(Day 4 - 1380 Words)
I just finished my third client of the morning and I was sweating already. Not from the sun which was up and brightly illuminating my makeshift beauty shop, but from the muscles used in brushing out the near dreads on my last client. It was one of the new chocolate ones, and their slightly wood-smoke and road-kill scent made my eyes water, and let me know they weren’t real sure of this process, so I tried to be extra careful with her.
I also decided not to give them a bath, since they were so skittish and settled for spraying them down with an enzyme air freshener for extra strong odors. I had to use a lot of detangler spray, which caused a lot of jumping every time I sprayed, as they didn’t like the hissing sound it made. My mat-splitting comb with the razor inner edges was put to a lot of use, as well. They had some thicker undercoat than my usual clients and I really wished they were comfortable enough that I could have used my portable air compressor to blow that out, as that would have made an epic furnado. When that happened, it looked like red cottonwood snowing down. The best blowouts really wouldn’t be for another month, as this early in the year they still needed some of the under coat to protect them.
Although, they had an interesting oil on their skins that seemed to help protect them from the cold, as well as nicks and scratches.
*
My first year working on them, I had accidentally brushed against a sharpened obsidian arrowhead once that had been given to me in trade for braiding a faux-hauk in a young male’s hair and cut my forearm. I quickly reached for my styptic powder with one hand while holding one of my microfiber towels on the wound to stop the bleeding.
One of the whiter ones took my hand and moved the towel aside. I was hoping that the smell and sight of the blood wouldn’t make them berserk or anything. Thankfully, it had been so sharp and was fairly shallow, so it was already down to just the lightest of seeping. She rubbed behind her ear with one large finger and then started to stroke an oily finger down the cut. I tried to pull away. I really didn’t want to get some kind of sepsis.
But, of course, she was way stronger than me, so my arm went no where. At first, it stung a little, as expected, and then the sting just faded away. By the third stroke, there was no blood showing, and the cut was completely sealed, though you could see the fine line still. Then she blew on it three times. I looked down at the cut when she finished.
There was no oiliness now. I gingerly touched the spot and there was a film of something over it. It reminded me of that liquid skin that you could put over wounds to protect them. I touched it slightly harder, and while it was still a little sore, it didn’t hurt all that much. So I had made a note at that time to be careful with hair washing not to strip all the oils out of the hair.
When I researched it later at home, the closest thing I could find was that sheep had lanolin on their skins that did something similar. It protected the newly shorn sheep from nicks and infections, and the cold. Within 24hours they wouldn’t have issues even with a mild snow storm. I was thinking that this oily stuff might be something similar.
*
For my recent client, I had used dry shampoo after getting the mats out, which did help with smell somewhat, and made the longer hair swing nicely, since it no longer was stuck together with oils and dirt.
But it had been quite an endeavor, and I needed a break. She had left me a handful of raw turquoise nuggets. I wasn’t sure if my usuals had informed the new folks of my barter system, but apparently they had.
I took off my tool belt and apron and laid them over the back of the chair. So far, it had held with only a few creaks and groans, which I was pleased with. They all knew that was my signal that I was taking a break, but wasn’t leaving yet. They started shuffling and moving about, very graceful and silent.
I opened one cooler and pulled out some granola and a little yogurt cup, along with a spoon. I also poured warm coco from my thermos into the top cup and took a sip before closing the inner cap. It steamed in the air, but wasn’t too hot to sip. I sat in my camp chair and stretched my legs out for a moment. Chitters of squirrels and bird whistles would make anyone think things were normal, but I knew that it was how they talked to each other, and those weren’t normal animals making the sounds.
I had to fill the pot on the propane stove twice, because various ones would come by with wooden bowls and scoop out the warm water and then sprinkle dried leaves and berries in it to steep. I had been appalled to begin with, but as the water came from their creek and I didn’t use the pot for washing anything, I decided there was nothing I could really do about it. And they did seem to enjoy the warm water tea.
One of the younger children had come up beside my elbow and was sniffing and watching intently. I sat my cup on the table and opened the top of the yogurt cup and sprinkled the granola on top, except for a small amount. Then I turned my hand over, palm up, and motioned to the child. I think it was one of Aspen’s kids, but I wasn’t completely sure, as they grew pretty fast during the winter. His dark eyes peered intently through bits of fuzzy fringe, as his hair hadn’t grown long enough to stay back on its own. If he let me brush it later, I would put it in a rubber band on top of his head to keep it out of his eyes. Yes, it would be a little shitzu-ish, but it would be super cute.
He turned his hand over to match mine finally, and I gently placed one of my hands under his to steady it. I could feel the muscles tense under the velvet-soft furry skin of the back of his hand, but he didn’t pull away. He was going to be a brave one. And that settled that it was one of Aspen’s kids, as her mate was the big guy, the leader in charge.
I carefully poured a small amount of the remaining granola into his cupped palm. I didn’t give him all of it, as there were others who would want some, but he got the most, as he was the first and bravest of the day. I then closed his fingers over it with my other hand and gently released my support. He put it up to his nose and sniffed again, his eyes lighting up as he realized that the smells matched. He opened his hand just a little and stuck his tongue into the granola, pulling a few pieces into his mouth. He crunched with satisfaction clear on his face and then ran off to his mother, Aspen.
I picked up my spoon and cup, putting the bag with the remaining crumbles on the table and took a big spoonful of granola-laced yogurt myself. I would only get about 15 minutes of rest before they would start getting restless to get more grooming done. I had gotten very fast with my techniques as time and experience had improved my just out-of-school abilities. I was so glad that I had invested in that animal grooming course over the winter. I had some new tricks up my sleeve. But with so many here today, and it being the first cut and brush after winter, it was going to take till sundown to get to all of them today.
I could say a lot more but I'll limit it to one word: Good!
OK still just one word but instead of good, Excellent!!