Meteors

At the end of the day I left Nandi went home to my tree tent. I was looking forward to just flopping down and sleeping off the feeling of… alien. Not the world so much as me. I felt like an outsider, some interloper that was nosing her way into a place she really had no business. It’s hard to describe. It’s sort of like stumbling into your grandma’s closet and realizing she has a huge collection of leather bondage gear stashed in there, or a secret lab where she’s engineering five meter tall poodles. You realize you don’t know anything about your grandma, and despair of ever feeling connected ever again. It’s disconcerting.

So I went back to the tree tent. Or, well, where I’d left the tree tent. It was neatly flattened against the branches of the host tree, now. My things had been left in a tidy pile at the tree’s base. Most of them, anyway. Upon further inspection, my pack had a decided lack of ration bars. The wrappers had been carefully rolled into little bundles and stuffed in one pocket of my pack, but there wasn’t a single bar left. I couldn’t even find any crumbs! The biofoam injector was also missing. I found it a meter away, upside down and half-buried in the ground between two of the tree’s larger roots (fortunately, it still works. It’s a field injector, so it’s made to withstand getting tap-danced on by an elephant or something.)

I have a sneaking suspicion of who “helped” me unpack. I guess I’m sleeping out tonight. Hopefully the “small biters” Nandi mentioned won’t bother me.

I repacked my things and stashed them in the crook of one of the lower branches of my tree. Then I went in search of dinner. I briefly thought of taking the biofoam and sneaking up on Nohwasi for vengeance, but I still don’t know what a genuine fear reaction is for an Azu-nah. It may be to scratch the offender’s face off. Not something I want to test. Not with my face, anyway.

Dinner was... odd. The clan had a huge amount of food set out, and everyone was tucking in with far more gusto than I’d seen before. At previous suppers the Azu-nah were leasurly to the point of excess, with more reasonable sized meal. They’d slowly enjoy each piece and would sit and worry at shells or bones afterward while chatting with a neighbor. Tonight, they were all much more focused on their food, and were putting it away pretty quickly, like a person late for work. The types of food were different too. Normally, meat constituted maybe one quarter or less of their meals. The more abundant tubers, nuts, and that odd grassy stuff were the staple. Tonight, though, meat and fruits (all the really, really sweet ones) were the main components tonight.

I took a seat by Kohric and Nandi. They kept plying more and more things into my lap and urging me to “eat much!” Kohric must have read my puzzled expression as I gnawed at a fruit. “Tomorrow we must walk for many days,” he explained. “Little water, very little food. We must eat much tonight, or we will hunger much when we walk.”

I’m beginning to really resent the terrible trio for snarfing my ration bars.

It was getting pretty dark by the time the meal was over. Most everyone had simply flopped over around the dim embers of the meal fires, stomachs budging. The talk had dulled to a gentle murmur. The night animals were relatively quiet. It was actually very peaceful, save for the occasional belch (Azu burps are pretty scary. They’re kinda growly, and it seems like they go on too long.)

The sky was dark enough that the stars were out. There’s very little that’s more beautiful than a clear night sky. And I mean a real night sky, not one that’s all dulled by the lights of civilization. This was the type of night when it was clear and crisp, and the stars absolutely blazed overhead. It was gorgeous.

I lay on my back with my head resting on my arms. Nandi had wiggled up to lay behind me, like a warm headrest. We were enjoying the view when someone suddenly spoke out excitedly, “Imi-azuku!”

Everyone snapped alert. Nandi jumped up and my head dropped gracelessly to the ground. There was a lot of pointing all around me. High in one part of the sky were dozens of flashing sparks of light, like shining rain—a meteor shower.

“Imi-azuku! Imi-azuku!”



All around me the Azu-nah were gazing upward, all looking joyful. Kohric came to sit nearby. “Imi-azuku,” he said, “is very … important to Azu-nah. Imi is fall, come. Azuku is… star that is inside.” He tapped his forehead with a finger. “This is of much joy.”

I don’t entirely understand what Kohric was saying, but suffice to say that the Azu-nah view shooting stars as a kind of spirit or omen. It was beautiful to see D’Keda so happy.

Parrot Squirrels

This morning dawned quieter than usual. The entire clan still seemed a little subdued. Not sorrowful, per se. They don’t seem to view their clan member’s death as a terrible tragedy, and they don’t seem to be visibly mourning him as a human group would. I don’t know if they have anything equivalent to crying, but if they do it’s incredibly subtle. Enough that I can’t pick it out, anyway.

But in their quiet way they seem sad. I think the loss of a comrade feels pretty much the same for anyone, despite one’s species, or one’s religious beliefs, one’s philosophies on death. At the end of the day that person isn’t there, and you miss them.

So this morning was quiet. The weavers still sang while they worked, but they were mostly softer, keening songs. They all seemed to mention stars or the sky. I was dying to talk to Kohric and have him explain what was going on.

My curiosity had to wait, though, since Nanahan put me to work again almost immediately. Today my morning job was to peel and husk yesterday’s harvest. Nandi, who seems practically attached to me, showed me what to do and helped me. As we worked, several small creatures crept down from the tree we were working under and skittered around the edge of our pile. They were little green sparrow-sized creatures that vaguely resembled rats, but moved and acted a lot more like a lizard or bird. They’d skitter down close to something we’d discarded, stop dead, look around with that odd jerky motion birds sometimes do, and then snatch the object and shoot away.



Nandi flicked husks at them, or swung his tail to scare them away if they got too close to the pile. He paid them little mind otherwise, like a picnicker ignores a fly unless it lands on his sandwich. They quickly learned I had shorter reach and poor aim. Soon I had all three of them around me, waiting for me to drop something. I felt like a guest at a friend’s house and they didn’t ever break their dogs of the habit of begging.

They were oddly adorable, though, and I started making sure the pieces of shell I threw at them still had a few bits of nut meat still on them. They’d hold the pieces in their little paws, eyeing the shell with those weird little lizardy head jerks, and then snap out their prize. I kinda want one. Please, mom, it followed me home? Parrot squirrels don't eat much, I swear! Heh.

Nandi and I eventually finished. He carefully divided everything we’d prepared into two piles. The small pile he had me load into one of the floppy travel basket-bags, and tie shut against our little green thieves. The second pile, much, much larger, he put into one of the bigger community food baskets they’d been using the whole time I’d been with them. I tried to ask why so much was going to the regular food baskets, when they were going to be leaving in a day or so. Nandi simply said the regular baskets were for eating tonight, as if it were obvious. They were going to be eating an awful lot, then. The baskets were nearly twice as full as I’d seen them normally. Nandi told me I would eat plenty tonight and left it at that. Then he led me around the camp, trying his best to explain what was going on. It was kinda cute, really. I think Nandi really admires Kohric, and tries to emulate him as much as possible.

Taking down D’Keda was a bit different than I’d expected.

All around the camp, the odd green tree tents were being dismantled. Except that the Azus weren’t folding them up and packing them away as I’d expected. Instead, they were….sort of deflating them. They were flattening them out and carefully tying them down against the tree branches. A few were being cut away from the trees entirely, cut further into pieces, and then a thick green sap squeezed from the … cloth? I gaped and struggled to put the Azu words together.

“Nandi. Is kirrrrt’ok alive? Plant?”

Nandi tilted his head at me like I was stupid. He spoke slowly for me. “Yes, is plant. Leaf. We grow kirrrrt’ok carefully. Then make it grow with a tree. But it grows slowly, so we must keep it safe when we are gone.”

“Then why cut?” Hacking it to bits didn’t seem like good plant husbandry to me.

“Hifsangom is good for travel too. We travel, many… “ he faltered. “many small biters come. It keeps biters away.”

So, today I learned that the Azu-nah would probably make a killing in the pet trade, they occasionally like to go on huge food benders, and the tent thing I’ve been living in for the past few weeks has actually been a freakishly huge leaf with insect repelling capabilities. Or, whatever passes for insects on Minerva.

There are days when the utterly alien nature of this world really hits me, and I feel so hopelessly far from home where everything makes sense. Today was one of those days.

Breaking the Fourth Wall

Okay, today's post is something a little different. Instead of hearing about Tee for today, I'm breaking the fourth wall. Tee will be back next week like usual, but I wanted to take the time to do a couple of necessary things.

Firstly, thanks to everyone who's been reading! I appreciate everyone taking the time to check out my work. Thank you! I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Second, I'd like to make this week for you, the readers. Now's your chance to voice your thoughts! Are there things you like? Dislike? Stuff you're dying to know? Something you can't stand? Then please comment and let your voice be heard! Or, if you're feeling shy, email them to me (worldofazunah at gmail.com). I'd really love to hear your feedback. It helps make the blog better.

And since it would be a very lame post without any kind of artwork, I bring you an archaeological relic--the first Azu-nah!



Don't hurt yourself laughing. Technically it isn't the first Azu-nah, but it's the first picture I did of them when I'd figured out who they were and what they were called. They've changed a bit, as you can see. This guy (it was actually a girl at the time) dates back to about 2000/2001, when dinosaurs roamed.

Next week, Tee will be back with a new species and D'Keda's unusual way of packing. Look forward to it!

A Prism of Fire

After the hunters set out, Nanahan found me and decided to put me to work again. Basket weaving. Again. My skills haven’t really improved much. And this one was more complicated in that the baskets they were weaving this time were soft and floppy (much more comfy to carry for kilometers on end, but a pain in the ass to make). I think I took even longer than when I made the first one.

I met several of the younger D’Keda members while weaving. Nandi was there too, which surprised me. I figured he would be off on another gathering trip or something. But I’m coming to learn that most everyone does a little bit of everything. Not that I blame them. If I had to weave baskets every day of my life I’d probably end up taking a flying leap in front of the atlatl target one morning.

Nandi started everyone on the Tee-Tee thing as soon as I started working, which dissolved into playful teasing. I only understood maybe a quarter of what they said. They could have been calling me any name under the sun. I knew they were only teasing, but I was still feeling frustrated that I STILL couldn’t understand half of what they said. So I got petty revenge for a few minutes by calling Nandi an annoying little fartnugget. Except they were suddenly all so curious to learn what it meant in English that I quickly changed the topic.

The rest of the morning passed quietly, and I actually had a pretty good time. The weavers, once they’d finished picking on me, began singing like they had the first time I’d been with them. I’ve noticed this in a few other daily chores too. They seem to incorporate music while they do almost everything. Sometimes it seems like they’re pre-learned, traditional songs. Other times it’s like a improvised rhythm with a series of hummed harmonies.

I really like it. It makes tedious chores more enjoyable. I really enjoyed having such a peaceful morning.

Soon after mid-day, though, the quiet gave way to chaos. It began when the hunting party came barreling in, all of them shouting at once. They looked upset. Everyone came rushing of course, and gathered around the party to listen. The shouting subsided and one of the hunters began to speak. He was talking very quickly, and I could barely catch more than a few words. Nandi carefully explained it to me afterward.

One of the hunters had died. He’d been ambushed and dragged away by a redeka.

The assembled group dissolved relatively quickly after everyone had heard the story. Then it was back to their chores. They all seemed subdued, but there was almost no outward sign of mourning.

One individual Azu-nah approached the central area once everyone had gone. He unrolled a fat pouch that revealed itself to be several smaller, attached pouches full of different colored powders. He’d take small handfuls of powder and make shapes with it as it ran out of his hands. I’ve seen sand art on Earth. That is usually quiet elaborate, and is painstakingly slow to create. This was … more organic. He was quite graceful as he drew, and used both hands at once to make these beautiful swirling shapes on the ground.


No one else paid him any mind, and eventually Nanahan came over to me and gently drew me away. “Ana-kan must do alone,” she explained. I blinked, feeling dumb. This was D’Keda’s Kan, the shaman-doctor Kohric had told me about. And here I am oogling him while he works on some sort of last rites ritual for the dead. Aaaahh. I suck.

Fortunately no one seemed offended.

I got to see the final purpose of the shaman’s work at sunset. He’d laid out a circle, perhaps about two meters in diameter, and filled it with his powder drawings. He’d lined the outside with wood, and there was more wood incorporated into the drawings inside.

The entire clan (perhaps forty individuals) quickly gathered and arranged themselves around the circle. Kohric and Nandi moved to stand on either side of me. The shaman began a low, swaying chant, which everyone joined almost immediately. When they’d finished, the shaman bent, a shadowed something in each hand, and cracked the objects together, sweeping a shower of sparks down across his drawing.

The entire drawing came alive with brilliant light. For a single moment, each carefully drawn line of the image seemed to glow. The pieces of wood formed shadowy outlines, framing the entire piece. Then it erupted into brilliant, multicolor flames. The wood caught and burned, and the entire circle became an enormous prismatic bonfire.

There was much more singing, a great deal of dancing around the fire, the departed hunter’s name was constantly spoken. I understood very little of any of it, unfortunately. There were also more handfuls of the mineral powder thrown on the fire, causing it to continue burning in such a myriad of colors. Figures that would be common on Minerva. Most of those chemicals are chlorides of some sort, and the planet is rotten with chlorine. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

The ceremony ended when the fire burned down to a few red embers. Everyone resumed their original position around the circle, leaned back their heads, and gazed upward to the clear night sky. It was utterly quiet. No one moved or spoke, and our fire and dancing earlier had silenced any loud night creatures nearby. It was an incredibly intense moment, and it felt very…. well, holy is the only word I can think of that comes close.

Tonight is an experience that will stay with me for many, many years to come.

Stabbity Death

Kohric wasn’t kidding when he said I could get left behind yesterday. Well, he was kidding, but D’Keda has been all hustle-bustle since before dawn today. My lessons yesterday are apparently going to be the last for nearly a week. Or, as their saying goes “a hand of days.” I haven’t quite figured out their number system (Another thing for my list. Bah. I keep adding to my ‘to learn’ list. Each new thing goes right on top. I should just cross off the whole list, write “everything” and be done with it). Anyway, they have four fingers on one hand. So I’m assuming all this prep and fuss is going to last at least that long.

Today’s activity seems to be mostly focused on packing non-essentials (what few there are) and gathering supplies. Less active folk are busy making water skins and the pannier carry baskets. Just about everyone else seems to be busy today with going out and finding food.

Oreeaht is apparently a hunter as well as a gatherer. I guess this isn’t the type of society to have males as the exclusive hunters. They don’t seem to use a whole lot of tools or weapons for hunting either. No knives for example. That really surprised me. I thought about asking how they cut things, until I watched one hunter easily slice away the peel of a piece of fruit he was eating with one fore claw. Dur. The knives are built in.

The only weapon they seem to use is a variant on an atlatl. Atlatls look a bit like the freakish lovechild of a javelin and a bow and arrow set. Basically it’s a spear launcher. And the cool thing is it doesn’t have any mechanical parts, just the basic physics of extending your throwing “arm”. Except the Azu-nah don’t hold their atlatls in their hands.

Azu-nah hunters actually strap them to their tails.



It kinda makes sense now that I think about it. Their arms aren’t attached to their bodies the same way ours are. They don’t have the ability, physically, to reach their arms up over their heads like we can (an Azu-nah depiction of the YMCA dance would be pretty lame). So they attach the atlatl to their tail, and use their entire hind end to launch little spears.

It looked goofy when I first saw it. I mean, they have a stick tied to their tail. But then I watched as a group of hunters testing their aim on a fallen tree trunk.

Damn.

They had a fat round leaf that ways maybe the size of my palm stuck to the tree trunk with a bit of sap, and used it as the target. In less than two minutes, and a cacophony of choonk choonks later, that leaf looked like it had been hit by a couple rounds of buckshot. I would not care to be on the receiving end of one of those spears. They’re just little sticks, yeah. But they’re also pretty pointy, and moving at mach elevntymillion or something. I'd prefer my death to not be the stabbidy kind, thanks. Yeegh. Those chestha I saw when Kohric brought me to D’Keda don’t seem so fast anymore.

Oreeaht let me watch as she tied her atlatl (they call them “m’kek”) in place. There’s a hole at the base for the prehensile end of her tail tip to fit, and she uses her tail to hold the spear in place until she launches it. She carries her extra spears in a thin, woven quiver that rests across her hip. It’s all very simplistic, light, and minimal. I’m impressed with how effective such a simple weapon can be.



I hope someday I can watch the Azu hunters in action. I think it would be fascinating.

Ladies and Gentlemen

Today marks my tenth day since meeting the Azu-nah. It sure doesn’t feel like ten days. It feels like it was another lifetime ago that I landed on Minerva. Life on Earth? What? No, that’s not me. I’m Tee, my life is eating root-bread-corn thingies and trying to cram enough alien words into my head to ask where the bathroom is.

Actually, the time has also flown by. I’ve been learning so much that it amazes me. Surely my brain can’t keep this up, can it? Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to wake up one morning to a flashing blue screen across my forehead that says “Maximum capacity reached!” and I’ll have to start deleting childhood memories and the names of all my relatives to make space.

This morning dawned clear and… well, greenish rather than blue. But it was still pretty. I still haven’t gotten used to the morning noises here. You don’t realize it, but hearing birds and crickets and things is practically in your DNA. Waking up to sounds that a cricket isn’t physically capable of making throws your brain all off balance. There’s one creature that can make more than one tone call at the same time. It sounds like a little chittery duet, and no matter how many times I hear it, my brain still shrieks “What in hell IS that?!” every time.

Kohric met me first thing, happily carrying the pouch of the tiger tree (“rikosh”) fruits I’d brought him yesterday. Around a crunching mouthful he told me we’d start learning about D’Keda’s “ways,” and then waved a hand at me to get my attention.

“Question first,” he said. His ears were laid back and he looked almost... uncomfortable. “Tee is Tee. Tee is human. Kohric not know if Tee is ikiti or damode.” His ears were flicking now. He flipped his tail around to ruffle the base of his mane. “Damode has,” he said, watching me carefully. “Ikiti has not,” and he pulled the hair of his mane down so that it was not sticking up along his neck.

Oh hell. He was just asking this now? Dude! Though, I really couldn’t blame him. The symbols for men and women on the LangTutor probably didn’t mean jack to him.

“Er.. Azu-nah Tee would not have,” I fumbled, fussing with my hair. “Tee is ..ikiti. Female” I gestured vaguely to my chest. “Er… Human ikiti have. Human damode have not.” I hope no super flat-chested women show up before I can explain this one to him better. That could get ugly.

Kohric seemed extremely pleased, and kept muttering “Ikiti, ikiti, Tee-Tee,” in a silly, sing-song voice as we went on our way. I think he was teasing me a bit, but Azu humor is still a bit beyond me.

He took me to the teaching place, the ubiquitous LangTutor in one hand. He sat down on the ground and began drawing in the sand with one claw tip. He drew a circle and pointed to it. “D’Keda,” he said, and gestured vaguely around at the clan’s territory. Simple enough. He drew lines in the circle, dividing it into thirds.

”Three ones keep balance of D’Keda.” I took that as there are three people who govern or run things, and from the drawing, their “power” was pretty equally shared.

Kohric pointed to one third, “Aket-oizo, one who guides. This one chooses for clan. Sends ones gets food, finds water. Keep D’Keda ones safe, not hungry, not thirsty, not fight.” In the section he’d been pointing to, Kohric drew a circle, with incomplete, segmented rings around it. From our previous sessions, I knew this was a symbol for the sun.



He pointed to another third. “Sa-kudayu, one who watches. Watch prey, watch food, watch water. These Sa-kudayu protect always. Keeps hunters. Must keep balance also. Hunt too much, take too much? Cannot keep balance. This one watches, keeps safe the near-world.” This third got a half circle and a smaller crescent drawn in it. Minerva’s two moons.



He pointed to the last third. “Kan, one who sees. Kan knows of... “ here he fumbled, fussed with the LangTutor, and then gave it up. “Kan sees inside,” he said finally, pointing to his chest. “Kan heals wound, stop hurt. Also this one sees... inside. Inside Azu-nah, inside tree, inside river. Kan sees and heals all hurts.” He drew a circle, with another, incomplete circle inside, and triangles around the outside.



I had not seen this symbol before, and I asked him. I pointed to the first two, saying the Azu words for “sun” and “moons.” The last, I pointed and held my palms open in question. Kohric’s lips stretched and he gape-grinned wider than I’d seen him do so yet. “Azu,” he said, and pointed first to the symbol, and then to the sky. It was daylight, so no stars were visible, but his gesture was obvious enough.

I’d first thought the Kan position was some kind of doctor-biologist. But now it made much more sense. Kohric had already told me stars were important to them. It’s in their name. “Kan” must act in some ways as a doctor, but “seeing inside” must mean he’s also a kind of shaman, or spiritual leader.

I was fascinated. “Can I meet them?”

Kohric flicked his tail in a gesture I was coming to understand expressed a vague affirmative. “Learn first more words. They have no English.” (Kohric always says it “Inguleesh.” And human is “hyooman.” The Azu-nah pronounce every part of a word. There aren’t any “silent” syllables or letters in their language, so some of Kohric’s pronunciations were hilarious.)

I tried not to be disappointed. But I didn’t blame Kohric. No reason to take the babbling barbarian near the cream of D’Keda’s crop until he’d spiffed her up a bit.

“More words now,” he said holding up the LangTutor. “Soon D’Keda leave this place. Much work. Tee must learn more, or become confused and we leaving behind.” He grinned at me.

I stuck out my tongue at him and playfully snatched the LangTutor to select the word for our next lesson.

Foraging Party

I reached critical brain mass last night after another couple days of language boot camp. I was tripping over words, mixing up really simple stuff, and even saying some English words wrong. Kohric decided I was useless doing any more, and sent me back to my kirrrrt’ok with my Ugly Basket full of fruit and pieces of heksanan. He told me to “sleep much,” and “No words tomorrow.” Huzzah! I get a vacation from Death By Vocabulary.

Before going to bed, I sat with the flap of the tent open, munched on my supper, and watched the Azu-nah go about their lives beneath me. There’s definitely a bit of loose hierarchy in their culture. Kohric promised to go over “Azu-nah ways” with me soon. I know they have some kind of clan leader, but not who it is or what their job description actually is. Elders seem to get respect based on age. But there isn’t any kind of caste system or much social differentiation at all

I went to bed before the sun was fully down and slept like a dead thing until mid-morning. Oreeaht was waiting for me when I opened my tent flap. Have I mentioned how disconcerting their habit of doorstep camping is? Agh! I keep wondering how long they’ve been sitting there! Next protocol lesson, I need to ask Kohric about the concept of knocking.

Despite her polite stalking, I was glad to see Oreeaht. She’d helped me make the Ugly Basket, and had been one of the first not-Kohric Azus I’d met. She bobbed a greeting to me and told me I was to come with her today to find food. Kohric rocks. I decided to bring him something extra nice home as a thank you present.

I went with Oreeaht with Nanahan (Grandma) and a cheerful youngster named Nandi. They were armed with a pair of baskets that were woven together in the middle, and sat across their hips like a pair of saddlebags or bicycle panniers. My physiology didn’t lend itself to such a setup, but Nanahan, to my utter delight, had woven shoulder straps to one basket so I could wear it like a backpack. It was an incredibly sweet gesture. I gave her a hug on impulse. She endured my barbarian affection very well.

The Azu-nah travel kilometers in a single day while looking for food. I have no idea what type of system they use to decide where to look, but we walked for what felt like hours before Oreeaht simply stopped in an area that looked like just about every other area we’d been through since leaving D’Keda’s camp. I know we passed plenty of fruit-bearing plants and trees on the way here. Another to add to the Mt. Fuji of questions I have for Kohric.

We munched a bit as we foraged. It was fascinating. Oreeaht and Nanahan showed me the different plants that bore edible things. Some of the structures I thought were beans or nuts were actually the bases of stems, or root bulbs, sort of like onions. Much of their food grows from the odd grass-like structures instead of being tubers or from trees like I expected. Oreeaht would harvest tiny green berries from one of the window-shade grasses with incredible skill. I couldn’t even stand near them without them snapping shut. But she would stand away, somehow cradle a leaf with her tail tip like a scoop, and run it along the fruit-bearing side of the grass before it could snap shut.

I apparently provided Nandi with a great deal of amusement in my failed attempts at mimicking Oreeaht’s talents.

I did manage to show them up with one thing. I am a champion digger, apparently! Hah! They can dig fine, but my hands make better scoops than theirs, and I don’t have claws to get in the way. So I had my heksanan out of the ground and dusted off before Nandi was half way through. He gave me a berry as a victory prize, bobbing his head in a joking parody of the formal greeting gesture. I like Nandi.

I got to see a fascinating tree species today too. It apparently grows new leaves, flowers, and drops fruit, all at once, for the entire growing season. Most Earth plants will flower in spring, have leaves most of the summer, and then drop fruit late summer or fall. You don’t see flowers and fruit on a tree at once. If you do, you don’t eat at that burrito shop ever again, and you sleep off whatever delusions you had.



Here, though, this tree has buds, flowers, full summer leaves, and fruit all at once. And apparently they’re all the same structure. The flower is part of the leaf, which eventually grows a fruit at its base. And when the seed is ready to go, the whole leaf package drops off and rides the wind away, sorta like a maple tree's whirly-bird seeds. I'm mentally labeling it a tiger tree for the weird stripes on the trunk. But I have to keep forcing myself. My first thought is to call it a crack tree. The nuts it drops are tasty, though. Nandi said Kohric likes them, so I loaded up to give him a nice fat pile later.

By the time my back was starting to ache, Oreeaht called it quits and said we were to head home. On the way back we crested a particularly high hill and stopped for a rest and enjoyed the view. You could see for kilometers from here! It was gorgeous. I could have sat there for hours.



Oreeaht pointed to a crest of rocky palisade right on the horizon. There’s a barely visible patch of blue next to it, and a trail of green leading away suggests a river or stream that empties into the blue patch. I know from satellite maps that blue patch is one finger of a huge, shallow inland sea. “D’Keda goes to this place soon,” Oreeaht said. I knew the clans were sort of nomadic, but I’d forgotten about it after seeing the clan so at home in their trees. While I’m not really digging the idea of hauling across all that open country, it does look like a neat area.

But oh, just looking makes my feet ache!