Beaded white goathide mocassins

This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.

Item

some beaded white goathide mocassins.

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Lined with soft rabbit fur, the sturdy white moccasins are both durable and warm. Across the toes, the leather has been beaded with tiny teardrop rubies which glisten like drops of fresh blood.

Details

No other details are known.

Loresong

The words of your song coax forth an image of the smoky darkness of a halfling ger. A young girl with curly red hair stands before the cooking fire as her mother watches nearby. Using both hands, the girl stirs the thick contents of a large simmering pot. Both turn toward a sound at the door where a cluster of elderly women have appeared, leading a tiny white goat kid on a rope. The women smile kindly at the young girl and exchange words that you cannot make out. When the brief discussion ends, one of the elders fondly pats the girl on her head and passes the goat's tether into her small hands. The wobbly young goat stumbles over to her new mistress and head-butts her affectionately in the abdomen, much to the delight of the little girl.

A fresh verse summons up a new image of a warm sunny day where a cluster of ger rest on a grassy plain. The young redheaded girl is waving to her mother as she leaves the ger with the small goat trotting along behind her. As you follow them through their day, you view events typical of a young girl with a playmate. The pair stops by the lakeshore where the girl tries to teach her companion how to skip stones over the water. When the kid fails to get the knack of the game, they move on to play in a nearby field. The goat has the advantage and soon wins the game by knocking her mistress over with a well-placed head-butt to the rump. After sharing a lunch of bread and cheese, the girl curls up with her head on the warm belly of the goat and falls asleep.

Your song takes you back inside the ger, though you sense that some time has passed. You can feel the bite of bitter cold winds as they howl and blow snow into whirling white vortices outside. Winter has obviously come to the settlement. The young girl and her goatling huddle together beneath a heavy wool blanket while her father warms his hands at the cooking fire. Her mother stirs a small pot of thin gruel as she worriedly checks their dwindling food supply. Their faces appear gaunt and pale from the winter's hardship. Sympathetic hunger pangs assault you as the vision fades to darkness.

A final verse returns you to the interior of the ger. A frigid wind stings your face as the door flap opens and the group of elderly women bustles briskly into the hut. All seem very thin and weak with hunger. The young girl welcomes them, then recoils as a serious discussion ensues. Though you cannot make out the words, you gather from their gestures that the goat is the subject of a disagreement. The girl looks stricken as she loudly cries out a response to her elders, abruptly ending further discussion. The goatling, upset by her cry, wanders over and nuzzles her hand. The girl kneels next to a ceramic bowl on the floor and pets the goat reassuringly while weeping softly over her. When the goat sleepily lays its head in her lap, the girl calls softly to her father, who hands her a ceremonial dagger.

Eyes bright with tears, the girl silently slits the jugular vein of goat, allowing its blood to flow into the bowl in a steady dark stream. Finally, the goat lies motionless and the girl raises her tear-stained face to the elders. One of the women marks the girl's face with the blood of the goat while her father silently bears the carcass away. The former playmate will be roasted and divided among the tribe, providing meager sustenance for the days ahead. Bidding the elders farewell, the girl huddles under her blanket, weeping bitterly over the fate of her beloved pet.