All credit goes to Mercedes Lackey, the world and culture of Valdemar and its surrounding lands are hers. No profit is being made from this work of fanfiction, the only claim I can make is to my original characters. If you wish to borrow, please ask first.
Wind-worn features peered up at the rim far overhead as the sun sank slowly in the western sky. Tarin Shin'ta'laen shook his head and abruptly decided that the day was too far gone to make the ascent. He glanced sideways at his uncle who seemed to understand. They made their way to the base of the cliff and began to pitch camp in the silence of long habit. This too would soon be gone.
After camp was made – long after – Tarin finally spoke.
"I suppose this is as far as you will come, Uncle."
"Suppose that's right."
An awkward silence swept between them, neither knew what to say. Eventually they both went to their bed rolls, a long day's riding had taken its toll.
Tarin woke as dawn's first glimmering crept into the sky. Elation, anticipation, and grief almost overwhelmed him from the first moment of awareness. He shoved the emotional chaos into the back of his mind and began to cook breakfast for himself and his uncle.
His uncle woke as the scent of a hot meal drifted on an errant breeze.
"You sure about this, boy?"
Tarin grimaced. His uncle would not accept that he was almost grown. At seventeen summers, he had reached his full height although his strength was still maturing.
"As ready as I shall ever be, uncle."
Evasions, even here among kin. He was not ready, was not sure how one could ever be ready to leave all you had ever known and live among strangers, speak a strange language, adapt to an entirely new culture. He was leaving the plains, they would never again be his home.
He stood abruptly, began to pack his few possessions. A few changes of cloths, some horses carved by his uncle. Nothing of any real value here. He rolled his blankets from the night before and bound them to his light pack. Packed. There were only his farewells to make, and those the hardest of all.
He turned to his uncle, the man who had raised him, the man who had always understood him. Until now, until he decided to leave the Plains.
Still, no words. A brief hug, rare from a man who kept his distance. He walked over to his horse, a mare. Fed her a bit of fruit, whispered into her ear.
"Be safe my love, bear my cousin well."
He would need no horse where he went, and she would not belong. It tore out his heart to leave this intelligent little mare that he had raised and trained, but it had to be done.
Tarin turned, faced his uncle.
"Blessing of the Lady upon you, uncle." Bowed and left, not looking back on either land or kin. His guide from k'Valdemar would be waiting at the rim by now.
It was time to go.
My first attempt at Valdemar fanfic, so please tell me if I break cannon. Anyone think they know why Tarin is leaving?