[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Khasia looked at the bundle of fibers that Jamilah was holding out to her. Though she hated to admit it, the dyes that Jamilah and her daughers used were much better than hers. She looked longingly at the deep blues and greens which would work perfectly into the border of a large storage basket she was working on. The scarlet could be used for any number of projects, but best of all were the pale yellows, which would be perfect for the patterns on the cradle she planned to start work on next. Looking around to see if any of her peers were watching, Khasia reached out tentatively and took the bundle from Jamilah.

"Thank you." She looked up at the woman as she spoke. "I will enjoy using these in my work." Khasia purposefully did not mention honor, and thought that probably Jamilah noticed the omission. However, she didn't mention it, and Khasia turned to stow the bundle in the large covered pot where she kept her other materials. Several unfinished baskets were scattered in the area, all woven expertly in geometric patterns unlike the more organic shapes used by most of the tribe-members.

Jamilah reached out one hand and touched a palm sized basket woven in deep purples and blues. "This is lovely, Khasia." She said, turning it in her hand and running her fingers over the tiny knob on the lid. Khasia smiled, she was proud of that basket, the tiny detail work had been difficult and she had spent many hours perfecting the curve of the lid.

"I made one the last time the traders came. They paid well for it. The women of Umbar use them to store jewels in, I think." She took back the basket, and placed it carefully on the stack with the others. Jamilah nodded, still looking at the small basket. Slightly irritated at her visitor's extended stay, Khasia moved restlessly, picking up her bone needle again, and stitching rapidly down the side of a torn skirt.

Jamilah rose, seemingly taking the hint, but before she went she fixed Khasia with her eyes. "It is a pleasure to work with you." Khasia stabbed her needle into the fabric with renewed force. How was she to answer that one? Of course working with the old healer brought her no pleasure, but the gifts and compliments she had brought did.

"Khasia! Come on!" The cry came from where Nasir, Jasara, and Najah stood with gleeful looks on all their faces. Khasia looked up quikly, and then turned to Jamilah.

"I should go. My sister needs me." Without waiting for a reply she tossed the skirt she was mending onto the heap with the other clothes and ran in the direction of Jasara and her group.