"Oh, before I forget again, Sulata wanted to talk to you. Seemed important," Ela said from behind Tomas.   "What about?"   "She didn't say. Like I said, seemed important. Hey, catch that gray!"   Sable had pinned her ears and was going after the colt as soon as the words reached Tomas. Tomas scrambled to grab mane before she unseated him in her enthusiasm. The colt had barely taken three steps of canter before he'd been coerced back into the herd.   "She didn't say anything at all?"   "No."   There was no point in trying to get more out of Ela; she was fantastic with the horses, even by Tribe standards, but significantly less good with people. Why Sulata had decided to convey a message to Tomas via Ela, Tomas had no idea. It would almost be more reliable to try to catch him at a meal.   "They're gonna geld him, you know. The gray," Ela said.   "Good thing, too. He's worse than his dam." Tomas had been unlucky enough to be present for the colt in question's birth. Most of the tribe's mares tolerated at least a watchful eye during the birthing process, but Snowmane wasn't one of them. She and all her foals were gorgeous but unreliable and sometimes aggressive. This colt was the prettiest and angriest of them all, and had been causing problems for Tomas for a year.   "A damn shame. Look at his hip. If you can get over the personality --"   "A big if."   "If you can get over the personality, he's the best put together thing we have. I'd keep him."   "He'd tear down your tent. He's a menace."   "Watch him!"   Sable made contact this time - just a glancing nip, but the colt got back in line. Tomas got a flash of self-satisfaction from her, followed by another near-fall as she dodged a kick.   ---   "Tomas, Tomas, come in, come in! I was wondering when Ela would remember." Sulata moved several books off a chair for Tomas and gestured for him to sit. She was older than Tomas by nearly fifty years, but not nearly old enough for the position she held. It had been a tumultuous election, redeemed only by the good Sulata had done for the tribe in the last three years.   "How long had it been?"   "Oh, only a week or so. I'm quite impressed with her."   "She said it was important?"   "Important enough. Now, neither of us have time for beating around the bush, so I'll get right to it. I want you to go to the Marches."   Tomas was silent for much longer than he thought appropriate. "The Marches?" he said dumbly. "Like, of Risand?"   "And Ranoke, and Ryfile, yes."   "For... why?"   "It's high time the Tribes started participating in the world. We've been too isolated for too long. You're the first I've asked but not the last. I want the Brightrunner tribe to be the first in a new tradition."   "And you think I'm the right man for the job."   "You're smart, you're young, you're creative, you're handsome."   "With respect, you're crazy."   "It's your choice. You and Sable will make quick work of the trip north, excepting maybe the Ghostfalls, and I'll send you with enough gold and gems to secure a trip to Redyn. A bit of trading here and there, and you'll be home before winter with enough salt to last us for years."   "Can I think about it?"   "I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Take a few days. Talk to Sable. It's a big decision."   ---   [wip but I'm worried about losing this while I work lol]