33rd Day of Winter 515 AV
Kaitanu would not be returning to camp until much later in the evening. Kelna Nightrider had asked him and a few other employees to work extra hours keeping the horses out of the mud. Constant rain was making conditions dangerous for them; a few had already come down with the common illnesses that were rampant at this time of year.
As often happened, Kaitanu was doing twice his share of the heavy lifting because two or three large bags of feed or several blocks of quarried salt were less of a burden to him, even in the rain. Given his mild nature the other hirelings tended either to leave such things to him and assume he’d take care of them, or outright order him around. Kaitanu was so used to this he didn’t mind, but tended to his duties with a quiet efficiency that greatly pleased Kelna. She usually kept the bossier employees from taking things too far, both concerned that Kaitanu didn’t stand up for himself and understanding the roots of his behavior. She had, after all, encountered plenty of slaves. The other employees had as well, to varying degrees. As a whole they were not a nasty bunch but, like the horses among whom they lived and worked, the other employees couldn’t help a bit of herd-think. Weakness was sniffed out and exploited without actual cruelty. Kaitanu was willing to do more hard labor because he could, leaving more pleasant duties to the others. Actual laziness would not have been tolerated, but division of labor could be worked out among the employees if they found a better rhythm. So long as the work got done and everyone was doing their fair share Kelna left them to it.
For Kaitanu’s part, he didn’t care one way or the other. His needs were so simple- just to know what was expected of him -that even shoveling dung was not at all degrading. He had done far worse in the past. Anyway, why shouldn’t he be the one to take care of the heavier work? At first it had just been a matter of course; he was a slave, therefore his lot would be the hardest. In such a place and under such management it really wasn’t bad at all. But now Kaitanu was thinking beyond slave = hard labor. He had started to see the efficacy of having someone like himself, considerably stronger than the average human, to be ideal for certain tasks. In a strange way being thus singled out gave him the first glimpse of self-esteem. What a strange bit of warmth to have inside himself against the cold of a winter storm and an irritable, injured horse.
Because of the constant rain and mud, Dravite’s wild stallion had developed thrush in his left fore-hoof. Consequently, he was making everyone around him miserable. Only Ashka was safe from his constant, angry nips. Wendigo seemed to want to stay in her good graces, even in his present, painful state. The other horses kept as clear of him as they could, and all but two of the humans at The Guided Horse were reluctant to get within his reach. Kelna Nightrider was used to dealing with horses of all types; she was not at all intimidated by an unbroken stallion. Likewise, Kaitanu braved Wendigo’s temper without flinching, but it was for Dravite’s sake. The former slave had no claim to Kelna’s daring. He was, however, not as fazed by pain or injury as his fully human counterparts, and had greater than human strength on his side.
Wendigo didn’t particularly like Kaitanu, but tolerated his presence better than most of the other human handlers. The pale man-turned-horse had a quiet disposition that soothed Wendigo’s jumpy nerves. He also found the kelvic useful in interpreting what the two-leggeds were on about. It helped to know that Kelna- the leader human in this place- was trying to make his hoof stop hurting. That didn’t keep Wendigo from showing his displeasure, but at least he wasn’t lashing out to break heads anymore. Kaitanu had convinced him that now was not a good time to run off. He would be easy pickings for the countless predators out in the grasslands. At least Wendigo was intelligent enough to see this, and so bide his time.
Kaitanu would not be returning to camp until much later in the evening. Kelna Nightrider had asked him and a few other employees to work extra hours keeping the horses out of the mud. Constant rain was making conditions dangerous for them; a few had already come down with the common illnesses that were rampant at this time of year.
As often happened, Kaitanu was doing twice his share of the heavy lifting because two or three large bags of feed or several blocks of quarried salt were less of a burden to him, even in the rain. Given his mild nature the other hirelings tended either to leave such things to him and assume he’d take care of them, or outright order him around. Kaitanu was so used to this he didn’t mind, but tended to his duties with a quiet efficiency that greatly pleased Kelna. She usually kept the bossier employees from taking things too far, both concerned that Kaitanu didn’t stand up for himself and understanding the roots of his behavior. She had, after all, encountered plenty of slaves. The other employees had as well, to varying degrees. As a whole they were not a nasty bunch but, like the horses among whom they lived and worked, the other employees couldn’t help a bit of herd-think. Weakness was sniffed out and exploited without actual cruelty. Kaitanu was willing to do more hard labor because he could, leaving more pleasant duties to the others. Actual laziness would not have been tolerated, but division of labor could be worked out among the employees if they found a better rhythm. So long as the work got done and everyone was doing their fair share Kelna left them to it.
For Kaitanu’s part, he didn’t care one way or the other. His needs were so simple- just to know what was expected of him -that even shoveling dung was not at all degrading. He had done far worse in the past. Anyway, why shouldn’t he be the one to take care of the heavier work? At first it had just been a matter of course; he was a slave, therefore his lot would be the hardest. In such a place and under such management it really wasn’t bad at all. But now Kaitanu was thinking beyond slave = hard labor. He had started to see the efficacy of having someone like himself, considerably stronger than the average human, to be ideal for certain tasks. In a strange way being thus singled out gave him the first glimpse of self-esteem. What a strange bit of warmth to have inside himself against the cold of a winter storm and an irritable, injured horse.
Because of the constant rain and mud, Dravite’s wild stallion had developed thrush in his left fore-hoof. Consequently, he was making everyone around him miserable. Only Ashka was safe from his constant, angry nips. Wendigo seemed to want to stay in her good graces, even in his present, painful state. The other horses kept as clear of him as they could, and all but two of the humans at The Guided Horse were reluctant to get within his reach. Kelna Nightrider was used to dealing with horses of all types; she was not at all intimidated by an unbroken stallion. Likewise, Kaitanu braved Wendigo’s temper without flinching, but it was for Dravite’s sake. The former slave had no claim to Kelna’s daring. He was, however, not as fazed by pain or injury as his fully human counterparts, and had greater than human strength on his side.
Wendigo didn’t particularly like Kaitanu, but tolerated his presence better than most of the other human handlers. The pale man-turned-horse had a quiet disposition that soothed Wendigo’s jumpy nerves. He also found the kelvic useful in interpreting what the two-leggeds were on about. It helped to know that Kelna- the leader human in this place- was trying to make his hoof stop hurting. That didn’t keep Wendigo from showing his displeasure, but at least he wasn’t lashing out to break heads anymore. Kaitanu had convinced him that now was not a good time to run off. He would be easy pickings for the countless predators out in the grasslands. At least Wendigo was intelligent enough to see this, and so bide his time.
