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This is a short story I made about the marriage customs of Ulralia, the Golden Steppe of Arkeia in DLaby.
On the Eastern Continent, a place far removed from the forests of Brevnia and the tundra of Grem, lies a vast, sprawling biome--the Golden Steppe, more commonly known as Ulralia by its natives.
There are few trees in the region, which also boasts little in the way of mountains or other outstanding geographical features... at least, in the traditional sense. Here, one might say that the land itself is the greatest feature. An immense expanse of shrubs and grass, it is hospitable to those who know how to live off its flora and how to tame its fauna--and that is exactly what the people of Ulralia do. Sheep and goats are plenty, providing food, milk, hides and the like, while falcons can be trained to assist hunters in catching prey.
But the most important animal of all, as far as the natives of this land are concerned, is the horse. Many scholars say that the first horse was tamed on the steppes of Ulralia. Considered much more than mere food, it is a sacred animal here, vital for transportation and communication. But more notoriously, the horse is also an irreplacable wartime companion. Warfare was revolutionized with this animal alone, and it all started here.
Ulralian legend says that humans and horses were made to work with one another, and the best evidence of such a notion is provided by the people of the steppe themselves. Ulralians were a simple but hardy folk. They were nomadic, living off whichever piece of land they stood upon rather than settling into one place. As such, the greatest of things they could build had to be able to fit onto a horse or two.
However, such a lifestyle should not be mistaken for a lack of richness in the peoples' culture, nor should it imply a shortcoming in the realms of warfare. For the Nine Tribes of the Golden Steppe would turn into a fearsome Horde when finally united, challenging and conquering much of the territories of neighboring Deun, Ayon, and even the great Honrai.
These riders had not Deunic steel, nor Ayonian magic, or Honrainese technology. The Ulralians had three things that would allow them to find great success: strong bows, fast horses, and adaptable tactics. Their Three Noble Skills, an ideal set that consisted of archery, horseback riding, and wrestling, represented these facets of their values perfectly.
These common traditions did not always exist. Before the unification, before the Horde, there was only an assortment of different tribes, each with their own relatively unique customs. And while their so-called differences might not have been large enough to warrant any serious conflict from the viewpoint of someone removed from their situation, tensions still existed. Not necessarily over territory, as was often the case with other peoples. Crises would erupt over hunting spoils, over trading rights, over tribal pride, even over women. Resources, power, identity, status and values... if it wasn't one, it was the other. The denizens of the Golden Steppe were not otherworldly beings with limitless patience, completely detached egos, or free from earthly wants or needs. They were, after all, only human, with their own wants and needs.
However, even the various tribes, one by one, would eventually come to terms by which to coexist. Legend said that the two largest Ulralian tribes, called the Salktai and the Jagun, agreed to resolve their disputes through a wrestling match between their chieftains in order to minimize unnecessary bloodshed. By the end of the bout, the two men carried such newfound respect for each other that previous political tensions dissolved to give way to new alliances. To cement this new pact, the chief of the Salktai gave his daughter to marry the oldest son of the Jagun, and such traditions have been held between tribes of the Golden Steppes ever since. The institution of marriage grew into a political tool and became less of a notion of romance between two willing individuals. But more importantly, it became the glue that would hold the clans together.
Several generations had passed since that fateful day, but while the bodies of the Salktai and the Jagun chiefs were long gone, their legacies lived on through the tradition of arranged inter-clan marriage. It would not remain exclusively between these two tribes, but instead extend out to the others as well. Smaller tensions came and went between some, but they never erupted into all-out war, for each tribe had at least a handful of nobles integrated into their most important families. Thus, waging war against one clan would be like doing so against all of them, in a sense.
Erdene ul Tolui, a daughter of one of the noble families of the Salktai, was just one of many involved in this expansive web of deliberate relationships. A woman of twenty-five years of age, she was considered rather old for a bride. One could credit such late blooming to her father, who initially suffered in the social department, at least when compared to most nobles, but retained his status due to his prowess as a warrior and reputation as an expert tamer of horses. The man was strict, of few words, but he loved his daughter to the point of overprotectiveness. Only when he was approached by a particularly trusted man from another tribe, who he had formed a friendship with during a mutual hunt, would he finally consent to giving her 'away' in marriage. Erdene was then promised to the other noble's son, who she would know as Arigh ul Batun.
But the partnership between Erdene's father and that of her future husband's was a matter all its own; Erdene herself had never met Arigh, nor was she sure that she would even like him. After all, for twenty-five years, she had enjoyed a relatively high degree of freedom for a woman... and now she was to relinquish it so suddenly? The prospect was, understandably, a stressful issue. But, her love for her family outweighed her distaste for the situation, and so she would begrudgingly prepare herself for her first meeting with Arigh. At the very least, she would be able to visit him and his family before the actual ceremony itself.
Taking a deep breath, Erdene viewed herself in the mirror. It was not a particularly large, fancy mirror, like those that Elynsorian nobles had. But many Ulralian nobles such as herself didn't know of such grandiose possessions to begin with. The mirror that she had was not much larger than the head of a horse. Framed in silver with a handle of its own, it was neatly hung from the ceiling of her yurt--a portable home that the nomads of the steppe were known for dwelling in. Even then, the reflective luxury was a prized possession and not something that a poorer Ulralian would possess.
Normally not one to worry about her appearance too much, today she couldn't afford to be so careless. Repeatedly, she scanned her own visage for imperfections in her makeup, also using a dab of powder to conceal any unsightly moles or marks. Her concern was arguably excessive, however; while old by her culture's standards, the woman still retained much of her beauty. With jet-black hair, dark emerald eyes and a delightfully tanned complexion, other cultures might even find her stunning... but to others in the tribe, she was just old. Age, after all, was believed to have a direct relation to fertility, and that was one of the most important qualities a woman of the Ulral could have. It was said that by 30, a woman's capability to bear children would vanish altogether.
And yet, having an infant suckle at her teat as she reclined in some stranger's comfortable yurt was one of the last things she wanted. A skilled horsewoman and archer, Erdene was fit to hunt and ride just as well as many men her age. Her interests had less to do with any lack of physical femininity as they did mere circumstance. After all, every woman her age in the tribe already had husbands and children of their own; as girls, they were allowed to mingle and ride with boys for the most part, but after marriage, they were expected to 'settle down'. Naturally, the favorite conversational topics of such older women often included relationships, children, and housework. Why deliberately plunge herself into a situation that would only breed envy and a feeling of constantly being behind? Such a path was a setup for misery, thought Erdene. Better to indulge herself in what the single folk of her clan did best; hunt, tame horses, gather food, and enjoy the breeze and overall atmosphere of the steppe. The feeling of losing all that frightened her.
But now here she was, preparing herself to fall in line... it was, understandably, a very nerve-wracking notion. At the very least, it wasn't a kidnapping--as some Ulralian men had been known to do in order to acquire brides--but being sent to the home of total strangers, for the most part... it felt similar, if nothing else.
"How do I look?" asked Erdene as her mother entered the house.
She was unbearably nervous. Whenever she glanced down at her hands, she would find them to tremble uncontrollably. Preparing oneself for a dangerous hunt was one thing, but to be exposed to social pressures such as the one she was bound to face in the near future... it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Even if she wouldn't admit as much to herself, the stakes were high. This was very likely her last chance to move on to a stage of life that just about everyone wanted for her... but she wasn't even sure if she was ready.
Erdene's mother, Yisun, only added to her worries as she responded only by looking her daughter over, then proceeding to adjust and re-adjust small details of her traditional outfit as if there was really anything to fix. Their mother-daughter relationship was an awkward one for the most part, as Yisun was said to have been wed in her teens. Erdene, on the other hand, was now in her mid-20's and far behind the standard set by her mother. She didn't need to hear the disappointment expressed in words to know it was there. But now that she was getting married, the tone had been somewhat different, a bit lighter. It was an odd feeling, to say the least.
"There. Now, you are ready," confirmed the older woman, offering a smile afterwards. "I knew you would find someone sooner or later."
Erdene could only reply with a slightly less sincere grin. Perhaps her father was the one in need of congratulating for such a 'find', she thought to herself. She took a deep breath. This was it; she would finally get to see the face of her betrothed. If nothing else, she still had the ride over to enjoy. After saying her final farewells for the time being to her mother, she would proceed out of the yurt.
Even as she was dressed to impress, she didn't fail to take her trusted bow with her. The recurve bows of the Ulral were another point of pride for their people, as there were few in the world said to have their qualities. Made from bamboo, horn and sinew, they were curved in such a way that stored energy more efficiently. While an excellent hunting tool, it could be just as effective for war--or for protection against kidnappers, in Erdene's case... even if she was a bit old to be taken as a bride.
Stepping outside, she gave a bow of her head to her father, Bolad, who seemed busy skinning the gift sheep that was sent to them as part of the marriage custom. It was but one of many presents. The past several weeks, the family had received a number of packages in succession; cheese, wine, tea leaves, milk liquor, silk, various trinkets, and now an entire sheep. It was said to make up for the loss of the ul Tolui's daughter, as she would soon be come to known as an ul Batun.
But as final as the deal seemed, it wasn't quite so final, as Erdene knew, according to the customs of her region. It was said that if the groom's family did not like the bride during her initial stay, or if she failed to integrate properly, they could send her back with the pact annulled. Of course, she had only ever -heard- of such a thing happening, never having witnessed it herself, but the possibility of such a disgrace lingered in the back of her mind. Would she be suitable enough for him? As high as the temptation to intentionally botch such a trial period might have been, Erdene knew this to be her chance to bring real joy and pride to her beloved father. It saddened her to know that the skills she had acquired were not enough, but seeing him now, happily going about his business... it would be difficult to deny him this much.
"I'm leaving, Father," said the woman, approaching her father. She was missing him already, as she would be within the company of strangers in just a few hours.
After washing his hands in a nearby basin, Bolad would dry them and turn to embrace his daughter, patting her on the shoulder afterwards. "Go, then. I'm proud of you," he assured her. It wasn't a statement he made often, and hearing it made Erdene's heart swell up with pride. Spurred forth by the encouraging words, she returned the gesture before moving to her horse, Arslan.
At least he would be coming with her, if nothing else. A 'takhi', or wild horse, he had been caught and tamed by Erdene herself where many others failed, and as such was a special point of pride for her. But was it something that she could discuss at the dinner table? What WOULD she be able to talk about? The only topics that kept her interest probably weren't suitable for a married woman to be so absorbed in...
Stuffing down the troublesome thoughts for the time being, Erdene set foot in stirrup and hiked herself up onto the saddle, a more natural motion in spite of her somewhat uncomfortable dress. She'd manage it, though. The Batun family had set up camp a few miles from where the Tolui were staying, roughly half an hour's ride away--one she could easily make on her own. But even if it had been much longer, Erdene would be able to do so with relative ease. She might have preferred it that way.
It was a bit over halfway through her ride, and Erdene found the the experience much less satisfying than she expected. All of the stress and anticipation had dulled a normally enjoyable activity to such a high degree. She couldn't express her true feelings of the situation in front of her parents, and she definitely couldn't do so in front of her future husband's family. The weight of it all had settled into her stomach, making her somewhat nauseous--even if she literally could not remember the last time she felt that way on horseback.
She couldn't take it anymore. She had to let it out somehow. At full gallop, she would yell at the top of her lungs:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Her cry echoed through the steppe. She wasn't sure if anyone heard it, but for that very moment, she didn't particularly care. It was a very simple, primal way of venting, one that wouldn't ruin her makeup with tears of frustration. But it worked, somewhat, as she couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved after all that.
Unfortunately, the screen of distracting thoughts, along with her own method of expressing her distaste for them, kept her from hearing the gallop of another horse--one that was now side by side with her.
An unfamiliar voice could be heard from her left.
"What are you yelling at?"
Startled by the query, Erdene snapped her gaze to the left to see another rider, a youth with messy jet-black hair and a healthy tan typical of many outdoorsmen. On his face was a curious grin.
Erdene's stomach dropped once again from embarrassment as she furrowed her brow.
"N... Nothing!"
"Should I yell with you? Maybe that way you'll feel less strange doing it all by yourself," offered the stranger.
"Maybe you should stop following me," replied Erdene sharply, still reeling from being caught in the moment. She couldn't afford to be bothered any more than she already was.
"I would stop, if I were actually following you," responded the youth, and a look ahead at the group of yurts on the horizon showed Erdene that they were indeed headed towards the same place. Who was this person? A member of the Jagun tribe? Of the Batun family, even?
Either way, the stranger didn't seem intent on introducing himself. Worse, he could not peel his gaze from the bride, and she found such scrutiny to be on the unnerving side, especially when thrown on top of the pile of her current concerns. Clucking with her lips, she urged her mount to pick up the pace. Arslan heeded her call for speed, and brought her forward, leaving the unnamed stranger in the dust. For once, she couldn't help but giggle to herself. Watching others shrink to tiny little specks in the distance on a single glance back was one of her favorite aspects of the race--and winning it, of course.
ULRALIA - THE STEPPE BRIDE
On the Eastern Continent, a place far removed from the forests of Brevnia and the tundra of Grem, lies a vast, sprawling biome--the Golden Steppe, more commonly known as Ulralia by its natives.
There are few trees in the region, which also boasts little in the way of mountains or other outstanding geographical features... at least, in the traditional sense. Here, one might say that the land itself is the greatest feature. An immense expanse of shrubs and grass, it is hospitable to those who know how to live off its flora and how to tame its fauna--and that is exactly what the people of Ulralia do. Sheep and goats are plenty, providing food, milk, hides and the like, while falcons can be trained to assist hunters in catching prey.
But the most important animal of all, as far as the natives of this land are concerned, is the horse. Many scholars say that the first horse was tamed on the steppes of Ulralia. Considered much more than mere food, it is a sacred animal here, vital for transportation and communication. But more notoriously, the horse is also an irreplacable wartime companion. Warfare was revolutionized with this animal alone, and it all started here.
Ulralian legend says that humans and horses were made to work with one another, and the best evidence of such a notion is provided by the people of the steppe themselves. Ulralians were a simple but hardy folk. They were nomadic, living off whichever piece of land they stood upon rather than settling into one place. As such, the greatest of things they could build had to be able to fit onto a horse or two.
However, such a lifestyle should not be mistaken for a lack of richness in the peoples' culture, nor should it imply a shortcoming in the realms of warfare. For the Nine Tribes of the Golden Steppe would turn into a fearsome Horde when finally united, challenging and conquering much of the territories of neighboring Deun, Ayon, and even the great Honrai.
These riders had not Deunic steel, nor Ayonian magic, or Honrainese technology. The Ulralians had three things that would allow them to find great success: strong bows, fast horses, and adaptable tactics. Their Three Noble Skills, an ideal set that consisted of archery, horseback riding, and wrestling, represented these facets of their values perfectly.
These common traditions did not always exist. Before the unification, before the Horde, there was only an assortment of different tribes, each with their own relatively unique customs. And while their so-called differences might not have been large enough to warrant any serious conflict from the viewpoint of someone removed from their situation, tensions still existed. Not necessarily over territory, as was often the case with other peoples. Crises would erupt over hunting spoils, over trading rights, over tribal pride, even over women. Resources, power, identity, status and values... if it wasn't one, it was the other. The denizens of the Golden Steppe were not otherworldly beings with limitless patience, completely detached egos, or free from earthly wants or needs. They were, after all, only human, with their own wants and needs.
However, even the various tribes, one by one, would eventually come to terms by which to coexist. Legend said that the two largest Ulralian tribes, called the Salktai and the Jagun, agreed to resolve their disputes through a wrestling match between their chieftains in order to minimize unnecessary bloodshed. By the end of the bout, the two men carried such newfound respect for each other that previous political tensions dissolved to give way to new alliances. To cement this new pact, the chief of the Salktai gave his daughter to marry the oldest son of the Jagun, and such traditions have been held between tribes of the Golden Steppes ever since. The institution of marriage grew into a political tool and became less of a notion of romance between two willing individuals. But more importantly, it became the glue that would hold the clans together.
Several generations had passed since that fateful day, but while the bodies of the Salktai and the Jagun chiefs were long gone, their legacies lived on through the tradition of arranged inter-clan marriage. It would not remain exclusively between these two tribes, but instead extend out to the others as well. Smaller tensions came and went between some, but they never erupted into all-out war, for each tribe had at least a handful of nobles integrated into their most important families. Thus, waging war against one clan would be like doing so against all of them, in a sense.
Erdene ul Tolui, a daughter of one of the noble families of the Salktai, was just one of many involved in this expansive web of deliberate relationships. A woman of twenty-five years of age, she was considered rather old for a bride. One could credit such late blooming to her father, who initially suffered in the social department, at least when compared to most nobles, but retained his status due to his prowess as a warrior and reputation as an expert tamer of horses. The man was strict, of few words, but he loved his daughter to the point of overprotectiveness. Only when he was approached by a particularly trusted man from another tribe, who he had formed a friendship with during a mutual hunt, would he finally consent to giving her 'away' in marriage. Erdene was then promised to the other noble's son, who she would know as Arigh ul Batun.
But the partnership between Erdene's father and that of her future husband's was a matter all its own; Erdene herself had never met Arigh, nor was she sure that she would even like him. After all, for twenty-five years, she had enjoyed a relatively high degree of freedom for a woman... and now she was to relinquish it so suddenly? The prospect was, understandably, a stressful issue. But, her love for her family outweighed her distaste for the situation, and so she would begrudgingly prepare herself for her first meeting with Arigh. At the very least, she would be able to visit him and his family before the actual ceremony itself.
Taking a deep breath, Erdene viewed herself in the mirror. It was not a particularly large, fancy mirror, like those that Elynsorian nobles had. But many Ulralian nobles such as herself didn't know of such grandiose possessions to begin with. The mirror that she had was not much larger than the head of a horse. Framed in silver with a handle of its own, it was neatly hung from the ceiling of her yurt--a portable home that the nomads of the steppe were known for dwelling in. Even then, the reflective luxury was a prized possession and not something that a poorer Ulralian would possess.
Normally not one to worry about her appearance too much, today she couldn't afford to be so careless. Repeatedly, she scanned her own visage for imperfections in her makeup, also using a dab of powder to conceal any unsightly moles or marks. Her concern was arguably excessive, however; while old by her culture's standards, the woman still retained much of her beauty. With jet-black hair, dark emerald eyes and a delightfully tanned complexion, other cultures might even find her stunning... but to others in the tribe, she was just old. Age, after all, was believed to have a direct relation to fertility, and that was one of the most important qualities a woman of the Ulral could have. It was said that by 30, a woman's capability to bear children would vanish altogether.
And yet, having an infant suckle at her teat as she reclined in some stranger's comfortable yurt was one of the last things she wanted. A skilled horsewoman and archer, Erdene was fit to hunt and ride just as well as many men her age. Her interests had less to do with any lack of physical femininity as they did mere circumstance. After all, every woman her age in the tribe already had husbands and children of their own; as girls, they were allowed to mingle and ride with boys for the most part, but after marriage, they were expected to 'settle down'. Naturally, the favorite conversational topics of such older women often included relationships, children, and housework. Why deliberately plunge herself into a situation that would only breed envy and a feeling of constantly being behind? Such a path was a setup for misery, thought Erdene. Better to indulge herself in what the single folk of her clan did best; hunt, tame horses, gather food, and enjoy the breeze and overall atmosphere of the steppe. The feeling of losing all that frightened her.
But now here she was, preparing herself to fall in line... it was, understandably, a very nerve-wracking notion. At the very least, it wasn't a kidnapping--as some Ulralian men had been known to do in order to acquire brides--but being sent to the home of total strangers, for the most part... it felt similar, if nothing else.
"How do I look?" asked Erdene as her mother entered the house.
She was unbearably nervous. Whenever she glanced down at her hands, she would find them to tremble uncontrollably. Preparing oneself for a dangerous hunt was one thing, but to be exposed to social pressures such as the one she was bound to face in the near future... it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Even if she wouldn't admit as much to herself, the stakes were high. This was very likely her last chance to move on to a stage of life that just about everyone wanted for her... but she wasn't even sure if she was ready.
Erdene's mother, Yisun, only added to her worries as she responded only by looking her daughter over, then proceeding to adjust and re-adjust small details of her traditional outfit as if there was really anything to fix. Their mother-daughter relationship was an awkward one for the most part, as Yisun was said to have been wed in her teens. Erdene, on the other hand, was now in her mid-20's and far behind the standard set by her mother. She didn't need to hear the disappointment expressed in words to know it was there. But now that she was getting married, the tone had been somewhat different, a bit lighter. It was an odd feeling, to say the least.
"There. Now, you are ready," confirmed the older woman, offering a smile afterwards. "I knew you would find someone sooner or later."
Erdene could only reply with a slightly less sincere grin. Perhaps her father was the one in need of congratulating for such a 'find', she thought to herself. She took a deep breath. This was it; she would finally get to see the face of her betrothed. If nothing else, she still had the ride over to enjoy. After saying her final farewells for the time being to her mother, she would proceed out of the yurt.
Even as she was dressed to impress, she didn't fail to take her trusted bow with her. The recurve bows of the Ulral were another point of pride for their people, as there were few in the world said to have their qualities. Made from bamboo, horn and sinew, they were curved in such a way that stored energy more efficiently. While an excellent hunting tool, it could be just as effective for war--or for protection against kidnappers, in Erdene's case... even if she was a bit old to be taken as a bride.
Stepping outside, she gave a bow of her head to her father, Bolad, who seemed busy skinning the gift sheep that was sent to them as part of the marriage custom. It was but one of many presents. The past several weeks, the family had received a number of packages in succession; cheese, wine, tea leaves, milk liquor, silk, various trinkets, and now an entire sheep. It was said to make up for the loss of the ul Tolui's daughter, as she would soon be come to known as an ul Batun.
But as final as the deal seemed, it wasn't quite so final, as Erdene knew, according to the customs of her region. It was said that if the groom's family did not like the bride during her initial stay, or if she failed to integrate properly, they could send her back with the pact annulled. Of course, she had only ever -heard- of such a thing happening, never having witnessed it herself, but the possibility of such a disgrace lingered in the back of her mind. Would she be suitable enough for him? As high as the temptation to intentionally botch such a trial period might have been, Erdene knew this to be her chance to bring real joy and pride to her beloved father. It saddened her to know that the skills she had acquired were not enough, but seeing him now, happily going about his business... it would be difficult to deny him this much.
"I'm leaving, Father," said the woman, approaching her father. She was missing him already, as she would be within the company of strangers in just a few hours.
After washing his hands in a nearby basin, Bolad would dry them and turn to embrace his daughter, patting her on the shoulder afterwards. "Go, then. I'm proud of you," he assured her. It wasn't a statement he made often, and hearing it made Erdene's heart swell up with pride. Spurred forth by the encouraging words, she returned the gesture before moving to her horse, Arslan.
At least he would be coming with her, if nothing else. A 'takhi', or wild horse, he had been caught and tamed by Erdene herself where many others failed, and as such was a special point of pride for her. But was it something that she could discuss at the dinner table? What WOULD she be able to talk about? The only topics that kept her interest probably weren't suitable for a married woman to be so absorbed in...
Stuffing down the troublesome thoughts for the time being, Erdene set foot in stirrup and hiked herself up onto the saddle, a more natural motion in spite of her somewhat uncomfortable dress. She'd manage it, though. The Batun family had set up camp a few miles from where the Tolui were staying, roughly half an hour's ride away--one she could easily make on her own. But even if it had been much longer, Erdene would be able to do so with relative ease. She might have preferred it that way.
~~~~~
It was a bit over halfway through her ride, and Erdene found the the experience much less satisfying than she expected. All of the stress and anticipation had dulled a normally enjoyable activity to such a high degree. She couldn't express her true feelings of the situation in front of her parents, and she definitely couldn't do so in front of her future husband's family. The weight of it all had settled into her stomach, making her somewhat nauseous--even if she literally could not remember the last time she felt that way on horseback.
She couldn't take it anymore. She had to let it out somehow. At full gallop, she would yell at the top of her lungs:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Her cry echoed through the steppe. She wasn't sure if anyone heard it, but for that very moment, she didn't particularly care. It was a very simple, primal way of venting, one that wouldn't ruin her makeup with tears of frustration. But it worked, somewhat, as she couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved after all that.
Unfortunately, the screen of distracting thoughts, along with her own method of expressing her distaste for them, kept her from hearing the gallop of another horse--one that was now side by side with her.
An unfamiliar voice could be heard from her left.
"What are you yelling at?"
Startled by the query, Erdene snapped her gaze to the left to see another rider, a youth with messy jet-black hair and a healthy tan typical of many outdoorsmen. On his face was a curious grin.
Erdene's stomach dropped once again from embarrassment as she furrowed her brow.
"N... Nothing!"
"Should I yell with you? Maybe that way you'll feel less strange doing it all by yourself," offered the stranger.
"Maybe you should stop following me," replied Erdene sharply, still reeling from being caught in the moment. She couldn't afford to be bothered any more than she already was.
"I would stop, if I were actually following you," responded the youth, and a look ahead at the group of yurts on the horizon showed Erdene that they were indeed headed towards the same place. Who was this person? A member of the Jagun tribe? Of the Batun family, even?
Either way, the stranger didn't seem intent on introducing himself. Worse, he could not peel his gaze from the bride, and she found such scrutiny to be on the unnerving side, especially when thrown on top of the pile of her current concerns. Clucking with her lips, she urged her mount to pick up the pace. Arslan heeded her call for speed, and brought her forward, leaving the unnamed stranger in the dust. For once, she couldn't help but giggle to herself. Watching others shrink to tiny little specks in the distance on a single glance back was one of her favorite aspects of the race--and winning it, of course.