Hiatus

Yes, I know, the updates haven't come. Life has taken a turn for the busy, and I just haven't had the time and energy to devote to the blog. I do intend to come back to this. But right now I to focus on a very, very necessary career change.

I understand that some of you may resent further delays after putting up with so many. I'm hoping that with the start of the new year will be the start of some serious changes in my life that will afford me the time to begin updating regularly again. I apologize for the delay, and I don't blame anyone for ceasing to follow any future updates. I do hope you decide to come back eventually. Also, if you have any questions, please feel free to let me know. Email address is worldofazunah at gmail.com

In the mean time, my friend Ashenraptor made a cool "trailer" for Project: Azu-nah! So check it out!

Project Trailer

Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me thus far, and I hope to see some of you again when the blog fires back up again in the future.

Update

Quick update: the Project will be continuing, for those who thought Evacuation was the end. I will be resuming regular entries starting August 30th. Look forward to it!

Evacuation

It took me a while to assess the entirety of the damage. My pack comes apart to a degree, and I had stashed the large main part in the cave since we’d moved to this area. I kept all my reagents and antidotes in the big pack, where they’d be safe. The smaller mini-pack has my daily tools like the computer pad, first aid kit, and my multi-tool.

The irony is that I had left the little pack hanging on a tree branch when we’d first gone to see the grass fire. It had been out in the elements for the entire time the tornado had ripped through the area, and somehow it was completely untouched. The big pack, which had been wedged near the entrance to my cave, had been drug out, bashed and battered, and then dumped into a patch of burning grass. That’s where Nandi found it.

It was the fire, not the tornado, that really screwed me over.

The chlorine reagents are the only ones that are in liquid form. They’re kept in packs of tiny individual dose-sized cylinders, made of a shatter resistant polymer (they come in clips, like funny little bullets, and I have to load one into the injection gun to administer them). If they had been through just a thorough bashing, they probably would have been okay. But the polymer isn’t resistant to extreme heat. I pulled a twisted casing full of melted plastoid slag out of my pack and glared at it. The casing had a picture of a flame with an “X” over it, and said “Keep away from fire,” in seven languages. I really hate you, Murphy. Ugh.

This was really bad.

I literally cannot survive on Minerva without the chlorine reagents. The thought made my throat close and my pulse spike. Itchy eyes and trouble breathing would be the least of my problems. While I was busy wheezing, my body would be, quite literally, corroding from the inside out. Not the way I want to go.

I sat on the ground, staring at the remains of the cylinder casing, dreading the next step. I’m due for a dose today. Without it, I’ll be itching and miserable by evening. In a week I’ll be dead. Nandi and Kohric were looking over my shoulders on either side. Nandi doesn’t really understand why I need all my pills and injections. He just knows they’re important in some vague way. Kohric, though, knows that his world is effectively poisonous to me. He sat down next to me, looking very, very solemn, and caught my gaze.

“Tee must go,” he said, very softly. It wasn’t a question, and hearing him say it made my throat close up again. I felt Nandi start from my other side, and he made a tiny keening whimper.

I felt sick. I would have to use the emergency com box to flag GZ Station and have a shuttle come for emergency evac; the ultimate statement of failure for a field scientist. It’s like going away to summer camp and then having to call your mommy to take you home after the second day. Doc Sutherland will never, ever, EVER let me live this down. Granted, I’ll only be away long enough for medical treatment and resupply, but I’ll probably still be weeks; weeks of time I’m supposed to be documenting. Weeks away from people who have become dear friends.

“Tee must go,” I whispered. My voice sounded thick and raspy. Kohric pressed his forehead against my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. “But I will come back before the moons have turned.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes a shuttle three days to get to Minerva from Iapitus. Those three days were misery. I barely left the cave on the second and third days, and by the time I got a ping from the shuttle with an ETA, I had to have Kohric’s help to walk to the pick up site. My breath was rasping like an old lady, I felt nauseous, and I was so short of wind that it took us nearly an hour to walk there. My eyes were so irritated that I was having trouble seeing clearly. I was practically stumbling by the time the shuttle landed.

Nandi and Kohric were the only ones that accompanied me. I’m incredibly grateful for that. I don’t think I could have handled having anyone else there; it was hard enough saying goodbye to the two of them.

Azu-nah don’t weep; they don’t have tear ducts in the same way we do. When they’re particularly upset, their throats start to tighten involuntarily and they make a kind of keening wail. Kohric’s jaw was tight, and his throat was working furiously when he came to hug me goodbye; the equivalent of holding back tears. We bumped foreheads and I hugged him while he murmured words of safe passage, and asked me to “return home soon.” My eyes were already watering, but that started tears openly trailing down my cheeks.

Nandi told me that he would save an entire koh for me, and if I didn’t come back he would give it to Ikaylay or Sodo. I laughed weakly through my tears and hugged him.

I was quickly bustled into the shuttle by two no-nonsense medics. They buckled me to a gurney and began setting up monitors before the shuttle door even began to close. My head was beside one of the small, oval windows. Outside, Nandi raised a hand and flexed his fingers in an imitation of waving goodbye. I pressed my hand to the window and tried to smile as my two friends seemed to grow smaller and smaller below.



”Before the moons turn,” I whispered.

---

Okay, before anyone freaks out, this is NOT the end of Tee's story or the Project.

There is, however, going to be a period without updates. Think of this as a season finale. The Project requires a lot of plotting, planning, and working on art. It's difficult to keep that up on a weekly basis indefinitely, and when I try to the quality begins to suffer. So I'm going to be taking a few weeks to do some behind the scenes type work; plotting things out, mostly, but I also want to get a bit of a dictionary up for you guys. If you have any questions, let me know!

ETA for the "season premier" (I use the term extremely loosely) is July 26th. Look forward to it!

Complications

I woke to myself again half way back to the caves. I had no memory of starting back. My face was streaked with the salty remains of many, many tears. I had no idea how long we had sung to the dead. It was late, though. The moons had traveled most of the way across the sky, and the clan members around me were quiet and subdued.

It took me a moment to realize that Kohric was on my left, his hand gently resting on the back of my elbow as we walked. Nandi was on my right, walking heavily on all fours and staring blankly at the ground. Kohric was murmuring to me, something about how the way one dies has a different ritual. The logical part of my brain latched on to this and compared tonight to the funeral for the dead hunter at the old clan site. The rest of me wished I never had to see another funeral of any sort ever again.

I must have lost myself again, because the next thing I remember is waking up the next morning. My eyes were gummy, my lips felt dry and cracked, and I wanted a drink of water more than anything in the world. I sat up and found that I had somehow wedged myself against Nandi in the night. I’d been using his flank as a pillow, which explained why I could barely turn my head straight. His feet were in my lap, and his tail had flopped across my shins. He was still sleeping, snoring gently with his head resting on his arms.

I slowly slid out from under his feet, careful not to wake him, and stepped outside in search of a drink. I felt numb, detached. Your brain has a way of distancing you from grief after a while. You can’t feel that kind of intense pain constantly for a long period of time or you’ll lose your mind. So it comes in bursts until you can handle it. I welcomed the numbness. It meant I could function without feeling like a vice had been clamped around my chest.

The clan was very quiet this morning. It was almost noon, actually, and only about a third of the clan was awake. Those that were up were subdued, and performed only the most immediately necessary chores. No one had even begun trying to piece together all the broken equipment, lost objects, deadfall, and other remains of the tornado’s destruction. The entire clan was reeling from yesterday’s disaster, and they hadn’t gotten up the strength to start picking up the pieces just yet.

Kohric was awake at the community fire, half-heartedly eating a strip of dried meat. He stared absently into the flames, the meat flapping against his cheek as he chewed. He looked like a cow. It would have been funny under better circumstances.

I found a drinking bowl and filled it at the spring at the back of the fire cave. I sat down next to Kohric and sipped at my drink, staring at the fire and thinking how odd it was that it was the same element that had wreaked such havoc on the clan just the day before.

Kohric began murmuring again, he was explaining something about how the clan had to find a new tsurandi-Kan, and they could not be from D’Keda. This was nothing like his normal lessons. He was simply reciting information, staring unseeingly into the flames. It took me a while to understand; this was Kohric’s anchor, his way of trying to find normalcy again after all that had happened. I leaned my head against his shoulder and listened absently as he went on and on.

He eventually stopped and we sat in companionable silence, taking comfort in each other’s presence. The clan slowly began to come to life. People came to eat or drink, or simply warm themselves by the fire. Others began slowly clearing the smaller bits of debris and wreckage away.

Kohric slowly turned and looked over his shoulder, seeming to finally register what was going on around us. I shifted away from him as he moved to stand, and joined him on my feet. He looked up at me and gave a small, tired gape grin.

I was about to ask him, “What should we do now?” when I heard my name called. Nandi came trotting up to us, his eye ridges furrowed and his mouth a small, thin line with worry. In his hands was my pack.

Rather, the remains of my pack. One strap was gone, and the other battered until the padding had begun to show through the cuts in the fabric. The bag portion was torn open, and an ominous dark stain at the bottom suggested that several of the bag’s contents had ruptured. My brain slowly put two and two together, and I reached for my bag with a growing cold feeling spreading through my stomach. The only liquid items I had with me were the chlorine antidotes I need to survive on Minerva. There wasn’t a single one still intact.

“Oh shit.”

Aftermath

I have no memory of how we got back to the caves.

I probably should have been disconcerted by that. I’m really not the type to zone out. But I wasn’t exactly in my right mind, either. I woke from the worst of my grief to find myself in the middle of a cluster of Azu-nah. The clan was very active, and I slowly began looking around to figure out what was going on. It felt like my grief had wrapped around my thoughts, making them sluggish and distant. I wasn’t terribly interested in what was going on around me. It was almost like I was along for the ride and my training and instincts were all that was left to pilot my body.

One of us, Nandi or I, must have carried Oshtik back. She was lying on the grass nearby, looking so tiny and delicate. It was hard to reconcile this with the vibrant, intelligent person I’d known. I tore my eyes away and swallowed hard against the lump rising back into my throat.

Next to her were other still forms. It took me several minutes to get up the courage to look. I didn’t know if I could bear further loss. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and forced myself to face the other casualties.

The first was a small grey female I’d known only by name; A’shen, one of the young hunters. My first thought was relief that I hadn’t known her well enough to feel further wrenching grief from her death. I felt a sharp stab of guilt and turned away. I was not going to think about the loss of a chance at getting to know her. Next to A’shen was an elder, a deep green male, his skin coarse and pebbly with age. I recognized him as one of Kohric’s friends. I didn’t even know his name. Thank the listening deities it wasn’t Kohric himself. The guilt stabbed at me again.

The fourth and last body was To’odir, the Kan’s apprentice. My heart sank. She was the one, even more than the Kan, who had helped Nanahan recover from her injury. She was one of the few clam members who wasn’t born and raised in D’Keda. She would often tell stories to the children about her clan in the deep forests where she grew up. The clan had been certain she would make an excellent Kan. Her death seemed horribly unfair.

I stood there for a long time, trying to wrap my brain around everything that had happened. Everything had turned upside down so fast. Had it really only been this morning that I’d been teaching Eyani and Oshtik English? It felt like a lifetime away.

The clan eventually gathered around the dead and began to carry them away. I assumed that they would take them to a pyre or bury them. But instead we struck out onto the plains. The sun was very low now, staining everything a burning orange. The lingering smoke and ash in the air reflected the light too. It would have been pretty if I hadn’t felt so awful. It slowly seeped into my head that the clan was singing a low, mournful chant. I couldn’t focus enough to make out more than a few words, and simply stumbled along with them.

We walked close to a kilometer away from the caves, to an open area with short cropped grass. The four bodies were laid out several meters apart, reverently posed in a sort of loose fetal position, with their tails curled around their bodies. The Kan pulled up a handful of grass and twisted it into a kind of brushy wand. He paced around the nearest body, To’odir, circling her, his lips moving in silent prayers. The clan was still chanting softly, watching solemnly.

Then the Kan reached down to To’odir and flicked one clawed finger down to the little notch where her neck met her chest. To my horror, he neatly severed her flesh with his claw and green blood began to ooze from the wound. He dipped the grass brush in her blood and began to draw a circle on the ground around his apprentice’s body, using the same careful reverence I’d seen when he had prepared the funeral fire back at the old clan site. This was apparently how they prepared the dead. When he had completed his circle he brushed a line of green down To’odir’s muzzle and tucked the brush into her hands. One after another, the Kan twisted a brush, spilled blood, and painted the funerary circle around the dead, finishing with the brush tucked into the hands.

The sun had fully set by the time the Kan was finished. The few stars visible in the fading sun were joined by the full blazing night spectacle, with both slowly moons rising on the horizon.

The clan gathered around the dead and sang to them long into the night.

---

This week's cameo was submitted by Ashenraptor with her character A'shen. She was a good sport and let me make her character into a red shirt. :P

To be continued?

This week is going to be a little different. We'll be back to Tee next week, but I wanted to take some time out to get some feedback from you guys and discuss where the Project is going. I'd really appreciate your thoughts.

In a few weeks I'm going to be putting the blog on a short pause. A mini summer vacation, essentially. The break will be a few weeks long, 3-4, and then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled (sorta) Tuesdays. I need some down time, and I want to get to work on where the Project is going.

Now, here where I really want your feedback: do I keep going? The entire reason this blog exists is so that I can share my headworld with you guys. It's essentially a presentation of the planet whirling around in my brain. The world exists regardless, and I will continue to develop it and create for it. But a presentation is only worth it if someone watches.

So, do you guys like this enough to want to keep reading? Are you enjoying the Project? Or am I putting hours and hours of my life into presenting to an empty audience? I'd really like you guys' feedback.



Regular entry will be back next week.

Loss

We huddled in the cave for what felt like eternity. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t actually very long. Tornados don’t generally sit in one place for more than a few minutes, but it really didn’t feel like a few minutes. Then again, keeping track of time was the last thing on my mind.

At some point Nandi must have come into the cave with us. I have no memory of it. He may have been inside before we came in. I don’t know. But at some point I realized there was another warm body pressed against my side, and the spiky bristles of his shorn mane were prickling my neck. It was oddly centering; a tiny piece of normality in the middle of a howling nightmare.

Eventually the wind died down and we got up the courage to move. Nandi moved off to look out the cave entrance, and I slowly unhinged my stiff limbs from around poor Eyani. The poor little guy was looking thoroughly squashed, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked up at me as if he was expecting the cave to come crashing down on top of us. His pupils kept dilating and contracting like a confused pair of camera lenses. I bumped his forehead and it seemed to help; his ears relaxed, and he let out a funny little huffing snort. Then his eyes tracked up to my cheek and he flattened his ears again.

“What is this?” he asked, sniffing up at me.

I felt at my cheek and realized the cut I’d gotten earlier had left a mess of crusted blood down the side of my face. I was so scrambled by everything that happened that it took me a minute to realize why he was concerned.

“Your blood is green,” I said. “My blood is red.”

His eyes grew huge and he stared at me for a long, long time as if I’d grown a second head. I wondered if he was suddenly registering just how very alien I am to this world. It made me feel lonely.

“Tee is hurt?” he finally asked.

I smiled at him and bumped his forehead again. “No,” I said.

We made our way after Nandi to the entrance and my stomach lurched. The sun was still up, but the smoke and ash and dust in the air made everything feel smothered and hazy. There was a huge, winding path of ground in front of the cliff face that was completely littered with debris; twisted, shattered pieces of wood, broken bits of rocks, whole shrubs, roots and all, flung everywhere. Even the grass that had managed to stay rooted looked warped. Everything was covered in a fine layer of grey ash. There was less burned than I had feared, though. Perhaps the fire wasn’t able to catch well at such high speeds. There were areas of grass that were clearly smoldering, and some of the broken logs had red coals glowing balefully from their centers. Gusts of smoke kept billowing in on the wind, carried from the larger fire on the plain.

It was incredibly disturbing. This wasn’t D’Keda as I’d come to know it; this broken, horrible mess. Then I began to register the cries in the air, and the disturbing factor went through the roof.

Amidst the ash and twisted debris were shapes, bodies.

Eyani disappeared out from under my arm and vanished down the hill. I scrabbled to follow him, but Nandi was suddenly grasping my arm. I looked up at him, confused.

“Many hurt. We must find them,” he said. He looked absolutely haunted. I nodded and we touched foreheads in a feeble attempt to rally our courage.

As we made our way down the cliff I could see others of the clan heading down into the wreckage as well. The cries of pain began to mingle with cries of horror and anguish. My throat closed and I felt like a lead weight was squeezing down on my chest. I had a sudden horrible image of Kohric lying dead flash through my head; I shuddered. He had to be safe. They all had to be safe. Please.

Without really any planning, the entire clan fanned out of its own accord. There was a kind of unspoken nervousness that coursed through them. The sun was starting to set, and I knew they were afraid of it growing dark before everyone was accounted for.

Nandi and I trotted out into the grass that bordered the beach, ears pricked for voices calling for help. Several trees had been downed, a few completely thrown or twisted into pulp. One was neatly severed down the middle where it had been shoved up against a boulder.

We come to the edge of the damaged area without finding anything, and we swung around to follow the other side of it back to the caves. I was almost beginning to think things may not be as bad as I’d feared when Nandi suddenly stopped abruptly in front of me, sending me sprawling into his hindquarters. I heard him exhale sharply; he let out a horrible little whimpering moan. I looked over his head and felt my blood freeze.

Oshtik.

She was a little, huddled pale lump on the ground, dusted with ash. No, my brain said immediately. This wasn’t what it looked like. No, no! She was sleeping, she’d been knocked unconscious; she was too hurt to walk. My eyes slid over the pointed slice of wood buried between her shoulders, and I found myself stumbling toward her.

This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening. My mind refused to accept what was in front of me. No, no, no! This was a nightmare. This couldn’t possibly be real. This was a research mission. It wasn’t supposed to be this way! This could not be happening!

I sank down to my knees in front of her, my hands clutched at my chest. I know I was moaning, sobbing, but it didn’t feel like they belonged to me. I was alone with my grief. I rocked back and forth, shaking my head. Tears were streaming down my face, down my chin. They made little damp pills in the ash around Oshtik’s cooling body. I kept wondering when I would wake up, praying I would wake up, and that this was all a horrible nightmare.

But the sun continued to set, and Oshtik was still dead.

I wailed my grief to the burgeoning stars.

---

I realized too late that the last two entries parallel real events in the midwestern US. I just wanted to make it clear that this was unintentional. This plot turn was planned over a year ago. Apparently I have terrible timing.

Sirens at the End of the World

Fire.

Eyani, Oshtik and I whirled at the word, and began heading back toward the caves and the rest of the clan. We weren’t the only ones; the entirety of D’Keda swarmed away from the normal chores and moved to cluster near the edge of the cliff face, facing out toward the open grass.

I was surprised to see the fire was so big, considering how wet it had been for the last two weeks. Even from close to a kilometer away, I could easily see it crawling across the areas with dried grass, roiling plumes of dark smoke rising up from the flames. The wind was probably helping. It blew strongly toward us, riding the storm front, and bringing the scent of ash and char to our noses. The sky was an odd shade, even for Minerva; gray-green, with thick grey anvil-head storm clouds rolling across the sky. The horizon was quickly shading to orange as the fire grew.

I don’t have the first clue about fighting a grass fire. My brain was rifling through every incidence I’d ever heard of using fire breaks and removing fuel sources, but none of it seemed applicable to the spreading orange mass consuming the plain in front of me.

The clan was becoming incredibly skittish. I didn’t blame them. Except that most of them were turning their eyes to the sky and not the fire. I began to hear murmurs. “The clouds dance.” I didn’t understand. I looked down at Oshtik; her gaze was riveted skyward too.

At first I didn’t see it. I’ve seen thunderstorms all my life, and the clouds often swirl and roll as they sweep through. I thought nothing of the circular shapes twisting through the sky now. Lightning continued to crawl across the sky; the thunder sounded unnaturally loud to me. I raked my eyes across the clouds. The wind was getting very strong. Tiny bits of grass and leaves stung my legs. I could feel my heart beating faster: what was wrong? Where was it?

Then, almost like a living creature, a portion of the biggest anvil-head suddenly swept downward, forming a dark, roiling funnel shape.

My skin crawled. I felt the hair on the nape of my neck rise, and goose bumps rose along my arms and legs.

Lighting outlined the funnel cloud just as it touched down, throwing up a plume of debris. It twisted slowly, almost gracefully, and danced straight into the worst of the grass fire.

I’ve seen footage of tornados before. Everything seems almost like it’s in slow motion. Your brain can’t wrap itself around the immense scale of what you’re seeing. For a brief moment the scene in front of me felt like that. The tornado enveloped the flames, slowly pulling a column of fire up into the funnel. Pieces of burning debris flared around the base, orbiting the column in lazy circles.



It was eerily beautiful. There were a few flashes of blue or green snaking up the burning column, as the tornado rolled over a patch of ground rich in chlorine salts. It moved inexorably toward us, a fascinating, terrifying monster out of a meteorologist’s nightmare. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The entire clan seemed frozen and the world felt silent. We stared in awe at the destruction moving toward us.

Then someone screamed. My brain shuddered to life. The clan exploded into a surging mass of shrieking, panicked bodies as everyone raced for the relative safety of the caves. I scrambled to grab the kids. Oshtik immediately slipped away and disappeared into the surge. I was screaming after her. Eyani was frozen, his eyes still riveted on the oncoming tornado. I picked him up bodily and pelted along the cliff face, toward shelter.

Debris from the storm swept past us in the high wind. A particularly sharp piece of something sliced past my cheek and I faintly registered that blood was dribbling down my face. I didn’t even feel the cut itself. My entire being was caught up in getting away from the horror behind us. I wasn’t thinking at all. I could feel my lungs surging, and my feet pounding the ground as if they belonged to someone else. There was nothing left of my mind except the need to run, run, run!

There was a growing roar behind us. I sprinted up the path to my cave. Larger debris was flying past now, and the world was narrowing to a hazy grey mass of ash and smoke. I ducked into my cave and crushed Eyani into the farthest corner, behind a bend in the rock. I wrapped myself around him and faced us away from the cave entrance. We huddled together, shuddering, as the roaring of the wind seemed to devour the world. It raged across the cliff face, making a loud shrieking sound as it passed between small flutes of rock.

It sounded like a siren heralding the end of the world.

Fives

Oshtik is really pretty cute when she’s in her element. I’d always taken her for a little bit snobby. But now I’m realizing that she’s just very, very bright, and she gets frustrated when others don’t pick up on things as quickly as she does. She absorbs information like a sponge. We’ve had our impromptu tutoring sessions the last three afternoons, and she is soaking up practically everything I say.

Poor Eyani was actually rather unhappy with this change at first. We reached a compromise by having our lessons under one of the trees at the edge of the beach. I sit across from Oshtik, and Eyani plasters himself to my side and dozes, his head on my leg or lap. Though, I’m beginning to think the dozing is a ruse, since yesterday he, quite out of the blue, corrected Oshtik’s pronunciation when I was teaching her “friend.”

Today, though, was a little different.

I’d gotten it into my head that basic numbers would be an easy concept to teach them. I started off simply enough. I collected a half dozen stones to demonstrate with, settled under the tree with Oshtik, and started teaching her one through ten. Except that once I got to five I realized I couldn’t count any higher in their language.

By now, though, Oshtik was well aware we were doing numbers, so when I put down the sixth stone and said “six,” she looked at me a little oddly. She pointed to the sixth stone and said “shota’a-ha.” What?

Okay. Quick lesson in Azu numbers so you understand why I was confused.

One through five in Azu-nah is so:



There are two different methods of writing them. A formal version, that’s all graceful curves, and a kind of tally-mark version shorthand that faintly mimics an Azu hand and tail. So “shota” is five, right? And “ha” is one. Essentially the number six in their language is five-one.

Apparently the Azu-nah have a quintal base number system.

So, instead of gaining a new digit at number ten like you’d expect, they get one at five. It makes counting a little confusing, since I have to convert everything in my head.

The sociologist gurus we trained with before heading out to Minerva had told us to be on the lookout for a quartal (base 4) counting system, since the Azu-nah have four fingers on each hand. It’s rather funny to see them turn the prediction on its ear. I guess no one realized how important that tail would be (that or they thought they would have a base 9 counting system and didn’t give us a head’s up).

Poor Oshtik had a bit of difficulty wrapping her brain around a decimal system. Eyani had given up by six and was snoring at my hip. Oshtik was starting to get frustrated. I was considering calling the rest of the lesson off when a shout from one of the clan lookouts interrupted.

Dark, brooding clouds were rolling in again. Another storm. There were flickers of lightning crawling along the bottoms of the darker anvil-heads; the sky was a weird shade of gray-green.



They’d called warnings for storms before, but this time was different. Other Azu-nah were running through the grass now, repeating the lookout’s shouts. They looked frightened, their eyes wide and flickering. I almost didn’t register what they were saying, because it wasn’t at all what I’d expected.

Sodo. Fire.

---

This week's cameos are Tsosanonon by Marjask and an unnamed male by RattusMaximus! Thank you for submitting them!

Also, thank you for putting up with the delays this week. There was a death in the family, and it came up very, very suddenly. So thank you for your patience.

Sketch Dump

As you can imagine, things have been a little hectic around here. I apologize for how sporadic the project's been. You guys have been very patient with me. This will be the last week of delays and whatnot for (I hope) a good while.

Since I don't have enough time to put together a proper entry this week, here's a few bits of concept art and sketches yanked out of my sketchbook.



Anyone have questions about the blog or the Azu-nah? Now's the time to ask. :)

See you all next week for a real entry.

Thanda-tu

It’s been four days, and the clan is starting to slow down a little in its manic quest to stash away food.

I will probably regret saying this when I’m desperately starving in a few months or something, but for now I’m grateful that it’s winding down. I’m not sure how many more hours I can spend hunched over without turning into Igor-Tee. Yeeesss, Kohric, what is your bidding? Agh. My poor spine.

The youngsters were the first to take advantage of the lull. Nyarno practically vanished the minute the adults were looking the other way, with Ghee and Oshtik not far behind. Even solemn little Eyani finished his chores in a hurry and practically danced out into the fields to romp. It was cute. Kohric let me go a short while after, and I may have done a teensy bit of dancing too. I found Eyani and we made straight for the beach.

It hadn’t rained yet, which was a miracle, and the sun was actually peeking through the ever-present clouds. The breeze coming off the water was cool, but it was still warm enough out that the air felt refreshing instead of chill. Eyani and I did absolutely nothing productive, and it was wonderful. No learning, no practicing, nothing. We splashed around in the water, chased a funny-looking crab-lizard thing that I didn’t even ask the name of (hah!), and finally ended flopping under a tree and dozing. It was blissful after so many days of nonstop manual labor.

Eyani fell asleep after a time, and I didn’t have the heart to wake him. I wasn’t feeling sleepy. I’ve never been one to nap, really. So I went ambling along the wrack line to look for shiny pebbles to bring to Nandi (he covets shiny things worse than an entire flock of crows). The poor guy hadn’t gotten away from his chores and I thought a sparkly may make up for our abandoning him to play.

I hadn’t been at it too long when I spotted Oshtik sitting in the sand, looking out over the water. I still haven’t gotten their body language down pat, but I thought she looked rather sad. Her ears were drooping, her posture hunched, and her tail was curled tightly around her feet.

I approached her carefully. “Oshtik?”

She dipped her head and flicked one wrist in a half-hearted mockery of the normal greeting gesture. I sat down nearby and fumbled through my Azu-nah lexicon. The normal question here would, of course, be “is something wrong?” But I don’t know the Azu-nah word for “wrong.” Morality isn’t something that comes up in the day to day struggle to keep the clan fed, or in the little lessons Kohric has been giving. So I muddled along as best I could.

“Do you hurt?” I asked, feeling stupid. I knew that wasn’t the way another Azu would ask. I tried again. “Does your spirit hurt?” This language barrier really sucks.

Oshtik was quiet for some time, and I began to think she may not answer at all, but she finally turned to me and spoke. Her yellow eyes were like two pieces of amber in a bed of gray ash.

“Kohric does not teach today, or the next.” She sighed gustily, her sides rippling. “I will not learn new things for many days. Maybe a hand-and-tail of days!” Her muzzle was wrinkling, and her eyes were scrunching shut. I swallowed a laugh; I have apparently been hanging around with the Azu-nah equivalent of a geeky teacher’s pet, and didn’t realize it. I smiled and leaned to bump my forehead against hers. I ruffled her forelock with one hand.

“I can teach you human words,” I offered.

Oshtik made a delighted sound, haaaa, and surged to her feet. “Yes! Tee will teach? Yes!” Yeah, she’s definitely an Azu-nerd.

I grinned and hugged her.

Sick

I have managed to catch a fabulous strain of the head cold my co-workers have been passing around. No entry this week. I can barely see straight.

Gone Fishin'

Those first three days or so of rain were the worst. Thankfully, like all unpleasant things, the rain finally subsided. It still rains nearly every day, and we still have to go out in it to find food, gather supplies, medicines, and all the other things that are necessary for the clan to make ends meet. But it does stop, especially mostly during the afternoons, which makes for a welcome reprieve.

I noticed that with the changing season, the Azu-nah’s habits have begun to change too. The hunting parties have been going out more often, almost every day, and they are bringing back a lot more meat. A lot. More than the clan could ever eat before it spoiled. One of the caves has been converted to a kind of smoke house, and the extra meat was preserved that way, and stored in the back of the cave.

Plant foods are also being gathered, dried, and stored with a lot more intensity than before too. We’ve been spending every day out gathering, and my back is not happy about it. Our lessons with Kohric have been put off until this harvest frenzy has ended; that can’t be soon enough, as far as I’m concerned. I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever walk upright properly again. Ugh.

I have an idea what all this is about. The season is turning, after all, and it’s supposed to start getting quite cold. I don’t know if “winter’ on Minerva is anything like on Earth, but I imagine foodstuffs become scarcer in the cold, and the clan is stockpiling against starvation. That or maybe they plan going on a monumental food bender at some point down the road.

Another change is that there have been more lookouts posted. This I don’t have any solid explanation for. Nandi said something cryptic about keeping watch for when the clouds dance. I took this to mean they’re watching for storms. A short period of thunder and lightning occurred a day or so ago, and it had the clan pretty spooked. They would keep glancing up at the lookouts all throughout the storm. I was surprised by their reaction, honestly. It wasn’t a bad storm at all by Earth standards. The thunder rumbled more than really thundered, and the lightning was just like any other lightning I’ve seen. Or perhaps they’re concerned about plains fires. That would be pretty frightening.

Today was a day for water, though. And thankfully it wasn’t raining.

Today I got to go fishing. Though, it was unlike any fishing I’ve ever done. More like herding, to be honest. Several of the clan worked together to weave several nets. They’re big, too; nearly five meters long. A handful of hunters gathered up the nets and strung themselves out along the water line on the beach and crouched with the nets down in the water. The Sa-kudayu gathered the rest of the clan and we were all told to wade out into the shallows and be very still.

It was pleasant, actually. The sea water was warmer than I thought, and the sandy bottom was soothing on my feet. We waited and watched while the Sa-kudayu took a basket of entrails and bits of viscera from the clan’s most recent kill, and began scattering it across the water between the net-holders and the rest of the clan. It was a little weird, seeing the solemn hunt-leader gleefully flinging guts around, but I was too busy watching to see what all that chum would attract.

Very soon, I could see creatures gliding past our legs to feed on the little gobbets floating in the water. Everyone was tensed, waiting, and no one so much as twitched a tail. By now I’d figured out the trick, and was eagerly waiting for the signal too.

Finally, after several agonizing minutes, the Sa-kudayu made a chopping motion with his arm. Everyone not holding a net began charging forward toward the shore, shouting, splashing, and making all manner of noise. We formed a kind of arc, trapping the fish with a wall of surging water and forcing them toward the nets. The net-holders surged to their feet and pulled up the nets, revealing a mass of twisting, thrashing creatures.

We did this several times, until all the nets were full and we’d stirred up the water too much for any sane creature to want to come near.



I keep calling our catch “fish” but they’re really not much like Earth fish. There are places where you can clearly see convergent evolution; many of them are streamlined and have fin-like appendages or tails. But they don’t resemble Earth fish much at all. Some have a half dozen compound eyes, for example. Some have hugely long mouths with strange suckers on the ends, one species has what almost looks like baleen in place of teeth; another was some freakish lovechild of a coral and a crab.

The Azu-nah seemed delighted with the day’s work, though, and many clan members were swapping favorites over dinner. I can’t eat them, of course. They’re actually worse than the land creatures in terms of freakish compounds and whatnot. But honestly, I’m glad I have that as an excuse. These things are a little too freaky for me to consider them dinner.

---

There will be no entry next week (the 12th) as I have some other work that needs to be taken care of. The week after though will have some more polished art to make up for it. Have a great week, everyone!

Flood

The rain eventually slowed and. after a few more miserable days, stopped. The days that followed were even more miserable, though.

The day after the rain stopped, one of the scouts became excited and pointed toward the sky. At first I dismissed it as yet another meteorite. Minerva sees a lot of meteorites. But this one made me do a double take; it was shiny, a distinctly metallic shiny.

Odd.

It landed in the ocean, far, far down the shoreline, so no one ended up going to look for it. I was curious, though, and the thought of that metallic glint wouldn’t leave my mind. So I pinged Ground Zero to see if they had lost a piece of equipment, or if one of the satellites’ orbit had decayed prematurely. I didn’t expect them to answer right away. It wasn’t a priority message, after all.

But after 36 hours they still hadn’t responded. A cold knot was growing in my stomach, and I kept trying to tell myself that it was just a system error and not that something bad had happened. I spent most of the morning trying to put it out of my mind, and I actually almost succeeded, until about mid-day.

I didn’t immediately recognize the noises I was hearing as Azu-nah screams. Nandi and I were harvesting sap from a tree for the Kan when we heard whooping, and agitated hisses, and shrieks.

One of the hunters was sprinting through the grass toward the clan dens. He was making wide arm motions and shouting at the top of his lungs. I could barely make out what he was saying, but I kept hearing “run” and “killed”. My pulse quickened.

“Something comes from the water,” I heard him shriek, and he gestured in the direction the meteor had fallen the day before yesterday. “It grabs, it kills. We must run!” His voice was harsh with fear, and his eyes were so wide I could see a thin sliver of white around the edges. The clan mulled around, uncertain, until the hunter looked over his shoulder and shrieked, “They come!” and sprinted away down the beach.

We watched him go in confusion, and then our heads all turned in unison as we heard a kind of squishing, squelching, slithering sound coming through the grass. I barely caught a glimpse of the creatures; a flash of colorful red tendrils, a sickly, maggot-like body, and far, far too many legs. There were hundreds of them pouring out of the grass. A dozen of them fell upon the nearest Azu-nah, a gray female with striking black stripes, and enveloped her in a horrible mass of seething, bubbling, cancerous flesh.

We ran.



Several individuals sprinted out into the water, others ran up trees and hid. Most of us fled along the beach. There were horrible shrieks and screams behind us. I tried not to think about what was happening to everyone who’d run up the trees. Nandi was still next to me, and we ran flat out until we could barely breathe. We began to slow, our sides heaving, and I risked a glance behind us.



Adrenaline surged through my veins, and we ran again. We could hear the little things slithering across the beach sand after us. More were pouring between a pair of rocks ahead. We were surrounded. My sides were aching and my ragged breathing was chapping my throat.

No way out.

Several of the things landed on Nandi and started to turn him into another shambling monster. I heard myself screaming. Then one of the horrible creatures latched onto my leg. Another crawled up my arm. A third leapt onto my chest and waved its tendrils in my face.

The last thing I saw was a ba’oh fleeing down the beach from the creatures.

Then I was nothing, and there was only the Gravemind.

---

And they all died. The end.

Okay, no, not really. Yes, the "scheduling conflict" last week was that April Fool's Day inconveniently didn't fall on a Tuesday. >__> The real next entry will be as usual on the 5th. Happy April Fool's Day, everyone! (Seriously, no one's dead, this was just a joke, so please don't hate spam me. :P)

_{The Flood, the Gravemind, and Halo in general all belong to Bungie/Microsoft. I just borrowed them to bring the funny.}

Soggy

You know, for something they celebrated as being a big deal, with so much joy and song and dancing, this rainy season really sucks.

It started about a day and a half after the celebration. It seems like out of nowhere, these dense, heavy clouds came rolling up the plains, sending big, fat drops started to spatter around us. Everyone immediately grabbed whatever it was they’d been working on and dashed for the shelter of the caves. As Nandi and I ducked into our cave, I noticed several Azu scooping up coals from the fire pit, covering them in ash, and dashing for the “public” caverns that the Kan and the Aket-oizo used.

At first the rain was actually rather pleasant. It has a different smell on Minerva than it does at home. It’s hard to describe; less musty, and sharper, somehow. Perhaps it’s caused by the chlorine. Regardless, the fresh smell is energizing. I hadn’t realized how much dust was in the air, and the perpetual acrid scent of oai droppings on the cliff face was sluiced clean. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a kind of semi-holiday, with everyone mostly staying in their caverns, resting and chatting away the hours.

Even that night was pleasant. I’ve always enjoyed listening to rain as I fall asleep. It’s a comforting feeling to know you’re warm and dry while it’s wet and miserable outside, and the sound drowns out noises that would otherwise wake you; like Nandi’s snoring.

But by the next morning, instead of everything being refreshed and clean, with the sun shining again, it was still raining. In fact, the rain had gotten heavier. Little waterfalls were cascading over our cave entrance and down the cliff face below. I eyed the sodden scenery with dismay.

The entire day was rainy. I’m beginning to realize how unpleasant our ancestors must have had it. I knew academically that life for the Azu-nah wouldn’t stop if it rained. But knowing and experiencing are different. Memory never quite makes being cold and wet seem as bad as when you’re in the thick of it.

My clothes are water resistant, but they’re no match for this kind of drenching. By mid morning I was sopping. My shorts stuck to my thighs in clammy folds, my shoes squelched unpleasantly with each step, and my shirt sleeves actually started to feel noticeably heavy from absorbing so much moisture. My hair kept straggling into my face and mouth, and my fingers had gone all prune-like. But I didn’t dare change out into my other set of clothes and risk getting them soaked too. So I squelched through the afternoon, gathering fruit in the muck.

Fortunately for me, the Azu-nah seem to be just as sensitive, if not more so, to the wet and cold as I am. The foraging ended much earlier than it usually did, and we all gathered around the communal fires in the public caves as soon as we could. I went to be early. I stripped to the skin, wrung a veritable river out of my clothes, hung them to dry (pfft. Yeah right) and burrowed into my sleeping bag. I slept like a dead thing until morning.

Yesterday was just more of the same. I would probably be down with a head cold by now if the rain was genuinely cold. It’s not what you’d call comfortable by any means, but it isn’t that kind of heat-leaching cold that makes you feel like you’ll never be warm again. No, instead you just have to deal with constantly having every stitch of clothing on your body be soaking wet.

This morning is the “chores” day in the Azu-nah’s typical three day cycle, and most everyone is attending to things while staying dry in their caves. Kohric has promised a lesson tomorrow, so hopefully I can at least have a few dry hours over the next few days.

I hope this isn’t how Cold Rains is in its entirety. It’d be a shame to make it all this way just to drown on my way to breakfast.

---

Just so everyone knows ahead of time, next week's entry will be a little bit delayed due to some schedule conflicts. It will not be up Tuesday. It will either be up Thursday or Friday. I'm not sure which yet, but I promise it will be up.

Spirit of Rain

The season is definitely changing. I didn’t notice it at first; it’s been subtle. But I’m noticing it slowly. The days are growing cooler, and they are getting just a tiny bit shorter each sunset.

Some places on Earth can have subtle season changes like that too, I know. But the part of the planet I grew up on had fussy, temperamental ones. Some random morning it would be colder than you expected, and you’d think “I’ll have to get my jacket out soon.” But then the next day it’d be scorching, Indian summer hot, and you’d kill for a cold glass of water. There was no measured, gradual decrease in temperature like you got elsewhere. I guess that explains why autumn has kind of crept up on me.

Well, “autumn” is a misnomer in this case. The Minervan plains don’t get a distinct spring/summer/fall/winter set of seasons. “Summer” is two distinct seasons, one warm and wet, with gentle, periodic rains and it moves into a long, dry, hot period of dry (I landed on Minerva at the beginning of Dry). Then they have a month long “season” of rain and storms, followed immediately by a short month or so of explosive growth. By then it’s gotten quite cold and most of the “winter” is cold and dry. The last few months of winter are wet, with freezing rains and snow. “Spring” is marked when the precipitation stops having ice crystals in it; it rains pretty steadily for a good month. Spring 2.0 is a second, longer period of insane growth that grades into the wet part of summer.

Kohric tells me we’ve reached the end of Dry and are coming up on Cold Rains (I didn’t ask what the winter muck is called. “Cold Rains” sounds unpleasant enough when you live mostly outside. I imagine the wet bit of winter is called something, like Oh God Even My Nose Hairs Have Frostbite.)

Today actually marks the official end of Dry. We haven’t had a drop of rain, but one of the clan lookouts spotted thick, heavy rain clouds rolling across the plains several kilometers away. The Azu-nah calendar is apparently marked by specific weather events rather than astronomically charted days. The first time someone sees rain at the end of the Dry it’s immediately the next season. You can actually smell the water on the breeze. It’s a distinct, sharp, green kind of smell compared to the gentle scent of sea water. It’s a changing, electric kind of smell. It’s exciting.

The clan celebrated the change, of course. I figured it would be more of what I’d seen in the past. Thus far their celebrations have been mostly a flamboyant version of campfire songs. They get a bit loud and people dance a lot, but there’s never been much in the way of ritual or adornments.

Tonight was different. There was still the usual drumming. But this time there was a bit more to it. Three Azu-nah, with simple, drab, yellow-brown cloths wrapping their bodies prowled around the bonfire, making long, low, bobbing dance motions. Oshtik explained they represented the spirits of the Dry season. I’d never seen anything like this from the Azu-nah before. It was fascinating.

The Dry spirits tossed powder on the fire as they danced, so that it blazed yellow and bright orange; the drums were slow and heavy-sounding. Then another Azu leapt in front of the fire and waved his arms, chanting something that was too fast for me to understand. The drummers started a faster, deeper beat; the kind that you can’t help tapping your foot or bobbing your head to. The newcomer began chasing the Dry spirits around the fire in an exaggerated half-dance. Oshtik says he is the spirit of rains.



It actually took me a minute to recognize the new Azu-nah as the Kan; he had a kind of cape of vibrant, flame-colored cloth, and had a thick wooden mask over his face. He was covered in feathers and bangles and braids, and little bits of metal that tinkled and flashed as he moved. The Dry spirits fled the scene, and the Kan threw more powder on the fire; it flashed blue, green, and orange. He continued to dance and run around the fire. The rest of the clan leapt to their feet to join him, and they danced in a greater circle around the fire, singing.

T’dree neyde Yalalea Te’ansu neyde Kanga-yesi kota Yue ban, vesh danok, wehey dree, m’boto nulei Ooooooooohhh Oooooooooh T’dree neyde Yalalea Te’ansu neyde Kanga-yesi kota Nessss’ti mocan, di kayo, a’kota ba’oh teynet Ooooooooohhh Oooooooooh T’dree neyde Te’ansu neyde T’dree neyde Yalalea

Time of rain Welcome Time of water We greet you Air moves, clouds dance, rain falls, cold gathers Ooooooooohhh Oooooooooh Time of rain Welcome Time of water We greet you Herds walk, fruit comes, the ba’oh calls to you Ooooooooohhh Oooooooooh Time of rain Time of water Time of rain Welcome

I couldn’t join them. I had a horrible cold feeling of “you don’t belong,” that made my stomach grow cold. Oshtik and Eyani quickly gave up on me and joined the circle. They were tiny shadows flitting between the larger adults. I could see Nandi and the Trio flashing between the bright patches of fire. Even Nanahan danced, though her steps were very subdued. I took out my computer pad and started taking notes.

I didn’t get more than a sentence before the pad suddenly vanished from my hands, and a blue muzzle lurched into my field of vision.

“All the clan must dance the welcome,” Kohric said. He bumped is forehead against mine. “Come.” He gape grinned at me and pulled at my wrist with his tail. I found myself smiling back.

We danced late into the night.

Flashers

Science is always soothing to me. There’s something comforting about simple observation. So today I took shameless advantage of my needing to document the local wildlife, and played the anti-social scientist; I spent the day sprawled on the cliff face with my binoculars glued to my eyeballs, watching the most recent herd of uku to pass through our territory.



They eat a lot.

A lot. I think about 90^% of today was just watching the things eat. Granted, their food source is somewhat labor intensive; the plant almost resembles bamboo in that it’s primarily a cylindrical stem with thin, lefty extremities. The uku have no interest in the leaves. Instead they use their sharp, horn-like beaks to snap off pieces of the stem, and then split the pieces open to get at the soft pulp inside. Kohric says the pulp is sweet, and the Azu-nah use it to make something a little like candied fruit (I will officially not be able to die happy if I don’t get to try at least one piece of candied koh before I croak).

Anyway, when they’re not hunting around for something to eat (which is rare), they seem to engage in a lot of … shoving. There’s definitely some sort of hierarchy in the herd, but I have a very hard time telling the individual animals apart, so I haven’t been able to pin it down. The sexes look identical, for example, and other than size and their horns being a bit blunter, the young look almost the same as the adults. This makes it tricky to tell who an individual is arguing with and why.

The shoving matches are relatively subdued for the most part; one individual will saunter up to another, broadside, and just start shoving. The two will huff and honk and push back and forth for a few minutes, and then the loser will go off and sulk. Occasionally the argument will get a little more rowdy, and the two “combatants” will start puffing the dewlap-like structure on their necks. The skin seems to be thin and very flexible, like a frigatebird’s gular pouch, and can inflate into a kind of spiky red balloon under the jaw.

One encounter, though, was even more impressive. The shoving had started as usual, and had escalated to gular-pouch-dewlap-thingy puffing. But instead of one of them breaking off and going away, they just kept at it. Maybe they were evenly matched. Whatever it was, it was enough to move to the next level of behavior. One of the two suddenly reared up on its hind legs and a huge hood expanded from its neck. The bony spikes lining each side of the neck are apparently anchors for a fleshy frill structure. There are two vibrant eye spots on the inside of the hood that are normally hidden.
They’re iridescent, and the animal rocks back and forth on its hind legs while displaying them, causing them to flash. They’re surprisingly bright. The non-displaying uku immediately backed down and trotted off to hide behind a bush.

It was fascinating. I’m dying to know if the hoods are exclusively to intimidate rivals (for what I still don’t know), if both sexes have them, and if there’s some aspect of the hood that makes one “win” a fight. I wonder if the hood is mostly used for breeding displays, like with pheasants? That’s the problem with ethology; one question answered, thirty new questions arise.

Poor Kohric. I’m going to have so many more things to ask him.

---

There will be no update next week. I have a commitment I can't avoid. But hopefully I will get time to make some spiffy art for the week after.

Sacred Balance

I don’t know why it upset me so much to see D’Keda get so angry at the outcast Azu-nah. I’ve heard about criminals all my life. Human history is full of people who have done horrible things.

Maybe that’s why it bothered me; I already knew humans could be terrifying and cruel and hateful. But the Azu-nah are something different. They greeted me with nothing but curiosity. The bigotry or suspicion I’d have taken for granted with a mixed bag of humans just didn’t exist in D’Keda. No one has treated me with anything but generosity. I guess I took it for granted that I was in some kind of shining utopia.

I feel pretty stupid. I should have known better, really. I suppose that makes me naïve?

It still freaked me out to see them so aggressive, though. I mean, how would you react if a friend you thought you knew suddenly whipped out a gun and kneecapped someone?

So, being the naïve twit that I am, I stayed huddled in the cave for a good hour or so. I couldn’t bring myself to go out and ask questions. I was pretty sure I’d get bombarded with some about humans too, and I absolutely didn’t want to get into the assorted atrocities my species has committed over the years.

Nandi actually had to come in and find me. I could feel the skin of my face and neck heating up; it’s embarrassing to be caught gibbering in a corner.

“You hide well!” he said in a voice even I could tell was forcedly cheerful. “Only Slaasek saw you go.”

I tried to think of a way to explain why I’d been upset, but my vocabulary was failing me again. I eventually gave up on being eloquent. “I was afraid.”

Nandi’s ears dropped and he stopped gape-grinning. I could see all the cheer and bluster drain from his posture. He stood quietly for a moment, studying me, and then reached to tug at my wrist.

“Come,” he said. “Come out. We will sit in the sun and it will warm you and burn away the fear.” I smiled and followed him outside.

The cliff face our caves are carved into faces west, and gets the full force of the setting sun (mind, I use the term “west” loosely. The World Research Counsel arbitrarily set up cardinal directions based on those of Earth. Minerva’s magnetic north is technically at the south pole). Nandi chose a ledge of rock a half meter or so off the ground, and spread out on it like a basking lion. I was still feeling a little unstable, and chose a spot on the ground below. The warm rocks were soothing, and were surprisingly smooth. Perhaps they’d been service this same purpose for generations of sun-worshiping Azu-nah.

“Now,” he said, still studying me intently. “Why do you fear?”

Because behind the tough girl scientist exterior, I’m a writhing knot of naked nerve endings? “The khee’troch, “I said. “Why,” I used Kohric’s words from earlier, “why was he put out of the clans? What did he do?”



Nandi let out his breath in a big sigh-snort. “He broke the balance.” His tail began flicking in anger, and his muzzle wrinkled a little; just enough to show the very tips of his two longer, canine-like teeth. “That one was once D’Keda. He will not leave the clan land, even after becoming khee’troch. He did not follow the Creator’s balance.”

I was on somewhat familiar territory with this. “From the Creator’s story Kohric told?” Kohric had stressed how much their deity valued the biosphere remaining connected, and that the Azu-nah were not excluded from that job.

Nandi’s muzzle smoothed, and he parted his lips in a small gape-grin. “Yes. The balance says we only take as much as we need from the other star children. If you take all the koh fruit, the trees will have no seed. If you kill too many chestha, the herds will die. The khee’troch,” he snarled the name, “liked to taste blood. He made many kills. Too many. The clan could not eat so much and the meat would turn. He tasted the blood of sacred spirit-beasts that are not for eating; ba’oh, sekiti, own’wan. The Sa-kudayu and Kan became very angry. The Aket-oizo took his name away and made him khee’troch. The Kan marked him with the khee’troch tattoos. Now he may not live with any clans of the Azu-nah. The balance is sacred; never to be broken. ”

I wonder what humans would have turned out like if we’d had a rule like that?

Outsider

Sometimes I wonder if the world doesn’t like people to get too comfortable. Is there some sort of karmic law that says that things have to get shaken up every few weeks or it will be the end times?

I’m getting ahead of myself.

Today was unsettling. It started off normal enough. Today was a lesson day, so after the morning chores were done and the adults had settled into their routines, the youngsters and I gathered under Kohric’s favorite tree to hear today’s teachings. We were only about fifteen minutes into the lesson, though, when a huge commotion erupted near the caves. There was a great deal of shouting; high pitched, angry words full of the chirping “kheet” syllables.

Kohric and several of the children all rocked back on their hind legs and stretched their necks to see what was going on. Eyani tugged at my sleeve, and I hiked him up on my shoulders for a better look.

Those clan members that had not gone out for the day were boiling out of their caves or dropping whatever chore they had in hand, and were moving to surround an Azu-nah I didn’t recognize. Their movements were harsh and jerky; tails were lashing, heads were waving side to side with aggression, and some individuals even had sticks or other objects in hand, and were brandishing them angrily.

My friends, the peaceful, curious, and accepting D’Keda people, had become an angry mob.

I’ve always thought that thing about the hair on the back of your neck rising was just some literary figure of speech. I’ve even seen people write what I just said in books, and figured it was just to get you into the mood of the story. No, it really does. It’s unnerving, like your body knows you’re in deep shit and your brain hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Up on my shoulders, Eyani’s hands clenched, and I felt his claw tips digging into my skin. Kohric made a “tchaah” sound of disgust, and said the word “Khee’troch” (the “khee” part is chirped and almost impossible to say with a human larynx).

It wasn’t a word I’d learned yet, but now that I’d heard it I could pick it out in the shouts from the crowd as well. I moved to stand next to Kohric and set Eyani down on the ground. The youngsters were becoming agitated and began heading toward the rest of the mob. Kohric looped his tail around my bicep and pulled me along with him.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I was starting to get scared. The hair-standing-on-end feeling had expanded to that stomach-clenching kind of fear.

“Khee’troch,” he said, and added in English, “One who is—put out of the clans.”

“Outcast?” I said, “You threw him out of all the Azu-nah clans? Why?”

“A khee’troch is dangerous to the clans. He has done great wrong. He is poison.” Kohric’s neck was arched, and his stride was becoming stilted and angry like some of the others.

We joined the semi-circle of angry Azu-nah. They had formed a kind of living wall between the caves and the intruder, and were now shouting and brandishing things at him. The sick feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. How could a tribe of people welcome an alien into their midst with open arms, and then do this to one of their own? Even Kohric, so learned and rational, was bristling at this outsider. It was like seeing a university professor suddenly start beating his chest and howling like a gorilla.

The outsider looked pretty awful. He was rangy thin; much thinner than I’d ever seen any of the D’Keda folk. The bones of his tail stood out clearly, and his limbs were all wiry tendon and skin. His face was gaunt, and his mane looked dirty and unkempt. There was a livid yellow tattoo across each of his eyes; a violent, hook-like shape that crossed even his eyelids. His eyes terrified me. They practically burned. They glared around at everyone with such hate that I involuntarily took a step backward.

He boldly faced the crowd and barked once, simply, “I ask for food.”

D’Keda shouted back at him en mass, and a few individuals surged forward in short mock charges. They had their teeth bared. I took another step backward.



For just a moment his eyes turned toward me, burning with malice. I froze mid-step and gaped at him. His mouth parted and he made a breathy “haaaah” sort of half-hiss. For a horrible half second I thought he may attack me. But he turned his baleful gaze away, gave one last snarl toward the crowd, and then turned and fled.

I followed his example, and quickly ducked away in to my cave. I huddled in the corner so no one would see me inside, and shuddered.

The Azu-nah have always been kind and honest to me. Their worst fault is they’re overly curious and a little annoying. I’ve never, ever felt even the least threatened by them. They look so benign. But that one, the outcast… And the way they treated him. I’m not sure which scares me more.

I suddenly feel very, very alone.

Yes, again

Okay, okay, please don't hit me, but there's another delay this week. Yes, in fact, I'm going to have to cancel this week's entry. I'm sorry.

This week it isn't that I'm exhausted or that I'm working overtime. A really good job opportunity opened up today and I don't dare waste this chance. So, I'm sorry, but getting my application polished and my resume perfect for this just has to take priority.

Double entry next week, 'cause you guys are awesome for putting up with all this.

Wish me luck!

Harpoon Face

I ended up sleeping a bit too late today, after staying up late last night to watch the hunt. I always feel muzzy-headed from sleeping too late. My bio clock hates it when I deviate from its strict schedule. So I was only just stumbling out of the cave at the point when everyone else was already off and busy.

It did end up paying off, though.

Because I wasn’t immediately available first thing in the morning, like usual, Eyani and Oshtik had gone off exploring on their own along the beach. Sometimes you can find interesting things on a beach in the early parts of the day, before scavengers and other creatures have begun poking around for leavings.

Oshtik made an interesting discovery, and was practically vibrating to show it to me when I woke up. She immediately twined her tail around my wrist and hauled me off toward the wrack line, chattering excitedly about what she’d found. Eyani was waiting for us, standing guard over the object.

It turned out to be the corpse of one of the bird-creatures I’d seen flitting across the water. They’ve tended to shy away from any other creatures on the beach, so my experience with them has been little more than a flash of movement, a suggestion of wings, or a splash on the water’s surface.

This one was freshly dead, and in beautiful condition. I prodded it into a better position with a piece of drift wood (I wasn’t stupid enough to go handling it; it could have died from a disease). The wing design is fascinating, and explains a bit why I’ve had such a hard time getting a mental image of their body type.

I always thought the creatures (Oshtik says they’re called “oai”) looked bottom-heavy, but what I took for bulk was actually a second set of wings on the hind legs. They hold them tucked under the body, with the outside toe forming a second wing surface below and a partially underneath the primary arm-wings. Essentially they’re like little biplanes.

But the other, even weirder thing about them is the mouth. The upper jaw has a V-shaped notch at the tip, and an odd, bony, flexible, hook-like protrusion at the end tongue fits into the notch when the mouth is closed. The hook is part of a short, harpoon-like shaft, sheathed in fleshy tissue and backed by a thick slab of muscle.

Its tongue was like a chameleon’s. Except that instead of launching a fleshy, glue-covered punching-bag at an insect, this creature fires a tiny harpoon from above at its prey. I wonder if the biplane wings give them the stability to be able to pull off this crazy predator behavior.

This one had a tiny crest on its head, but I’m certain I’ve seen ones with larger crests, and some different, more distinct skull structures. I don’t know if they all can harpoon things, or if that’s an adaptation particular to this species, but I’m definitely going to be watching these things a lot more carefully in the future.

Nature is freakin’ fascinating!

---

Today is the 1 year anniversary of Project Azu-nah. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read the blog. I really, really appreciate all your comments and feedback. I hope I've managed to entertain you at least a little. Thank you, and here's to another year!

Grass Stars

Last night was very cool.

The hunters have been rotating in nighttime hunts lately. It’s actually not because the days are getting shorter, as I originally thought (which was stupid, really, because we’ve only lost perhaps an hour, tops); it’s actually that the slow winding into a new season has triggered some species to migrate. The uku that were mentioned in some of the stories have been making their way across D’Keda territory, and the hunters are taking advantage.

The problem is the uku are nocturnal. So the hunters have begun striking out a short while before sunset so they can locate the herd and get into place before it’s fully dark.

The hunters seem somewhat nervous during the day before they go out. Many spend a great deal of time honing their arrow heads, practicing shooting targets, or simply poking their noses into everyone else’s work and making pests of themselves. But when it’s time to head out, there’s a great deal of singing and boasting. I wonder if perhaps they’re trying to psych themselves up. The plains at night can be creepy. Redeka and other predators could be hiding anywhere, and the uku themselves are known for becoming very aggressive. So everyone inflates themselves with bluster and tough talk, and head out to do their best.

I find it oddly touching, somehow. They almost feel like they’re going out to battle, and there’s an aching undertone that some of them may not come back.

Anyway, last night was particularly dark; the larger moon Arachne was a thin waxing crescent, and Tiresias (the smaller moon) was in its new phase, and was only a faint circle hovering above the ecliptic.

The clan would never let me go anywhere away from camp at night. They all seem certain I’d be eaten by something. I don’t disagree, mind. But I was dying with curiosity, and I harassed Kohric all day to find a way to let me watch somehow.

Sometimes it pays off to live in a tribe of insatiably curious creatures.

Kohric took me up to the top of the cliff and walked me along it to a high point where I could see across several kilometers. My binoculars don’t have the best night vision, and the whole thing looked like a few greenish lumps moving around bigger greenish lumps, but I did get to see their eye patchs in action.

I’d begun to take the patch under the Azu-nah’s eyes for granted. I’d read they have bioluminescent properties, but I’d never seen them. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. But last night I got to watch the tiny flashes out across the plains as the pieces of the hunting party kept track of each other.

They looked like little stars in the grass. It was very cool.

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This week's cameos are (in order of appearance) Akum, by HerbalDrink; Avak, by Syrus-chan; and Trixa, by Dani. Thank you all for submitting!

Triumphant Return

The last few days have been good. I find it very restful to know, at least vaguely, what’s coming from day to day. I hadn’t realized how nerve-wracking it was to have that additional bit of chaos on top of my flailing attempts at integrating myself into Azu society.

The evening stories have been restful too. It usually starts with Eyani and Oshtik having silent nudging wars over who will be the owner of my lap for the evening. Nandi has usually shown up by the time the two little buggers have finished their turf wars; he makes a particularly good backrest. So we have a cozy evening together, listening to the stories by the fire. Kohric will often join us, and will explain things that don’t make sense to me, often without me even asking. They almost feel like a little family, and it’s very, very comforting.

The best thing about the last few days, though, is that Oreeaht has turned up, and with her, Nanahan. It feels like forever since I’ve seen either of them. Nanahan was whisked off to recover in a secluded cavern the moment we arrived; Oreeaht has been a shadow that flits from the community food stores back to the cavern with little more than a greeting gesture.

Nanahan looks like nine kinds of hell. She’s lost a lot of weight, and her bones and tendons stand out against her skin. Her face has more lines than it used to, and her eye color isn’t the same intense, burning yellow they were before (Kohric tells me the eyes fading is a sign of aging, similar to whitening hair in humans). The most striking change, though, is her leg. The injury has healed, but the scar it left will never, ever go away. Unlike a human scar, it isn’t a livid red; it’s a gray-green color, which almost makes it more disturbing to me. It reminds me of a huge, puckered vein.

The rest of her leg hasn’t faired much better. Her leg muscles have clearly atrophied, leaving the left one distinctly smaller than the right. It’s clearly very stiff, and she holds it tucked up against her body. She’ll try to flex it, occasionally, but it’s very apparent that her range motion is badly limited. I don’t understand their anatomy enough to know exactly what went wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s suffering from the equivalent of severed tendon and muscle wounds. She walks with kind of hopping limp, but won’t let anyone help her. She seems to be determined to get around on her own.

The Kan and his apprentice have been watching Nanahan like hawks. He’s told her, oddly enough, to swim as much as she can. So each morning she wades out into the water, practically radiating determination, and paddles slowly around until she’s visibly tired. Oreeaht seems very relieved. I think we all are, really. Even if she never gets the use of her leg back, Nanahan’s definitely going to be okay.

Yusa and Redeka-spirit

This is the story of Yusa and Redeka-spirit, and how the Azu-nah came to have only three toes, as told by Eraan. I've translated it as directly as possible, with Kohric's help, and any grammar failings are my fault. Some of their syntax still gives me trouble.

"It is a strange thing, that all Azu-nah have four fingers on a hand, but only three toes on their feet. It was not always so. Once, in the days when Sukil and Yusa lived on the earth, the Azu-nah had four toes. There is a story of how we lost the fourth.

I will tell you the tale as it was told to me:

One morning, in the time of the First Azu-nah, the sun shone brightly, and the world was alive with many colors and sounds. On this bright morning, clever Yusa was out hunting. East Wind-spirit had not yet shown the Azu-nah how to make m’kek (atlatls), and so Yusa carried only a knife made of chestha bone.

The hunting was poor that day, and while Yusa had been clever and quiet and quick, she had been unable to make a kill. Yusa's belly had become uncomfortably empty, but she and Sukil were wise and had saved dried fruit and meat for times when the hunting was bad. She could return to their lair and eat.

She turned and decided to go home when she caught a pleasant smell on the wind. Yusa followed the scent to a clearing in the grass where an uku* lay killed. She looked around carefully, wondering if it belonged to another, but there was no one near, and no marks staking claim. Yusa became excited and began to cut the kill into pieces so she could take it home.

But she had not cut more than a hand-and-tail before Redeka-spirit came bursting through the leaves, snorting in anger.

"Thief!" he roared, "Scavenger! This kill is mine! I will not let you take any of it!" He slashed the air before Yusa with his claws and bellowed his rage.

But Yusa was bold and did not back away. "Where are the marks to show this kill as yours? Perhaps I killed it myself!"

Redeka-spirit was furious. "I am the greatest hunter in all the world. You dare to question my kill? I will eat you along with it!" And he leapt at Yusa, his jaws wide.

Yusa ran away across the grassland, with Redeka-spirit chasing behind, and planned how to trick him into losing her trail. She stopped at the first stream to cross her path, and went upstream to mask the scent of her passing. "Redeka-spirit will never find me now," she thought to herself. But Redeka-spirit's yan-azuku** was powerful, and he find her scent on the tiniest breeze from across the whole plain. He soon caught up to her and gave chase again.

Yusa ran further, this time stopping in a patch of strongly scented nakaio plants. She quickly chewed the leaves to paste and rubbed them on her skin to hide her scent. Then she hid in a cluster of plants to wait for Redeka-spirit to pass her by. But Redeka-spirit could still catch a hint of her scent in the wind, and headed straight for her hiding place. "You can never hide from me!" Redeka-spirit roared, "I can smell you no matter where you go!"

But Yusa was clever. She ran once again, this time into a stand of trees. She bundled together many branches into the shape of an Azu-nah and placed it in the top branches of one of the trees. Then she took her hunting knife and cut off the fourth toe from both of her feet. It was very painful, but Yusa was strong, and she used her yan-azuku to stretch the flesh of the severed toes to cover the bundle of branches; now it looked like a living Azu-nah. Yusa then quickly bound her bleeding feet and climbed down the tree. She ran away from the stand and hid in a small pond.

Redeka-spirit soon came and sensed the smell of Azu-nah blood and flesh in the tree. “Foolish!” he bellowed, “To think you can hide from me so easily! I will eat you and then eat my kill as well!” He climbed up the tree, and it shook with his great bulk. He laughed in satisfaction when he reached the false Azu-nah and quickly ate it all in a few gulps. But he soon recognized the taste, and knew he had been tricked. Redeka-spirit’s rage was greater than the mountains. He roared his fury, and the sound was so loud it shook the top of what is now Broken Fang Mountain until the top cracked away and fell to the ground. It has been so ever since.

Redeka-spirit climbed down the tree, intent on catching Yusa and eating her! But the Creator made him to eat flesh, only, and the leaves and branches he had eaten made him very sick. He rolled on his side and held his aching belly, still roaring his anger and pain to the sky.

Yusa laughed at Redeka-spirit, and ran all the way back to the uku kill. She quickly cut it all up and took it away home. She and Sukil ate well for many days, and the good food allowed them to have many other adventures. But ever since that day, no Azu-nah has been born with more than three toes on their feet. And now Redeka-spirit’s children still anger that they were tricked by Yusa They have tried many times to kill and eat the Azu-nah, but those tales will have to wait until another night.




*An uku is a four-legged grazing creature with a sharp beak and thick skin. I have never seen one. Kohric had to describe it for me.

**Yan-azuku translates as "spirit power/strength", but I believe is interpreted almost in the same sense as the Native American concept of "medicine." It's a spiritual energy or magic that allows one to do more than is naturally possible.