Counsel

We stayed in our makeshift camp for two nights and a day. By the second morning the Kan seemed satisfied that Nanahan was not going to die from her wound. I still don’t know the Kan’s name. Everyone simply calls him Ana-kan. The “ana” is a bit like the Japanese suffix “san” or “sama.” It’s an honorific prefix that indicates the person is highly respected.

Anyway, he seemed to think that Nanahan would recover. The wound has finally stopped oozing every time she moves, and the surrounding skin seems to have begun knitting around the smallest parts of the cut. She has to be very careful not to flex her leg, though, or the clips will begin to pull on parts of the cut and tear open the newly grown tissue. The Kan will lay his hand very lightly against the wound. I can’t tell if he’s carefully pressing on it, or if he’s feeling for heat or blood flow, or something else entirely. But he will bob his head and gap grin just a little after. So that seems like a good sign. But then he asked her to try to extend her leg just a little, no more than a centimeter or two. Poor Nanahan’s face crumpled and she spat something harsh about pain everywhere. He kept curling his lips back and making little “ses, ses” sounds at the way her leg would move.

I asked Kohric if the Kan had said anything to the others. Apparently Azu-nah don’t have medical privacy concerns, because the entire clan was apparently periodically updated on Nanahan’s status.

“Blood has stopped coming,” Kohric said. “No fire has come inside. This is very good. But Ana-kan still worries. The leg has much pain, and he fears it will become hard here,” he patted his knee and lower thigh. “If this becomes so, Nanahan cannot hunt, cannot run.” Kohric tilted his head to inspect my troubled expression. “Tee-tee, it is not yet so,” he teased. “Must not make this face-shape. Tee looks like old ja’sssst’ok passing waste.”

Kohric is a sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

Since Nanahan was on the mend, it was time to decide what to do next. I had my most crowning moment since landing on Minerva. The clan chief (Aket-oizo), began walking around the clan and asking people to come with him. I was shocked when he placed a hand solemnly on my elbow and asked me to come too.

The gathering wasn’t terribly large. There were about fifteen individuals there, including the Kan, the Sa-kudayu, Kohric, and one of the hunters I recognized from the hunting party that was attacked back at the old clan site. One older Azu female distributed a small drinking gourd to everyone, with perhaps a thumb-width of dark liquid in it. My computer determined it was a tisane from one of the sweet grass-plants they regularly eat. It was painfully bitter, but safe. Kohric explained that it was an old tradition to drink this tea at a gathering. It was a symbol of togetherness and trust. After everyone had drunk, the three leaders each took turns speaking, with Kohric murmuring explanations to me.

They were trying to decide how best to proceed. The Kan was saying Nanahan could not even try to walk for many days yet. The Aket-oizo did not think it was a good idea to stay, as the clan’s supply of water was limited to what they were carrying. I noticed he said nothing about food supplies (The Azus had not eaten more than a handful in the last two days. I do not understand how they can keep from falling over!). The Sa-kudayu did not want to remain in the area for fear of attracting predators, and concern that the aggressive gensidik may move their grazing back close enough to cause another attack. But they were all dedicated to making sure Nanahan was kept safe.

This actually surprised me a little. Don’t get me wrong, I never thought the Azu-nah were cruel or anything. But tribal lifestyles, especially nomadic tribal lifestyles, don’t generally lend themselves to excessive charity or compassion. Not because of innate cruelty, but because resources are so limited, and the environment so demanding that sometimes the needs of the many will outweigh one injured individual. To be blunt, I didn’t know how D’Keda could afford to dedicate so much care to Nanahan while on the move, without suffering further casualties or loss of precious resources.

But it was eventually decided that Nanahan would get another day to rest and recover as much as possible. Then her injured leg would be gently wrapped in more of their soft, gauzy weaving, then carefully bound in a kind of sling. The clan could not slow their pace or delay any further, or they would run out of water. So a pair of Azus would take turns supporting Nanahan and helping her keep up. I was asked to take over Nanahan’s job as youngster-guard. That kind of trust is incredibly touching. And intimidating. Kohric teased that I would only have to make them tall for most of the trip, not all.

We should be at the new site in about five more days, or a hand-and-tail as they say. I hope my back can hold out.