Attack of the Legumes

While talking to Ed and Doc Sutherland was wonderful, I ended up feeling a bit lost after I signed off. I missed them. I missed other humans. Hell, I missed just eating a normal meal and sleeping on more than a pile of grass in a cave. But I was also grumpy with myself for feeling that way, and I was more than a little nervous I would start sliding back toward that hopeless, miserable place I’d been a few days before. I thought back to Eyani’s expression when I’d snapped at him.

No, definitely not going back to that.

I wanted to feel comfortable with the clan. They’re people too, dammit, and there’s no reason why I couldn’t find solace for my loneliness by spending time with people. Even if they do have four legs.

A very old friend of my family always told me the best way to avoid feeling down was to “get up and move.” So I put my computer away, gathered up the solar charger, and set off to find something useful to do.

Nandi and Eyani were both sitting in the shade of a tree a few meters away. They looked suspiciously preoccupied with a leaf Eyani was holding up. But I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it was a very interesting leaf.

I asked Nandi if there was anything I could do. He wasn’t terribly helpful.

“There is little to be done that Tee knows,” he said, almost seeming apologetic. “Tee cannot carve, and Tee cannot hunt. Tee does not know what plants heal hurts.” I tried not to look too deflated at this. He seemed to understand, though, and tried to cheer me up by telling me I’d probably be able to help with these tasks someday. Or, as he put it, “Under one tomorrow’s sun.”

So, without any real direction, I wandered off to find something to do. Eyani was supposed to be guarding meat, which sounded pretty boring, and Kohric needed Nandi for some unknown task. So I puttered around the shrubby area between the plains and the beach, looking for interesting plants and animals.

I didn’t get terribly far before I ran into the Terrible Trio. I’m beginning to think the three of them are joined at the hip, because I never, ever see them apart. I made the hand-greeting gesture at them as I approached, and was rewarded with funny, teasing faces and an offer to go swimming again. I stuck my tongue out at them.

Little buggers.

I was dying to prank them back, but I couldn’t decide what to do. What if I went too far and did something damaging? I didn’t want to hurt anyone, or violate some taboo. So instead I tried for a more neutral conversation, and asked them about what things were good to eat, like the koh fruit, and whether there were any dangerous creatures.

Nohwasi eyed me suspiciously, clearly scanning my frame for a hidden biofoam canister, and then settled to help his cohorts answer my questions. He still hasn’t quite gotten over his first experience with my, apparently.

They went on at length about what things were good to eat, and even began a short-lived argument about what the best fruit was in the area. But their attention soon turned to the wildlife. They told me it was unwise to wade out too far into the water, as there were many aquatic predators that prowled the deeper areas. They also told me how to watch out for some of the flying creatures when they were breeding on the beach, as brooding parents would come screaming and biting at you in a protective rage.

Then they began telling me about the most dangerous creature; a tiny, green, caterpillar-shaped creature the size of a thumb, called a “langu”. It was apparently deadly poisonous, and would crawl onto you if you sat still too long. I’ve always been the type that immediately starts feeling a creature crawling on me if someone’s talking about it, and the grass gently brushing my exposed legs was starting to make me twitchy

Just as Ikaylay was finishing his description of the creature, Sodo suddenly leapt to his feet, yelping and scrabbling at his hind leg. The other two quickly jumped away in terror. Sodo brushed furiously at his thigh, sending a small green object flying in my direction.

“Langu!” Ikaylay shouted.

I couldn’t help it. I produced a yelp almost as good as Sodo’s and scrambled away from the thing as it came at me.

It landed at my feet and didn’t move. I hesitantly peered down at it, and realized not only wasn’t it moving, but that it had no legs. Or a head. Or any other visible body parts. It looked like a funny shaped bean, honestly. Then I realized the three little buggers were making the keee-ing Azu-nah version of hysterical laughter.

Hell. I walked right into that one.

I picked up the dread langu bean and threw it at Sodo, glowering. He and the others pranced out of the way and wandered off, laughing.

I’m so getting them back now.

Death by Shorties

My back felt like I’d borrowed it from a 90-year-old arthritic grandma by midday. Fortunately the kids had lost some of their enthusiasm by then too, or I’d probably have been walking like Quasimodo by nightfall. One, a bold little coppery colored girl named Ghee, refused to give up at first, though. She kept tugging on my shorts and asking, “Are you strong now?”

My personal “are we there yet?” apparently.

I tried to tell her that if she wanted to be tall later, I had to rest for a bit. But my skills with Azu-nah tense are still pretty laughable, so I’m not sure I really got my point across all the way.

She did say I’m learning the language okay. Or, rather she told me, “you learn and make bhukaosi well.” It wasn’t until later in the day that Kohric explained that was the name for their language (“bhukaosi to Azu-nah, inguleesh to hyooman!”) The word is actually two words mashed together; the words “breath” and “to mould/to shape”. Language is shaped breath? I kinda like that.

Anyway, I managed to distract the kids with a new game as we went on. There were only four of them, so it was easy to pay attention to them all (D’Keda seems to have only a few “children” as it were. There’s these guys, who are perhaps 5-10 in human years, a handful of babies that are currently making the trip in slings across mom or dad’s flank, and a couple “teenagers” like Nandi).

I would point to an object, say “What is this thing?” and they would tell me what it was. The first to identify the thing would “win,” and get a high five if they wanted. They actually really enjoyed this game, and I was genuinely interested since a lot of it I had never seen before. Sometimes I would make the game harder and point to different parts of an object, like a plant, and ask what that part was. This came in particularly handy when I encountered one plant-like thing that was a vibrant royal blue from top to bottom. Apparently its roots are quite tasty, but only when it turns yellow.

I got to learn a lot about the kids’ personalities too. Ghee is loud and bold. She was first more often than anyone, and she is a persistent little bugger. She kept asking to be tall, too. All. Freakin’. Afternoon.

Nyarno is a bit hyper and easily distracted. He didn’t win much because he’d always be fussing with something else, or running around chasing some little grass creature. He’s a buff yellow color with a black “mask” across his face and muzzle. He looks like a little bandit!

Oshtik is the opposite of Ghee in every way. She’s smaller and quiet. But she catches everything. She’s really bright. She rarely won our game, but she would tell me more about the things I pointed at than any of the others. She’s white with black socks and a few patches of black across her back.

Eyani. He’s hard to describe. He’s the solemn little one who first said he couldn’t see. He’s actually really sweet. I think all he wants is to feel like part of the group, and he kept staying right with me all afternoon, even when the others would run off chasing some creature or another. I discovered he likes it if I ruffle his hair. He’s pale blue with a darker underbelly.

The entire clan took a pit stop a few hours after midday, when the sun was getting positively blistering. Everyone had a bit of a siesta in whatever shreds of shade or cool high grass they could find. I sat down and took out my computer pad to draw the little ones during the break.

The youngsters couldn’t resist this opportunity, though. They pounced on me all at once, and Nyarno stole my stylus. Ghee sat on my chest and said she’d caught “big prey.” I did an impressive zombie impersonation and struck back by blowing the dreaded raspberries on whatever bit of tail or leg I could catch. Eventually they “killed” me. I put up a good fight, but I was pretty happy being “dead.” It meant I didn’t have to walk or carry anyone!

Now where the hell did that little booger put my stylus?

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.

Grammar Grumbling

I’ve come to think of the place Kohric and I go over things as the “teaching place.” I feel like I’ve been at the teaching place forever, even though it's only been three days. The teaching place has become a comfortable, relatively safe haven in an environment where so much is completely unknown and alien.



Kohric is wonderful. I still don’t entirely know what his function in the clan is. He refers to himself as “thanda-tu D’Keda.” The others seem to give him respect. Their greetings to him tend to be the formal, head-bobbing kind more than the simple hand gestures. I take it he’s kind of the guy who makes sure the youngsters have enough general knowledge to make it.

That description kinda makes him sound like a bit of a dry, boring dude. But that’s really not true. He has this odd, random wit that comes out of nowhere. Like, this afternoon when I was getting really frustrated, he decided to suddenly teach me the word for “fart”. So, while I’m still struggling with their goddamn freakish grammar, I can at least tell someone it wasn’t me playing the buttock bassoon.

Oh, their grammar. I’m picking up decent amounts of vocabulary. It’s fairly simple to memorize words. It takes a lot of practice, but not really that difficult. Grammar, though, that’s basically the way your brain processes those words. And damn, if that’s not a LOT harder to grasp. I have to slowly dissect each sentence and translate it back into English in my mind right now. I despair of ever becoming fluent.

Really, I’m spoiled by Latin based languages. They have funky grammar here and there, but it really isn’t all that different from English. Take French. In English, you say “I would like the fruit.” In French it’s “Je voudrais le fruit.” It’s basically the same sentence, just with different words. “I” is still in the same place, for example. “Would like” is mashed into “voudrais” but it’s pretty much the same thing.

In Azu-nah, “I would like the fruit,” would be “edusai-doku kayo,” which, in English, is “want-me fruit.” They have a word for “the” but they don’t use it much. And verbs seem to attach themselves to nouns. Learning which verbs attach to what nouns is giving me a headache. “I want the fruit” isn’t too bad. I’d get it if they were all like that. But then you think about saying “He said she wanted the fruit to give to her brother.”

My head still hurts from today’s lessons.

Kohric turned me loose as the sun was beginning to dip so I could find something to eat and rest my aching brain. The Azu-nah tend to take their major meal in the afternoon, and they take it more or less as a group. Or, really, those who went out hunting and gathering over the day bring their finds to a circle of small fire pits. And then everyone else joins them to divvy out the food. Kohric must have said something about my meat issue, because it’s become a bit of a game for the gathered Azu to try and be the first to find something for me to eat.

Ikaylay from the terrible trio “won” tonight, and pranced up to me with a round, gray colored tuber called “heksanan.” It looks like a potato pretending to be a rock, but the inside is porous and squishy. It’s eerily reminiscent of bread. But it tastes a bit sweet, like a carrot or corn. Heksanan it is. I couldn’t classify this thing if I tried.

“Teegaahn, hai?” Ikaylay said, gesturing toward me. He pointed to himself, “Ikaylay,” then to me “Teegaahn?”

“Hai. Oki-kaibo Tee.” I said.

Ikaylay suddenly gap grinned, and gestured excitedly to his two cohorts. Sodo and Nohwasi crowded near and listened as Ikaylay chattered at them. “Oki-kaibo Tee!” he kept repeating. The others were grinning by now too, and muttering “Oki-tee Tee!”

Kohric, always relatively nearby to rescue me from a Lost in Translation, padded up behind me and gestured. He held his forepaw near the ground. “Kas” he said. Then he sat back on his haunches and reached as high as he could, “Tee.”

Oh for the love of crap. I’m officially a pun! “Tee” is their word for “tall.” And since I’m a good half meter taller than any of them, they find this discovery utterly hilarious. The Trio spent the rest of the meal calling me “Tee-Tee” and saying to their neighbors “Oki-tee Tee!” I have a feeling it’s going to be a while before this one goes away.

Oh well. At least Tee isn’t Azu for fart!

Azu-nah a la carte

Thanda-tu, I learned, means “teacher.” Or, really it’s more like “one who teaches. The thanda bit is their word for teach, and the “tu” changes it to a noun. This type of grammar is going to take a lot of getting used to.

Kohric is a really good teacher. I’ve said it before, but he really is good. He’s very patient and deliberate. He’s absorbed a surprising amount of English vocabulary, which is making things a hell of a lot easier. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After my altercation with my inquisitive houseguests, Kohric lead me off to a quiet, sandy spot with a few big, rounded boulders strewn about. Kohric had brought the little red language tutor the First Contact crew had left with D’Keda. Between that, my computer pad, and simple sand drawings, we actually had a decent arsenal of tools.

We spent most of the day there. My head hurts from all the intensive cramming, but I think it’s worth it. We started off with general vocabulary. A LOT of vocabulary. I can’t remember every word we went over today perfectly. I’m no Rain Man. But I’m getting better. I know with practice I’ll have a halfway decent word bank.

Kohric insisted I teach him the English version of every Azu-nah word he went over. I don’t know whether he wants to learn it to make teaching me easier, to give the Azu-nah more equal footing with humans, or whether it’s just to satisfy his own curiosity. Either way, it broke up the lessons a bit, and gave my brain a chance to rest. Kohric is picking up English faster than I’m picking up Azu-nah. But then again he’s cheating. He’s had that LangTutor for two years!

I mostly picked up nouns. Stuff like tree, rock, grass, hand, foot, mouth, eyes, tail. The proper word for the tree tents is “kirrrrt’ok” Yeah, it’s a weird, weird word. Sounds like someone dropped a quarter. You know how some human languages have rolling R’s? Well, the Azu-nah apparently wanted to one-up us. They have the regular R-sound, but they also have one that’s… well… a freakin’ mini-growl. It’s hard to describe. The closest is a cat. Ever have a cat? And when she’s hungry she follows you around making you crazy and going prrrrt? Prrrt? Prrrt? It’s almost like that. The rolling part is guttural, formed in the throat instead of with the tongue. And it ends with an abrupt, almost projected T-sound.

It wouldn’t be so bad if that was the only funky sound they incorporated. But there’s also an extended S-sound that’s a second cousin to a hiss, and they have a chirpy, high pitch sound that I despair of ever managing. Take the sound “khee,” try to make the sound back in your throat instead of near your teeth, and hike the pitch way up. It sounds a lot better in an Azu-nah throat. A bit bird-like, really. I sound like a gorilla on helium.

I eventually started losing my voice a little from the strain and Kohric decided we were done for the day. I took this opportunity to try and explain my food problem to him.

It. Took. Forever.

I drew pictures; little stick figure Azu-nah and humans, each on their own sphere to try to explain the two different worlds, pictures of food, pictures of hunters, of meat and gathered things. I drew a human eating on the human sphere, looking happy, and a second on the Azu-nah sphere lying on its side after eating food. Then I mimed it all. I went through a half dozen different motions for eating and then becoming ill or vomiting. Kohric kept staring at me intently, and after an eternity he held up the LangTutor. “Poison,” the robotic voice repeated, and the image showed a rat eating something and then falling over. The Azu-nah word is eskthi, by the way.

Things went smoother after that breakthrough. “Is food poison to me? I must learn,” I said simply. Kohric seemed excited to finally understand the point behind my idiot antics.

“We learn how?” he asked.

Dammit. I didn’t know the Azu word for “test.” I looked around in frustration and finally grabbed my computer pad. This wasn’t quite accurate, but it was close enough. “Computer will eat first,” I said, pointing to the pad. Kohric didn’t look impressed. He was probably doubting my pad’s ability to suddenly grow teeth and chow down on a steak or something. I don’t blame him for being skeptical. But he seemed to understand the basic idea.

He told me to wait and ran off. He came back almost half an hour later, balancing a saddle-like basket across his back with his tail. Inside was a small pile of finger-sized bits of different foods; pieces of fruit, tuber pieces, strips of dried meat, and a couple small chunks of fresh meat. There were leaf-looking things, stuff that seemed half nut, half bean, and several small stalk-like things that vaguely resembled pre-harvest grain grass.

I thanked Kohric over and over, both in Azu and English. He seemed pleased and watched intently as I scraped and stabbed probes from my kit into each piece. He soon recognized the chime my pad made when the analysis completed, and would ask “good?” immediately. When I’d answer “no” he’d take the offending sample and eat it. It was cute. It was almost as if he was trying to get the offending bit out of the way so it wouldn’t upset me.

I’m not entirely happy with the results.

Seems while I’m on Minerva I’m going to have to be a pretty strict vegetarian. Which is odd, because I honestly didn’t expect that. I figured the plants would be full of funky chemicals and freakish indigestible cellulose. But they’re actually mostly simple sugars, fats, and even protein in a couple of those nut-bean thingies. The meat, though. Ugh. If it isn’t full of indigestible, freakishly folded proteins, it’s so thick with the native Minervan toxins that I’d drop like a shot duck after a couple bites. I’d have to blow through several days worth of anti-toxin just to get through a meal, assuming all that chemical warfare didn’t just make my circulatory system melt or something.

So, I guess chestha steak is off the menu. Ah well. Freaky six-legged buggers looked gamey anyway.

D'Keda

This morning dawned bright and clear. There’s barely been a cloud in the sky since I’ve landed on the planet. Weather data we collected on the Marco Polo before heading down said my part of the planet is in the middle of their warm season, which is also a major dry spell. I’m grateful for the timing. I can’t imagine making this trek hock deep in snow or sopping wet with rain.

Kohric and I have been slowly trying to exchange vocabulary as we’ve gone on. And today we made a bit more progress. It’s been incredibly difficult. When you think about learning a language on Earth, you generally worry about becoming fluent. You pick up the basics and then work on your vocabulary and grammar until you get really good. Usually you have some sort of teacher or program to guide you.

It’s very, very different when you just don’t have that last bit. There isn’t anyone to ask for help. Even the simplest things are more difficult when you have no common language. This morning, Kohric pointed at a flying creature and said a word. Well, of course he must be saying the Azu-nah word for that animal, right? Well, maybe. Or it may be a word for “flying,” or the word for that class of animal (like “bird” versus “robin”) or he may have been describing its color.

You see where this gets tricky?

So, as you can imagine, it’s taking us a long time to get anything down. At this point, Kohric is actually trying to teach me a set of gestures that will help us teach each other actual vocabulary. For example, when Kohric points at something with his hand open, and all the fingers pointing at the object, I know he’s giving me a general name for a type of thing. “Animal”, for example, would be an open-hand word. A single finger pointed at a thing is its specific name, like “chestha.” This is working well so far. It’s going to get tougher when we get into verbs and other abstract concepts.

Kohric’s an incredibly patient teacher. I wish I could ask him if that’s why he came to meet me.

On our one and only rest break before encountering D’Keda, Kohric switched gears and tried to give me a crash course in Azu-nah manners. That was tough, and our break was a lot longer than the others had been. I got some very basic concepts down at least. A polite greeting involves bobbing your head once, and pressing both your palms to those of the other person. It is not good to touch another person’s things or go into their home/space without permission. Permission is given by word, or another gesture that’s a head bob that ends in a little bow.

I was a nervous wreck as we made our way into D’Keda territory.

As we drew close, I began to see a few signs of habitation. Carvings on the occasional rock, a basket hung on a tree branch, and painted symbols on many of the trees. I kept straining my eyes looking for the main camp. I think I was subconsciously expecting to see something out of a History of Man movie, with a big fire pit surrounded by leather tents, with spears and knives lined up for the next hunting party.

Azu-nah camps are much different.

We approached a spot where there were few trees, a kind of mini-plain. A handful of Azu-nah were crouched there, each worrying at an object in their hands. Kohric whooped and said something to them. After his slow, careful speech with me, he sounded like a Spanish football announcer. The other Azu-nah all jumped up and clustered near me. Their eyes seemed huge with them up close, and they were all speaking to me, but I couldn’t understand more than a handful of words. They were all different colors, and some had some fantastically detailed designs on their bodies.

“Hello,” I squeaked.

Suddenly there were more of them. They came down from the trees. I gaped up at them stupidly, watching as they slithered and slinked down the trunks and branches like an entire tribe of big cats. Amidst the rainbow of Azu-nah, I caught a glimpse of draping hammock-shapes in the trees. I barely had time to register that before the entire tribe crowded near me, chattering excitedly. I felt like the last donut at a corporate morning meeting. The only word I could really pick out was “welcome,” yalalea, which made me feel a bit better. But I still couldn’t help feeling like a piece of meat tossed into a piranha tank.

It took nearly an hour before things quieted down. Each and every one of them insisted on pressing their palms to mine and bobbing an excited greeting. By the end my neck was aching, but I was thrilled. I never expected such an excited, enthusiastic greeting. I figured I’d be the equivalent of the Thing that Ate Schenectady, and there’d be a wary few who’d come near me, while the rest would treat me like a leper.

Kohric seemed to think I’d had enough and brought me to a huge tree with thick, low branches. On one of the lowest was one of those odd, draped hammock things I’d seen before. It was actually more like a tent held suspended in the tree. It wasn’t much bigger than me, really. There’d be enough room for me, my pack, and maybe one other person if they didn’t mind being practically in my lap.

“Home,” Kohric said, pointing at the little hut. He leapt easily up the tree and pulled a flap open for me to see inside. “Yalalea!”

I grinned and followed him up into my new home.