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.”

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.

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.

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.

Creation Story

I was feeling kind of emotionally ragged after making up with Nandi and Eyani. That and I still wasn’t feeling entirely comfortable with the entire clan. Their endless torrent of questions at dinner didn’t feel like they were prizing apart my very being like before, but it was still kind of a chore. Nandi mentioned something about helping me later. Hopefully that will work out.

So, I ended up going to bed pretty early and woke late to Nandi shoving his nose in my side. He babbled something about needing too much sleep, but I wasn’t awake enough to translate it in my head. I did see Nandi’s gesture to the front of our cave. Kohric was waiting politely at the threshold (note to self: the polite wait-until-the-person-comes-out protocol doesn’t include one’s roommate. Dammit).

Kohric carried me off immediately, pausing only long enough to let me snatch breakfast. I tried not to be greedy with my grabbing, and shoved several extra morsels into my jacket pockets for later. Hey, the Azu-nah have no concept of lunch, and dinner was a long way away!

It turns out I was to attend school. With the kids.

Now, this sounds really embarrassing on paper, and when Kohric first told me what was going to happen, I can’t say I was thrilled; but now that I’ve actually sat through a session I think Kohric my be on to something. The kids are more at my level. I admit it. Their vocabulary doesn’t stump me as much, and they’re still awkward and foolish in their own way. Other than the fact that I tower over them, I actually almost sort of fit in.

Eyani was there, as were Oshtik, Nyarno, and two other somewhat older (pre-teen?) Azu-nah that I didn’t know. Ghee arrived much after everyone else had arrived and settled. She still seems withdrawn. I was debating whether it would be incredibly insensitive to ask her if Nanahan was doing okay, since I hadn’t seen even a hair of her since we’d arrived. Oshtik beat me to it, though, and asked almost as soon as Ghee had arrived. Ghee seemed to bristle, but said “Nanahan eats well but cannot walk. She still sleeps much.” Kohric, clearly eavesdropping, seemed happy with that answer, and then called for the student’s attention.

Saying it was “school” is actually probably too formal a term. It’s more like a collection of small, unofficial lessons and fable-like stories to teach morals and what-not. It’s actually fascinating from an anthropological view.

For example: from what I can tell, the Azu-nah are more or less entirely illiterate. They have symbols and glyphs that stand for things, and I think they may be able to write numbers, but for the most part it’s the literary equivalent of drawing hearts and smiley faces to communicate. Kohric, though, clearly does know some form of writing. He actually used me as an example. The kids were curious about my taking notes on my computer pad. Kohric explained that I was “turning words into shapes,” and then drew a few characters in the sand. Thus went a very rudimentary writing lesson.

At the end of the lessons, Kohric said he would reward us with a story, and as a bonus we could choose which. There were immediate shouts for different story titles, but one, “The Creator’s story” seemed to get the most votes.

I was fascinated.

I cornered Kohric and made him help me transcribe it after. I wanted every word perfect. It took about an hour, but I finally got it. I think it’s fairly accurate, too. Though, a little of the meaning may have changed because I had to translate some very odd grammar bits. Here’s more or less a direct transcription

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

In the days before the Azu-nah, when the night sky was dark and without the stars, the Great Creator looked out over the expanse of all that was. The round world lay below and bare earth shone in many beautiful colors. But this was not enough for the Maker of All Things. There were no other creatures with reason or thoughts of their own, and this made Creator sad enough to weep many tears. Creator scattered the fallen tears into the sky to become the stars. Each star was given a name and a spirit. One of the stars was named Sukil, and he was filled with curiosity.

Creator was content with the company of the stars, and returned to building the world. Sukil stayed close to Creator, curious to know all that was happening.

When Creator asked the star named Sun to watch over the earth. Sukil asked why the world needed watching.

“Wait and watch,” said Creator, for the Maker of All things prefers that we learn for ourselves. So Sukil watched as Sun was given great size and strength with which to provide warmth and light for the earth, and separate night from day.

“Why create more light when we provide it to the sky?” asked Sukil.

“Wait and watch,” said Creator.

Creator waved one long hand and sent stars showering down onto the earth. The stars became rivers and oceans. Some became clouds that sprang from the water as Sun warmed the air, and rain fell down onto the brightly colored earth.

“Why create three different worlds within one?” asked Sukil.

“Wait and watch,” said Creator.

With the other hand, Creator sent stars showering down again. Those that touched the water were born into the sea beasts and river creatures. Those that touched land became those creatures that ran on feet, and stars that played amongst the clouds turned into the winged ones to master the winds.

Sukil was filled with curiosity. “What will they do now that they dwell on the earth and not the heavens?”

“Wait and watch,” said Creator.

Creator wished for all the world to be interconnected, and so Creator sent yet more stars to earth, forming the plants and the trees, the roots and mosses, and bid that they should provide food and shelter for the beasts, just as the beasts would provide for the plants with their bodies, and the earth must provide for and be nurtured by all.

“Why must they be bound to eachother?” asked Sukil.

Creator smiled this time. “This one thing I will tell you; if each needs the other, then no one creation will become greater than the rest. Each respecting the other will create balance, and all will flourish. Each creation must always remember the Balance.” Sukil was careful to remember this lesson.

One day, after Creator had filled the world with life, one of the stars that had fallen to earth cried out that she longed to return to the night sky. Creator felt compassion and released her from her flesh and allowed her to return to the heavens.

“Who will stay on the earth if the stars all return?” asked Sukil.

“Wait and watch,” said Creator, and another star leapt down from the sky to take the other’s place.

Creator watched the world with contentment, but Sukil’s questions never stopped. Always Sukil remained with Creator, asking why a creature was named so, or why a plant’s leaves were shaped thus. Creator became annoyed and took Sukil in one hand.

“You are so full of questions,” Creator said, “I have given you a mind to reason with. Go down to the world and satisfy your endless curiosity with it.”

And so Creator flung Sukil down from the heavens to land on the earth. Sukil’s bright glow was suddenly shrouded by flesh. Creator gave Sukil long ears for listening to all sounds, hands and a tail for grasping new objects, a long, sensitive nose, and keen eyes for observing his new world.

Sukil knew great joy, for at last he had endless things to learn and understand. Each answered question granted him knowledge, which then led to more questions. Sukil explored the world, watching the great Balance of all the world’s spirits and learning much. But as he watched the other creatures of the world, Sukil began to feel sorrow, for there was a question in his mind he could not answer.

Sukil turned his muzzle to the sky and plead his question to the Creator. “Maker of All Things,” said Sukil, “All the living creatures have others of their kind to share company. Yet I am alone. Are there no others like me in the world?”

Creator smiled. “You have been wise and responsible with the knowledge you’ve gained, Sukil,” Creator said. “You have earned a place in the world.” And to Sukil’s great joy, Creator sent a star named Yusa down to the earth, and she become another of Sukil’s kind. “Your kind will now always be a part of the earth. Remember to keep the Balance with the other spirits, and never forget that all were once stars.”

So Sukil and Yusa named themselves the Star People, Azu-nah, in honor of the Creator’s wishes, and together they explored the world and flourished. They had many adventures together, such as when Yusa stole the lights from a glow-bird so she could see in the dark, or when Sukil raced with Blue River Spirit, or when both Yusa and Sukil returned to the heavens.

But those are all stories for another night.


I can’t wait to hear another story.

Avoidance Behavior

After my enthusiasm for the breathing tree had calmed a little, Kohric kept his word and taught me how to apologize in Azu-nah.

Thorough, as always, he actually showed me both formal and informal variations. As with their greeting, the formal apology has gesturing involved. I’m sorry to say I will never be able to get my point across with gesture alone. It involves flattening one’s ears, among other things (maybe I can build some kind of poseable hat… ) so I’d have to explain what I was doing to get my point across. But it’s straightforward enough. It didn’t take me long to learn it at all.

Not nearly long enough.

With the lesson over, I didn’t have any more distractions between me and apologizing to Eyani. Nandi too, really. But mostly Eyani. I didn’t want to face either of them. So I fidgeted on the cliff edge, fussed with my computer pad, and even contemplated starting another, more detailed sketch of the breathing tree. Kohric wasn’t having any of it, though. I was staring intently at a fantastically uninteresting bit of tree bark when he suddenly swatted my shoulder with the end of his tail (for the record, that really stings).

He glowered up at me with what I assume was exasperation, and pointed wordlessly to the trailhead leading down to the encampment. I’m holding out hope that he wasn’t good enough to read my expression, and couldn’t tell just how sheepish I looked. I put away my computer and meekly made my way toward the trail head.

“Surely Eyani will not kill Tee,” Kohric teased as I headed down. I put my tongue out at him (to his amusement, as usual), and made my way back to the clan. I tried to take my time, but the trail was perhaps only a kilometer long at best, even with the switchbacks. I was there in no time. Ugh, there’s nothing worse than admitting when you’ve really bungled something. I was not looking forward to this.

My plan was to edge around the periphery of the camp, stay out of the way, and hunt for Eyani that way. And if perhaps I just didn’t find him until tomorrow, well, that would really be too bad. Really. Have I mentioned I hate admitting to screw-ups?

My plan barely lasted two minutes. So much for mapping things out. Less than ten meters from the base of the trail I ran into Nandi. I’d almost have said Kohric told him where to find me, except that then Kohric would have been able to warp space-time, and I really wasn’t in the mood to puzzle that out.

For the first minute or so my mind went blank and I completely forgot the apology lesson. I was trying to piece together enough vocabulary to say how stupid I’d been, and wondered if “fart-head” would suffice in place of “moron.” Nandi took pity on me, though. I’m grateful. “Tall Tee the Fart Head” would probably never have gone away.

“Tee no longer angers, yes?” he asked brightly.

“Yes,” I said, and smiled. His cheer was contagious. I bent my head, bowed a little, and tried to mime that I was putting non-existent ears flat. “I’m very sorry, Nandi.”

I think he found my pathetic attempt funny, but he was nice enough not to laugh in my face. He was grinning wide, though. He moved close to me and butted his forehead against my chest. “It is well,” he said, and reached to pull my head down level with his, so he could press his forehead against mine; an Azu-nah hug.

I told him how I wanted to find Eyani, and he brightened further. He brought me back to the patch of grass where the whole thing began, right near the start of the beach. As we came closer I could see a little blue lump between two tussocks of grass. Apparently Eyani hadn’t moved since I’d shouted at him. My throat closed. I felt horrible; even worse for the fact that I’d been selfishly avoiding apologizing to him. He’d been my loyal little supporter, and I’d gone and barked at him for it.

I knelt down a meter or so away from him. I could see him eyeing me through his half-closed eyelids. “Eyani?”

He shut his eyes and feigned sleep; my heart sank.

“Eyani, I’m sorry.” I mimed the same ear-flattening apology as I’d done with Nandi, bowing my head down. “I was afraid,” I said, groping for words. In retrospect my grammar was appalling. “I was afraid of being a stranger. I should not have angered. I do not want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”

I sat back on my knees and held my breath. Slowly, painfully slowly, the lump in front of me uncurled and stood up. He looked up at me with his huge green eyes, and slowly opened his mouth in a gape-grin. “Still my friend,” he said, and stretched to butt his forehead against mine. I couldn’t help reaching out to draw him in to a human hug.

“Eyani is a good friend,” I said.

Carnivorous Respiration

Kohric and I sat beneath the breathing tree for a long while before my lesson began. The slow, bellows-like sound the tree makes is soothing in a way I’m not sure I can describe. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re hearing the planet itself breathing; and that if you could just center yourself a bit more you could feel its very heartbeat. It’s a restful experience. I can imagine wise old gurus twisting themselves up into pretzels and meditating under this kind of tree.

I was feeling better than I had in weeks. You don’t always notice that you’re under stress or constantly nervous until you get a respite. Then suddenly you feel like you’re expanding after having been squashed for so long. The longer I’d been feeling out of sorts, the less I’d tried to learn about the Azu-nah and Minervan ecology. I impulsively decided to remedy that immediately, and asked Kohric out of the blue why a tree, a plant, would need to breathe at all.

“To eat,” he said.

“To… eat?” I asked, and stared over at the tree in confusion. Kohric seemed to find this highly amusing. The guy is cryptic just to mess with me. I know it! But instead of answering me, he got up and put his hand beside one of the fist-sized openings in the trunk. I followed him, and as I approached he began pointing.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to a thin, shiny strip of clear goo sitting in the base of the opening, “smells of food for small creatures. They fly here. They come close or go inside.” The tree took a “breath” and I could see the glop shiver as air was drawn into the tree. “Tree breathes in, and creatures are caught inside,” Kohric said, “They are trapped.”

Without warning he grabbed my wrist and shoved my fingers up into the opening. For a horrible second I could feel tiny, cold, slimy little nub-like things wiggled along my fingertips. It was like I’d stuck my hand into a nest of baby octopuses, or teeny sea anemones. I jerked my hand back and flapped my wrist in disgust, sending globules of sticky mucus flying.

Ugh!

Kohric found this even funnier than my earlier confusion. I flicked mucus at him.

“Inside here,” he said, returning to his pointing, “are many small... mouths.” He gestured for me to look inside. My image of sea anemones wasn’t that far off; tiny polyps, almost like corals, lined the inside of the opening. I could even see a few tiny animals caught amongst them. It was gross, but I was too fascinated to care.

The tree made its breathing sound again, and this time no air moved in or out of the opening we stood by. I turned to Kohric. “It does not breathe out?” I asked.

He pointed up into the tree’s branches. “Breath comes out up in the leaves.” He gestured to a low-hanging branch, and I could see the leaves rustle. Tiny holes on the underside of the branch above were blowing air down and across the lower leaves.

I was absolutely fascinated; so much so that I immediately pulled my computer pad out and attempted to puzzle out a cross-section. Kohric watched from over my shoulder and explained it to me as I went. He was actually incredibly knowledgeable about the internal structure of this thing. I have no idea where he’d have learned it.

Anyway, here’s what we ended up with: The tree “inhales,” pulling air (and unlucky organisms) into its feeding tubules. Tiny coral-like polyps trap and digest the captured prey. I’m assuming this provides the tree with an otherwise rare/limited nutrient, like a Venus fly trap catches insects to get nitrogen in poor soil.

Once inhaled, the air travels into a large chamber near the base of the trunk. This structure is surrounded by some kind of flexible, muscle-like mass that can expand and contract.


When the plant needs to exhale, the mass expands, drastically shrinking the air chamber, and forces air up into the branches. Tiny air holes on the bottoms of the branches release the air. According to Kohric, there are tiny flaps (just like the epiglottis in the human trachea) that are forced shut against the feeding tubes, so that air only goes out through the upper branch holes. And similar flaps keep air from being inhaled from the branches, so maximum force is applied to trapping food in the feeding tubes.

The feeding tubes are obvious in their structure. But the odd branch openings are more of a puzzle. I do have a hypothesis, though. Now, this is just an assumption of course, but if this tree uses CO₂ (or some other type of gas) to synthesize sugars like Earth plants, then having a way to circulate air over the leaves would significantly increase its growth. It’s the same type of principle that makes Earth plants grow better if you talk to them or play music next to them. The sound waves circulate air, allowing the plant better gas exchange. Except this tree may do it itself.

I love science!

Breathing Place

Eyani practically became my shadow for two days after our little pow-wow on the beach. He was never waiting near the entrance to Nandi’s and my cavern or anything. But when I would go to join the clan for the morning meal he’d suddenly be at my side. He would stay glued to me until a little while after the evening cook fires were banked, and then would up and disappear.

I was grateful for his quiet company for the most part; though I was a little worried he was doing the Azu equivalent of playing truant. I still don’t know how kids are handled in the clans. There isn’t the human type of child rearing where kids follow their parents around and learn from them. They just kinda run around as far as I can tell.

Anyway, he was following me around pretty much nonstop. He would talk to me here and there, and would even ask me some of the same questions the others did. It didn’t bother me as much coming from him. He wasn’t fifty different individuals clamoring at me all at once, or a feeling of being crushed by a thousand alien things. He was just little, timid Eyani; about as far from intimidating as humanly (Azu-ly?) possible.

By the third day, though, I was starting to get a little irritated. I could barely pee without him around. It was like having a little blue nanny or something. Except instead of scolding me, he’d just stare up at me with his huge green eyes and ask if he could touch my eyebrows or something. I tried not to be upset with him. It wasn’t his fault I was feeling so out of sorts, but enough is enough.

I’m embarrassed to say I did end up snapping a bit.

I was sitting just on the boundary where the plant life ended and the beach began, scowling at a structure on one of the plants. It looked like it had flowers growing out of little pneumatophore-like structures at the base of the stem. The hell?

Eyani was flopped next to me. Nandi came trotting up to us and began examining the plant from over my shoulder. “Do you want to eat this thing?” he asked cheerfully, “You like so many plants.”

I ignored him. Eyani perked up at Nandi’s arrival, though, and asked me if I wanted to eat it too; which then prompted Nandi to ask me eating only plants made my bowel movements more difficult. That was a bit more than my current mood could handle.

I stood up suddenly, sending Eyani sprawling (I’d been his shoulder rest), and glowered at the two of them. I didn’t know how to say “None of your business” in Azu, but got my point across.

“That is not for you to know!” I snapped. “No more questions!” Eyani huddled down into a little blue lump, and Nandi flattened his ears and looked confused.

”Why do you anger?” he said. He seemed concerned, but I’m still not very good at reading their expressions. Maybe he was insulted.

I felt awful. My anger had immediately cooled after my outburst, and shame had flooded in to take its place. I turned away and dropped to my knees in the sand, sitting on my heels and feeling my face burning with humiliation. I didn’t even know how to say I was sorry in their language. So I muddled along with “It is nothing. Foolishness,” but that sounded pretty damn feeble.

Nandi didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t quite get up the courage to turn and see his expression. After a moment I heard him moving away through the grass, back toward the dens. I felt like the world’s biggest ass.

I turned around to face the little blue lump behind me. “I’m sorry, Eyani” I said in English. I thought perhaps the sentiment would be understandable. He ignored me and pretended to be asleep. World’s. Biggest. Ass.

Ugh.

I got up and began wandering along the beach’s piddly little excuse for a wrack line, kicking everything out of my way that wasn’t sand. I was getting to the point where I was seriously wondering if I shouldn’t ping Ground Zero station and ask to be removed from the project entirely (since I was clearly not capable of handling this), when Nandi returned with Kohric in tow.

Great. It’s the principal, come to expel me.

Nandi said nothing and veered off to sit beside Eyani. Kohric came straight up to me and stared up at my face. My throat closed on whatever feeble excuse I was considering, and my face began burning again with embarrassment. “Come,” was all he said, and he tugged at my wrist. I followed him in silence as he led me up the switchback path up the cliffs. He didn’t speak either. I felt worse with each turn up the path.

We went all the way to the top of the formation, where the surface was scrubbed smooth by wind and rain. There were a few plants and shrubby things crammed into crevices, but little else, except for one enormous tree clinging to the edge of the cliff’s edge. It was one of the weird “breathing” trees I’d seen when I first landed on the planet. Even from the dozen or so meters away, I could hear the slow, rhythmic sound of air passing in and out of the fluted openings on the trunk.

Kohric sat down right where he was and turned back to look at me again. “What is wrong?” he asked in English. He didn’t sound angry. I felt a little encouraged. Maybe I could avoid expulsion after all.

But how to explain everything to him? He didn’t know enough English, and I didn’t know enough Bhukaosi to get much across. I sat next to him and fumbled with my boot laces, trying to think of something. Kohric didn’t press me to speak (I still can’t believe how patient he can be) and after an eternity I finally blurted the only thing I could really think of.

“I’m a stranger.”

Kohric chirped (an Azu-nah chuckle) and butted his forehead against my shoulder. He practically knocked me over. “Come,” he said, and once again grabbed my wrist. He took me over to stand right on the cliff’s edge, under the tree. It was much louder up close.

“This is a breathing place,” he said in his own language. “Come. We will give strength to the fire inside.”

I moved so that the tips of my toes were almost hanging out off the cliff, and looked out at the seemingly endless water. The sound of the waves and the tree were soothing. The salty sea air was in my nose and mouth. A gust of wind blew up the cliff and into my face, flinging tiny drops of seawater against my skin. The warm air felt like an embrace. For the first time since I’d landed on the planet, I wasn’t analyzing anything or comparing this world to Earth. It felt like Minerva itself was giving me a little hug of welcome. It was okay for me to be here. I was not an intruder.

I didn’t even realize I had tears running down my face until Kohric began chirping again. “Hyoomans make so much water!” he said. I smiled and sat down next to him, my feet dangling off the edge. We looked out over the water together.

I put my arm around his withers and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Kohric.”

He gape-grinned. “You chose a difficult ibalamaru,” he said. “But that will give strength to you. You learn much as you walk our paths. Tee-Tee is not a stranger. I will teach again tomorrow.”

“But before that,” I said, “I need you to teach me how to say ‘I’m sorry’.”

Song and Dance

I set my plots for revenge aside for the rest of the day, since the trio had taken themselves off out of reach. For now....

The rest of the afternoon was deliciously lazy. Nandi and I had a splash fight. I’m really starting to resent my lack of a tail. Not only does it give you an extra boost swimming, but it works as an excellent wave-maker. Nandi claimed a decided victory after half-drowning me in a home made tsunami.

I dragged my water-logged carcass to the shore where Nandi and I lounged in the fragrant plants that bordered the beach. It was a huge relief, after so many days of constant walking, to just sit and relax and feel the sun on my skin. I was just finally feeling completely dry (and thankfully I’d gotten past that weird sticky skin feeling you get after swimming in sea water), when Nandi announced that he was hungry. I wanted to applaud this announcement.

We ended up spending the rest of the afternoon and into the evening wandering the fields and foraging. Nandi introduced me to a fruit called koh. God DAMN is it good. It tastes a bit like strawberries, but it’s tart and a little sour, like a pineapple or something citrus. Nandi says the trees are relatively rare at the old clan site but that they are fairly plentiful here. I don’t know if that’s good or not. It’s like a dieter hearing Choco-topia has just set up on the nearest street corner, and they give away freebees every Tuesday. Nandi and I devoured an entire fruit on our own. I didn’t even stop to draw a halfway decent diagram. They’re pretty big, too; watermelon-sized.

I can quit any time, I swear!

When we were pleasantly full (and honestly starting to feel a little sick from ODing on koh) it was getting on toward full dark. So we headed back to the caves where the rest of the clan was gathering.

There were no normal cook fires built tonight. Instead there was only one very large bonfire that stood at the center of the little open common area near the cliff face. The entire clan had gathered and was talking excitedly. Apparently I was wrong about the whole no fanfare/greeting of the new clan site.

The Kan walked up to the fire and held his hand over it, holding a packet of something that dangled from a leather thong. I still have enough difficulty with the language that I couldn’t understand 100% of what he said. But I got the gist. He asked the land (their word includes a sense of consciousness, as if the land is a person) was generous in letting us live here, and that we were happy to see an old friend again. Then he said we would dance our gratitude until it was visible to both the land and the stars.

He threw the packet into the fire and it blazed blue-green for a moment. Then he began to dance. The clan began to sing in time to his steps, thumping tails on the ground, or stamping feet in a primal beat. The Kan’s dance seemed to be a series of poses that flowed into each other. He would slide into one pose, hold it for half a heartbeat, and then slip to the next one, all the while circling the fire.

Once he completed two cycles of the dance, the rest of the clan filed in behind to join him. Nandi dragged me along, even though I couldn’t do the dance properly. I can’t really do the quadruped steps, and I still don’t have a damn tail. But no one seemed to mind, and Nandi seemed to get a huge kick out of my attempts.



The celebration went on for a couple hours. There were more dances, singing, and lots more flaring colored fire. Eventually, though, the fire burnt down and we slowly made our way to our caves to go to sleep. I barely got my sleeping bag out of the pack before flopping into it.

But tired as I was, I couldn’t quite fall asleep. As comfortable as I feel with the Azu-nah, and as welcoming as they’ve been, tonight’s dancing really brought it home again how alien I am here. I simply will never be able to truly fit in with these people. Not that I’m ever going to go crazy and pull a Dances With Wolves. But the barrier between me and the Azu-nah made me feel like I would never be anything but an outsider, an alien.

It took me a while before I was able to quiet my thoughts enough to fall asleep.

Sticky Situations

It ended up taking four days, and part of the fifth morning to get where we were going.

Nanahan actually did fairly well for herself, all things considered. The Kan’s apprentice already knew how to set up a sling for her leg, so apparently she’s not the first with an injury to a hind leg. Her injury seems to be doing okay. She has been very stoic about the whole ordeal. Even in unguarded moments, the most she'll admit to is that the sling makes her back ache. I've been wondering whether my efforts with the butterfly clips really helped her, or whether she survived purely off her own stubbornness. Talk about being tough as nails. And thanks to her two helpers, Sodaosi and Paksh, she managed to keep up without much fuss.

My taking over her former job was actually a lot easier than I thought. Ghee was by far the most troublesome of the children when I first met them, and I figured I'd be chasing her and Nyarno around constantly. But ever since Nanahan’s injury, Ghee has been quiet and hesitant. The only few incidences I saw any hint of her old self was when another youngster got too close to the edge of the group. Then Ghee would loudly bully the would-be-wanderer back to safety. The adults in the group seemed to be okay with this behavior. I think maybe they felt it would help Ghee come to terms with her mistake. I followed their lead on this. I don’t know enough to make a judgment.

All of Ghee’s bullying meant that the other youngsters turned to quieter items of interest to pass the time. Nyarno was too busy pouncing on each and every moving object in front of him to take much interest in me, but Oshtik and Eyani spent most of the trip practically glued to my shadow.

The first day was fairly dull. I don't think anyone was really complaining, mind. Nanahan's injury was more than enough excitement for the entire trip. But as the day wore on I was starting to get a little bored. The rolling, undulating topography made it hard to see more than a kilometer or so in any direction, and I began to get very tired of climbing down a hill only to have to start back up one a couple hundred meters later. The plants and animals I could see were the same ones we'd had for the last two days, so playing the "What is this?" game with the children got old pretty fast.

By the second day, though, I was lamenting the loss of boredom. The "small biters" that Nandi had described began to appear about mid morning. There weren't many at first, so few that they didn't immediately draw attention. Only enough to make a few clan members swat or scratch absently here and there. But within an hour everyone was scratching, and tiny yellow creatures were humming through the air, seeking whatever soft, yummy piece of you they could find to chew on. The creatures seemed to target Azu-nah ears, and the thin, soft skin around the jaw and throat. They found the same places on me, but also went for the backs of my knees. They aren't blood-suckers, by the way. Which is why, apparently, they found me just as edible. They took little pieces out of your skin, like a horsefly bite. I hope I gave them all indigestion, critical hemoglobin poisoning or something, because their little nibbles hurt like a bitch.

Fortunately, the Aket-oizo called for a pit-stop soon after we realized we were infested, and broke out the repelling sap the clan had brought. I wanted to bathe in the stuff, but I had to make do with slathering it all over every centimeter of exposed skin, and even rubbed it into my clothes a bit. It stank, kinda like mildew or old gym socks. But it could have smelled like rancid elephant puke for all I cared, because it kept those evil little yellow monsters the hell off me.

The biters hung around for a day and a half, and then abruptly disappeared. Oshtik explained (with some clarification from Kohirc later), that they relied on a short, fat, shrub-like plant for moisture. The plant only grew in small pocket populations scattered across the plains. And since there was no rain or other water source for kilometers around this time of year, the biters were relatively restricted.

I was deliriously grateful when they were gone. The repellant sap was a godsend, but we had to keep reapplying it throughout the trip. Otherwise the evil little buggers would immediately home in on a place where the sap had dried and flaked away. And worse, if I didn’t slather the hems of my clothes with it, the beasties would crawl up my pant legs, or down my shirt collar and start taking pieces out of me. So I was sticking to my skin, my clothes, and anything else I touched. I had gummy twigs and leaves in my hair. By the time we escaped the biters’ territory, I felt like a grass version of Swamp Thing.

The Azu-nah seemed to be just as uncomfortable. Eyani was particularly miserable. Everyone with long manes was braiding and tying back their hair to keep it from getting gunked up or sticking to their skin. Poor Eyani kept valiantly trying to scrape his gooey forelock away from his face and tie it up, but hairs kept escaping and were sticking to his nose and eyelids. I took pity on him and bound his entire mane back in a funky French braid thing. It was cute. He looked like a little highbred pony decked out for dressage. He was inordinately happy with it, and predictably Oshtik and Nyarno immediately came running up to me and shouting “Now me! Now me!”

Oshtik wanted me to teach her how to do it herself, and I let her practice on my hair a little. I love how lively her mind is. She’s really, really bright. Nyarno… well.. I only managed to get about half of his done before something small and bouncy flitted across his path and he vanished out from under my hands to give chase. He hasn’t seemed to have noticed his unfinished state yet, and it’s kept everything off his face well enough. So oh well.

The fourth and last full day of our trip was hard. While we’d ditched the biters, we’d exhausted the vast majority of our water supply. Kohric insisted there was plenty of water, both to drink and for bathing, when we reached the new clan site. The water shortage also brought to light the reason for their odd fasting. By now I was absolutely starving. I’d used up the last of my tiny food stash the night before, and I was about expecting to start hallucinating like a cartoon, maybe think the neighbors were walking sandwiches or something. So I finally came out and asked Kohric why we were subsisting off rations that would make Gandhi look well fed.

Our vocabulary gap has shrunk enormously since I first joined D’Keda, but Kohric still had a hard time explaining this one to me. From what I could gather, Azu-nah metabolisms are far more resilient than a human’s. They can drop to very low levels when food is short, and then bounce right back when food sources become regular. The trade off is their metabolisms also require a fairly directly proportionate amount of water to process whatever amounts of food they eat. And, apparently, when an Azu eats very little, the body’s water demands drop substantially. They’ve learned to exploit this quirk of biology to reduce the amount of water (a heavy, energy intensive burden) they need to carry on a journey. Kohric also said the Sa-kudayu prefers to bring very little food so that “we do not move a plant outside its home to take another’s.” That caught me off guard, and had me ruminating for hours after. I would never have thought the Azu-nah had any concept of something as “progressive” as invasive species. They keep surprising me.

The end to my fast came this morning, when we finally reached our destination. I was staggering a little from dehydration, and my stomach still feels like it’s trying to devour my backbone, but we finally, FINALLY made it.

The old clan site was a scrubby stand of trees in the middle of high, rolling, grassy hills. This area is very different. The hills had become flatter as we grew closer, and now we’re on a broad, flat coastal plain. There’s a ridge of high, rocky palisades that stretch along the western side, and down right into the sea. The sea is shallow, only a dozen meters at most, but I only know that from checking out the satellite readouts on the Marco Polo before heading planetside. There are hollows in the seaside cliffs. That’s where we’ll be living. I can’t wait to get moved in. I’ve had enough travel for a while.

But first I really, really need a bath.

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.

Of Green and Butterflies

I was so shocked by both the speed and violence of what had just happened that it took me a minute to decide what to do after they took Nanahan away. One of the other child-minders, a male whose name I don’t yet know, took charge of Ghee. Not that she really needed minding at this point. Her eyes were fixed in the direction they’d taken Nanahan. She looked miserable.

I followed her gaze and fidgeted with my bag. My hands were shaking, and it took me a couple tries to get the zipper to work. I was terrified Nanahan would die. Without really thinking, I grabbed my first aid box and jogged after where they’d taken her.

I’m not really sure what I was thinking I could accomplish, but I couldn’t stand to sit and wait to hear that the worst had happened.

There was a small circle of clan members around her when I got there. The Kan and another, younger Azu were crouched on either size of her. One was carefully peeling a thick, black, leaf-looking thing and squeezing liquid from it along Nanahan’s wound. It fizzled and produced tiny white bubbling liquid where it landed. Some areas were positively foaming. The Kan was following the other’s progress with a thick length of woven cord. He would lay a pale, soft, woven mat-like object across the wound, and was wrapping the area tightly with the cord after. The wound continued to bleed. The odd gauze-mat was green and sopping in seconds. Nanahan had her head covered with one hand and was making horrible wheezing moans. The crude binding didn’t seem to be helping her at all.

Kohric was suddenly beside me. He was actually leaning against my hip. He was shaking his head and making little keening sounds in the back of his throat. Even to my alien eyes, he looked upset. I crouched down to put myself even with him.

“Not good,” he murmured to me. “Blood comes strongly, still. I have much sadness.”

I opened my first aid kit and… stared. I didn’t know what to do. Surely something in it should be of use. But what would help and what would do more harm? The biofoam was the first thing on my mind. Surely that could seal the wound before Nahanan bled out. It should work with her skin well enough, but then again it wasn’t just sealant. It was also loaded with coagulants and antibiotics. It’s well known that taking antibiotics kills beneficial bacteria in the human body along with the bad. I was terrified I’d destroy some vital symbiote, or I’d poison her, or perhaps she’d react differently to the coagulants and I’d end up giving her the Azu-nah equivalent of a stroke.

I eyed the thick packet of butterfly clips taped to the top. They’re included mostly as an alternative for those poor shmucks who are unfortunate enough to be allergic to the biofoam, or whose wounds aren’t deep enough for the biofoam to really work.

It was worth a shot.

I shredded the wrapper and held the instructions up to Kohric. Thank the listening gods Earth has so many damn languages that instructions like this are pictures. “These will close the wound. May stop the blood,” I was speaking English, but he seemed to get enough between me and the pictures to understand. He stood up on his hind legs and began speaking rapidly to the Kan. He grabbed my shirt sleeve and pulled me into the circle with Nanahan. The Kan began nodding and started carefully taking off the binding he’d been placing. Blood welled up. I didn’t know if the fact that it wasn’t spurting was a good sign or not. Do Azu-nah have arteries the same way we do? The green blood was somehow terrifying to me. I’ve never been squeamish with human wounds. But green is the color of growing things, of life. Seeing it pouring out like that, it looked like Nanahan’s very life-force was spilling out of her.

The younger Azu was still squeezing the bubbling liquid on her. I started clipping, and clipping, and clipping. The Kan watched and then began clipping from the bottom up. I felt like her wound was ten meters long. Her blood was everywhere. My hands were soaked in it, it was under my fingernails, and it was starting to crust along my wrists by the time we finished. I ran back and grabbed one of the fat rolls of gauze from the kit and, at the Kan’s direction, carefully wrapped the worst parts of the wound. Pressure on the wound. Have to keep pressure on it, I was thinking. Of course, I was out of my mind, since pressure on an Azu-nah injury may have been a death sentence.

But the bleeding seemed to be slowing, and after it had begun staining the top layers of gauze, it finally, finally stopped.

Nahanan was still breathing (shallowly and raggedly), but she wasn’t moving. “She sleeps from pain,” Kohric explained. I’m surprised she hadn’t passed out when she’d first gotten here, honestly.

It was clear we couldn’t continue today. The clan all seemed to understand this at once, and the atmosphere shifted from waiting to action. Everyone immediately turned to the task of setting up a safe place to camp right around Nanahan.

I used precious water from my canteen to rinse the worst of the blood off my hands. And I’ve been scrubbing at them with damp grasses. Nanahan’s life is still all over my hands, though. I hope we’ve managed to keep enough of it inside her that she’ll be okay.

Journey's Dawn

I needn't have worried about sleeping out last night. I think even if an armada of killer ten foot alien biting insects had descended on me I wouldn't have noticed. All the excitement over the meteor shower had kept me up watching them until late, and then that big meal really started to hit me and I was done in. I can technically digest and extract nutrients from Minervan foods, but a lot of it seems to be more energy intensive than its Earth counterparts. At least to me. The Azus snark it down without batting an eye. Hopefully my body will eventually be able to generate the necessary enzymes and find a proper stomach pH to digest a big meal without making me go into a food coma.

We got a very early start this morning. So early that Nandi actually came and woke me up. I had gotten used to their habit of skulking outside until I came out of my tree tent. Apparently you're fair game if you don't have some kind of walls around you. Heh. At least he didn't dump water on me. I’m never going to get used to waking up to a muzzle in my face, though.

We started just as the barest hint of sun was creeping along the horizon. Both moons were still up; big Arachne was a fat, waxing gibbous while smaller Tiresias, a bit higher in the sky was a thin, waxing crescent. It was actually really pretty. The sky was a cool blue-green in the predawn light, and the clouds crossing the slowly growing sunrise flared yellow and orange in a few places.

Everyone was already mostly gathered by the time I Nandi and I got there. The Azu-nah have few possessions, and it really showed now. Most of the packs were water skins, then some sacks of dried food. Many individuals had one small satchel of, I presume, personal belongings. One or two had larger case-like objects. But for the most part, they seem to travel very light.

Kohric came trotting up and greeted us both. I was glad to see him. I feel safer with him around to explain things to me. The cluster of Azu-nah was surrounding three individuals. One was the Kan. His many elaborate tattoos made him distinctive even if I hadn’t remembered what color he was. The other two were not individuals I recognized. One had a high collar of multicolor beadwork around his neck, with thick metal bangles around his wrists. The third was tall and wiry, but otherwise looked a little plain next to his two neighbors. His one adornment was a delicate tattoo that began along the top of his muzzle and wrapped down around his eyes. It made him look very predatory, like a hawk or an owl.

Kohric caught me staring and tugged on my shirt until I bent my head closer. "This one," he pointed at the one covered in beads, "Is Aket-oizo." He gestured to the taller hawk-faced Azu. "This one is Sa-kudayu." He gape grinned up at me. "Tee-tee could not know alone?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. This was his favorite of the human gestures I'd taught him. Azu-nah tongues have a tiny tuft if bristles at the tip, a little like a cat or a parrot’s tongue. So having one blow a raspberry at you is… odd.

I turned my attention back to the leaders of D’Keda. The Sa-kudayu was speaking and holding a long belt-looking object that appeared to be incredibly intricate woven beadwork. It vaguely resembled the Native American wampum I’d seen in history books. But this was far, far more intricate, and oddly random-looking. Tassels of beadwork hung off the main portion here and there, with no discernable pattern. Perhaps it’s was a symbol of office. I asked Kohric.

He paused, and I knew he was having difficulty finding enough English vocabulary. “It is.. a story. Of D’Keda. It is a telling from long behind, to this day.”

So today I learned the Azu-nah, or at least D’Keda’s people, keep the history of their tribe in an intricate code of beadwork. I wonder if all their language is written in beads.

There was very little ceremony to leaving. When the Sa-kudayu had finished his few words, the Kan drew their star symbol in the ground with a twig. Then he and the other two clan leaders turned and simply began walking out into the open grassland. A line of two or three Azu abreast began to grow out of the assemblage behind the clan leaders, and so began our long journey.

The young Azu-nah were quickly shuffled to the center of the travel muddle. Nanahan and a few others chased and corralled the youngsters toward the middle where, I’m assuming, they could keep a better eye on them. To my utter disgust, though, Nanahan soon came and began tugging on my arm.

”You must come to the center,” she said firmly. “Come.” I had to go or she was going to rip my arm off.

So I went to sit at the kiddy table, so to speak. It ended up not being so bad. The youngsters are cheerful and curious. I even managed to make friends with them after a while. I had, without thinking, pointed to a particularly brightly colored tree on the horizon to ask what it was, only to have a sudden tugging on my pant leg.

“I cannot see,” said a solemn little voice. Their eyes are huge as youngsters. So I heaved him up so that he could see at my eye level. He was absolutely delighted. He squeeked and shouted happily, saying how tall he had become. It was really cute.

I really should learn to be more discerning, though.

“Me!” came a new voice, “Tee-Tee make me tall next!”

”And me!”

“No, me first, Oshtik next!”

My arms weren’t going to be able to handle hauling nearly thirty kilos of flailing Azu kids up and down for the rest of the day. So I made a deal. They took turns carrying my pack, and I took turns carrying them. They had great fun taking turns “being tall.” It was really cute.




I just know I’m going to be aching tomorrow.

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The new update day is officially Tuesday. Thanks for the feedback, guys!

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.

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.