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Ranara and her little daughter Azabel move to Urtho's Tower when the latter can say six words ("up", "mama", "milk", "no", "now", and "please") and hasn't started to walk yet. Ranara sets up to teach little children to read, ones who don't have evident Gifts yet - Ranara herself has Mindspeech, is all, with about a classroom's worth of range. Azabel sits in on classes, worn on her mother's back or later plopped in a corner with toys or, when she's only four, plopped in a corner with a book, younger than the other kids in the class. When Azabel has in fact sat through her mother's curriculum she is turned somewhat loose, to walk very carefully up and down and around the Tower, exploring.
smol bell in urtho's tower
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anticipating_night
Azabel nods, since that will be understandable, and follows her into the camp.
The old woman leads them to a very smoky dung campfire. There aren't any chairs; the other inhabitants of the camp, all women or children under ten, are squatting around it.
The woman smiles toothlessly at Aza and offers her a wooden cup full of some pungent-smelling, slightly lumpy off-white liquid.
small-and-alone
:Uh, fermented milk. It's a big honour that she's offering it to you, it means she's acknowledging you as an adult. I was never allowed to have it when I was here:
small-and-alone
:I mean, I assume so? I don't know how alcoholic. You should at least taste a little, if you refuse it she'll be offended, but you can pretend you're drinking it and maybe sneakily pour some out if it's awful?:
anticipating_night
:People should not attempt to insist that other people they have never met before drink mind-altering substances:
small-and-alone
:I don't disagree, but my people are what they are. ...I guess you can refuse, maybe she'll decide you're spunky instead of just rude:
anticipating_night
"No thank you," Azabel says, holding her hand flat with the palm toward the substance.
Ta'ana looks very nonplussed for a moment, and then breaks into laughter. She offers it to Ma'ar instead.
small-and-alone
He has one small sip, has to try VERY HARD not to make a face, and hands it back to her.
Ta'ana seems content to drink it herself, and pass it back and forth with the other women. They chatter with each other and ignore Ma'ar and Azabel.
anticipating_night
:So how do you mean you guess she's your grandmother. Is she or isn't she?:
small-and-alone
:- Oh, I just mean that I never called her that, but then I realized that Tantaran doesn't have a word for the thing I did call her. She's my grandmother by blood - my mother's mother - but the clan only has words for the father's lineage, not the mother's:
small-and-alone
:Oh, that barely counts as hitting me, she'd do it a lot harder if she were really mad:
small-and-alone
:I mean, I had my basic shield up. Didn't seem worth shielding more, she wasn't actually trying to attack me:
The old woman barks something at another woman across from her, who twitches a bit and then nods and starts ladling out stew from a pot for them.
The next few minutes pass in mostly-quite-tedious silence, as food is handed out and the women and children eat while shooting frequent, vaguely worried glances at the horizon.
anticipating_night
Stew she'll take without complaining. :Do you know what they're looking for?:
small-and-alone
:The men must be out on a raid. ...I guess we could tell them about Skan, offer to have him fly and scout for them to check if they're okay?:
without-fear
Skan is still hanging back, looking like a donkey, which is HUMILIATING but he is being such a good friend and not saying ANYTHING about it.
without-fear
:I don't mind!: He effortfully suppresses bouncing. :Ummm, you'll - have to tell them I'm not a donkey, though. I'm not going to be a scout on the ground, that'd be awful: