Soggy

You know, for something they celebrated as being a big deal, with so much joy and song and dancing, this rainy season really sucks.

It started about a day and a half after the celebration. It seems like out of nowhere, these dense, heavy clouds came rolling up the plains, sending big, fat drops started to spatter around us. Everyone immediately grabbed whatever it was they’d been working on and dashed for the shelter of the caves. As Nandi and I ducked into our cave, I noticed several Azu scooping up coals from the fire pit, covering them in ash, and dashing for the “public” caverns that the Kan and the Aket-oizo used.

At first the rain was actually rather pleasant. It has a different smell on Minerva than it does at home. It’s hard to describe; less musty, and sharper, somehow. Perhaps it’s caused by the chlorine. Regardless, the fresh smell is energizing. I hadn’t realized how much dust was in the air, and the perpetual acrid scent of oai droppings on the cliff face was sluiced clean. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a kind of semi-holiday, with everyone mostly staying in their caverns, resting and chatting away the hours.

Even that night was pleasant. I’ve always enjoyed listening to rain as I fall asleep. It’s a comforting feeling to know you’re warm and dry while it’s wet and miserable outside, and the sound drowns out noises that would otherwise wake you; like Nandi’s snoring.

But by the next morning, instead of everything being refreshed and clean, with the sun shining again, it was still raining. In fact, the rain had gotten heavier. Little waterfalls were cascading over our cave entrance and down the cliff face below. I eyed the sodden scenery with dismay.

The entire day was rainy. I’m beginning to realize how unpleasant our ancestors must have had it. I knew academically that life for the Azu-nah wouldn’t stop if it rained. But knowing and experiencing are different. Memory never quite makes being cold and wet seem as bad as when you’re in the thick of it.

My clothes are water resistant, but they’re no match for this kind of drenching. By mid morning I was sopping. My shorts stuck to my thighs in clammy folds, my shoes squelched unpleasantly with each step, and my shirt sleeves actually started to feel noticeably heavy from absorbing so much moisture. My hair kept straggling into my face and mouth, and my fingers had gone all prune-like. But I didn’t dare change out into my other set of clothes and risk getting them soaked too. So I squelched through the afternoon, gathering fruit in the muck.

Fortunately for me, the Azu-nah seem to be just as sensitive, if not more so, to the wet and cold as I am. The foraging ended much earlier than it usually did, and we all gathered around the communal fires in the public caves as soon as we could. I went to be early. I stripped to the skin, wrung a veritable river out of my clothes, hung them to dry (pfft. Yeah right) and burrowed into my sleeping bag. I slept like a dead thing until morning.

Yesterday was just more of the same. I would probably be down with a head cold by now if the rain was genuinely cold. It’s not what you’d call comfortable by any means, but it isn’t that kind of heat-leaching cold that makes you feel like you’ll never be warm again. No, instead you just have to deal with constantly having every stitch of clothing on your body be soaking wet.

This morning is the “chores” day in the Azu-nah’s typical three day cycle, and most everyone is attending to things while staying dry in their caves. Kohric has promised a lesson tomorrow, so hopefully I can at least have a few dry hours over the next few days.

I hope this isn’t how Cold Rains is in its entirety. It’d be a shame to make it all this way just to drown on my way to breakfast.

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Just so everyone knows ahead of time, next week's entry will be a little bit delayed due to some schedule conflicts. It will not be up Tuesday. It will either be up Thursday or Friday. I'm not sure which yet, but I promise it will be up.

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.

Flashers

Science is always soothing to me. There’s something comforting about simple observation. So today I took shameless advantage of my needing to document the local wildlife, and played the anti-social scientist; I spent the day sprawled on the cliff face with my binoculars glued to my eyeballs, watching the most recent herd of uku to pass through our territory.



They eat a lot.

A lot. I think about 90^% of today was just watching the things eat. Granted, their food source is somewhat labor intensive; the plant almost resembles bamboo in that it’s primarily a cylindrical stem with thin, lefty extremities. The uku have no interest in the leaves. Instead they use their sharp, horn-like beaks to snap off pieces of the stem, and then split the pieces open to get at the soft pulp inside. Kohric says the pulp is sweet, and the Azu-nah use it to make something a little like candied fruit (I will officially not be able to die happy if I don’t get to try at least one piece of candied koh before I croak).

Anyway, when they’re not hunting around for something to eat (which is rare), they seem to engage in a lot of … shoving. There’s definitely some sort of hierarchy in the herd, but I have a very hard time telling the individual animals apart, so I haven’t been able to pin it down. The sexes look identical, for example, and other than size and their horns being a bit blunter, the young look almost the same as the adults. This makes it tricky to tell who an individual is arguing with and why.

The shoving matches are relatively subdued for the most part; one individual will saunter up to another, broadside, and just start shoving. The two will huff and honk and push back and forth for a few minutes, and then the loser will go off and sulk. Occasionally the argument will get a little more rowdy, and the two “combatants” will start puffing the dewlap-like structure on their necks. The skin seems to be thin and very flexible, like a frigatebird’s gular pouch, and can inflate into a kind of spiky red balloon under the jaw.

One encounter, though, was even more impressive. The shoving had started as usual, and had escalated to gular-pouch-dewlap-thingy puffing. But instead of one of them breaking off and going away, they just kept at it. Maybe they were evenly matched. Whatever it was, it was enough to move to the next level of behavior. One of the two suddenly reared up on its hind legs and a huge hood expanded from its neck. The bony spikes lining each side of the neck are apparently anchors for a fleshy frill structure. There are two vibrant eye spots on the inside of the hood that are normally hidden.
They’re iridescent, and the animal rocks back and forth on its hind legs while displaying them, causing them to flash. They’re surprisingly bright. The non-displaying uku immediately backed down and trotted off to hide behind a bush.

It was fascinating. I’m dying to know if the hoods are exclusively to intimidate rivals (for what I still don’t know), if both sexes have them, and if there’s some aspect of the hood that makes one “win” a fight. I wonder if the hood is mostly used for breeding displays, like with pheasants? That’s the problem with ethology; one question answered, thirty new questions arise.

Poor Kohric. I’m going to have so many more things to ask him.

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There will be no update next week. I have a commitment I can't avoid. But hopefully I will get time to make some spiffy art for the week after.

Sacred Balance

I don’t know why it upset me so much to see D’Keda get so angry at the outcast Azu-nah. I’ve heard about criminals all my life. Human history is full of people who have done horrible things.

Maybe that’s why it bothered me; I already knew humans could be terrifying and cruel and hateful. But the Azu-nah are something different. They greeted me with nothing but curiosity. The bigotry or suspicion I’d have taken for granted with a mixed bag of humans just didn’t exist in D’Keda. No one has treated me with anything but generosity. I guess I took it for granted that I was in some kind of shining utopia.

I feel pretty stupid. I should have known better, really. I suppose that makes me naïve?

It still freaked me out to see them so aggressive, though. I mean, how would you react if a friend you thought you knew suddenly whipped out a gun and kneecapped someone?

So, being the naïve twit that I am, I stayed huddled in the cave for a good hour or so. I couldn’t bring myself to go out and ask questions. I was pretty sure I’d get bombarded with some about humans too, and I absolutely didn’t want to get into the assorted atrocities my species has committed over the years.

Nandi actually had to come in and find me. I could feel the skin of my face and neck heating up; it’s embarrassing to be caught gibbering in a corner.

“You hide well!” he said in a voice even I could tell was forcedly cheerful. “Only Slaasek saw you go.”

I tried to think of a way to explain why I’d been upset, but my vocabulary was failing me again. I eventually gave up on being eloquent. “I was afraid.”

Nandi’s ears dropped and he stopped gape-grinning. I could see all the cheer and bluster drain from his posture. He stood quietly for a moment, studying me, and then reached to tug at my wrist.

“Come,” he said. “Come out. We will sit in the sun and it will warm you and burn away the fear.” I smiled and followed him outside.

The cliff face our caves are carved into faces west, and gets the full force of the setting sun (mind, I use the term “west” loosely. The World Research Counsel arbitrarily set up cardinal directions based on those of Earth. Minerva’s magnetic north is technically at the south pole). Nandi chose a ledge of rock a half meter or so off the ground, and spread out on it like a basking lion. I was still feeling a little unstable, and chose a spot on the ground below. The warm rocks were soothing, and were surprisingly smooth. Perhaps they’d been service this same purpose for generations of sun-worshiping Azu-nah.

“Now,” he said, still studying me intently. “Why do you fear?”

Because behind the tough girl scientist exterior, I’m a writhing knot of naked nerve endings? “The khee’troch, “I said. “Why,” I used Kohric’s words from earlier, “why was he put out of the clans? What did he do?”



Nandi let out his breath in a big sigh-snort. “He broke the balance.” His tail began flicking in anger, and his muzzle wrinkled a little; just enough to show the very tips of his two longer, canine-like teeth. “That one was once D’Keda. He will not leave the clan land, even after becoming khee’troch. He did not follow the Creator’s balance.”

I was on somewhat familiar territory with this. “From the Creator’s story Kohric told?” Kohric had stressed how much their deity valued the biosphere remaining connected, and that the Azu-nah were not excluded from that job.

Nandi’s muzzle smoothed, and he parted his lips in a small gape-grin. “Yes. The balance says we only take as much as we need from the other star children. If you take all the koh fruit, the trees will have no seed. If you kill too many chestha, the herds will die. The khee’troch,” he snarled the name, “liked to taste blood. He made many kills. Too many. The clan could not eat so much and the meat would turn. He tasted the blood of sacred spirit-beasts that are not for eating; ba’oh, sekiti, own’wan. The Sa-kudayu and Kan became very angry. The Aket-oizo took his name away and made him khee’troch. The Kan marked him with the khee’troch tattoos. Now he may not live with any clans of the Azu-nah. The balance is sacred; never to be broken. ”

I wonder what humans would have turned out like if we’d had a rule like that?

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.

Yes, again

Okay, okay, please don't hit me, but there's another delay this week. Yes, in fact, I'm going to have to cancel this week's entry. I'm sorry.

This week it isn't that I'm exhausted or that I'm working overtime. A really good job opportunity opened up today and I don't dare waste this chance. So, I'm sorry, but getting my application polished and my resume perfect for this just has to take priority.

Double entry next week, 'cause you guys are awesome for putting up with all this.

Wish me luck!

Harpoon Face

I ended up sleeping a bit too late today, after staying up late last night to watch the hunt. I always feel muzzy-headed from sleeping too late. My bio clock hates it when I deviate from its strict schedule. So I was only just stumbling out of the cave at the point when everyone else was already off and busy.

It did end up paying off, though.

Because I wasn’t immediately available first thing in the morning, like usual, Eyani and Oshtik had gone off exploring on their own along the beach. Sometimes you can find interesting things on a beach in the early parts of the day, before scavengers and other creatures have begun poking around for leavings.

Oshtik made an interesting discovery, and was practically vibrating to show it to me when I woke up. She immediately twined her tail around my wrist and hauled me off toward the wrack line, chattering excitedly about what she’d found. Eyani was waiting for us, standing guard over the object.

It turned out to be the corpse of one of the bird-creatures I’d seen flitting across the water. They’ve tended to shy away from any other creatures on the beach, so my experience with them has been little more than a flash of movement, a suggestion of wings, or a splash on the water’s surface.

This one was freshly dead, and in beautiful condition. I prodded it into a better position with a piece of drift wood (I wasn’t stupid enough to go handling it; it could have died from a disease). The wing design is fascinating, and explains a bit why I’ve had such a hard time getting a mental image of their body type.

I always thought the creatures (Oshtik says they’re called “oai”) looked bottom-heavy, but what I took for bulk was actually a second set of wings on the hind legs. They hold them tucked under the body, with the outside toe forming a second wing surface below and a partially underneath the primary arm-wings. Essentially they’re like little biplanes.

But the other, even weirder thing about them is the mouth. The upper jaw has a V-shaped notch at the tip, and an odd, bony, flexible, hook-like protrusion at the end tongue fits into the notch when the mouth is closed. The hook is part of a short, harpoon-like shaft, sheathed in fleshy tissue and backed by a thick slab of muscle.

Its tongue was like a chameleon’s. Except that instead of launching a fleshy, glue-covered punching-bag at an insect, this creature fires a tiny harpoon from above at its prey. I wonder if the biplane wings give them the stability to be able to pull off this crazy predator behavior.

This one had a tiny crest on its head, but I’m certain I’ve seen ones with larger crests, and some different, more distinct skull structures. I don’t know if they all can harpoon things, or if that’s an adaptation particular to this species, but I’m definitely going to be watching these things a lot more carefully in the future.

Nature is freakin’ fascinating!

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Today is the 1 year anniversary of Project Azu-nah. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read the blog. I really, really appreciate all your comments and feedback. I hope I've managed to entertain you at least a little. Thank you, and here's to another year!