The power of the broom

[Dawali Amara]

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You started it! Word Count: 1034 Ember pointed out the obvious as he shook his head - no, no compost heap. He'd intended to make one, but with the making of the council hall and the spiritual square and all of that, there just was no way. Of course, it wasn't that hard to just make a compost heap, you just had to dump your stuff. At least, in theory. It was better, though, to dig a hole in the ground, and let it rot in there, often supplying it with the horses' dung or something similar. But that meant that it had to be built near the horses (there was no way he'd be dragging the dung all over here!), and they were in the wrong direction now. Yes, I've been meaning to create a proper compost hole, although I've not found the time yet, sadly. So I figured I could sneak my stuff off just this once, he said, winking. Halifax. What a strange name. Then again the names for everything were strange to him, here. Things seemed to be named at random, with a word that sat well on the tongue, instead of something fitting. Again he felt that Ember knew more of the world than him, but again there was this feeling that he didn't mind. He would have normally, but he didn't. It was strange. Again the male shook his head - no, no other cities. The tribe had strayed as far as possible from the haunted properties of the humans, to lands similar to what they claimed now - old fields, nearly buildingless, and as free from signs of human activity as possible. The fences and such could stay, and there were the odd building, but it wasn't so bad. He disliked their tortured spirits' presences among their own. No, I've not been.. and there were no human cities where we lived before. Although, I have passed through a few, and seen a few. I don't like them that much, though. He smiled as she spoke of the fortunate puppies - children as fortunate as himself. He, too, was born in April, and look how far he'd come! Coming from a family with no links to the higher ranks, and now he was a sub-leader, doing chores that had been strange to him at first, but now came as naturally as anything. If his father could see him, he would have been proud, but likely he'd thrown in a joke about April kids as well. It was simply inevitable, in the AniWayan community. She spoke of the ice pits, to keep things frozen as ice until you wanted to eat them, a very good way of storing things when you grew tired of salts and the weather allowed it. Yes, uh, an unesdala, we call it. Sort of anyways, it means "ice". I've yet to make myself one of those as well - time seems to be running ahead of me! It was true, he still had a lot of improvements to add to the village before he would dare call it a proper one, and most of them were not really a one-man job. He might just ask Leland for help on the council hall, though, when the time came to do the actual building work. For the third time, Dawali shook his red-furred head, slightly disappointed in himself now. He hadn't been anywhere, it seemed. In fact, that last time he'd been exploring was when he'd met Ember with her saltwater friend, and the gap between then and now was quite large, and getting larger. Nope, never been there either, hehe. His disappointment was not obvious, and covered with a laugh it was hardly detectable. Truly - he had no time for such things. He had duties to attend. Red ears with white tips stood casually risen as he listened to her description of the castle. He'd seen one, long ago, and far from here. A huge building made from stones seemingly balancing on each other. The male knew he could never build such a thing. In reality, the "castle" he had seen was more of a fortress, and not even a big one, but everything seemed huge when you were used to living in advanced huts made from wood, rope and clay. A swish of a cloak, and Dawali's attention was fully on the dark femme before him as she showed him her sword. Indeed, he could see why the cloak was handy - he hadn't know she had the sword with her! How extraordinary. The handle was offered to him, and nervously he grabbed the hilt, first glancing up at her green gaze, then down again at the weapon, taking it from her hand. He was quickly surprised by the weight of it - it had looked so light in the hands of femme. Then again, he should have known it was heavy - it was metal after all. It had always amazed him, the art of shaping metal. Hell, even making metal was quite outstanding in his eyes. Carefully, he turned his back to Ember (so that he wouldn't accidentally hurt her, of course), took a few steps ahead, and tried some swings. Since it was so much heavier than the spear made from wood that he was "trained" in, he did not get the control he liked. The sword, with its weight, seemed to moved on its own accord, swinging with the power of gravity and circulation more than by his arm. Handling weapons designed to hurt other things than prey alone did not come natural to the man, and suddenly he wondered how many souls had died at its point, how many had been wounded by its violent force. Hastily, he turned back to his black-furred friend, and mumbled, ashamed at his own weakness. He should have felt it as an honor to be allowed to test it, hold it, wield it for a little while, but he would admit - the weapon scared him. It's very beautiful, I can see why you're fascinated, he said, as he handed it back to her, hilt first and pointing towards the ground between them. Weapons were dangerous things, when they were made to harm your fellows.

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