Priceless

Pretty if the sun won't shine
I'll be coming out to meet you
I'll be there to make you mine
You're pretty if the rain will pour
I'll be knocking at your window
I'll be begging you for more

It is as if you've come along too soon
and I'm trying to fit you in
but I can't seem to follow

You're a cutie if it all falls through
We can piece it back together
I can learn to trust you too

You're just too good to lose
and I can't refuse
so don't make me choose
between the two
I'm fed up in here
in my atmosphere
Don't you know who you are
You're my shooting star

Your pretty teach me wrong from right
'cause in love there are no answers
and in life there is no lie
You're pretty if the sun won't shine
Now you've come this far to meet me
and I know, I know you're mine

You're just too good to lose
and I can't refuse
so don't make me choose
between the two
I'm fed up in here
in my atmosphere
Don't you know who you are
You're my shooting star

Don't you know who you are
You're my shooting star

-Air Traffic

There is no doubt to the rumor that Ba'atar is enthralled with his new slave. I have been there .. I have seen it. His mind .. his attention ... is captured by her as much as her physical being is captured by him. He holds her life .. her future in the palm of his hand ... and she holds his thoughts in the frailty of her existence. A trade off .. if you will. Which usually works for a man .. all fun and games ... until someone loses an .... but you understand.

Now it has not bothered me .. Ba'atar and I do not talk much. We do not ride together or hunt together .. we do not share a fire or paga ... we do not sit and talk of personal things. So I am not missing time spent with Ba'atar. I do not care if Ba'atar likes his slave more than he likes me. I do not care if Ba'atar ignores me for a piece of naked flesh. I do not feel any disrespect for any of these things.

Someone .. however ... is.

I am not unaware .. neither are most of the people around the First Fires. Some give more of a dramatic flare to things than others about it. some just care about Cana and do not like to see her feelings hurt.

A man is entitled.

It is one of those sentences that can end there with .. final punctuation and it works. But a man has to weigh his choices. Just because he can make them and has every right to make them and there are no wrong answers ... there are unadvisable ones depending on what makes him happy in the long run. A woman can not punish a man .. not in the true impact of that word. But there are natural consequences to hurting someone close to you .. whose opinions and feelings are important. A man learns to judge these things carefully. Entitlement is not necessarily a free ride. It just means he is entitled to his choices .. and all that comes as a result of them ... good or bad.

Some men believe .. erroneously ... that entitlement is sterile of consequences. That the very word must give the world pause in such matters. Most of us learn better quickly .. or end up very alone.

But it was Cana .. sitting upon a boulder near the stream that was all alone when I stumbled across her. She invited me to sit with her and I did. It is not often that I get the chance to visit with my friend. But my friend was not herself that evening. A side glance was enough to tell me .. I did not have to see the red rimmed eyes which I did see later .. to know. I had a rather good idea why .. though I would not drag it out between us.

She asked me what brought me out to the stream alone. I told her I just could not wrap my head around people that evening. I was too far away to make contact with them .. as if the mist itself had taken up residence in my head. I told her that sometimes when I ride .. a lot ... it is hard to make that connection back to the group.

She said that sometimes she wished she could just go and ride .. like a man does. I asked her if she did not do that with her kaiila .. escape. She said she did .. that she found them easier to deal with than people sometimes. She said .. if you have a kaiila that is yours .. he is faithful to you with no reservations. They are happy to see you .. never push you away ... and do not talk too much.

I chuckled and told her that is what a man thinks of when he envisions a slave .. but I had found my kaiila were indeed better at it.

She asked me if that was what it was .. that a slave would do whatever it was that I wanted.

My brow instantly creased .. for that was not it at all. I told her .. she did not want all her kaiila to be the same ... without personality or without differences. Not always easy to handle .. having character. Being real. But that is what a slave is supposed to be .. to always be happy to see a man .. to always be faithful ... to never have any reservations.

I felt her slump beside me .. she said that is probably what made her a free woman .. she would always be who she was. I told her it was my experience that there were some women who were slaves .. no matter what circumstances they were in. And there were some women who were never meant to be slaves .. no matter what circumstance they found themselves in.

She said she would never survive as a slave .. she was who she was ... good or bad. I told her that made her the perfect Tuchuk free woman.

She told me she did not feel so perfect that night .. ah there it was then. I asked her if she wished me to ignore it .. and move on or if she wanted to speak to me of what was on her mind.

I told her I might be overstepping .. as a friend ... but that I had owned dozens of slaves ... of all varieties for varying amounts of time ... and they could not .. nor would they ever compare to the spirit and pride I found in a Tuchuk free woman. The give and take .. the challenges .... the strengths.

She said she needed to hear that .. to be reminded of her value.

My word in response to that was

... priceless.