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When I came upon the isolated pen of drama I stopped. There were four in the pen and only two of those were adults. The desert tribesman stood and walked to where I was standing, “They can go for days with little water young sir.”I glanced at him, “And only eat meat.”He blinked as I walked to the strong bars and hissed softly. The drama turned towards me slowly and I could see that they had been drugged. I glanced at the tribesman, “Why did you drug them?”His eyes widened, “All know young sir that the beasts can not be tamed.”I snorted and vaulted over the bars and he gasped. The drama hissed a warning as I came closer and hissed back in a softer tone. I scratched the male behind the ear hole and he hummed as I moved to the female. I hissed softly as I scratched her and checked her carefully. The two adolescents hissed softly as I walked to them and rubbed or scratched them.I walked back to the bars thinking. The male was in good enough shape, the female was newly pregnant and could. She had lost all faith in humanity after her bitter divorce and now thrived on independence and trusted only her seclusion. Nonetheless, she had needs and they necessitated a periodic trip to the village on the river. The local people scattered sparsely about the area had a deep, superstitious fear and respect for her so she really was not too afraid to move about the region alone. Shelley was a Bearer.She always tucked her hair up under an old straw hat and then donned an old tattered shirt and a beat-up pair of canvas trousers. It made her look like a little old man from a distance, no need to attract undue attention to herself, a lone female, superstitions or not. It was a day’s round trip journey so she started out early. She dragged her rickety two-wheeled cart from the underbrush and trudged up the path to the road. It was a fair day and she lost herself in her thoughts as she walked.It was about an hour into her walk when Shelley crossed the path that led down to the old.
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