"Fahima's Faithful Steed"
by Mayetra & Beryll
~Fahima’s POV~
This has been the most horrible two days in my life. Mariya has been ill for the last week and we have run out of honey cakes. I ate the last one three days ago. To make matters worse, Crya refused to ask if I could go to the market with her. I could have gotten honey cakes there. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she is taking delight in denying my sweet tooth. None of the kitchen staff can cook like Mariya and I am not so selfish as to demand that the head cook be roused from her sickbed simply to make me a treat.
The sun is setting and the sky seems swollen with oranges, reds and yellows. I play a simple game to see how many colors, tints and shades I can name before they all dissolve into inky blackness.
The last ray of light has just disappeared when I hear the sound of a bell followed by the cry of ‘fresh bread’ and ‘sweet cakes’. It is the baker’s cart!
I race barefoot and dusty into the villa. All thoughts of not running inside are forgotten as I burst into my master’s chambers. He is just getting up but I cannot wait for him to finish his morning absolutions. The baker’s cart will be gone by then. Bouncing from foot to foot and chattering like a ‘little monkey’, as Crya would say, I make my wish known.
„Master! Master! Will you buy me honey cakes? I can hear the baker’s cart coming down the road!"
He looks at me fondly as he continues to dress. „You know that if you want honey cakes, you have to earn them, little bird. Did Crya say you could have some?"
I fidget impatiently. I know that I am filthy. I was playing in the mud earlier that day and the evidence is clearly ground into my pink trousers and tunic. There is no way Crya will consent to allowing me to have a treat when I look like a mud demon. Still, I carefully consider my master’s question. He didn’t ask if Crya had just, at that very moment, said I could have some. He had asked in a more general way. Since she told me three days ago that I could have a honey cake, I quickly decide that I could answer without lying. „Yes."
Sitting, my master runs a brush through his long, dark hair as he answers, „Then go to Crya and ask her to buy some."
Well, this will never do. Crya will take one look at me and there will go any hopes I have of getting a treat. „But I want you to buy me some, Master," I declare without missing a beat, fixing my best pout upon my lips.
My master looks over and chuckles. Setting the brush down on the table, he stands and extends his hand to me. „Let’s go then."
I beam happily at him as I take his hand. He seems to be in a very relaxed mood this evening and I wonder briefly if I can worm my way out of lessons. I skip to keep up with his strides as we leave the villa. Salim seems to have anticipated my wishes and our master’s consent because he has opened the gates. The baker and his cart are already waiting in the yard.
All thoughts of honey cakes are forgotten as I see the most beautiful creature tied to the front of the baker’s cart. It is a donkey but to me I see a strong and noble steed. He is wheezing a bit but that is just probably due to the fact that the mean, old baker has him pulling too much weight. His coat is a soft grey flecked with bits of white. His muzzle is white as well. His big brown eyes are filled with tears and crusted with dirt. I want him!
Stopping dead, I pull on my master’s hand causing him to stop as well and look down at me. „I don’t want honey cakes anymore, Master." I point at the donkey with my free hand. „I want him!"
My master looks over at the donkey. The donkey looks at him, sneezes once, and than shakes his head a bit to chase away the flies buzzing around his ears. My master looks back down at me, smiling gently. „You can’t eat a donkey, little bird."
My master really is thick at times. With a slight sigh and a silent prayer to Allah for patience, I reply slowly so that he will understand. „No, Master, I don’t want to eat him. He will be my horse. Every warrior needs a faithful steed!"
He turns a thoughtful eye back on the donkey once again. „No."
My donkey snorts and I tend to agree with his assessment of this situation, but I am undaunted. I will have him. I turn a well-practiced look of begging upon my master. „Please, Master! I will take good care of him and everything. He’s so pretty and that man is treating him poorly!"
My master is a bit sterner when he answers me. „Fahima, you must think carefully before making promises like taking responsibility for the life of another being. To own a steed is not a game, it is a serious matter.
I give him what I hope is my best look of maturity. „I know, Master. I would have to feed him, give him baths, brush his coat and take care of him because no one else would. Just like you take care of me because no one else would."
His voice is gentle when he answers me. „It is ill, child, it will give you a lot of grief."
This does not bode well; he has called me ‘child’. He only does that when he is really, really serious. I consider his words for a moment while looking over at the donkey. He doesn’t look sick to me, merely tired and in need of a good meal. „Master, don’t I bring you grief when I am ill? You still take care of me despite that. I could make him better. I will give him honey cakes, they make me better."
„If I give you a steed, you will have to care for it and keep up with your lessons without complaint. Can you do that?"
His tone leaves no room for later arguments or ‘misunderstandings’. But, it also tells me that I have succeeded. The promise is worth the reward. „Yes, Master."
„Then you may have it."
He walks over and purchases the donkey from the rather surprised baker. I take this opportunity to try for a bit more reward for my promise. Taking my master’s hand into mine, I lean against him and than I give my master a look of adoration, which I feel with all my heart. „Master, can I have some honey cakes too?"
He looks down at me with a strange expression on his face. It is as if he is resisting the urge to grin broadly at me. His lips twitch at the corners before he answers, „No."
I press my luck. „But think of how good it will make you feel to see me so happy with my new steed and honey cakes! My joy will bring you joy."
He sends me a look of fondness before saying, „No, little bird."
His tone is final. He pats me on the head, turns and walks back into the villa. The baker is already taking his leave pulling his cart behind him and the gates close behind him with a soft thud. I am left alone with my new steed and Salim.
Walking over, I gently hug the animal. Pulling back and looking into his dark eyes, I whisper, „I shall call you Flower, because you are as pretty as one."
~Salim’s POV~
This animal does not bode well for the little miss. She looks over at me with a happy grin on her face. I must admit that she is hard to say ‘no’ to, especially with the small smudge of dirt across her nose. Still, I think that our master should have done so.
The creature is sick, as my master told Fahima, but it is also old. I have no doubts that I will be able to heal the beast, but the question remains, how close to the end is it. I am startled from my reverie by Fahima’s tugging upon my pant leg.
„I’m sorry, little miss. Did you say something?"
She smiles at me. „I said, do you think Flower will like some tea."
I stare at her puzzled for a moment before I realize that is what she has chosen to name the beast. Glancing at the dirty creature I wonder what caused her to think of that name. His eyes are cloudy and crusted with sickness. His coat is crisscrossed with scars and missing patches of fur. I smile down at my young charge. „I think that Flower will need a special tea. Will you help me fix it, little miss?"
She nods enthusiastically. Sighing, I lead her and the mangy creature she has taken into her heart to the stables.
~Crya’s POV~
He let that child sleep in the stable with that dirty thing. I fear that our master may be losing touch with reality but I dare not speak this thought outloud. Allah knows what diseases that thing is carrying. What about Fahima? What if she catches something from it? There is little I can do but make sure Fahima is scrubbed extra clean at bath time.
*~*
~Fahima’s POV~
It has been three weeks since my master let me have Flower. My faithful steed is getting better, thanks to Salim. I must admit that Flower was a bit sicker then I initially thought. But now, his eyes are no longer crusty, his coat is beginning to shine, and he’s quit sneezing all the time. He’s even gained weight.
However, I can see problems arising with Crya. First, the extra baths are beginning to get annoying. Second, she seems to have some sort of unnatural hatred for Flower. She’s always calling him a ‘mangy beast’. She also says that he is dumb and stubborn.
What does that old bat know anyway! I’ve already taught Flower to stand by the dining room window during mealtimes. Any vegetables I don’t want I toss out the window and he takes care of them.
Okay, so maybe the fact that Flower ate some of the flora in the garden is a valid reason to be angry with him. Crya is rather sensitive when it comes to the garden and I’ve been yelled at on more than one occasion for trampling the plants. Still, she didn’t have to voice the opinion that someone should „put that mangy beast out of his misery". That was rather rude.
Flower must have thought so as well because he tried to take a bite out of Crya’s backside. She ran inside, screeching something about telling our master. I did scold Flower for his rash actions. He has no idea where Crya has been and Allah knows, what he might catch from her! Salim can work wonders when it comes to healing but I think miracles are out of his reach.
~Crya’s POV~
That ugly, disease-ridden, creature is a menace. I cannot see why the little miss loves it so much. Just the other day, I caught her in the front receiving room having ‘tea’ with it. She had wrapped the beast in one of her good, silk robes and a few of her veils. Fahima was in a fine state of temper by the time I got her things away from the beast and chased them back outside.
But, things have gone too far now. If he tried to bite me, then he could bite Fahima. Perhaps now, our master will see the danger of letting her dote on it.
*~*
~Salim’s POV~
The little miss is up to something. I can tell because she sent Flower into the kitchen through the back door. The staff had a fit.
While I was trying to get the stubborn beast to leave the room, I caught sight of Fahima sneaking in from the villa entrance, slipping bits of food into a sack and than back out the same way she came in. She reappeared moments later at the backdoor without the sack and very apologetic for not keeping a closer eye on Flower.
I must admit the donkey seems to adore her. One moment, he was stubbornly digging his heels in as I tried to pull him from the room and as soon as she appeared in the doorway, he walked over to her like a docile, little lamb. Fahima has done an admirable job of taking care of Flower these last two months, never balking once at her duties. She has also done a wonderful job of training him, not only with voice commands but also with hand signals. Unfortunately, the little miss’ pet has become her partner-in-crime as evidenced by this latest kitchen incident. I can only imagine what mischief she is up to now.
Crya appeared seconds later to scold Fahima for not watching ‘that mangy creature’. I really wish she would refrain from telling the little miss, and anyone who will listen, that Flower should be put out of his misery. Fahima’s outrage is hard to miss and that damn donkey seems to be able to read her mind. As soon as Crya bustled past them to leave, Flower executed a well-aimed kick towards her backside. Poor creature’s eyesight isn’t what it used to be which is probably why he missed. Still, I must admit the sounds of Crya’s outraged shrieks were humorous.
But I digress, Fahima is up to something and it is my job to find out what. So far, she has taken two blankets from the linen closet, a sack full of food, and one of our master’s old shirts.
~Fahima’s POV~
Training Flower to open the chicken coop door was a stroke of brilliance on my part. While the staff was busy trying to catch escaped fowl, Flower and I slipped off to have an adventure. I have packed for a long trip and I’m wearing my best armor, courtesy of my master. I have left my faithful servant, Salim, behind. He really can’t be trusted since that awful incident with the Jinniyah*.
It feels good to be free of extra baths and lessons. I am not worried about getting caught by Salim because the estate has a lot of land and plenty of places for me to hide. There is a creek where I can get fresh water and plenty of food bearing trees and plants. Besides, I want to test my master and see if he really can find me no matter where I go. Not that I am thinking of leaving him but he hasn’t had to use his powers for that reason. Like he always tells me: Practice makes perfect. Flower and I shall see if he is rusty or not.
I have found a nice place in a grove of olive trees not far from the creek. I’ve set up a tent using some blankets. I have already gotten a bucket full of water and now I only need some firewood. It is getting close to evening so Flower and I had better get started collecting it.
~Salim’s POV~
I’m not sure what my mistress is up too but the ‘tent’ she tried to construct blew over with the first burst of strong wind. I should probably leave it for her to find, but I would be foolish to think that would be enough to persuade her to go back to the villa. She can be as stubborn as her donkey when she sets her mind to something. So, I take the time to fashion her a proper shelter before she returns. I have no fear of her discovering my presence. The blood-bond between our master and I has given me the gift of heightened senses. Not that I need to use this gift to keep track of the little miss. I can hear her tramping through the underbrush like a herd of wild horses. If I didn’t think it would cause me more aggravation, I’d work on her stealth skills.
Her powers of observation are sadly lacking. She returns to the camp with a load of firewood and doesn't even notice that her ‘tent’ is different then how she left it. I will take her to task for that, but not now. She needs to learn to be aware of her surroundings.
Twilight is upon us and I feel the first stirring of our master. He reaches out through the bond we share and a single question forms in my mind: Fahima? It is the same question I always get from him when he awakens and I replay the details of the day over in my mind ending with Fahima unsuccessfully trying to start a fire. I wait for his orders, ready to gather Fahima and deliver her back to the villa, but our master is content to let her play her game for reasons of his own. I do get the fleeting impression that the household is in an uproar over her sudden disappearance. He leaves my mind and I settle in for the night.
~Fahima’s POV~
I really wish I could have gotten the fire started last night. It was rather chilly but between my master’s old shirt, the blanket and Flower curled next to me in the tent, I managed to stay warm. I should have run away sooner because I cannot remember a time when I had honey cakes for breakfast. Still, I am a bit disappointed that my master was unable to find me last night. I guess his powers are very rusty. Well, Flower and I shall just have to teach him a lesson about practicing. I will stay here until my master gets it right.
The day was rather eventful and fun. Flower and I had little success in catching a fish from the creek, but I did manage to start a fire. At first, I thought I had failed yet again. But I must have created a very small ember because when we get back from the creek, a small fire is burning cheerily, casting a warm, welcome glow about my little camp as night falls.
The fire is a good thing because I need to be able to boil water to cook my rice, as well. Now, cooking is not a strong suit of mine but I have spent the last week watching Mariya prepared dinner very closely. I don’t think cooking rice should be too terribly difficult. I simply have to boil water than add the rice.
Okay, so maybe there is more to cooking rice then meets the eyes. Instead of being loose and fluffy, my rice has turned out to be rather sticky and clumpy. It tastes rather plain but is eatable at least. I think I shall add some olives to it to help liven up the flavor.
~Salim’s POV~
Allah help me but I have failed. I should have stopped her when she first started to climb that olive tree. As it was, I heard the crack of the tree branch but was unable to move fast enough to catch Fahima. She hit the ground, landing on one of her hands. Her shriek of pain tells me that she has been seriously hurt.
I quickly douse the fire and than scoop her up in my arms. Flower is braying wildly and runs along side me as I carry his mistress back to the villa.
~Fahima’s POV~
I am in trouble now! My arm throbs sharply and I cannot stop crying from the pain. Salim appeared out of nowhere the second after I hit the ground. I don’t think I have ever seen him move so quickly. How is it that he found me but my master did not?
I suppose I should have remembered that no matter how much my master favors me; I am still just a slave. I wonder what my punishment will be for skipping lessons. I beg Salim not to take me back in between sobs but he doesn’t listen to me.
It is not long before we enter the villa. I vaguely register through my pain and worry the sounds of Crya yelling at Flower. My faithful steed tried to follow us into the house but the crabby head of the household slaves will not let him enter.
My master is waiting and takes me from Salim’s arms. He doesn’t even ask what has happened but seems to already know. Maybe he is not so rusty with his skills after all. Soon, I am settled on my master’s bed while he urges me to drink a bitter tasting tea. I bulk at the taste but my master makes me drink the entire cup. My arm hurts so much and I cannot control my tears, no matter how hard I try.
„Be brave, little bird."
His words soothe my mind somewhat but his poking and prodding at my arm does little to make it feel better. Then to make matters worse, he starts plying me with questions. How does he sharpen his sword? What is the proper way to saddle a horse? How does a warrior properly care for their armor?
I answer him but I have to wonder how he can think of conducting a lesson at a time like this. I don’t need a quiz; I need a hug, kisses, and maybe a honey cake or two. I guess it did serve a purpose because he has managed to splint my arm with sticks and linen before I realized it.
„You will have to leave this splint on for a couple of weeks."
I nod still stifling my tears. The tea has done its job and numbed my physical pain but I still hurt on the inside.
„You were very brave, like a true warrior. I’m very proud of you, little bird."
I quickly wipe my face with my uninjured hand and peer up at him. „Master, you can give me a hug now. I know you haven’t because you are being brave so I will be brave, but it’s okay."
A soft chuckle escapes him and he pulls me into his lap. As his arms wrap around me, I hear him say, „You have learned your lessons well, little bird."
I sigh contentedly, feeling sleepy. The tea must have had something in it besides a painkiller. I yawn rather loudly, sniffle once or twice, and let my eyes slip shut.
Life is good. I have a pet, my master has given me a rare hug, and I was very brave despite my pain. Sleep comes easily to me.
-
*Jinniyah - Female Jinn or Genie
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