|.38th Autumn, 514 AV
Zhol was no stranger to feeling embarrassed and awkward. He had lived huge swathes of his life enduring such things, be it at the intentional hands of his sister, the accidental words of Khara, or the result of his own foolish and blundering actions. But there were different kinds of embarrassment, and different intensities; and this one was something profoundly new.
Wind Reach had a strange opinion towards horses. When you lived in a city where the social elite rode giant eagles who could project their thoughts into your mind, it was easy to think of steeds and mules as somewhat inferior. Zhol's mind had always likened it to the Inarta and their castes, in a way: the wind eagles were of course the Endals, with all their prestige and special special treatment; pretty much any other kind of bird from finches to falcons was an Avora, all contributing in their unique and different but equally valued ways; and then horses and mules were the Chiet and Dek, disrespected and undervalued, and yet responsible for doing so much of the important stuff.
What made it weird was the stables. The Inarta kept a few dozen horses at most - some as pack animals; some as cart and sleigh horses; some for sale to travelling merchants; and some, to Zhol's dismay, as a source of food for when times get tough - and yet the stables had space for hundreds. During the colder days, the stables were busier, the animals that spent the summer in Thunder Bay returning with their produce-laden wagons with the rest of the migrants; but even so, the stables weren't exactly full to bursting, and it had always puzzled Zhol why that was. There was an answer, he was sure; probably one waiting to be found in the Enclave, if he was ever brave enough to draw attention to himself by asking.
The fact that the Inarta didn't acknowledge their need of horses did nothing to diminish it however; and with the toll last winter's famine had taken on everything - the horse population included - it was more important this year than any other that they replenish their losses.
That was not an easy feat. Breeding horses was not like breeding llamas or breeding animals for food. It took years for a newborn to be strong enough for the kind of work that Wind Reach needed; Zhol's favourite, Solo, was already in his fourth autumn, and even he was barely old enough and strong enough to be of much practical use. Pregnancy in horses lasted longer than humans too: almost a full year. In Wind Reach, that made the process of breeding even more complicated than elsewhere in the world: the stables had to predict the city's needs years in advance, and manage the timings carefully. For horses to be born in the spring, as they were in the wild, that would mean the mother was heavily pregnant during the winter, when food was scarce; but trying to evade the winter deprived you of useful horses during the times of year when you needed them most.
Then there was the process of actually convincing a mare and stallion to mate. In the wild, horses relied upon the lengthening of the days to herald the end of winter, and their bodies reacted accordingly. To ready a horse for breeding at a different time of year meant complicated subterfuge; it meant using false lights and magecraft trickery to fool the mare into believing that summer was on it's way, in spite of what Syna's sleep patterns implied. It was almost too much work; but it was necessary. Five years from now, the residents of Thunder Bay would need all the horses they could get in order to migrate back to Wind Reach for the coming winter; and so the stables needed to act now.
That was where embarrassment crept into the situation. Encouraging horses to breed was not foreign to Zhol and, the potential for unpleasant messiness aside, phased him very little. This time however was different, not because of what, but who.
"Easy, girl," Zhol encouraged gently, guiding the smoke-coloured mare from the isolated corner in the depths of the stables where the elaborate temporal trickery had been taking place the last few weeks. She was a big girl, a big horse; part Avanthalian in fact, he'd been told; plenty taller than Zhol, and a good many times stronger and heavier. But it wasn't her intimidating scale that had Zhol on edge: it was her other offspring.
Zhol was careful with his chosen path as he led Smoke - not one of his most original name choices, granted - from the stables, studiously avoiding any lines of sight with the stall where Zhol had stabled Solo this morning. Granted, Solo was not capable of speaking: but he didn't need words to communicate, and Where are you going with my mother? was not a conversation that Zhol was looking forward to.
"You know what this is about," he said carefully, his most reassuring tone gracing the Pavi words he always used to speak with the horses - with a few notable, irritating, stubborn exceptions, of course. "I know it's been a few years since Solo, and I know you have better things to be doing for the next year than walking around with a foal growing inside you. But this is important. You know how bad things got; you know how badly we need more help around here; and we both know that in your blood are the ingredients for truly fantastic horses; same as you; same as Solo."
He hesitated.
"But you can't tell him, okay?" Zhol's voice was more nervous than he expected it to be. "I know that you understand, but it's still a few more seasons before Solo is a stallion, and he's not ready to think about things in that sort of way. All he'll understand is that his friend took his mother away, and let some stranger stallion do things to her, and that in a year he'll have a new little brother or sister to worry over."
His hand stroked at the fur down the side of Smoke's neck. She turned to look at him, enormous eyes full of knowing staring at the horse boy. "I'll tell him," Zhol assured, defensively. "Just not yet."
Smoke sputtered out her indignant doubt and turned away, continuing to trudge along the path that Zhol had chosen. The similarity between her mannerisms and her offspring was uncanny.
"I suppose this is where he gets it from," he muttered to himself, and led the way out into the sun.
Wind Reach had a strange opinion towards horses. When you lived in a city where the social elite rode giant eagles who could project their thoughts into your mind, it was easy to think of steeds and mules as somewhat inferior. Zhol's mind had always likened it to the Inarta and their castes, in a way: the wind eagles were of course the Endals, with all their prestige and special special treatment; pretty much any other kind of bird from finches to falcons was an Avora, all contributing in their unique and different but equally valued ways; and then horses and mules were the Chiet and Dek, disrespected and undervalued, and yet responsible for doing so much of the important stuff.
What made it weird was the stables. The Inarta kept a few dozen horses at most - some as pack animals; some as cart and sleigh horses; some for sale to travelling merchants; and some, to Zhol's dismay, as a source of food for when times get tough - and yet the stables had space for hundreds. During the colder days, the stables were busier, the animals that spent the summer in Thunder Bay returning with their produce-laden wagons with the rest of the migrants; but even so, the stables weren't exactly full to bursting, and it had always puzzled Zhol why that was. There was an answer, he was sure; probably one waiting to be found in the Enclave, if he was ever brave enough to draw attention to himself by asking.
The fact that the Inarta didn't acknowledge their need of horses did nothing to diminish it however; and with the toll last winter's famine had taken on everything - the horse population included - it was more important this year than any other that they replenish their losses.
That was not an easy feat. Breeding horses was not like breeding llamas or breeding animals for food. It took years for a newborn to be strong enough for the kind of work that Wind Reach needed; Zhol's favourite, Solo, was already in his fourth autumn, and even he was barely old enough and strong enough to be of much practical use. Pregnancy in horses lasted longer than humans too: almost a full year. In Wind Reach, that made the process of breeding even more complicated than elsewhere in the world: the stables had to predict the city's needs years in advance, and manage the timings carefully. For horses to be born in the spring, as they were in the wild, that would mean the mother was heavily pregnant during the winter, when food was scarce; but trying to evade the winter deprived you of useful horses during the times of year when you needed them most.
Then there was the process of actually convincing a mare and stallion to mate. In the wild, horses relied upon the lengthening of the days to herald the end of winter, and their bodies reacted accordingly. To ready a horse for breeding at a different time of year meant complicated subterfuge; it meant using false lights and magecraft trickery to fool the mare into believing that summer was on it's way, in spite of what Syna's sleep patterns implied. It was almost too much work; but it was necessary. Five years from now, the residents of Thunder Bay would need all the horses they could get in order to migrate back to Wind Reach for the coming winter; and so the stables needed to act now.
That was where embarrassment crept into the situation. Encouraging horses to breed was not foreign to Zhol and, the potential for unpleasant messiness aside, phased him very little. This time however was different, not because of what, but who.
"Easy, girl," Zhol encouraged gently, guiding the smoke-coloured mare from the isolated corner in the depths of the stables where the elaborate temporal trickery had been taking place the last few weeks. She was a big girl, a big horse; part Avanthalian in fact, he'd been told; plenty taller than Zhol, and a good many times stronger and heavier. But it wasn't her intimidating scale that had Zhol on edge: it was her other offspring.
Zhol was careful with his chosen path as he led Smoke - not one of his most original name choices, granted - from the stables, studiously avoiding any lines of sight with the stall where Zhol had stabled Solo this morning. Granted, Solo was not capable of speaking: but he didn't need words to communicate, and Where are you going with my mother? was not a conversation that Zhol was looking forward to.
"You know what this is about," he said carefully, his most reassuring tone gracing the Pavi words he always used to speak with the horses - with a few notable, irritating, stubborn exceptions, of course. "I know it's been a few years since Solo, and I know you have better things to be doing for the next year than walking around with a foal growing inside you. But this is important. You know how bad things got; you know how badly we need more help around here; and we both know that in your blood are the ingredients for truly fantastic horses; same as you; same as Solo."
He hesitated.
"But you can't tell him, okay?" Zhol's voice was more nervous than he expected it to be. "I know that you understand, but it's still a few more seasons before Solo is a stallion, and he's not ready to think about things in that sort of way. All he'll understand is that his friend took his mother away, and let some stranger stallion do things to her, and that in a year he'll have a new little brother or sister to worry over."
His hand stroked at the fur down the side of Smoke's neck. She turned to look at him, enormous eyes full of knowing staring at the horse boy. "I'll tell him," Zhol assured, defensively. "Just not yet."
Smoke sputtered out her indignant doubt and turned away, continuing to trudge along the path that Zhol had chosen. The similarity between her mannerisms and her offspring was uncanny.
"I suppose this is where he gets it from," he muttered to himself, and led the way out into the sun.
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.
I don't think anyone is- made it really enjoyable actually. 
