I have lost count of the number of days that have passed. Early in the mornings before the dark has been disintegrated by the light I ride MistRunner out over the plains, keeping an eye out for my mate and his men, they have been gone for far to long. I had not begun to worry until recently when there has been no word from him and no sign of his return. Did they meet with some sort of accident on the way, did they encounter raiders on the way.
After a few hours I return and immerse myself in my chores. I have gone to the main fires but never see anyone about . And the few I thought might be there are not, others just rebuff you when you are there to immersed in their own lives and problems. It is times like this that I see who is really here for the tribe and who is really here for only their own selfish reasons.
I see no one doing anything for the greater good of the tribe, I only see each one caught up in what is best for them. No big surprise but I bet if Fonce returned tomorrow, that all the groupie tuchuks would crawl out of the woodwork, the ones that he sees as doing no wrong, but yet where are they now? Are they here keeping the morale of the tribe together? Are they here helping the people and seeing to the needs of others. No they are not. But I bet they tell him otherwise.
Those of use who are here are the ones that get pushed aside and stepped on, we are the ones who work and shed our blood,sweat and tears. But yet, a select few just smile and act a certain way and they are the best thing since the creation of bosk. I do know this, if they are praised and shown favor again when they have not been here and not done anything to contribute to the people. I will not stand silent. My mouth will speak of it. I will risk being banished for I will fight for what is right. Especially since , Garyx, myself, father and others have spent much time and energy trying to find the Ubar and being here for the people.
I am not happy with people right now. I do not see the honor and courage of the tuchuk. I see only selfishness, weakness and pettiness weaving about the plains. I do not see what used to be a tuchuk tribe.
I see only delusional children wanting to be who and what they are not. Where are they now. And a few that are around are rarely at the main fires, always in their own little wagons. We are not a tribe.
We are nothing more than a ghost of what was once known as the Tuchuk.
