Azaria Read Free Page B

another.
    Azaria greeted the three other dogs, scratching the tops of their heads briefly before continuing on, with Grayfoot close on her heels. As they entered a sprawling, lively camp the other canines took off for more appealing interests.
    Dogahn gripped her arm before they entered. “Azaria, what was that? What happened back there?”
    “I... I don’t know,” she answered. It was the first moment in her life she'd had reason to question who she was - the proud daughter of an influential Ta'araki - and she didn't know quite how to deal with the unfamiliar wave of emotions sweeping over her. She'd always looked up to her father, respected him with great reverence, loved him without condition, delighted in his company and - every once in a while - feared him. Now she was baffled as to what she'd witnessed and distraught her father had been so clearly participating in an act he'd always taught her to be profane - the taking of another's life. Of course there were occasions when killing was considered justifiable - defending one's camp or loved ones - but this didn't seem to be one of those cases. She knew there must be a good explanation for what she'd seen. She just couldn't fathom what it might be. She turned her face away from him, her bottom lip quavering.
    Dogahn put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward him. She looked up into those vivid, hazel eyes so many girls remarked upon and thought she was starting to realize why. "Well," he said gently. "We can't tell anyone what we saw. Let's never mention this to anyone else." She nodded gratefully and Tiriz confirmed the pact without the slightest of objections.
    ---
    Accompanied by Grayfoot, Azaria approached her family’s shelter with trepidation. The walls of the squarish structure were constructed from large bricks consisting of a mixture of wet sand, clay, mud and straw, set out in the sun for a full moon to bake solid.
    However impossible she knew it to be, Azaria feared her father would be waiting for her when she entered, the other Ta'araki standing sternly behind him.
    She slowly drew back the overlapping leather flaps and was relieved to instead be greeted by her mother. "Azaria! You’re back early? Thank the Mother," Zephia said. "Can you help me with these young ones while I prepare our meal?"
    Zephia's sister, Shaledar, had asked her if she'd tend to their young daughter. It was no problem, Zephia had told her, since she already had her youngest. At some point, three other of Quzo's young friends had shown up looking for their favorite playmate. The five had kept themselves entertained until now, but were becoming restless. Shaledar hadn't returned, and Zephia didn't know if the other children’s mothers even knew where they were.
    "Yes of course, mother. I just need to wash off first," Azaria replied, grateful her mother was too busy to notice her agitated state. She set her hunting weapons down on a padded wool mat and after a quick walk to the river, sat down to five small children delighted to have her undivided attention. She played a favorite game with them involving small fowl bones and twigs until they tired of it.
    "Tell us a story, Azaria," Quzo pleaded, Azaria's bratty but lovable little brother.
    "Yes, pleeease!!" said Shaledar's child, Ania, who was slightly older than her young cousin.
    Azaria sighed. They always wanted a story. Although she’d bored of the tale long ago, she knew which one would hold their attention longest. "Yes, yes, little ones. Settle down and I will tell the Tale of the Watchers." She shifted to a cross-legged position and sat up straight. Swinging her head first left and then snapping it quickly to the right, she removed her long, straight hair from her face. Before beginning, she glanced over at her mother, who’d begun to cough heavily.
    "First tell me what you know of the Great Birdmen," she started coyly, still eyeing her mother. The children knew the tale thoroughly - but she needed a moment to