Chap. 16 The Palomino Mare

Chap. 16  The Palomino Mare

K'ndar was glad that drill training (marching) was over and done with. His new boots had given him blisters.

For the first two or three days of learning drill, he'd felt like an idiot. Somehow he'd confuse the two feet he'd been born with when ordered to start off with one. He'd made stupid mistakes, such as stepping off on the wrong foot, or running up onto the heels of the Weyrling ahead of him, dropping his sack of firestone, or once even stepping on his own foot and falling over. He'd been forced to hold a firestone in his left hand to remind himself which was left and right. Only because other weyrlings made the same mistakes did he not feel an utter fool.

Thankfully, after weeks of the weyrlings marching and throwing firestone to each other (and sometimes, at, when tempers flared ), B'rant pronounced himself satisfied with their skills and ended the marching. Not that it was truly over, but the next set would be dragonback!

The weyrlings stopped chattering when B'rant came in with the week's assignments.

"Alright, my 'lings, listen up. I have your work assignments for the week."

He read down the list of names in alphabetical order, so that K'ndar knew exactly when he would learn his task.

"K'ndar: help with the herds."

"WOOHOO!" he whooped. B'rant paused, and grinned.

"K'ndar, sure you don't want the latrines? You did them better than anyone else," someone laughed, teasing.

Everyone laughed, and he grinned. He'd been the butt of that joke for several weeks now. Thank the egg THAT punitive assignment was done and over with, and he'd never make that mistake again. Secrets couldn't be kept for long amongst them, and they all knew why he'd been allotted the latrines as punishment. But they also knew that one of them might be next. Latrines needed cleaning, no matter if it was a form of punishment or not.

"They're worse than mucking stalls, that's for sure," he laughed.

"Aye, but, it's something you'll never forget, eh?" B'rant teased, then continued, "You'll report to Nyala at the horse barn."

K'ndar bolted down his noon meal,  and snagged a few carrots on his way out of the dining hall.  

While he didn't quite run—he didn't want to reopen newly healed blisters, K'ndar hurried to the barn. Just being near horses was enough to make him happy. He missed his grey horse, Jordan, more than he would have ever guessed.

Entering the barn, he recognized the tall, dark skinned woman from his very first task as a Candidate, mucking out stalls. Masterherder Nyala was standing in the sunlight streaming into the barn.

"Weyrling K'ndar reporting for duty, ma'am," he said as he came up to her.

"I remember you, K'ndar. You did a great job mucking stalls out. But that's not what you'll be doing today. It's just the two of us, today, and we've got a lot of work to do. First, we have to move a herd into a new pasture. I probably don't need to ask you if you can ride?"

"Ma'am, I don't mean to boast, but I was riding before I could walk. Just show me who you want me to ride, and where the tack is."

"Follow me," she said, turning on her heel. At the end of the barn was a large open pen with several horses in it, all having access to an outside run. 

"Take your pick," she said.

K'ndar looked at the horses with a practiced eye. One tall roan gelding caught his eye. 

"I'll take the roan," he said.

 "Good choice," Nyala said, "He's a good one." She pointed to where the halters were hung, and he took the roan's into his left hand. Entering the pen, he slowly walked up to the roan, who looked at him with suspicion. He reached out and began to scratch where he knew every horse loved.

"You are a handsome one, aren't you! You're much taller than my little Jordan back home. Think we can be friends? No doubt! Do you know a horse who would like a carrot?"

The roan thought that a carrot was a capital idea. After eating the root, the roan dropped his head and K'ndar gently haltered him. He led him out of the pen, only half noticing the approval in Nyala's eyes.

Soon, he was riding the roan alongside Nyala's dun. It felt so good to be back on a horse. The roan had as soft a mouth as his own Jordan. It occurred to him that the last dozen weeks were probably the longest he'd ever gone without riding.

They were joined by a drudge who ran ahead to open the gate at the far end of a pasture.

The moment the cattle saw them enter, they began to scatter.

 "You take the left side, and I'll take the right. I want them bunched nice and tight, and we'll send them through the gate directly ahead of us," Nyala said.  The drudge signaled that she had the gate open. The cattle milled about, anxiously.

"Let's go," Nyala said, and headed to the right. K'ndar pressed his right knee against the roan's side and was pleased when the horse immediately moved to the left. It was always a pleasure to ride a well-trained horse.

Seven steers attempted to run past the roan.  The horse dropped his head, pinning his ears and lunged at the escapees. At the same moment, K'ndar cracked his whip. The cattle turned as one, and another crack sent them trotting to join the growing nucleus of the herd. As it grew, the members of the herd began to move faster.

On the other side of the herd, Nyala was also whip cracking and her dun, smaller but faster than K'ndar's roan, chased a few drifters into the herd.

With well-timed whip cracks between the two of them, Nyala and K'ndar quickly got the herd bunched and heading towards the opened gate. Bawling in protest, still, they spilled into the new pasture and the drudge expertly shut it behind them.

It hadn't taken more than a few minutes.

"I guess you DO know how to herd. You make a good teammate," Nyala said.

"Thank you," he said. Clarity and understanding bloomed in his mind. Herding beasts wasn't that much different than marching.

 He hadn't had to ask Nyala what to do, nor communicate a plan beforehand. Despite never having worked with each other, both of them knew how to move cattle. Experience was the first stone in the foundation.  It took teamwork, an understanding of how cattle think, an experienced horse, and a goal in mind. Between him, Nyala, and their intelligent horses, they'd moved fifty cattle in less than ten minutes. 

"We need to do a check on the fences and on other herds. It's going to take a while. Do you mind?" Nyala asked, shielding her eyes from the harsh afternoon sunlight.

"Not at all, ma'am. It's been too long since I rode last, and this lovely horse and I fit hand in glove," he said, stroking the roan's neck. "It's always a pleasure to ride a well-trained horse," K'ndar said.

She smiled. "Thank you. I trained him."

They rode for most of the afternoon, dismounting to replace fallen stones, checking on livestock,  and inspecting gates.  K'ndar wanted to ride forever. But eventually, they turned back to the barns. After untacking the horses, it was time to feed. A drudge came up to Nyala and drew her aside, speaking quietly to her. She turned to K'ndar, struggling to keep her facial expression neutral. She failed. "Do you mind feeding the horses? I have some business to attend to."

"Certainly, but-what's wrong?" K'ndar said, astonished at the sudden change in her demeanor.

She gulped, looking so much younger and vulnerable than earlier.

"Oh, we had to have a horse put down. She'd foundered two days ago, and we tried everything to help her. I'd hoped she might recover, but-you know founder. She was obviously in tremendous pain, and at her age, she wasn't going to get better." Tears formed in her eyes.

K'ndar understood, only too well. Two things killed horses: colic and founder.

"It's so hard for me to do the next step, this time. She needs to be skinned and butchered. The meat goes to the wherries, the dragons, and the canines. The hooves, the hide, it all goes to the tanner." Tears were running down her cheeks.

"It's not like I've not done this before. But…but, I just can't bring myself to..to.. I mean, not this time. Not..not.. this mare. She was-she meant so much to me. She's given us so many good horses, in fact she was the dam of the roan you rode today. So old she was smooth mouthed, but up until a few days ago, she was still running about like a filly." She shook her head, sadly.

K'ndar wanted to console her by giving her a hug, but he knew he didn't dare. He knew the pain.

Nothing was wasted when it came to beasts. But it was so very hard to do that sort of thing when you had loved the animal,  and it was obvious to him that she had.

"If you don't mind, ma'am, if you'll tell B'rant that I might be out past curfew, I'll do that task. It will go faster if you can give me a drudge or two to help."

"That would be so kind of you, K'ndar. I'll tell B'rant. Let me show you where she is."

She led the way to a quiet, lovely spot where the mare had been put down. Nyala knelt and stroked the palomino's head.

"You were so good, such a brave little thing, my girl," she said, her tears dropping on the mare's still gleaming hide.

K'ndar had a dizzying feeling of déjà vu. The situation was not the same but was exactly the same as when he'd been Searched-a young herder, stroking a dead beast, and meeting a dragon rider. That had been him, not so long ago. Now he was on the other side of the tapestry, a dragon rider, watching a herder stroking a loved, dead beast.

"I'll take care of it, ma'am," he said. He'd had to do this same thing many times. It was never easy, putting a loved horse down, but you couldn't live with yourself if you let it suffer needlessly.

 Nyala stood up, giving him a look of gratefulness and grief.

"Thank you, K'ndar." Then she walked off. Soon a pair of drudges showed up, tools in hand.

If you closed your mind to the emotions, it was just a job, hard, tedious and messy, but still…just a task. It wasn't made easier by the insects and the little six legged crawlers drawn to the scent of blood, but, eventually, the job was done.

They were rolling the hide up, preparing to turn it over to the tanner, when he stopped them. "Wait just a moment," he said. He couldn't have done it before, when it was still a horse. It would have seemed too much like desecration. But now it was just a thing.  A hide. He cut the long flaxen tail off the hide. He would use most of it to braid something to barter at Turnover. But first, he would make a necklace for Nyala.

Because it was the right thing to do.