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.

Blood

The clan ended up resting for a good hour before we set off again. I didn’t mind at all. I’m still adjusting a bit to the atmosphere, and while walking and regular work doesn’t wind me like it used to, this is more hiking than I’ve done in weeks. Last thing I need is for half the clan to start freaking out over me having “weak breath.”

And damn but I was getting hungry. The clan hadn’t eaten anything that morning, and no one did more than have a few sips of water during the pit stop. I was afraid of offending someone or breaking some kind of taboo by getting caught snacking. But at the same time, the last thing I need is to pass out in front of the entire clan. They’d have to brand “weak breath” across my forehead, then. I’d NEVER live it down. I had stashed a sack of rikosh nuts in my pack from our pre-hike pig-out dinner, so I sneaked a few when I thought no one was looking.

Kohric came and checked on me before we set off again. At first I was feeling a little abandoned whenever he’d do his disappearing bit. Wasn’t I his student? How could he leave me alone in this? But lately I’ve started noticing that he always shows up when I need him. Or like during the funeral ceremony, he was suddenly at my side as soon as I was out of my depth. Apparently the Azu-nah aren’t strangers to applied learning and constructivism. No knowledge without experience and all that teaching philosophy crud. Bleh. I should introduce him to Dr. Sutherland.

As we set out again, I tried to ease my way away from the kiddy table portion of the group. I may as well have been trying to break out of Alcatraz. Nanahan was on me in seconds. Seriously, seconds. I don’t know what kind of invisible Azu nanny security beam I stepped across, but damn. I’m surprised there weren’t klaxons going off or something. She just appeared in front of me and did a kind of disapproving trot in a circle around my legs.

”Tah!” she said. “It is safe here. You are like a child. You stay here and keep safe.” Then she looped the end of her tail around my bicep and hauled me back towards the kids. I haven’t felt my face burn like this since my high school play when I knocked over King Lear mid monologue.

To top off my already crowning moment, Nandi chose that minute to finally find me. In case you’re wondering, Azu-nah laughter is a loud “kheeee” sound, punctuated with a few breathy hisses.

Sigh. At least the kids managed not to see.

I trudged along in silence for a while, waiting for my face to cool. The terrain is getting flatter as we go on. The distance is a little less hilly and with fewer trees and shrubs. There seem to be more rocks too. Big boulders are littered all around. I almost want to say they look glacial, but they’re so weathered that it would be difficult to really tell.

The animals have begun changing a little too. The odd six-legged chestha seem to prefer higher, hillier ground. There are no big herds here, only a very few small bands. We encountered a new animal too. Nandi calls it a “gensidik.” He made gestures around the end of his muzzle when he said the name, so I’m assuming it translates to something about its odd face. They look like some freakish hybrid between a horse and one of Earth’s ancient terror birds, Phorusrhacos.

There was a whole group of them ahead, and the clan slowly swerved its route to avoid walking into the herd. Most of the creatures were a dusty, dappled green-blue-gray. Those individuals mostly had their heads down grazing, looking so much like horses it was a little unnerving to me. Two, though, were red; bright hotrod red. Their weird muzzle crests had a single huge black-ringed yellow spot along the flat part, like a banner, and their faces had black and yellow spotting around the eyes and head crest too. And they were big. They towered over the green ones, nearly half-again as big.

The red ones prowled around each other, making aggressive mock charges at each other and hissing like enormous snakes. Nandi pointed to the red ones and said, “The females wish to keep all the males for themselves. They fight. Very dangerous.”

“Females?!” I had a roommate once who was a total misandrist. She’d love the gensidik.

They were incredibly aggressive. Even as we watched, one female reared on her hind legs and lashed out with her forelegs. They don’t have hooves like a horse. They have three toes with huge long claws at the end. The rearing female ripped a huge gash down her opponent’s flank. The losing female shot away, howling. The big female began galloping in circles around the herd, snapping at the males and hissing. Holy shit.

We practically tip-toed past them after that.

The kiddy table had passed them a minute or so before, and I had turned my attention to the smudge of cliffs at the edge of the horizon, when suddenly someone behind me yowled.

I turned around and barely had time to register Nanahan tearing off like a maniac right toward the herd. I heard Nandi shout from over my shoulder.

“Ghee!”

The little one had somehow escaped Nanahan’s radar, and had apparently gone charging right into the thick of the gensidik herd. She was huddled behind a small bolder, while the big red female towered over her, reared up with forepaws poised, and hissing blue murder.



It happened so fast. Nanahan came belting up to the big female, screaming a horrible, keening challenge, and brandishing both clawed hands. Ghee bolted in the millisecond it took the gensidik to register its new assailant. Nanahan flashed in front of the rearing female just as she slammed her forepaws to the ground. Then the whole scene was surrounded by a seething mass of screaming, howling Azu-nah. The huge group was enough to scare off the gensidik.

Nanahan came limping back with a very, very subdued Ghee pressed up against her flank. The gensidik had managed to slash down the entire back of Nanahan’s hind leg, and she was bleeding badly. One of the others immediately took her away to the Kan for help.

Her blood was everywhere. It was green. Azu-nah blood is apparently green.

I would give a lot to not have learned that fact today.

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?

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.

---

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

Time Warp

Ok. I'm breaking the 4th wall again, temporarily. Regular Project entry will go up tomorrow night.

I want to take a quick moment to ask you readers your opinion. I am going to change the day updates occur. Some new family things, as well as some work things have cropped up and Mondays have become the single most busy night of my week. This makes it very difficult for me to keep the Project entries coming in on time. I don't want to keep delaying the project, since that's not fair to you guys who are looking forward to an entry.

So here is where I ask you, oh readers. Which day of the week would you prefer to see updates? Tuesday, Thursday, or Friday? I know for those of you overseas it's probably different. If you tell me the day and what time zone you're in I can figure out the Eastern Standard Time equivalent. I am currently favoring Tuesday, since that gives me the most time in the evenings.

So, which do you choose?

Meteors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Imi-azuku! Imi-azuku!”



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

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

Parrot Squirrels

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

“Nandi. Is kirrrrt’ok alive? Plant?”

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

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

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

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

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