Post by Lesa on Dec 11, 2010 13:42:01 GMT -7
The nip in the air caused her to shiver in her thin cotton top. There was a soft, motherly sigh behind her and the little girl found herself engulfed in a warm piecemeal-made wool jacket, sleeves trailing the ground alongside her.
"You've gotta remember your jacket, Maisa, it's getting cold out," Gwynell gently chided, dropping down to her haunches beside the six-Turn old, "but good job with the weeding; just get down to the stake and then go an'get some klah," a smile from Maisa, quickly returned, "jus'gimme my jacket back when you're done, okay?" A nod from the silent girl, and Gwynell stood again, arms crossing in front of her for a moment before rubbing hands briskly over her arms.
Wasn't like it was that cold, really, just the breeze was unpleasant. Jaded blue eyes took in Maisa's position to that of the stake - two feet. Considering the amount of weeds compared to Maisa's effectiveness at the weeding, would take her at most a half-candlemark, likely less. Be just about time for dinner, then story time, then bed for the littlest ones who worked, the four through eight Turn olds. Nine through twelves would get an extra half-candlemark today, Aliman said they'd been good for him in lessons. She wondered what to do with the thirteen-and-up group while making her way back down the row of tubers, Aliman tossing her a smile from where he was helping one of the four-Turns olds pick up the weeds that the others were dropping into piles.
She shoved her spectacles up her nose as another problem, more serious, crossed her mind. Mackenzie was getting overwhelmed with the influx of really little ones, the newborns and toddlers. The two of them would have to go talk to the Elders, explain that they weren't baby-sitting services for the fathers helping in the adult-fields or anything. Not for those that little - they needed every hand in the field or in lessons or given the chance to relax, and none of the older ones, herself included, felt too comfortable trying to take care of what was rapidly approaching a double-digits amount of babies and toddlers. They just didn't have the capabilities, with their duties so spread out and various. To try to worry about the littlest ones getting into things they shouldn't was another strain on already stretched nerves.
There were plenty of old Aunties and other women to take care of the Hold-babies. Not her group; wasn't what they were for, not at all. She turned to look back at the brown-and-green field, bursts of blond and black and brown and red and blue and yellow and gray pointing out the hair and clothing of her charges. They'd switched the routine up now that it had started cooling - lessons in the morning and weeding in the afternoon with breaks for play and food and naps interspersed into the over all-day plans.
Orphans, all of them. From the little two-Turn olds to old Aliman and Mackenzie. At least being in her 'gang', as she'd started to call them, gave them all some form of camaraderie, especially those who'd lost all their siblings too, like Maisa. No one cared if you didn't talk, or suddenly started crying; there might be a little teasing, but even the ones that the adults had told her were bad kids she had seen cuddling the younger ones when they cried. The adults were too concerned with the long-term running of Hope Hold to care about the here-and-now of making sure that the children who had no one would turn out okay.
So Gwynell made sure the fifty-odd had food and clothing and got taught their numbers and letters, how to read and write and were told the Teaching songs - even if the ones naming all the Holds and Weyrs were no longer applicable. They might be some day, far away, and it would be a pity to lose them. So what that they were using the dirt and sticks because it was hard to get hide and parchment and ink for so many? They were learning. Even if her arms looked tattooed from the amount of ink scrawled over them, notes to herself about everything she had to worry about...they were taken care of.
That was the most important thing. She was a Harper - she was to teach and keep the peace. So she did; her brief stint as a Healer coming into play now and again, but not, she was relieved to think, too often. The blond quieted the laugh bubbling in her throat at the sight of her Halbert sleeping curled around one of the newborns. It was adorable, but sad. Meant that there were so many newborns that she would have to take one; she didn't mind doing it - just confirmed they were getting overwhelmed. Normally only Mackenzie, Nanu and Tieba wore the newborns. If Halbert was soothing one, that meant there were more than the three could soothe. She bent down and picked up the child-sling, pulling her braid out of the shoulder-strap, checking that the knot was tight. The petite woman moved slow: for all it was a newborn, a nine-pound bundle was still heavy.
The baby boy was a warm presence against her front as she kept walking, braid swinging behind her. The baby-less feline stood and stretched sleepily, spotted hide shifting in the sunlight. He walked behind his human, swatting at her braid once in play before coming to walk beside her. She wasn't happy, he could tell. He couldn't think of a way to make Her happy - nothing seemed to fully work anymore. Couldn't get Her to play String with him. The Cubs all liked to play String with him, though. Wasn't all bad. Still, She wasn't happy, he would have to do something about that!
Gwynell felt her heartbeat calming as her body absorbed the warmth and... life of the child tied to her front. Nothing like taking care of one of the littlest ones to keep her calm. The area around her was quiet, breeze blowing through the trees that ringed their field, soup bubbling softly over the fire next to a big pot of klah. As long as they could keep their cavern in the Hold, they'd be warm through the winter... if they were forced out but not given the chance for housing - no, they wouldn't do that, not to children!
If it came to that, she'd take them all to the Weyr. Yes, she'd heard it was crowded at the Weyr... but the oldest group could all become Candidates, she'd heard they needed more and more Candidates, and there were plenty of adults there who would help her take care of the younger charges. The babe in her arms whimpered, then quieted. About time to start preparing his milk.
"You've gotta remember your jacket, Maisa, it's getting cold out," Gwynell gently chided, dropping down to her haunches beside the six-Turn old, "but good job with the weeding; just get down to the stake and then go an'get some klah," a smile from Maisa, quickly returned, "jus'gimme my jacket back when you're done, okay?" A nod from the silent girl, and Gwynell stood again, arms crossing in front of her for a moment before rubbing hands briskly over her arms.
Wasn't like it was that cold, really, just the breeze was unpleasant. Jaded blue eyes took in Maisa's position to that of the stake - two feet. Considering the amount of weeds compared to Maisa's effectiveness at the weeding, would take her at most a half-candlemark, likely less. Be just about time for dinner, then story time, then bed for the littlest ones who worked, the four through eight Turn olds. Nine through twelves would get an extra half-candlemark today, Aliman said they'd been good for him in lessons. She wondered what to do with the thirteen-and-up group while making her way back down the row of tubers, Aliman tossing her a smile from where he was helping one of the four-Turns olds pick up the weeds that the others were dropping into piles.
She shoved her spectacles up her nose as another problem, more serious, crossed her mind. Mackenzie was getting overwhelmed with the influx of really little ones, the newborns and toddlers. The two of them would have to go talk to the Elders, explain that they weren't baby-sitting services for the fathers helping in the adult-fields or anything. Not for those that little - they needed every hand in the field or in lessons or given the chance to relax, and none of the older ones, herself included, felt too comfortable trying to take care of what was rapidly approaching a double-digits amount of babies and toddlers. They just didn't have the capabilities, with their duties so spread out and various. To try to worry about the littlest ones getting into things they shouldn't was another strain on already stretched nerves.
There were plenty of old Aunties and other women to take care of the Hold-babies. Not her group; wasn't what they were for, not at all. She turned to look back at the brown-and-green field, bursts of blond and black and brown and red and blue and yellow and gray pointing out the hair and clothing of her charges. They'd switched the routine up now that it had started cooling - lessons in the morning and weeding in the afternoon with breaks for play and food and naps interspersed into the over all-day plans.
Orphans, all of them. From the little two-Turn olds to old Aliman and Mackenzie. At least being in her 'gang', as she'd started to call them, gave them all some form of camaraderie, especially those who'd lost all their siblings too, like Maisa. No one cared if you didn't talk, or suddenly started crying; there might be a little teasing, but even the ones that the adults had told her were bad kids she had seen cuddling the younger ones when they cried. The adults were too concerned with the long-term running of Hope Hold to care about the here-and-now of making sure that the children who had no one would turn out okay.
So Gwynell made sure the fifty-odd had food and clothing and got taught their numbers and letters, how to read and write and were told the Teaching songs - even if the ones naming all the Holds and Weyrs were no longer applicable. They might be some day, far away, and it would be a pity to lose them. So what that they were using the dirt and sticks because it was hard to get hide and parchment and ink for so many? They were learning. Even if her arms looked tattooed from the amount of ink scrawled over them, notes to herself about everything she had to worry about...they were taken care of.
That was the most important thing. She was a Harper - she was to teach and keep the peace. So she did; her brief stint as a Healer coming into play now and again, but not, she was relieved to think, too often. The blond quieted the laugh bubbling in her throat at the sight of her Halbert sleeping curled around one of the newborns. It was adorable, but sad. Meant that there were so many newborns that she would have to take one; she didn't mind doing it - just confirmed they were getting overwhelmed. Normally only Mackenzie, Nanu and Tieba wore the newborns. If Halbert was soothing one, that meant there were more than the three could soothe. She bent down and picked up the child-sling, pulling her braid out of the shoulder-strap, checking that the knot was tight. The petite woman moved slow: for all it was a newborn, a nine-pound bundle was still heavy.
The baby boy was a warm presence against her front as she kept walking, braid swinging behind her. The baby-less feline stood and stretched sleepily, spotted hide shifting in the sunlight. He walked behind his human, swatting at her braid once in play before coming to walk beside her. She wasn't happy, he could tell. He couldn't think of a way to make Her happy - nothing seemed to fully work anymore. Couldn't get Her to play String with him. The Cubs all liked to play String with him, though. Wasn't all bad. Still, She wasn't happy, he would have to do something about that!
Gwynell felt her heartbeat calming as her body absorbed the warmth and... life of the child tied to her front. Nothing like taking care of one of the littlest ones to keep her calm. The area around her was quiet, breeze blowing through the trees that ringed their field, soup bubbling softly over the fire next to a big pot of klah. As long as they could keep their cavern in the Hold, they'd be warm through the winter... if they were forced out but not given the chance for housing - no, they wouldn't do that, not to children!
If it came to that, she'd take them all to the Weyr. Yes, she'd heard it was crowded at the Weyr... but the oldest group could all become Candidates, she'd heard they needed more and more Candidates, and there were plenty of adults there who would help her take care of the younger charges. The babe in her arms whimpered, then quieted. About time to start preparing his milk.
