| Fantasy Fiction posted March 20, 2012 | Chapters: |
...21 22 -23- 24... 
|
  |
Scout 435 and Asmel
A chapter in the book Gima The Beginning
Gima: Resolute Decisions
by barkingdog
Dear Reader: The GLOSSARY is included by request. It's not a required part of the reading. It's merely to assist a new audience. I have added information on herbal remedies for this chapter. Have fun reading. :) barking dog
Previously in Chapter 22:
Asmel was attacked by a brown bear and lies on the east trail.
A fire started in the east forest clearing because Hunter fell asleep, leaving his campfire unattended. Gima and Trell rescued Hunter from the fire and carried him to the stream on the north side of the Valley. He is still unconscious.
To Trell's dismay, Gima left him to tend to Blathen, Zee and Hunter while she gathers herbs for Hunter's wounds.
"Tell me, and I'll go," signs Trell.
"I'll be faster. You can protect them." She motions toward the three. In response to Trell's worried expression she laughs, "I'll be fine." She kisses him quickly and runs north, her tall boots splashing across the rocky shallows of the stream.
Trell watches her fade into the forest.
He sighs, kicks the ground, and taking out his knife, cuts several twigs from the willow tree swaying overhead. He leans back against it and begins whittling small whistles to entertain his boys—Blathen, the snoring, drooling lieutenant and Zee, the quiet one.
CHAPTER 23
Lost in delirium, Hunter’s body quivers from fever and he mumbles, “Azzy … sorry ... Azzy.” Over and over, he repeats the apology as his face contorts with pain and worry.
Hunter’s mind plays memories of Gima at the Ox Bow River campsite. One moment she's the clever, agile child, swimming to cool depths in the green summer river and surfacing with a ‘browny’ from its hiding place in the rocky outcrops or fallen log’s shadows; and in another, she's climbing to the tallest branches of the great oak to spot distant game too far for the human eye to see. He never told Asmel about any of this.
These behaviors set her apart from them and verified her as Vertant. He couldn’t face the fact that this rare Under Earth beauty, whom they'd rescued from Subby Side, might be anything but human.
"Gima," Hunter sputters through burn-blistered lips. “Gima?” He drifts deeper into unconsciousness, his breathing shallow and life signs minimal.
Trell watches the man Gima calls Papa Nigel.
Then he traces his vermel culture’s symbols in the dirt with his knife. He doesn’t like the way he feels; his insides are tied up in knots. Tossing the, once important, whistle project down at the base of the willow tree, he paces, trying to think.
A number of things come to mind. I have a bond with this human. Trell walks toward the stream and looks back, remembering Hunter's scarred back. Both of us tortured by Ticum.
His clear blue eyes follow several leaves drifting on the current, bobbing along their merry way to who knows where. He stoops to pick up a hand full of smooth vari-colored pebbles from the water’s edge only to throw them briskly back. We are all very different, yet here together.
His mind holds only one thought as he walks back: Gima cares for this human.
Trell circles. His deer skin clad feet nudge Hunter's side. Tension tightens across his back. Twisting to stretch at the waist, Trell looks down at the insignificant, by Under Earth standards, human whose life is dwindling away right in front of his eyes. Its blistered wounds seep life’s clear fluid. Trell moves to the right, prods Hunter’s swollen foot, and clicks in harsh Vermel, “Let death have it.” He kicks leaf debris toward the non-responsive body.
Trell walks back to his boys by the willow. Why should I tend to this stranger, this human thing, who smells so terribly of death? It’s unnatural. His mind is torn between his past beliefs and this present reality. But ... Gima wants him to live.
Conflicted, he reverts to the old ways and tones 'Frere Jacques,' hoping to calm his instinctive needs to obey his father’s fatalistic teachings that see humans only as enemies to be destroyed or toyed with for amusement and, in this case, left to die. Distraught, he sits rocking.
Blathen watches, pulls himself to an in-charge upright position, and as any proper first lieutenant should do, he offers what he considers expert advice. He runs a curved claw down Trell's arm to get his attention, unintentionally drawing a drop of blood which he tastes and catalogues.
Trell looks up, his eyes blank. For a moment he thinks he sees Trolious.
In a small, direct voice, trying to sound all-knowing and wise, Blathen breathing his hot breath in Trell's face, tones, “Father... Father, remember … you said, we are better for control. The need to 'do' can be our downfall.”
Then the minature vermel laughs, and rolling like a little red ball over to Trell’s feet, looks up raising his hands. "See, this is fun. This fun is the better kind." The one-eyed, fuzzy buddah wobbles on his round bottom and grins, his fat tummy jiggling with hee-haw laughter.
Trell can't resist Blathen’s comedy.The spell is broken. He reaches over and playfully pushes the little one backwards which sets him rocking on his back-hump.
Blathen gurgles with sheer enjoyment, kicking his feet high and wide. “Up, up Daddy. Up.”
And so it is done. Trell throws Blathen, gurgling, towards the sky.
Then catching him, Trell explains, “In Bellow City, death was left to continue its course. Here your mother believes that she can turn death around with flowers and weeds. So I do this, this thing that goes against all I’ve been taught. I tend a human … for her.”
Blathen nods—What is this Bellow City he speaks of? And then for more information, he sweeps his collector across Trell’s face. The flavor transmits confusion and relinquishment; both he classifies under weakness.
“Thirsty, Daddy. I’m thirsty.”
Trell, relaxed after a good laugh, slings Blathen over his shoulder and saunters over to the stream to refill the water bladder. They sit to kick their feet in the stream. Two very different sets of feet.
Blathen splashes and slurps contentedly, spilling for fun and squirting for distance, occassionally, aiming for salamanders who dart away.
When Trell turns to go back to the willow to check on Zee, he sees hundreds of purple and yellow coneflowers swaying across the meadow. He remembers Gima; just this morning she wore them in her hair. Beautiful. Then she chewed one into a potion for Hunter—to heal him.
With this sudden epiphany— flowers to heal Hunter—Trell, still toting Blathen on his shoulder like a little parasite, rushes to pick several waving coneflowers.
Blathen watches from the base of the willow as Trell chews the flowers to juice, swishes water in his mouth and drips the liquid into Hunter’s mouth again and again. Hunter moans to swallow without waking.
Distracted by a noise overhead, Trell’s keen eye follows a red-tailed hawk alighting atop the tallest oak. She puffs her feathers over newly laid eggs.
Eggs! Gima burned her hand on the cabin’s stove last fall. I'd just gathered wild turkey eggs? She soaked her hand in the clear slime, and there wasn't even a blister.
In a split second, he picks the quickest route to the nest through the oak’s branches, springs straight up, catches a branch, and easily pulls himself into the tree.
“Up Daddy. Up,” cheers Blathen.
Looking down he sees the three: Zee is curled up asleep, pale and freckled; Blathen bounces, waving merrily, wishing he could climb; Hunter shivers still talking nonsense.
Taken by a sudden tightness in his throat, Trell coughs and spits the taste of human from his lips. The previously dormant nodules to either side of the back of his tongue are swollen and tingle. An inner excitement that he’s never felt before rushes through him. Shaking his head, pushing this away, he looks up at the nest.
******
On the east trail, a little red scout jounces along. Pulled by the smell of fresh blood, it explores.
Cautiously, moving around the long, lanky dark-haired figure, the ant crawls up the gray, blood soaked hand to the creature’s torn shoulder and onto a neck where it feels a beat of life on the inside trail that runs there. It quickly scurries the entire, barely breathing, length of Asmel’s back to jump off at the boot.
Safely back home in the fallen tree which is being totally re-furbished by hundreds of his relatives, Scout 435 reports that the death of the creature would have been better for harvesting, but they can still gather from the seepage on the ground. He adds that the flies, the supposed wise foreseers of death, had already begun to claim the face, but the sound he heard and the rushing felt from within the creature may prove them wrong. He believes his judgment is far superior to a fly's.
******
Still searching for comfrey, Gima has gone much farther north than she ever planned. Her usual gathering place in the east clearing was destroyed by the fire, and, right now, she’s somewhat unsure of how to find this other stand that she’s only seen once, a very long time ago, while collecting herbs with Papa Azzy.
Witch hazel leaves were easy enough to find and are in her leather hip pouch. It’s beginning to get dark, and though her eyes see well in the dimming light, Gima can’t find the knee-high, fuzzy leafed comfrey which should be easy to spot with its bell-like purple flowers. But, she’s not about to give up.
Anxious to get back to her family, showing little caution, she pushes her way through the brush, looking from side to side, disturbing nesting whippoorwills, toads and other ground dwellers.
A steel-gray diamond back, who’s been basking in the last of the day’s sun, raises a broad head. Its heat pits sense Gima is near. A bush nearby rustles. The snake startles and coils.
The rattler is poised—intruder ready. Its black split tongue vibrates in and out, picking up Gima’s scent as she blunders within its reach. The black and white ringed tail issues a scaley warning, just before striking. Quarter-inch long fangs hit her left legging.
Lightning fast, Gima jumps back, reaches for and flings her knife, piercing, anchoring the snake’s triangular head to the ground.
Angry at her own carelessness and instinctively hungry to eat her kill, Gima lops off the ornately patterned, reflexively-snapping head, kicks it aside and then rips ravenously into the warm flesh. Knowing that no one can hear her, she snarls with satisfaction.
With sunset quickly approaching, and no comfrey in sight, she turns west toward the mountains.
*******
Meanwhile in the forest east of the clearing, the rain has quenched the fire. The light drizzle that persists wakes a pale green anole that lies curled up in its basking spot near Asmel’s hand. It scratches its nose while stretching its length, and a delicate light-pink tongue tastes the humid air to gulp a partial drop at the very moment a giant finger twitches.
Frightened, the small lizard darts further upward into the safety of the blackberry bush’s shady camouflage where it turns a darker green. With its tail twitching, head bobbing and its bright red dewlap fanned open at its neck, it jumps up and down, hissing a warning toward the body occupying its sunning territory.
Brown relatives, basking in their own territorial spots, flee to blend into the dark-brown peeling bark plates of a thirty-foot sugar maple. Invisible, they chatter and squeal in inaudible pitches that Asmel’s alive.
Several persistent flies flit off and on Asmel’s face, waiting for death to relax the occasionally twitching lips and eyes.
The giant’s fingers move. His wrist and elbow bend. Asmel's massive hand flops upward to cover and claim the face—its territory.
Angry flies argue their miscalculation, and Scout 435 merrily prances to report.
Dear Reader: The GLOSSARY is included by request. It's not a required part of the reading. It's merely to assist a new audience. I have added information on herbal remedies for this chapter. Have fun reading. :) barking dog
Previously in Chapter 22:
Asmel was attacked by a brown bear and lies on the east trail.
A fire started in the east forest clearing because Hunter fell asleep, leaving his campfire unattended. Gima and Trell rescued Hunter from the fire and carried him to the stream on the north side of the Valley. He is still unconscious.
To Trell's dismay, Gima left him to tend to Blathen, Zee and Hunter while she gathers herbs for Hunter's wounds.
"Tell me, and I'll go," signs Trell.
"I'll be faster. You can protect them." She motions toward the three. In response to Trell's worried expression she laughs, "I'll be fine." She kisses him quickly and runs north, her tall boots splashing across the rocky shallows of the stream.
Trell watches her fade into the forest.
He sighs, kicks the ground, and taking out his knife, cuts several twigs from the willow tree swaying overhead. He leans back against it and begins whittling small whistles to entertain his boys—Blathen, the snoring, drooling lieutenant and Zee, the quiet one.
CHAPTER 23
Lost in delirium, Hunter’s body quivers from fever and he mumbles, “Azzy … sorry ... Azzy.” Over and over, he repeats the apology as his face contorts with pain and worry.
Hunter’s mind plays memories of Gima at the Ox Bow River campsite. One moment she's the clever, agile child, swimming to cool depths in the green summer river and surfacing with a ‘browny’ from its hiding place in the rocky outcrops or fallen log’s shadows; and in another, she's climbing to the tallest branches of the great oak to spot distant game too far for the human eye to see. He never told Asmel about any of this.
These behaviors set her apart from them and verified her as Vertant. He couldn’t face the fact that this rare Under Earth beauty, whom they'd rescued from Subby Side, might be anything but human.
"Gima," Hunter sputters through burn-blistered lips. “Gima?” He drifts deeper into unconsciousness, his breathing shallow and life signs minimal.
Trell watches the man Gima calls Papa Nigel.
Then he traces his vermel culture’s symbols in the dirt with his knife. He doesn’t like the way he feels; his insides are tied up in knots. Tossing the, once important, whistle project down at the base of the willow tree, he paces, trying to think.
A number of things come to mind. I have a bond with this human. Trell walks toward the stream and looks back, remembering Hunter's scarred back. Both of us tortured by Ticum.
His clear blue eyes follow several leaves drifting on the current, bobbing along their merry way to who knows where. He stoops to pick up a hand full of smooth vari-colored pebbles from the water’s edge only to throw them briskly back. We are all very different, yet here together.
His mind holds only one thought as he walks back: Gima cares for this human.
Trell circles. His deer skin clad feet nudge Hunter's side. Tension tightens across his back. Twisting to stretch at the waist, Trell looks down at the insignificant, by Under Earth standards, human whose life is dwindling away right in front of his eyes. Its blistered wounds seep life’s clear fluid. Trell moves to the right, prods Hunter’s swollen foot, and clicks in harsh Vermel, “Let death have it.” He kicks leaf debris toward the non-responsive body.
Trell walks back to his boys by the willow. Why should I tend to this stranger, this human thing, who smells so terribly of death? It’s unnatural. His mind is torn between his past beliefs and this present reality. But ... Gima wants him to live.
Conflicted, he reverts to the old ways and tones 'Frere Jacques,' hoping to calm his instinctive needs to obey his father’s fatalistic teachings that see humans only as enemies to be destroyed or toyed with for amusement and, in this case, left to die. Distraught, he sits rocking.
Blathen watches, pulls himself to an in-charge upright position, and as any proper first lieutenant should do, he offers what he considers expert advice. He runs a curved claw down Trell's arm to get his attention, unintentionally drawing a drop of blood which he tastes and catalogues.
Trell looks up, his eyes blank. For a moment he thinks he sees Trolious.
In a small, direct voice, trying to sound all-knowing and wise, Blathen breathing his hot breath in Trell's face, tones, “Father... Father, remember … you said, we are better for control. The need to 'do' can be our downfall.”
Then the minature vermel laughs, and rolling like a little red ball over to Trell’s feet, looks up raising his hands. "See, this is fun. This fun is the better kind." The one-eyed, fuzzy buddah wobbles on his round bottom and grins, his fat tummy jiggling with hee-haw laughter.
Trell can't resist Blathen’s comedy.The spell is broken. He reaches over and playfully pushes the little one backwards which sets him rocking on his back-hump.
Blathen gurgles with sheer enjoyment, kicking his feet high and wide. “Up, up Daddy. Up.”
And so it is done. Trell throws Blathen, gurgling, towards the sky.
Then catching him, Trell explains, “In Bellow City, death was left to continue its course. Here your mother believes that she can turn death around with flowers and weeds. So I do this, this thing that goes against all I’ve been taught. I tend a human … for her.”
Blathen nods—What is this Bellow City he speaks of? And then for more information, he sweeps his collector across Trell’s face. The flavor transmits confusion and relinquishment; both he classifies under weakness.
“Thirsty, Daddy. I’m thirsty.”
Trell, relaxed after a good laugh, slings Blathen over his shoulder and saunters over to the stream to refill the water bladder. They sit to kick their feet in the stream. Two very different sets of feet.
Blathen splashes and slurps contentedly, spilling for fun and squirting for distance, occassionally, aiming for salamanders who dart away.
When Trell turns to go back to the willow to check on Zee, he sees hundreds of purple and yellow coneflowers swaying across the meadow. He remembers Gima; just this morning she wore them in her hair. Beautiful. Then she chewed one into a potion for Hunter—to heal him.
With this sudden epiphany— flowers to heal Hunter—Trell, still toting Blathen on his shoulder like a little parasite, rushes to pick several waving coneflowers.
Blathen watches from the base of the willow as Trell chews the flowers to juice, swishes water in his mouth and drips the liquid into Hunter’s mouth again and again. Hunter moans to swallow without waking.
Distracted by a noise overhead, Trell’s keen eye follows a red-tailed hawk alighting atop the tallest oak. She puffs her feathers over newly laid eggs.
Eggs! Gima burned her hand on the cabin’s stove last fall. I'd just gathered wild turkey eggs? She soaked her hand in the clear slime, and there wasn't even a blister.
In a split second, he picks the quickest route to the nest through the oak’s branches, springs straight up, catches a branch, and easily pulls himself into the tree.
“Up Daddy. Up,” cheers Blathen.
Looking down he sees the three: Zee is curled up asleep, pale and freckled; Blathen bounces, waving merrily, wishing he could climb; Hunter shivers still talking nonsense.
Taken by a sudden tightness in his throat, Trell coughs and spits the taste of human from his lips. The previously dormant nodules to either side of the back of his tongue are swollen and tingle. An inner excitement that he’s never felt before rushes through him. Shaking his head, pushing this away, he looks up at the nest.
******
On the east trail, a little red scout jounces along. Pulled by the smell of fresh blood, it explores.
Cautiously, moving around the long, lanky dark-haired figure, the ant crawls up the gray, blood soaked hand to the creature’s torn shoulder and onto a neck where it feels a beat of life on the inside trail that runs there. It quickly scurries the entire, barely breathing, length of Asmel’s back to jump off at the boot.
Safely back home in the fallen tree which is being totally re-furbished by hundreds of his relatives, Scout 435 reports that the death of the creature would have been better for harvesting, but they can still gather from the seepage on the ground. He adds that the flies, the supposed wise foreseers of death, had already begun to claim the face, but the sound he heard and the rushing felt from within the creature may prove them wrong. He believes his judgment is far superior to a fly's.
******
Still searching for comfrey, Gima has gone much farther north than she ever planned. Her usual gathering place in the east clearing was destroyed by the fire, and, right now, she’s somewhat unsure of how to find this other stand that she’s only seen once, a very long time ago, while collecting herbs with Papa Azzy.
Witch hazel leaves were easy enough to find and are in her leather hip pouch. It’s beginning to get dark, and though her eyes see well in the dimming light, Gima can’t find the knee-high, fuzzy leafed comfrey which should be easy to spot with its bell-like purple flowers. But, she’s not about to give up.
Anxious to get back to her family, showing little caution, she pushes her way through the brush, looking from side to side, disturbing nesting whippoorwills, toads and other ground dwellers.
A steel-gray diamond back, who’s been basking in the last of the day’s sun, raises a broad head. Its heat pits sense Gima is near. A bush nearby rustles. The snake startles and coils.
The rattler is poised—intruder ready. Its black split tongue vibrates in and out, picking up Gima’s scent as she blunders within its reach. The black and white ringed tail issues a scaley warning, just before striking. Quarter-inch long fangs hit her left legging.
Lightning fast, Gima jumps back, reaches for and flings her knife, piercing, anchoring the snake’s triangular head to the ground.
Angry at her own carelessness and instinctively hungry to eat her kill, Gima lops off the ornately patterned, reflexively-snapping head, kicks it aside and then rips ravenously into the warm flesh. Knowing that no one can hear her, she snarls with satisfaction.
With sunset quickly approaching, and no comfrey in sight, she turns west toward the mountains.
*******
Meanwhile in the forest east of the clearing, the rain has quenched the fire. The light drizzle that persists wakes a pale green anole that lies curled up in its basking spot near Asmel’s hand. It scratches its nose while stretching its length, and a delicate light-pink tongue tastes the humid air to gulp a partial drop at the very moment a giant finger twitches.
Frightened, the small lizard darts further upward into the safety of the blackberry bush’s shady camouflage where it turns a darker green. With its tail twitching, head bobbing and its bright red dewlap fanned open at its neck, it jumps up and down, hissing a warning toward the body occupying its sunning territory.
Brown relatives, basking in their own territorial spots, flee to blend into the dark-brown peeling bark plates of a thirty-foot sugar maple. Invisible, they chatter and squeal in inaudible pitches that Asmel’s alive.
Several persistent flies flit off and on Asmel’s face, waiting for death to relax the occasionally twitching lips and eyes.
The giant’s fingers move. His wrist and elbow bend. Asmel's massive hand flops upward to cover and claim the face—its territory.
Angry flies argue their miscalculation, and Scout 435 merrily prances to report.
Previously in Chapter 22:
Asmel was attacked by a brown bear and lies on the east trail.
A fire started in the east forest clearing because Hunter fell asleep, leaving his campfire unattended. Gima and Trell rescued Hunter from the fire and carried him to the stream on the north side of the Valley. He is still unconscious.
To Trell's dismay, Gima left him to tend to Blathen, Zee and Hunter while she gathers herbs for Hunter's wounds.
"Tell me, and I'll go," signs Trell.
"I'll be faster. You can protect them." She motions toward the three. In response to Trell's worried expression she laughs, "I'll be fine." She kisses him quickly and runs north, her tall boots splashing across the rocky shallows of the stream.
Trell watches her fade into the forest.
He sighs, kicks the ground, and taking out his knife, cuts several twigs from the willow tree swaying overhead. He leans back against it and begins whittling small whistles to entertain his boys—Blathen, the snoring, drooling lieutenant and Zee, the quiet one.
CHAPTER 23
Lost in delirium, Hunter’s body quivers from fever and he mumbles, “Azzy … sorry ... Azzy.” Over and over, he repeats the apology as his face contorts with pain and worry.
Hunter’s mind plays memories of Gima at the Ox Bow River campsite. One moment she's the clever, agile child, swimming to cool depths in the green summer river and surfacing with a ‘browny’ from its hiding place in the rocky outcrops or fallen log’s shadows; and in another, she's climbing to the tallest branches of the great oak to spot distant game too far for the human eye to see. He never told Asmel about any of this.
These behaviors set her apart from them and verified her as Vertant. He couldn’t face the fact that this rare Under Earth beauty, whom they'd rescued from Subby Side, might be anything but human.
"Gima," Hunter sputters through burn-blistered lips. “Gima?” He drifts deeper into unconsciousness, his breathing shallow and life signs minimal.
Trell watches the man Gima calls Papa Nigel.
Then he traces his vermel culture’s symbols in the dirt with his knife. He doesn’t like the way he feels; his insides are tied up in knots. Tossing the, once important, whistle project down at the base of the willow tree, he paces, trying to think.
A number of things come to mind. I have a bond with this human. Trell walks toward the stream and looks back, remembering Hunter's scarred back. Both of us tortured by Ticum.
His clear blue eyes follow several leaves drifting on the current, bobbing along their merry way to who knows where. He stoops to pick up a hand full of smooth vari-colored pebbles from the water’s edge only to throw them briskly back. We are all very different, yet here together.
His mind holds only one thought as he walks back: Gima cares for this human.
Trell circles. His deer skin clad feet nudge Hunter's side. Tension tightens across his back. Twisting to stretch at the waist, Trell looks down at the insignificant, by Under Earth standards, human whose life is dwindling away right in front of his eyes. Its blistered wounds seep life’s clear fluid. Trell moves to the right, prods Hunter’s swollen foot, and clicks in harsh Vermel, “Let death have it.” He kicks leaf debris toward the non-responsive body.
Trell walks back to his boys by the willow. Why should I tend to this stranger, this human thing, who smells so terribly of death? It’s unnatural. His mind is torn between his past beliefs and this present reality. But ... Gima wants him to live.
Conflicted, he reverts to the old ways and tones 'Frere Jacques,' hoping to calm his instinctive needs to obey his father’s fatalistic teachings that see humans only as enemies to be destroyed or toyed with for amusement and, in this case, left to die. Distraught, he sits rocking.
Blathen watches, pulls himself to an in-charge upright position, and as any proper first lieutenant should do, he offers what he considers expert advice. He runs a curved claw down Trell's arm to get his attention, unintentionally drawing a drop of blood which he tastes and catalogues.
Trell looks up, his eyes blank. For a moment he thinks he sees Trolious.
In a small, direct voice, trying to sound all-knowing and wise, Blathen breathing his hot breath in Trell's face, tones, “Father... Father, remember … you said, we are better for control. The need to 'do' can be our downfall.”
Then the minature vermel laughs, and rolling like a little red ball over to Trell’s feet, looks up raising his hands. "See, this is fun. This fun is the better kind." The one-eyed, fuzzy buddah wobbles on his round bottom and grins, his fat tummy jiggling with hee-haw laughter.
Trell can't resist Blathen’s comedy.The spell is broken. He reaches over and playfully pushes the little one backwards which sets him rocking on his back-hump.
Blathen gurgles with sheer enjoyment, kicking his feet high and wide. “Up, up Daddy. Up.”
And so it is done. Trell throws Blathen, gurgling, towards the sky.
Then catching him, Trell explains, “In Bellow City, death was left to continue its course. Here your mother believes that she can turn death around with flowers and weeds. So I do this, this thing that goes against all I’ve been taught. I tend a human … for her.”
Blathen nods—What is this Bellow City he speaks of? And then for more information, he sweeps his collector across Trell’s face. The flavor transmits confusion and relinquishment; both he classifies under weakness.
“Thirsty, Daddy. I’m thirsty.”
Trell, relaxed after a good laugh, slings Blathen over his shoulder and saunters over to the stream to refill the water bladder. They sit to kick their feet in the stream. Two very different sets of feet.
Blathen splashes and slurps contentedly, spilling for fun and squirting for distance, occassionally, aiming for salamanders who dart away.
When Trell turns to go back to the willow to check on Zee, he sees hundreds of purple and yellow coneflowers swaying across the meadow. He remembers Gima; just this morning she wore them in her hair. Beautiful. Then she chewed one into a potion for Hunter—to heal him.
With this sudden epiphany— flowers to heal Hunter—Trell, still toting Blathen on his shoulder like a little parasite, rushes to pick several waving coneflowers.
Blathen watches from the base of the willow as Trell chews the flowers to juice, swishes water in his mouth and drips the liquid into Hunter’s mouth again and again. Hunter moans to swallow without waking.
Distracted by a noise overhead, Trell’s keen eye follows a red-tailed hawk alighting atop the tallest oak. She puffs her feathers over newly laid eggs.
Eggs! Gima burned her hand on the cabin’s stove last fall. I'd just gathered wild turkey eggs? She soaked her hand in the clear slime, and there wasn't even a blister.
In a split second, he picks the quickest route to the nest through the oak’s branches, springs straight up, catches a branch, and easily pulls himself into the tree.
“Up Daddy. Up,” cheers Blathen.
Looking down he sees the three: Zee is curled up asleep, pale and freckled; Blathen bounces, waving merrily, wishing he could climb; Hunter shivers still talking nonsense.
Taken by a sudden tightness in his throat, Trell coughs and spits the taste of human from his lips. The previously dormant nodules to either side of the back of his tongue are swollen and tingle. An inner excitement that he’s never felt before rushes through him. Shaking his head, pushing this away, he looks up at the nest.
******
On the east trail, a little red scout jounces along. Pulled by the smell of fresh blood, it explores.
Cautiously, moving around the long, lanky dark-haired figure, the ant crawls up the gray, blood soaked hand to the creature’s torn shoulder and onto a neck where it feels a beat of life on the inside trail that runs there. It quickly scurries the entire, barely breathing, length of Asmel’s back to jump off at the boot.
Safely back home in the fallen tree which is being totally re-furbished by hundreds of his relatives, Scout 435 reports that the death of the creature would have been better for harvesting, but they can still gather from the seepage on the ground. He adds that the flies, the supposed wise foreseers of death, had already begun to claim the face, but the sound he heard and the rushing felt from within the creature may prove them wrong. He believes his judgment is far superior to a fly's.
******
Still searching for comfrey, Gima has gone much farther north than she ever planned. Her usual gathering place in the east clearing was destroyed by the fire, and, right now, she’s somewhat unsure of how to find this other stand that she’s only seen once, a very long time ago, while collecting herbs with Papa Azzy.
Witch hazel leaves were easy enough to find and are in her leather hip pouch. It’s beginning to get dark, and though her eyes see well in the dimming light, Gima can’t find the knee-high, fuzzy leafed comfrey which should be easy to spot with its bell-like purple flowers. But, she’s not about to give up.
Anxious to get back to her family, showing little caution, she pushes her way through the brush, looking from side to side, disturbing nesting whippoorwills, toads and other ground dwellers.
A steel-gray diamond back, who’s been basking in the last of the day’s sun, raises a broad head. Its heat pits sense Gima is near. A bush nearby rustles. The snake startles and coils.
The rattler is poised—intruder ready. Its black split tongue vibrates in and out, picking up Gima’s scent as she blunders within its reach. The black and white ringed tail issues a scaley warning, just before striking. Quarter-inch long fangs hit her left legging.
Lightning fast, Gima jumps back, reaches for and flings her knife, piercing, anchoring the snake’s triangular head to the ground.
Angry at her own carelessness and instinctively hungry to eat her kill, Gima lops off the ornately patterned, reflexively-snapping head, kicks it aside and then rips ravenously into the warm flesh. Knowing that no one can hear her, she snarls with satisfaction.
With sunset quickly approaching, and no comfrey in sight, she turns west toward the mountains.
*******
Meanwhile in the forest east of the clearing, the rain has quenched the fire. The light drizzle that persists wakes a pale green anole that lies curled up in its basking spot near Asmel’s hand. It scratches its nose while stretching its length, and a delicate light-pink tongue tastes the humid air to gulp a partial drop at the very moment a giant finger twitches.
Frightened, the small lizard darts further upward into the safety of the blackberry bush’s shady camouflage where it turns a darker green. With its tail twitching, head bobbing and its bright red dewlap fanned open at its neck, it jumps up and down, hissing a warning toward the body occupying its sunning territory.
Brown relatives, basking in their own territorial spots, flee to blend into the dark-brown peeling bark plates of a thirty-foot sugar maple. Invisible, they chatter and squeal in inaudible pitches that Asmel’s alive.
Several persistent flies flit off and on Asmel’s face, waiting for death to relax the occasionally twitching lips and eyes.
The giant’s fingers move. His wrist and elbow bend. Asmel's massive hand flops upward to cover and claim the face—its territory.
Angry flies argue their miscalculation, and Scout 435 merrily prances to report.
 Recognized |
Vocabulary chap 23:
Browny- a small mouth bass
Dewlap- fold of skin hanging from the neck; in an anole it contains erectile material and is used to attract a mate and scare predators; the male's is colorful,often bright red while the female's is smaller and pale.
HERBAL INFORMATION:
ECHINACEA- an herbal remedy prepared from the pulverized leaves and stems of purple coneflowers, thought to bolster the immune system; Echinacea (E. purpurea, angustifolia, pallida), while more famous for its immune-enhancing properties, was used topically by Native Americans and white settlers to heal wounds, insect stings, and snake bites. Scientific studies confirm that plant extracts are anti-inflammatory and hasten skin repair. Chemical constituents of echinacea also protect collagen (the protein that gives skin its strength) from free radical damage, as can happen after exposure to ultraviolet light. The plant also inhibits hyaluronidase, an enzyme that digests connective tissue (including the gel-like matrix in the deeper layers of the skin). Theoretically, inhibit of this enzyme can help keep that skin Jello intact, retard the spread of toxins through tissues, and keep tissues from leaking fluids (as happens after a bee sting). Echinacea also has some activity against bacterial and fungi.
http://www.herbco.com/t-herbs-for-skin.aspx
MARIGOLD:
The marigold plant acts as an anti-inflammatory and soothing agent, helping to reduce inflammation due to irritation, pain and swelling. By speeding up healing time, the marigold also protects against bacterial infection when used on burns, stings and other inflammation of the body or on the skin. Marigold can be used on any inflamed or infected skin, and even aids in reducing varicose ulcers. A compress of marigold flowers is used on irritated and inflamed skin, while a juice made from marigold leaves can be used to heal warts. Marigold juice may be made not only from leaves, but from stems and flowers as well.
Sponsored Links Read more: Marigolds Used for Health | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/info_8085116_marigolds-used-health.html#ixzz1p8jDEpJr
Create a lotion by cooking fresh marigold flowers in preheated lard. After stirring, leave the mixture overnight and reheat before straining into a jar to be used to soothe skin irritations such as burns. COMFREY root is often added to this mixture for added healing benefits
Read more: Marigolds Used for Health | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/info_8085116_marigolds-used-health.html#ixzz1p8jZPYtQ
COMFREY:
One of the most common uses of Comfrey extract is as a skin treatment. The plant contains the small organic molecule allantoin, which is thought to stimulate cell growth and repair while simultaneously depressing inflammation
From the Univ. of Maryland Med. Center as sited on Wikipedia
CORN:
The fresh silks contain allantoin; see 'comfrey'above.
ALOE:
The juice from its leaves stimulates skin growth and repair; reduces pain and inflammation; may be taken internally; increases production of fibroblast cells responsible for collagen in the skin's dermis.
http://www.ehow.com/list_7470591_healing-properties-aloe.html
UNDER EARTH SPECIES:
Vertant-the off-spring of two Vermel; looks human.
Vermel-mutated humans who live in Under Earth; communicate via sign language and various sounds; noted by their single, particulate-collector naris; one eye; dark or red, coarse body hair; flat or twisted feet with three to six long toes; three fingered hands with long curving claw-like nails; pointed teeth in irregular, double rows; intelligent, but with strong base instincts.
Particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation to living in a polluted underground; mutation ; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnant nodes in nasal pharynx tissue(back of throat).
dissident-rebel, nonconformist, protester;
somebody who publicly disagrees with an established political or religious system or organization.
DRINKS & SMOKING
Elixirs:
Euphoric-Blue - arouses passion without arousing anger or fear
Green - calms aggression and base tendencies to mutilate, kill, cannibalize
Caramel-clarity(female enhancement)
Ruby-rigidity (male enhancement)
Fitzel- a carbonated alcoholic beverage; a light intoxication; makes one funny, silly, uninhibited, kind
Smoking- usually a mix of madine and sedderthal Hallucinogenic fungi grown in Bellow City
Fazil- a smoking or chewing compound that stains the teeth
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
LOCATIONS:
Under Earth- a civilization that exists totally under ground; Vermel territory.
Bellow City- located in Under Earth.
Jacknel's Arena- where Hunter and Trell were trained and exploited as 'Man' and 'Man #2'.
Club ErrOw- a dance club downstairs; Chambers for coupling are upstairs.
Sadie's Palace - a night spot where Vertant males are displayed for Vermel viewing and pleasure; masterbation columns are very popular in the Mural Room as is the free elixir bar.
Alitian - Sir Alitus was the atrium's designer
CHARACTERS:
Gima-a Vertant; rescued and raised by Hunter and Asmel
Trell- a Vertant; raised by Vermel, escaped to Upper Earth; has not yet learned to speak but has learned to understand it from Gima, his mate.
Blathen- Gima and Trell's Vermel son; single, particulate-collector naris, one eye; on the hierarchy of Vermel his appearance labels him a Prime-One.
Zee-Gima's second son who looks human
Hunter- Nigel once a business man in the city; was captured and tortured by Ticum to become 'Man' in Jacknel's Arena in Bellow City; 'Papa' to Gima; suffers from PTSD.
Asmal- a survivalist; built a cabin in the mountains; rescued Hunter; raised Gima with Hunter; 'Papa-Azzy' to Gima
Ticum-Vermel;Jacknel's Circus trainer; beat and tortured Hunter; deceased
Trum- Vermel; Ticum's brother; Trell's trainer at Jacknel's Arena
Sadie- runs a display and pleasure house featuring male Vertants.
Milim - Sadie's assistant a Vermel
Picar-Vertant at Sadie's
Jami-Picar's Vertant lover; Sadie's favorite.
Mr. Arnst- Trell's abusive uncle; now a caznu(neutered)and no longer abusive
Rom- Arnst's younger companion, lover
Disposal Officer- Designated by numbers e.g. DO-45, DO-50; executioners; but they sell their prisoners, usually Vertants, on the black-market to various shady characters like Jacknel and Sadie for use in sport, entertainment, pleasure and artificial insemination collection and sales.
Trolious- Head of Ministerial Affairs; Trell's father; Sadie's first cousin
Lida - Trolious' wife; Trell's mother
Betta - Lida's sister in Cindel City; raised Trell
Larue- Assistant of Ministerial Affairs; canzu(involuntarilly castrated by Dyrel) Vermel
Brackus- Larue's Vertant charge and lover
Lem- the youngest Vertant to escape with Larue's help
Rolak- Chief Enforcement Officer
Vermel speech/sounds:
twortle-a sound pattern distinctive to the Vermel; a combination of glottal stops, tongue click-clucks and snorts; an assertive pattern.
chort- throaty sounds varying in tonal inflection and duration; normal speech; he chorts=he says.
toning- saying; using a series of sounds other than speech
thrumping songs-songs Trell learned growing up in Bellow City, Under Earth; melodic, throaty, glottal.
Vocabulary:
particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation, mutation; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnants; nodes in nasal pharynx tissue may be all that remain in Vertant.
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Caznu-neutered male Vermel; usually gay and neutered by choice for the good of the gene pool by decree of Trolious ; castration is a common punishment regardless of sexual orientation.
And-End - Amen
Pernard- a Vermel curse
Dangle- a Vermel penis; they have two dangles.
Mintrinet - minute
alum- short for aluminium; usually recycled cans; a valued metal.
mold-blossom - a fungi; small, dark brown and caramel colored flowerettes cluster to form a large crysantehmum-type flower; its heavy, sweet decaying scent is used in perfumed oil.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Browny- a small mouth bass
Dewlap- fold of skin hanging from the neck; in an anole it contains erectile material and is used to attract a mate and scare predators; the male's is colorful,often bright red while the female's is smaller and pale.
HERBAL INFORMATION:
ECHINACEA- an herbal remedy prepared from the pulverized leaves and stems of purple coneflowers, thought to bolster the immune system; Echinacea (E. purpurea, angustifolia, pallida), while more famous for its immune-enhancing properties, was used topically by Native Americans and white settlers to heal wounds, insect stings, and snake bites. Scientific studies confirm that plant extracts are anti-inflammatory and hasten skin repair. Chemical constituents of echinacea also protect collagen (the protein that gives skin its strength) from free radical damage, as can happen after exposure to ultraviolet light. The plant also inhibits hyaluronidase, an enzyme that digests connective tissue (including the gel-like matrix in the deeper layers of the skin). Theoretically, inhibit of this enzyme can help keep that skin Jello intact, retard the spread of toxins through tissues, and keep tissues from leaking fluids (as happens after a bee sting). Echinacea also has some activity against bacterial and fungi.
http://www.herbco.com/t-herbs-for-skin.aspx
MARIGOLD:
The marigold plant acts as an anti-inflammatory and soothing agent, helping to reduce inflammation due to irritation, pain and swelling. By speeding up healing time, the marigold also protects against bacterial infection when used on burns, stings and other inflammation of the body or on the skin. Marigold can be used on any inflamed or infected skin, and even aids in reducing varicose ulcers. A compress of marigold flowers is used on irritated and inflamed skin, while a juice made from marigold leaves can be used to heal warts. Marigold juice may be made not only from leaves, but from stems and flowers as well.
Sponsored Links Read more: Marigolds Used for Health | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/info_8085116_marigolds-used-health.html#ixzz1p8jDEpJr
Create a lotion by cooking fresh marigold flowers in preheated lard. After stirring, leave the mixture overnight and reheat before straining into a jar to be used to soothe skin irritations such as burns. COMFREY root is often added to this mixture for added healing benefits
Read more: Marigolds Used for Health | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/info_8085116_marigolds-used-health.html#ixzz1p8jZPYtQ
COMFREY:
One of the most common uses of Comfrey extract is as a skin treatment. The plant contains the small organic molecule allantoin, which is thought to stimulate cell growth and repair while simultaneously depressing inflammation
From the Univ. of Maryland Med. Center as sited on Wikipedia
CORN:
The fresh silks contain allantoin; see 'comfrey'above.
ALOE:
The juice from its leaves stimulates skin growth and repair; reduces pain and inflammation; may be taken internally; increases production of fibroblast cells responsible for collagen in the skin's dermis.
http://www.ehow.com/list_7470591_healing-properties-aloe.html
UNDER EARTH SPECIES:
Vertant-the off-spring of two Vermel; looks human.
Vermel-mutated humans who live in Under Earth; communicate via sign language and various sounds; noted by their single, particulate-collector naris; one eye; dark or red, coarse body hair; flat or twisted feet with three to six long toes; three fingered hands with long curving claw-like nails; pointed teeth in irregular, double rows; intelligent, but with strong base instincts.
Particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation to living in a polluted underground; mutation ; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnant nodes in nasal pharynx tissue(back of throat).
dissident-rebel, nonconformist, protester;
somebody who publicly disagrees with an established political or religious system or organization.
DRINKS & SMOKING
Elixirs:
Euphoric-Blue - arouses passion without arousing anger or fear
Green - calms aggression and base tendencies to mutilate, kill, cannibalize
Caramel-clarity(female enhancement)
Ruby-rigidity (male enhancement)
Fitzel- a carbonated alcoholic beverage; a light intoxication; makes one funny, silly, uninhibited, kind
Smoking- usually a mix of madine and sedderthal Hallucinogenic fungi grown in Bellow City
Fazil- a smoking or chewing compound that stains the teeth
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
LOCATIONS:
Under Earth- a civilization that exists totally under ground; Vermel territory.
Bellow City- located in Under Earth.
Jacknel's Arena- where Hunter and Trell were trained and exploited as 'Man' and 'Man #2'.
Club ErrOw- a dance club downstairs; Chambers for coupling are upstairs.
Sadie's Palace - a night spot where Vertant males are displayed for Vermel viewing and pleasure; masterbation columns are very popular in the Mural Room as is the free elixir bar.
Alitian - Sir Alitus was the atrium's designer
CHARACTERS:
Gima-a Vertant; rescued and raised by Hunter and Asmel
Trell- a Vertant; raised by Vermel, escaped to Upper Earth; has not yet learned to speak but has learned to understand it from Gima, his mate.
Blathen- Gima and Trell's Vermel son; single, particulate-collector naris, one eye; on the hierarchy of Vermel his appearance labels him a Prime-One.
Zee-Gima's second son who looks human
Hunter- Nigel once a business man in the city; was captured and tortured by Ticum to become 'Man' in Jacknel's Arena in Bellow City; 'Papa' to Gima; suffers from PTSD.
Asmal- a survivalist; built a cabin in the mountains; rescued Hunter; raised Gima with Hunter; 'Papa-Azzy' to Gima
Ticum-Vermel;Jacknel's Circus trainer; beat and tortured Hunter; deceased
Trum- Vermel; Ticum's brother; Trell's trainer at Jacknel's Arena
Sadie- runs a display and pleasure house featuring male Vertants.
Milim - Sadie's assistant a Vermel
Picar-Vertant at Sadie's
Jami-Picar's Vertant lover; Sadie's favorite.
Mr. Arnst- Trell's abusive uncle; now a caznu(neutered)and no longer abusive
Rom- Arnst's younger companion, lover
Disposal Officer- Designated by numbers e.g. DO-45, DO-50; executioners; but they sell their prisoners, usually Vertants, on the black-market to various shady characters like Jacknel and Sadie for use in sport, entertainment, pleasure and artificial insemination collection and sales.
Trolious- Head of Ministerial Affairs; Trell's father; Sadie's first cousin
Lida - Trolious' wife; Trell's mother
Betta - Lida's sister in Cindel City; raised Trell
Larue- Assistant of Ministerial Affairs; canzu(involuntarilly castrated by Dyrel) Vermel
Brackus- Larue's Vertant charge and lover
Lem- the youngest Vertant to escape with Larue's help
Rolak- Chief Enforcement Officer
Vermel speech/sounds:
twortle-a sound pattern distinctive to the Vermel; a combination of glottal stops, tongue click-clucks and snorts; an assertive pattern.
chort- throaty sounds varying in tonal inflection and duration; normal speech; he chorts=he says.
toning- saying; using a series of sounds other than speech
thrumping songs-songs Trell learned growing up in Bellow City, Under Earth; melodic, throaty, glottal.
Vocabulary:
particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation, mutation; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnants; nodes in nasal pharynx tissue may be all that remain in Vertant.
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Caznu-neutered male Vermel; usually gay and neutered by choice for the good of the gene pool by decree of Trolious ; castration is a common punishment regardless of sexual orientation.
And-End - Amen
Pernard- a Vermel curse
Dangle- a Vermel penis; they have two dangles.
Mintrinet - minute
alum- short for aluminium; usually recycled cans; a valued metal.
mold-blossom - a fungi; small, dark brown and caramel colored flowerettes cluster to form a large crysantehmum-type flower; its heavy, sweet decaying scent is used in perfumed oil.
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