As a punishment for sneaking onto Ekaini lands, Iñaki had been ordered to stay within the boundaries of the da'Zerui camp. And do the mending of his clothes, which had ripped on briars when he was sneaking through the forest. And how did they know where he'd gone? Apparently Mikel had given in to his admittedly formidable father and told... let Eguzki cast him into the darkest depths of Hell!

So here he was, sitting outside for a bit of sunshine at least, working with a needle on the tears in his best gray trousers. The cotton was layered double, so he had to make dozens of tiny stitches... and he was very clumsy with a needle. Well, it was woman's work, after all, though a few of their weavers were male. But his father had been quite firm on this point.

Running away, even if it was to fulfill the terms of a dare, is a cowardly and womanish thing to do! Even most women take our laws more seriously than you do! So do not tell me this is woman's work.

Then he had given him such a whipping his back still stung, and he had wrapped his torso with a layer of bandaging under his tunic. It was very uncomfortable, but at least one of the healers had given him a salve.

He was so absorbed in painstakingly trying to get the needle through his trousers precisely right that he barely noticed someone walking by. "Mm?" he said at last, looking up and squinting against the bright sun to see who it was.

Argi didn't often leave her border village, but there was occasions when some would travel to the main camp and she would be allowed to ride along. Many took pity on her and offered her a ride, so she could get away from her mentally ill mother, and often times she refused. She did not like charity, nor the scorn that some held for her mother. Though she understood that Usoa was hard to handle and her condition difficult to accept, but Argi loved the woman dearly and would not change her.

When they reached the central camp, Argi wandered off on her own. She had friends in the village that she had not spoken to in a long time. As she walked along, she heard how Iñaki, son of Zeru, was being punished. By the sound of gossip and the giggles of some maidens, Argi was sure she found the place where Iñaki was mending his clothing. She waited a few feet away, hearing his sharp intake of breath whenever the needle stabbed his finger. Finally, she approached him.

"Take care." Argi murmured in her soft voice. Though she could not see, she could do all that other women did. Sometimes it just took longer, is all. Coming to her knees before the maiden, she felt as the gravel on the ground dug into her soft flesh. An ignorable discomfort. Since the weather was warming, she had discarded her pants. She loved the feeling of being free of the cloth.

Argi then held her hands out, palms up, for his work. She knew he was meant to do it, and she would not help him shirk his punishment, but no one could blame the soft hearted maiden for wanting to help. "I'll show you." Her stunning green eyes stared unseeing at a spot beside his shoulder as she spoke.

He looked up to see an absolutely dazzling woman (but then, what woman wasn't?). Her green eyes, though, stared strangely. At first he was just thrown off by the difference in coloration, but when she reached deftly for his sewing without looking down at her fingers, her head still cocked as though listening to distant music, he realized. Oh. She was blind. He had heard of the blind girl in one of the camps, known for her beauty... but of course, who would marry a blind wife? It was hoped that his father might take her on as one of his wives, out of kindness, but of course, his father had enough wives and children already.

But she was very beautiful. It was good that she wasn't his father's wife. This way, maybe he could try to win her over. But he was, as usual, running ahead of himself.

"Thank you," he said politely, relinquishing his grip on the cloth and pressing the needle into her fingers. Yes, his father would frown upon his letting a blind girl help him with his chore... and, well, for flirting during what was supposed to be a punishment. But he didn't care. His father was out hunting--without him. "I'm hopeless at sewing. I'm Iñaki, by the way, and you are?" He didn't bother to tell her his patronymic. She probably knew, and if she didn't, well... better she didn't see him as the renownedly pathetic second son of the Warlord.

Ther was a pause before Argi got any response out of the man. She could just imagine what was going through his head. Perhaps he was worried about what his father would think of him handing his work off on someone else. Or perhaps he was thinking she could not do the task at hand, due to her condition. That last thought made her tilt her chin a fraction higher, a show of pride and confidence. She had learned to accept her lack of sight, but it still was a touchy subject when people thought she was incompetent because of it.

When she finally heard his words of gratitude, she just smiled and accepted the work. Her fingers quickly skimmed over the tear he was working on mending. She felt his stitches and nodded ever so slightly. They were a little crude, but strong. She then moved a little closer for him to see her hands. "You must anticipate the needle and move your fingers to avoid shedding any blood." She showed him, slowly, what she spoke of. As the needle began to enter the fabric, she moved her fingers aside to give it passage. Then, after a could stitches, she sped up her motions, her fingers moving gracefully and deftly as she sewed.

"Giozargi alab'Usoa." The words glided off her tongue, thinking nothing of the fact she did not carry her father's name. She doubted she would ever meet the man, should he still be alive. Despite her mothers tales of spirits, Argi believed it was a man who laid with her sick mother. Whe she was through with her mini lesson, she placed the task back in the man's hands. She moved to sit beside him. It was then that she smelt the salve. Not many would recognize the mixture, but she knew it well. "Are you injured?" She asked, cautiously.

He bent over to watch her fingers as she sewed, but of course, his eyes were really fastened on her face... though they occasionally flickered down to take in the outline of her breasts beneath her tunic. She had very nice legs, too--firm and well-sculpted, but round enough so you knew she was a woman. And what was better--she couldn't see him looking! He could let his eyes wander as he pleased. It was a man's dream, even if it wasn't very polite.

So absorbed was he in covertly eyeing her body that he hardly noticed the oddness of her name. But then... he had heard something funny about the blind girl's mother. There were a few such people about. Usually the daughters or sons of whores bore their mother's name. It was not unknown, but it did lower her status. That was, then, another obvious reason why his father hadn't taken her. Well, he didn't care. She was beautiful, and she was hovering hear him teaching him to sew--not that he was paying much attention to the instruction.

Her question, however, made him shift uncomfortably. How would she know? Then he realized--it must be the smell of the salve. Or maybe the way he was holding himself. He tried to sit a little straighter. "Oh, no, it's nothing." How embarrassing to admit his father had given him a thrashing! "I got caught in a thicket of brambles while I was on Ekaini lands, that's all." But, Eguzki take it, he was too used to honesty. "And then my father whipped me," he admitted, blushing. "I should not have gone onto foreign lands."

Argi couldn't help but think he was not watching what he should be watching. Some say that, when one sense is lost, all others sharpen to make up for the disadvantage. She couldn't be sure, but she swore she felt his gaze travel over her body. She was vain enough to hope she was found pleasing, but the corners of her mouth turned down a little at the disrespect. Not that she could say anything. He would probably just deny wrong doing, if he was indeed eyeing the parts she thought he was.

At the mention of injuries, Argi felt him stiffen and shift positions. She regretted asking him the question, feeling bad for embarassing him. She listened to what he said, nodding. His story made sense, given the clothing that was being mended. Then, even when she was going to accept his vague explanation, he continues. A soft smile crossed her face, though she tried to hide of her amusement at his ramblings. She liked the Warlord's son.

"No, you shouldn't have." Argi agreed, reaching to where she thought his leg was and giving it a gentle pat. Or rub. She did not shy away from human contact all the time. "You are an honest man." She smiled a little. She knew many who would never admit that they were bested, let alone beat like an unruly child. Argi thought better of the man for his honesty.

"What made you go to the other lands?" Argi asked, curious. She knew she shouldn't pry, but she didn't always do what she was told.

"Ah..." Well, she had responded well to his first truth-telling, even if it was humiliating. Maybe she would respond well to a second. It was funny how women could accept dishonor in men far more easily than men could. It was why they liked him better. They didn't care if he was a weakling, they only cared if he was handsome, and kind. And he was! He was both. And indeed, women did love him... except for his mother, who seemed to think just as highly of honor as his father did, and to likewise think he didn't have enough of it.

"Well, actually, it was a matter of--of honor," he said at last. He had been about to say 'pride,' but thought better of it. "My friend Mikel dared me to do it, and... I didn't want the other b--the other men to think badly of me." He had been on the verge of calling them 'boys'--but they were all of them men now, all gone through their Sun Dances. He'd had to take twice as much pain as anyone, because he was the son of the Warlord, and it had been so hard to keep from crying out...

"So I went. I made it all the way into Ekaini lands, too, and I met one of their sorgins.* A strange woman who claimed to have the spirit of a man. But I didn't steal a horse, so as far as my friends are concerned I failed." He sighed. "A failure to my father and my friends. But enough about me. What brings you to the Central Camp?" He wouldn't have thought she traveled, being blind. But then, he wouldn't humiliate her by asking.



*sorgin = witch, a derogatory term for a shaman

Argi listened to his tale with a lsight tilt of her head. She smiled alittle at his pauses and apparent humiliation. At his 'it was a manner of honor' she nodded. Though, she more she listened the more it sounded like a manner of pride. And, instead of men, him and his friends sounded like boys. Of course, Argi would never voice such belittling thoughts to the man who was good enough to be honest. So, she kept the indulgent look off her face as she listened, acting the proper way.

At his talk of the other land, Argi grew more interested. Having never seen outside her village, she wandered if the whole country looked the same. In fact, there was times that she did not remember what things looked like. She tried not to dwell on such depressing thoughts, however. "A man's spirit?" Argi shook her head at such nonsense. What woman would claim to be a man, on the inside? It would most likely drive warriors away. And what woman did not want to share her bed with a strong warrior? Argi often dreamed of such things, though a marriage often seemed a far fetched idea for a blind girl with no father.

"What did she look like?" She could imagine a robust witch with hair that stuck out in all directions. "What did their lands look like?" She knew it might be a foolish question, but she asked anyway.

"She was, ah..." Iñaki paused, trying not to be crude, or to offend his companion. "She was very beautiful. Not as beautiful as you are," he added hastily, looking up at his companion. And it was true. The witch hadn't been quite as lovely as Goizargi was, but she had a marvelous body and a face that would have been merely pleasant were it not... not so... it was almost as though there were a spirit in there. But not the spirit of a man! An enchanting spirit, of a seductress. He almost shook himself before remembering she could feel movement if not see it. He was coming very close to blasphemy against Eguzki, the one true spirit.

"Their lands..." This was a more comfortable topic. He realized, with a bit of a pang, that she was more curious than most would be about this, because of course, she couldn't see. But how much of his description could she even understand? "They're the same as ours. More brambles." A rueful little laugh. "The wind blows differently, and the grass is a little more green, but they have the same trees. The same animals. Our horses are better." This was more because he had to say it than because it was true; in fact the Ekaini were known for having remarkable horses. Some said it was their dark magic with spirits, but he thought it was probably their greater grasslands. "The sky looks the same, but it is darker at night... maybe only for the lack of company." He glanced at her, noting her interest. "May I ask--have you always been blind? It's only... only I don't know how to describe things."

Argi laughed a little at his comment. She had been told she was beautiful, but it was from men who merely wanted a dalliance. Without a man to protect her, some thought she would be an easy target and accepted their advances and momentary protection. She was too independent to sell her body, however. She felt the man beside her shake and raised an eyebrow. What was he so afraid of doing, mentally. It was funny how such a small action could betray so much of one's thought process.

When he started to describe the lands, she listened. She smiled a little at his joke, but did not say anything. She was trying to imagine was green looked like. As she tried her hardest to picture the Ekaini lands, he startled her with a question she heard often but was still not used to. She would prefer it if people just acted as if she wasn't blind. Still, it was an honest question that was not meant to insult. After a moments pause, she answered.

"I could see, at one point in time." Argi's voice sounded a little wistful. She knew she should just accept the darkness Eguzki placed on her, but it was sometimes hard to come to terms. Perhaps it was a curse, since her mother claimed to have been with a spirit. She tried her best not to place the blame on her mother, a true innocent. "One day, it was there. And the next, all was dark." She explained. It hadn't happened quite so rapidly, but just about. Even with some loss of vision before finally going blind, she could not have imagined things would turn out like they did.

"Were you very young? What was it like to just no longer be able to see? Do you still remember how things look?" He shook his head, flushing as he realized these questions were the height of impertinence. "I'm sorry. I don't know any other blind person besides Bakarne cloudy-eyes, well--that's what she calls herself. But she's old, almost eighty winters, and Eguzki closed her eyes just two years ago after showing Himself to her in a dream. They say that the person who looks upon Eguzki in his totality is struck blind by his power. Did you look upon the full spirit of Eguzki?"

He had never completely understood their God himself. He had felt the connection at some of the summer rituals, when the enemy's blood went back to the earth to be supped up by Eguzki as the sun drank the moisture from it. But to see Him would have given him true and absolute faith. Still. He knew that the healers often said that blindness was nothing more than an ailment of the body like a cough or a crippled leg, nothing divine at all.

"I mean I know it's probably not true," he added finally, awkwardly. "But you seem like someone Eguzki would choose to show Himself to." It was an attempt at a compliment.

After the rapid fire of questions, Argi felt a little more at ease about answering them. It was like she was talking to a child, full of curiousity about something that was unknown to him. Now, she knew that she was speaking to a grown man [at least in their culture], but it helped ease her mind to think otherwise. "I was at ten winters when my sight was taken from me." She started, a sad smile touching her lips. It disappeared, however, when she continued. "I felt forsaken, to be left in the dark at such a time in my life. I confess I pitied myself." At his last question, she closed her eyes as if remembering something pleasant. "I remember how summer looked." She then gave another wistful sigh, as if letting go of a memory, and opened her eyes.

Argi actually laughed a little at the mention of the old blind woman. Then, when questioned if she had seen Eguzki, she shook her head. "Unless He took the memory with Him, I did not look upon his face. I only wish I had." It would have been an honor to loose one's sight for such a gift, but she had a feeling her darkness was more a curse than anything else. At his awkward compliment, she once again patted his leg. Or where she thought his knee was. "Thank you. I am pleased you think so highly of me."

She patted his thigh, and he let one hand dart down to cover hers, pressing it there. "You know, I do. I'm sure it takes a great deal of bravery to be--" He gestured and realized she couldn't see it. This was part of why he was left to fumble along on the strength of his tongue. And he'd never been very good at cleverly fashioning words, like some of the storytellers or poets. "--well, blind," he finished lamely, still holding her warm fingers against his leg. He didn't want to press upon her. And maybe due to her handicap she was more easily taken advantage of, but then, she seemed totally competent in other areas. So he might as well.

"Since you haven't been all your life, though, you must know I'm not lying when I say you're very beautiful."

He took his hand off hers as though scalded, though, following this sincere pronouncement, as one of his father's hunters limped by--Peru's father, stuck at the camp with a broken leg. He quickly looked down, intent on the sewing, until the man passed. But they hardly looked like lovers anyway. There was no gazing into the eyes, after all. He had to admit it was a little unsettling.

"Sorry," he added in a whisper, leaning forward to touch her hair, speaking into her ear, "they're all watching me, you see, I think I'm the most scorned man in da'Zeru today. Do you want to go somewhere else? Not--just to talk. Everyone keeps laughing at me, I can hear it, and if my father whips me again I don't care." He was a little petulant, but mostly excited. "You can manage walking with me--right?"

Argi paused when her hand was caught, then stiffened at his words. He meant no harm by it, she was sure, but again she was feeling a little uncomfortable. She just wanted to be another girl, no better or no worse. He did not have to finish his sentence, though he did, for she knew what he meant. How could she not? Her only claim to bravery was proceeding with life despite her blindness. That, and perhaps caring for her mother, but she doubted he knew about the woman. Argi's lips tipped down in a frown, and she did not say anything. It wasn't as if she was completely upset, just more unwilling to talk more on the subject.

His compliment warmed her a little, enough to draw a short laugh out of her. "When I could see, I was hardly a beautiful woman. Many said I resembled a skeleton." She had been rather gangly. She was not surprisingly tall, but she had been tall enough to appear awkward when she was ten. She did not grow into her looks until her sixteenth year, or so she was told. So, all she had to go on was what other people said of her looks. "But I am happy to hear time had been kind to me." Argi then realized her hand was still beneath his.

Then, seconds later, he was snatching his hand back and she pulled her's from him, startled by the fast motion. Argi remained quiet, for her companion made no move to speak, and all she could do was wonder. Of course, she heard footsteps around them, but there were many and they had been there the entire time. She folded her hand together in her lap and waited for him to speak. Had she done something wrong?

Her answer was a whisper in her ear, causing her to shiver slightly. Out of instinct, Argi leaned away slightly so his breath wouldn't tease her sensitive skin so. She felt his hand touching her hair and, when accompanied with his words, it made her pause. Should she trust him? Or simply refuse? Still, what she heard him say she knew to be true. Had not the giggles of some village girls clue her into where he was sitting? Finally, after an internal debate, she nodded. It was a gamble, but playing it safe all the time was dull.

Argi stood then, brushing herself off so there was no dirt on her. She waited for Iñaki to stand before taking his arm. He would have to lead her, for she did not know this village as she did hers. She navigated mostly on sound. "We can go somewhere to talk." If only for his pride's sake, she would be compliant. Of course, she also did not want to be watched and talked about.

"Good!" He started up to his feet, the soles of which were still a little tender from his long, barefoot journey through Ekaini lands. Now that had been the less pleasant part of the evening! But he wouldn't dwell on it. And his feet were calloused, used to rough terrain; it was really only that briar patch that had scratched his feet and legs. He held out a hand to help her up and she took his arm; evidently she needed him to guide her.

He left the sewing abandoned on the ground for now. He could always come back to it, and anyway, he was practically finished by now. Where could they go? There was a stand of pear trees nearby, but it was no fun without the fruit to pick and that was not even near ripe. Deciding at last, he pulled her gently along with him, her arm warm in his, and laced his fingers through hers.

They made their way through the camp as quickly as he thought she could manage, often asking her if she were all right and adjusting according to her answers. He tried to imagine being blind and closed his eyes briefly, which only resulted in his stumbling over a throwing-stick some child had left lying out, and he realized he ought not to experiment while he was guiding someone else.

At last they came to his favorite place to relax: the vinyards. Here they grew vines of grapes that made the delicious wine his people enjoyed. The grapes were at this season no more than little green spikes, the tiny flower that would become delicious fruit. Finding a place between two rows of staked vines, he tugged her down with him, leaning back against a pole. "Can you tell where we are?"

They walked along in relaxed silence, only broken when he kept asking her questions about her comfort. As if she was a frail thing, she thought with a slight smile. Still, she answered patiently that she was fine, or, if she needed something changed. Iñaki was kind, doing as she requested. It was kind of nice to be looked after, though she knew it was only because of her condition. That put a damper on her elated feelings.

As they walked, Argi felt him stumble. She quickly tried to help him keep his footing, wondering what caused such a mistake. Still, he said nothing and just kept guiding her along, so she did not fret over it. Soon, she found him slowing to a stop. She heard the breeze through the trees, or something that would make the same noise, and the smell of grapes seemed to linger in the air, though she knew they would not be in season quite yet.

She then found herself tugged down to where her companion was sitting. She had no choice but to give into the action, or fall. So, she settled on the ground, noting the different texture of the earth than what was in the village. At his question, she paused. What if she gave the wrong answer? The question felt much like a test of how well she could sense, despite her lack of sight. She knew it was probably not meant in such a manner, but it was hard to get over what she considered flaws.

"I could guess, but I would feel like a fool if I was wrong." Argi stated, not willing to tell him where she thought he was. She sounded a little affronted, still not liking the feeling of being tested.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He realized in a flash that to her being blind wasn't a game. For her, it was a real challenge to be able to tell where she was; she couldn't open her eyes and look around whenever she felt tired of the game. He felt a stab of remorse. "I only thought--well--you might be able to guess by smell or something, but of course you've never been here before. I'm sorry. We're in the grape field." He picked one of the wide, new-green grape leaves and pressed it into her hand, so she could smell and feel it. "See?"

Oops. Poor word choice. But 'see,' surely, was just one of those things you said regardless of the person you were with.

He moved closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder, soothingly, as though she were a nervous horse... again, maybe a little condescending, but he didn't know how to behave.

"So what tribe are you from?" Smooth change of topic, he told himself ironically. But it had worked before. "I've been away from the Central Camp before, of course" (about twice) "but never near the border or anything. Do you live far away? Why did you come here, anyway?"

Argi nodded at his apology. She felt a little bad for being so harsh with him when he had just been....Well, the question was made honestly, she was sure. Though, be it a test or a game, it was not polite. She would guess a game, seeing how young he seemed at times. Not that it mattered one way or another. She felt him place...a leaf?.....in her hand after comfirming they were in a vinyard. Though her tribe had a vinyard, no one had ever expected the blind girl to visit it. She would only get in the way, they said. She fingered the leaf, studying it shape, size and texture. Then she brought it to her nose and took a breath.

It was how she treated all foreign elements. She would learn how to recognize it, had she the chance to ever encounter it again. She always thought it was funny that, as a child, she remembered little. But, now with her condition, she had herbs, villages and fimilar country side categorized in her mind. Perhaps it was one thing that was strenghtened when she lost her sight, or time had just matured her enough to appreciate a good memory. She knew, as a child, she could have cared less.

Argi then let the leaf fall from her hand and flutter to the ground. She found herself, once again, smiling at the man. "I live in a village near the border with da'Ekain." She sat back against a pole, gingerly at first as if to test if it would hold. "It was quite a journey to get here, but I do not mind traveling." To tell the truth, traveling did bother her. She could not watch the countyside to pass the time. She could only rely on smell and noise, much of which was distorted by the sounds of traveling. "We came because Osane wished to see her sister, who lives here. I merely came to get away from home."

"Who's Osane?" He didn't really care, as he was busy inching closer to her in the way of desirous men since time began. He slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her so that her body was flush against his own, and he was certain she could feel the increase in the rhythm of his heart, which was now pounding a rough rhythm against her shoulder. He was sitting uncomfortable upright, as he now had no stake to lean against, but he didn't mind in the slightest. He did feel a little silly--that was all--scooting across the ground to her.

It struck him belatedly that she couldn't see the handsome face so many women remarked upon. Of course, if she was blind, would she even care about a handsome face? Would she care more about his body? He was scrawnier than most of his father's warriors, and not as tall either; but no one had ever complained before. Still, he was suddenly nervous... she was so much more serious than he, and seemed older; perhaps because she had to cope with her blindness. It made him feel a silly child in comparison.

But he was the son of the Warlord!

And at the moment, a son run away from his duty to flirt with a blind girl in a vinyard.

He tried to brush these thoughts aside, running a finger softly over her cheek, turning her face toward his. "I very much want to kiss you." That could have been smoother--but at least he had gotten the idea out.

"Osane is a woman--" Argi was calmly explaining the answer to his question until she felt his arm slide around her shoulders. She grew still. Advances had been made on her before, but none had been physical. She wasn't quite sure how to respond, or how she felt about the man. Was she attracted to him? As she could not see, it was hard to answer that since they had just met. He was nice enough, but she was not drawn to him as she would have been given something tempting to look at. As she was debating in her mind, she leaned slightly away from him, causing him to have to hold her tighter should he want to keep the same amount of body contact.

Her hands, to save from being squished between them, went to rest on his shoulders. He was not a broad man, that was true, but if her insticts could be trusted, he was still young. In time, with maybe some effort, he would grow into a man's body as she had grown into a woman's. She had heard it say that males took longer than women to come into their adult forms. Maybe this was true with Iñaki. As if trying to feel out his measurements, her hands drifted over his shoulders and arms at their own accord as she thought.

When faced with his intentions, Argi blinked in surprise. She knew it was probably expected, but she was surprised at him giving her notice. She could deny him or accept his attentions. The choice was hers, and she mulled over it. Then, as a teenager with her first kiss before her, she slowly nodded. "I would like you to." Her words came out a little breathless and throaty. It was then that her heart began to quicken. The moment seemed awkward, but it did not embarass the girl. She was excited to have the attentions of such a man.

Her voice, when she spoke, was that of a woman who felt the pangs of arousal. He'd heard it often enough to be able to tell. Her hands slid over his chest and shoulders, and he felt shamed when he realized he had been pushing out his chest and flexing his pectorals, in order to give her a more favorable impression. Not that he really had any pectorals to speak of...

But she'd said yes, and her arms drifted down his own. He leaned forward, though she's already situated herself nicely, practically in his arms. It was strange, looking into those oddly-colored eyes, fully aware that to her the were as useless as two stones on her face, beautiful though they were. The vacantness of her gaze still set him on edge, but he forced himself to look at her wet, dark pink lips, so tremulously parted; and he leaned forward to kiss her. His own hands came up to cup her shoulders, pulling her to him. His lips touched hers tentatively, and then he slid his tongue into her mouth, hoping he wouldn't frighten her. He had the feeling this might her first kiss.

When he pulled back, his breath had sped up, and one of his hands had somehow strayed from her shoulder down to her breast. Not wanting to offend her, he moved it back, but did feel a pang of regret. "Well? Was that--did you like it?"

More to the point, would she let him do more?