Coming over a ridge, we stopped at the top of a hill to view the valley below us. There was a group of small houses or tents - I couldn’t tell what they were for sure - clustered together. It reminded me of spokes and hub of a wheel. In the center was a huge tent. But not a tent. Oh, I know. It’s a yurt! Wow, a really BIG yurt. There was a lot of activity - women carrying buckets of water from a well, a woman pulling a vegetable cart, women talking with one another, lots of kids running around. A pretty typical small town scene. Just like mine but not like mine.
“Ah. Finally. Here we are,” Isobeau said, “And it looks like we may be just in time for dinner. I am famished. How about you? Let’s get down there.”
“Um. They aren’t going to throw rocks or anything, are they?” I asked.
“Not these villagers,” Isobeau said, “These are the Daughters of Ariadne.”
Arion moved slowly down the hill. The villagers caught site of us. At first, there were a couple of women who looked in our direction, with their hands shielding their eyes from the setting sun. Then barely audible ...