Ani hardly noticed when Ninto eased her onto the bed. She fell asleep as quickly and easily as a stone sinks into a deep pool.
Strange visions troubled her sleep. She tracked Ilto through the forest, following his scent through the trees, and over the ground. She searched for what seemed like days. Her body ached in odd places. She was cold, tired, and hungry.
At last she came to a wide beach. Ilto’s footprints stretched before her in the sand. They led to the ocean. His footprints marked the water where he had walked, stretching out to the horizon. She wanted to follow, but the water would not bear her weight. She would have to swim after him, but the water was unimaginably cold. It swirled over her ankles. The cold made her heavy and stupid. She would have to hurry before she became unable to continue. She took a step into the frigid ocean. A wave swirled up to her knees and then slipped back down the beach again. It pulled at her legs, drawing her into the ocean.
She felt a sudden warmth, as if the sun were shining on her back. She sensed a presence somewhere behind her. It felt like Ilto’s. She turned around, looking for him, wondering how he could be so close when his footprints stretched out to the horizon. She stepped from the icy-cold sea. Where was he? If she closed her eyes, she felt as though she could reach out and touch him. She took another step up the beach, chittering a loud, urgent summons, flashing Ilto’s name sign over and over again. She found nothing, only the presence near her, inside her, like allu-a. She ran up the beach to the forest’s edge, then turned and looked behind her. Ilto’s footprints were gone. The ocean was smooth again, and the only footprints on the beach were her own.
She cried out again, squalling like a frightened tinka. Ilto was gone. He was dead. She was alone. The realization terrified her. Without Ilto, she was nothing.
A hand brushed her shoulder. She looked up. It was Ninto. She recognized the presence in her dream now. It hadn’t been Ilto; it was Ninto. Her presence felt like Ilto’s.
Ninto reached out to her, beckoning. Ani glanced back at the ocean one last time, then reached out and took Ninto’s hand and followed her into the forest. There was a nest in one of the trees. Ani laid down beside Ninto and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Ani’s eyes opened. Ninto was sitting beside her bed. Baha and the new creature were with “her. Ani took a deep breath, smelling the rank odor of sickness. Ilto must be sick again, she thought, and she tried to get up to go to him. But she was too weak. She realized that what she smelled was her own sickness, and remembered—Ilto was dead; she was an elder now.
Ninto flushed a pure, brilliant pale blue. “Welcome back, Anito. You survived werrun. For a while we thought you were going to follow Ilto.”
Hearing an elder’s suffix attached to her name startled Ani. She tried again to sit up, and failed. She was weaker than a newly hatched lizard pup. Ninto and the new creature moved to help her, with an ease that spoke of familiarity. She looked down. Her skin was stretched tightly over her ribs.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Eight days. You nearly died.” Ninto rubbed her cheek ruefully. “I should have waited. You hadn’t eaten enough, and I didn’t realize how deeply you felt your sitik’s death. You didn’t want to live. I had to go in and bring you back.”
“I saw it,” Ani said. “I was following Ilto and you brought me back. I’m an elder now.” She tried to stand, and Ninto pushed her back down.
“No, Anito, you’re too weak. Drink first, and eat.” Ninto turned to the new creature. “Bring food and water,” she said in large, plain words.
The new form of her name struck her like a blow. She couldn’t accept the fact that she was an elder. She still thought of herself as Ani.
The new creature got up and brought over a leaf cone full of mushed kayu, and a large gourd of water. Washes of blue and black and green flickered over its skin as it handed the water to her.
Ani took the gourd and drank deeply. She was extremely thirsty. There was very little left for her to wash with, but she poured it over her head anyway, washing away a little of the rank smell of sickness. She handed the gourd back to the new creature, thanking it as though it could imckistand. To her surprise, the creature responded with a garbled wash
:i
colors.
Ani gestured at the creature. “Why does it keep changing colors like aiai
?
” she asked Ninto.
“It’s trying to talk. It’s very intelligent, you know. All the time you were sick, it watched over you. It copied what I was doing, and I let it :ake over since it was so capable. It bathed you and changed your bedding «r‹en it got foul. It even warmed you with its body heat while I was linked *~th you. It helped save your life.”
Ani looked at the new creature, and it offered her the leaf cone full of —ush. Ani took it with* nod, and began to eat. She felt vaguely embarrassed by the new animal’s help. It was her atwa now. She should be taking care of it, not the other way around. She flickered her thanks, and the creature flushed blue with pleasure, and then began that incoherent flickering again.
“It understands!” Ani said.
“It knows a lot of words,” Ninto said. “It was a game we played while you were sick. I’d make pictures on my skin and then show it the pattern. Then I’d tell the creature to bring me whatever it was that I asked for. It learns quickly. Now eat. You need your strength.”
The sweet mush was nutritious and easy to digest. Ani could feel energy coursing through her blood before she finished it. The new creature supported her while she relieved herself into a wide round gourd. Her wastes were thick and strong-smelling, full of sickbed poisons. The new creature covered the gourd with a lid and set it aside. Then it brought over a huge, brimming gourd full of fresh water, and held Ani upright while Ninto and Baha sluiced water over her.
Even the mild exertion of standing left Ani shaking and lightheaded with fatigue. The new creature picked her up as easily as though she were a basket of feathers, carried her to a freshly made bed of leaves, laid her on it, and piled the leaves over her. The new creature’s strength startled her. It was easy to forget how strong it was.
“Sleep, Anito,” Ninto said. “You’re through the worst of it, but it will take several days for you to recover.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone have such a hard time during werrun.”
My name is Anito, I am an elder now,
she thought, but she was too tired to speak. Anito closed her eyes and fell into a deep, profound sleep.
The next few days were a round of sleep, food, and water. Always when she awoke, the new creature was waiting by the bed. Once, Anito woke in the middle of the night to find the creature asleep on the floor beside her. The new animal’s patient concern puzzled Anito. There was no reason for it to do this. Anito had treated the creature with disdain and active hostility before she had undergone werrun.
Anito was now indebted to the creature. It was an obligation that she hated. As soon as she was able to travel, she would take the creature back to its own people. Then she would have discharged her obligation to the new creature, and be able to return to the village and choose another atwa.
Chapter 6
Juna heard a rustle at the door, and looked up. Knot came in, followed by its apprentice, whom Juna referred to as Bird, because its name sign resembled a bird. Their gathering bags bulged with fruit, greens, and meat. They unloaded their bags and sat beside Spiral’s bed.
Knot examined Spiral, running a hand over its torso, gently pinching a fold of skin. Juna leaned forward, eagerly watching for some sign of recovery. Then the alien linked with Spiral. It broke out of the link, ochre in color, and motioned to its apprentice. They talked for a few moments. Then Knot motioned to Juna to lie next to Spiral in bed. Spiral’s skin felt icy cold. Juna curled around the alien’s body, warming it. Knot piled the warm, moist leaves over them, and then linked with its apprentice and Spiral.
It was a long link; Spiral twitched several times, moving its head as though questing for something in its sleep. It chittered, and then lay still for a few moments, breathing heavily, then let out a long, low moan, and lay still, its breathing quiet and calm. Knot and its apprentice unlinked.
“Food,” Knot said, in response to Juna’s attempts to ask how Spiral was. “Need food. Talk later.”
Juna helped Bird prepare and serve the food. The two aliens ate a huge meal. As they were finishing up, a rustling came from Spiral’s bed.
Spiral’s eyes slid open. Juna leaned forward, her heart leaping with sudden hope. Spiral tried to sit up. Juna slid an arm around the alien’s shoulders and helped it sit; then Knot sent Juna for food and water.
Juna brought a gourd of water and a rolled leaf full of mush. She wanted to let Spiral know that she was glad it was awake, but her skin produced only meaningless blotches of color. Spiral drank and washed, then handed the gourd back to Juna, thanking her. Juna tried to reply and failed. Spiral lifted its ears and drew back its head in surprise.
Spiral turned and said something to Knot. Juna recognized the name sign they had given her, but the rest was incomprehensible. Knot replied. Spiral lifted its ears even higher, turning a deep, surprised purple. It gave Juna a long, considering look. She offered Spiral the leaf cone full of mush. It took the cone from her and ate greedily.
When Spiral finished the mush, Juna helped the alien relieve itself, and bathe. Then she picked Spiral up and carried it over to a fresh pile of leaves. The alien was as light as a small child, despite the fact that it was only a few inches shorter than Juna. She remembered how light her mother’s body had been after she had died from malnutrition and cholera. She had looked like a bundle of sticks held together by skin. For a moment, Juna was angry at the alien for living when so many people she cared about had died.
The alien recovered rapidly. Three days after Spiral awoke, the alien told her that they would leave in another couple of days, and took her down to the storerooms to collect the supplies needed for the trip. Juna was busy filling gathering bags with packets of dried food when Spiral pulled the helmet from Juna’s suit out from under a pile of gourds. Juna stared at it in disbelief for a few seconds. She had thought it was rotting in the jungle where she had collapsed.
She turned to Spiral, and flushed a deep purple. She pointed at the helmet, then gestured to the rest of the storeroom. Spiral watched her, head cocked, ears spread wide. Finally it flickered understanding, and tossed aside more dried grass. Underneath was Juna’s suit. She lifted it up and examined it. It was beyond repair, sliced to ribbons and covered with mold, but it reminded her of all she had left behind. Tears welled up. Juna dropped the suit, then knuckled away the tears before they could spill down her face. The salt in her tears stung her fingers, and she put them in her mouth. The minor annoyance served as a poignant reminder of how alien her body had become.
Spiral held out Oliver’s helmet and suit. Juna picked them up, remembering Oliver’s collapse, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs. What had happened to him? Could he still be alive?
Juna pointed from her suit to Oliver’s, turning a deep, questioning purple. The alien watched her, and shook its head. On its chest two figures in suits appeared. They were lying on the ground. Green aliens appeared; the suits faded away. One of the figures was pink, the other brown. Spiral pointed from Oliver’s suit to the pink figure on its own chest. As Juna watched, the pink figure turned pale silver, the color of death. The aliens carried the brown figure away, leaving Oliver behind. Spiral pointed to Oliver’s suit and shook its head again.
Oliver was dead, Juna realized. Oliver had been the tough one, the survival expert, but she had outlived him. He had been so patient with ~jer. always giving her a word of encouragement when things were tough. She remembered his compassion when the botanist Hiro, their final surging crewmate, had died. Oliver had held him, talking gently, sooth-ngly, as Hire’s breathing grew more and more labored. Then, after they had laid Hiro out and covered his dead body with leaves, he had held her, je’.img her cry out her grief and fear. Remembering, Juna was unable to sop the stinging tears of grief and loneliness.
A cool hand brushed her shoulder and she looked up. It was Spiral, :chre with concern.
Juna felt suddenly angry. She didn’t want the alien’s concern. She •anted to be home again and safe. It didn’t understand; it couldn’t understand her. It was an alien.
Then she remembered how Spiral had hissed at her during the funeral, when she had tried to offer sympathy to it. She smiled. Neither of them understood the other. At least they had that in common. She clasped the alien’s hand.
“Thank you,” Juna said aloud. She tried to make her skin express her “Jnanks, but produced only garbled waves of color.
The alien flushed dark green. It picked up Oliver’s suit, folded it, and neld it out to her. She smiled and took it. She would take the suit back with her, so that the Survey could give it to his family.
Spiral rummaged through a pile of nets. It pulled out her pack and Driver’s. Juna opened them, taking out ordinary human artifacts, which were priceless treasures now. There were maps, her multipurpose knife, a first aid kit, a radio, sealed packages of rations, extra clothes, a canteen, a tent. Down at the bottom, folded into a compact oval, was her computer.
Juna turned on the radio. There was nothing, not even static. She opened the case with the screwdriver on her knife.
“Farraddbenge!”
she muttered in Amharic, when she had pried the case open. The radio was packed with fluffy black mold, the chips blackened and useless. She tried Oliver’s radio, but it didn’t work either. Spiral picked up the useless radio and examined it, ears wide with curiosity. Juna frowned; allowing the alien to examine the radio was a breach of Contact Protocols, but she could see no tactful way of stopping it.