—for the woman to go away.

Eventually Tuah turned. She steps paused and Madga risked a peek between her eyelashes. The woman had her back to her. Then her hair shifted as she glanced back and Madga quickly shut her eyes again. She fought to control her breathing.

Finally, the woman walked away and Madga breathed out.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A crease formed between her brows. She snuffled and rubbed her eyes, brushing away the sleep. She licked her lips, dry from the heat of the fires.

The smell of salt and fish met her nose. She sat up and squinted toward the doors, which had been opened at some point while she slept. Outside the winds and rains had stopped. There were less people inside the chief’s house. The Nahmin and their visitors were out, taking advantage of the calm after the storm.

Slowly, she rolled out of the cot and stretched. She collected her clothes from where they hung; the wool and linen were cozy and warm. She changed and dressed in her green, long-sleeved tunic with a short-sleeved white tunic underneath. Linen leggings came next, then leather shoes tied tight around her feet. She debated on her wool wrap, but ended up folding it into her pack along with the rest of the clothes. She finished with tying back the long strands of hair around her forehead, leaving the rest to flow freely.

Moments later she arrived by the cauldron. Ahoon and the other cooks were gone, likely to sleep, replaced by a woman with her hair tied in braids and beads.

She raised a brow at Madga. “Nik, daughter of Kanber.”

“I’m Madga…. The others left some crab meat for me…?”

Nik stared, waiting with a raised brow as she stirred the pot. Madga shifted on her feet.

Nik huffed and roughly dropped the spoon in the cauldron. Madga winced but remained quiet as Nik stepped aside to collect a small bundle. She wordlessly handed it to her. Madga fumbled, nearly dropping it. She clutched it close and turned away.

She carefully packed it before shouldering her bag.

Tuah stood up from her bed as Madga left the cots. “Ready?”

She nearly tripped. “What?”

“Ready to go? I’m joining you.” Tuah thumbed the single strap of her pack, which lay across her chest and rested on her hip. Another strap connected to a large, circular cloth bag on her back. She was dressed a tad warmer, with a wool wrap in addition to her layered wool skirt. The sleeves of a brown, wool tunic peeked out from under her short-sleeved, blue linen tunic. A wide leather belt with metalshaped designs went about her middle.

Madga stared wide-eyed, her breath caught in her throat.

Tuah raised a brow and looked at her with a tilt of her head. “You okay, Madga?”

Madga suddenly inhaled. She shook her head, keeping her eyes down as she quickly searched out one of the farther doors.

To her horror, Tuah followed along.

“Hey, wait! You forgot this!”

She glanced just as Tuah caught up with her. Her spear filled her vision. She accepted it with a small gasp.

She mumbled, “Thank you.”

“No problem. So, where we headed?”

Madga made a noise in her throat. “Nowhere.”

“What?”

“I’m… I usually travel by myself.”

Tuah grinned. “I usually travel with others.”

Madga’s stomach churned.

“I… I’m not....”

Tuah walked out the door first. The skies had cleared, leaving behind an endlessness of stars. The moon was sleeping, allowing only the stars to light the land and sea.

Tuah put her hands on her hips and breathed deep. “I’m thinking… EreTaam next!”

She turned, and before Madga could jump at the opportunity to decline her, Tuah’s eyes flashed to her dark hair. “Or maybe not. How about Reygo? Hygtah?”

Madga’s mouth opened and closed, trying to remember which tribe hated which now. She couldn’t recall, and came up with something else.

“Rela.”

Tuah’s nose wrinkled. “Where?”

“Re-Rela. It’s far away.”

Tuah’s lips pressed in disgust. “North?”

Madga quickly nodded. Tuah didn’t answer right away and Madga took advantage of her hesitation.

She had only managed ten steps before Tuah sighed ruefully. Her heart sunk as she followed.

“I can do north. Where exactly-”

“Tuah!”

They turned. At the far end of the grass-covered building someone waved for her.

He beamed and jogged over, followed by others. “That was amazing earlier. We need to play music together again sometime.”

Tuah wore a smug smile and put a hand on her hip. “Of course! I’d love too. Sadly I’ll be gone for a while. I’m heading to Rela.”

“Where?” He laughed. “What’s that?”

“Not sure. Ask- hey!”

Madga overheard her from where she hid behind one of the smaller long houses. Quick footsteps approached and she curled in tighter on herself under a large, overturned longboat.

Tuah’s cloth boots dash by. Madga didn’t move. Long moments later they returned, slowly stomping back to the chief’s house. Tuah muttered to herself but Madga didn’t catch it.

She waited for a long time. Other voices and feet came and went. Finally she uncurled and peeked out. When she couldn’t spot Tuah, or the other music-makers she crawled out from under the boat. After looking around she reached in for her things.

She remained on careful watched as she walked south, toward the edge of the tribe. When no eyes seemed to track her she quickened her pace.

She didn’t slow until she was a good distance away and her feet were sore.