"I thought I was pretty clear..."

I left the main fires somewhat abruptly, I sincerely hope both Cana and Yamka understand. I have never been known to stay in one place for too long. Father says, "It is the nature of the nomad in you, boy" I simply believe my attention span is thinner than most.

When I left, I headed straight for the wagons of the young warrior who had recently earned his first courage scar. He was still unconscious, but I was pleased to hear that his fever had broken and even more pleased to see that the scar was well placed and the swelling around it had gone down. Now, if you were to ask me, Tasco is by no means a narcissist, (again, that's if you ask me) but I take immense pride in my craft. To know that my hands had placed the scar gave me a jolt I have only ever experienced a few times in my life. The first time, was after my first real battle, the second after my first real sexual encounter, and the last...the most important... after my own scarring. I will be a great scarrer yet.

With pep in my step, I chose to visit the only woman who has ever held a special place in my heart. When I found her, she was sitting on the steps of her wagon with a smile on her face and two bowls of cold water almost as if she had been waiting for me to show up. She is my Noni. I have known for a long time that this is not her name, but Noni is all she has ever been to me, so Noni is what I will call her.

Noni is not a slave, but she is by no means free. She isn't even a Tuchuk, she is a Kataii, a woman of dark complexion and an odd sense of awareness. My mother died giving birth to me and it was Noni who, alongside my father raised me as her own. While I have never understood the relationship she has with my father I know now that it is not my place to ask. What I know is that there were many nights when it was Noni who took an infant Tasco into her arms to soothe my tears. When I was hungry, it was from Noni's breasts that I was nourished. When I felt I could not bear the stern discipline of an upbringing under my father's thumb it was Noni who reminded me that it was done for my own good.

She is older now, but even as I leaned in to kiss her wrinkling cheek, I recalled the soft texture of her skin. I felt at ease in her presence and didn't once hesitate to bend her ear when it came to my experience at the first wagons. When I would curse, she would thump me or give me an unsatisfied expression, but she didn't once say anything about it. Noni has always let me be a man and it is because of this I often respect her presence and do my best to curb my tongue. Noni seemed increasingly interested when I spoke to her of the tension building between myself and the woman Yamka. She didn't seem be as confused as I felt and even managed to smile knowingly when I went on to explain my friendship with the woman Asria.

"Perhaps they have deeper feelings for you than you recognize, Tasco."

"You've gotta be fuc-- I mean...how? I thought I have been pretty clear."

She laughed. Her laugh always sounded like a lullaby.

"You know very well Tasco you do not have a gift for clarity when it comes to women."

She rested her palm on my shoulder and pushed her palm into the spot beneath the leather vest in which the jagged, lightning bolt like scar was. I looked up at her and shook my head more out of frustration than denial.

"That was different."

"How was it different. Weren't you clear then?"

I sighed again. Noni was right. She was always right about everything. It's comforting most of the time, but there are other times where it makes me fucking insane!

"You are well within your right to keep your options open, Tasco. Women like you. You are charming and will one day provide very well for a family. But you are also impulsive and you lack a certain self control when it comes to attractive women."

"I need to get going, Noni."

She didn't protest. She sipped the water from her bowl and cleared her throat and smiled again.

"What happened to your hand, Tasco?"

The desire to tighten my fist died when she reached out for my wrist. Again, I allowed her to take a look at the scar there in the center of it. She seemed hurt for me. Like I had been mortally wounded or severely disfigured. I didn't need to tell her about it. Noni knew, for my father was the same. We scar to remember our mistakes and to remember where we come from. For my father and I, it is not enough to wear our accomplishments, hardships, and trials overcome on our cheeks in the corded brightly colored chevrons on our face, but upon our bodies aswell.

Noni kissed it once and then reluctantly gave me my hand back. Without another word spoken between us she lifted herself up off the step and disappeared into her wagon. I waited for several minutes before I realized that she wasn't coming back out. I should have known. Noni always made it a point to leave me with something to think about and while I may not know exactly what that was right away I know that at a some point...when it all becomes clear to me...I will think about my Noni and smile. I have never told her how much she means to me, but I'd like to think she knows. My Noni always knows.