Knowing
66th Spring, 492 AV
“I’ve got everything I need, Petch off!”
The jungle floor was thick with moss; still wet from the dew that had coated everything in a glistening blanket only a few bells before. Had the ground been more firm, the petulant little girls stomps would have rang out and had a much greater effect, masking the sighs of the adults present. With the humidity climbing and Syna had barely cast a ray upon them, it was already too hot to argue.
Emalay slung the little cloth pack over her shoulder and without a backwards glance took off into the trees. Barefoot and wearing nothing but a light shift, she had a few days worth of food and a change of clothes stowed away. Light leather boots dangled over her other shoulder, where she had lashed them together. Mud and water squished up between her toes, a comforting and familiar feeling in the face of this big decision; the dew had made the mud chilly, a sharp contrast to the beads of sweat already prickling her brow.
“You shouldn’t have talked to them like that.” As Ema passed through into the jungle cover, Nalyn stepped from behind a tree, not looking at her as he spoke and instead watching the thick green snake twisting up his arm, its tongue flickering rapidly. Ema stood and watched her older brother and his new pet for a moment, torn between continuing on her way without a word and engaging in what looked to be a brewing battle.
“You shouldn’t play with snakes. It’s going to bite your head off.” The petulance won over, the young girls posture a myriad of defiant lines as she squared off against her sibling. “You also shouldn’t come running to do everything they say.” Nalyn never had as much of an issue with their parent’s firm grip on their children as Ema. Being the baby, it was hard to watch her elder brothers and sisters go off on their own while she was kept swaddled with the rest of the children.
Nalyn sighed, wincing and reaching up to gently unwind the snake; it had made it to his shoulder and had begun squeezing painfully. “It’s not like that Ema. I know what is out there. You’re not ready to go alone.” Though his words weren’t soft, he spoke with an easy slowness to his voice that drove Ema absolutely insane. She saw her brother as weak and easily manipulated.
“I don’t care what you say, Nal. I’m going. They say there is no reason to go back to the shore, yet it’s all they talk about. The Elders never stop telling stories about the Ocean. I want to see it. I will see it!”
“Ema, the Basin is-“
“No, the Basin isn’t petching anything!” Emalay puffed herself up, taking what she thought was a threatening step towards her brother. “You don’t know any more than I do, Nal. You’ve never been there either! I’m GOING!”
Stomp Stomp Stomp became Squish Squish Slurp as Emalay stalked around her brother, stepping down into a particularly wet patch of ground and nearly loosing her footing. Regaining her balance with as much dignity as her eight years allowed, the fierce little girl continued on her way.
Typical Falyndar brought about a day to match the little girl who marched determinedly through its jungles; fierce and with a temper. The humidity factor seemed to increase with every step she took, cotton shift completely soaked through with sweat before the sun had even reached its zenith. Vines snagged at her ankles and legs, some tripping her while others leaving their mark via thin, painful slices over the exposed skin of her calves. The sensitive skin beneath her arms began to chafe the longer she walked, but Ema only grit her teeth and plowed forward.
A bell into her journey found the young Myrian seeking shelter beneath boughs of a tall bush; pack in her lap as she pulled out the food she stowed away. Raw meat. She didn’t mind. Water was guzzled from the bladder she took from her fathers’ gear; the organ had been preserved and the water had somehow managed to stay cool. A bit was poured into her hands, splashed over her face and down the back of her sticky neck. A bit more meat and a bit more water and Ema felt some of her energy return; the heat of the jungle could strip even the fiercest warrior of their strength. Tilting her head back for one last guzzle before she continued, Ema coughed in dismay when the bladder yielded nothing.
“Find more later…” Muttering to herself, the remaining meats and the empty skin was shoved back into her considerably lighter pack, which was thrown back over her shoulder as Ema regained her feet and continued on. There wasn’t much to do but to keep walking. She had a map, though she didn’t know how to read it. Asking her mother for help deciphering it had started the whole argument.
The rumpled peace of canvas was pulled from the waist of her undergarments, straightened between her hands and held close to her face. Some squiggles there told of some path, while those dots were... trees? No. Not trees. Water? The spot was blue… “Alright, we’ll go there.” Speaking to the lizard that lurked on a nearby frond, Ema balled the map back up in her fist, turned to her left and started off in that direction, thinking it would lead her towards what was assumed to be water.
Night had fallen, the meat was all but gone, and her drinking skin was still bone dry, the black hole of a mouth seeming to scream in agony, much like her own dry throat, as she stared down into the empty depths. Craven thoughts scurried through her mind; the part of her that knew her parents had been right fighting for a breath while she continued to smother it with her stubbornness. “I can do this.” Tongue thick and dry, throat rough, the words came out a harsh croak. Though the intense heat that had plagued her throughout the day was lessening, the damage had been done. Her body was stripped of all of its moisture, the meat she had eaten earlier sitting like a rock in her gut. She had to do this.
Fighting the heaving of her gut as it tried to expel the nutrients, Ema stumbled into the open bowl of a tree. The shadows were cool there, but it still did nothing to ease her plight. Feeling around her as darkness settled like a cloak over the jungles, the girl’s fingers stumbled across a few, thick shoots of an unknown plant. Not even thinking, they were plucked from their roots and taken too by dirty fingernails; the plants skin split and revealed a fleshy center. Desprate and a bit lightheaded, Ema shoved the stalk into her mouth, scraping at the juicy centers with her teeth. The moisture that was released caused a moan of relief as her swollen tongue soaked up the plant water.
But it wasn’t enough. Every nearby stalk was stripped and ingested, some god above watching down on the careless Myrian and sparing her from having chosen a poisonous plant; Ema didn’t even spare a thought for how dangerous what she had just done had been. Thirst drove her every action.
Sleep came and went in what seemed like a blink of an eye, lingering ever elusive on the edges of her fatigue. Those traitorous thoughts still whispered to her, reminding her of her mistakes. She hadn’t been ready, but she had to do this. The blue dot. The lake. There had to be water. Never had she missed the sights of their Basin more than in that moment. Though she had run out of food hours ago, eventually puking up what she hadn’t managed to digest a short while ago, the hunger wasn’t all consuming.
The thirst ruled her every action.
Desperation got her moving again sometime around dawn… or was it midday? The humidity was back, it’s sticky fingers sapping even more of the remaining moisture from her skin; even her eyes felt dry in their sockets, no matter how many times she blinked to moisten them. Sweat no longer beaded on her skin, replaced instead by a feverish burning and the shock of chills.
Stepping over a fallen log, Ema stumbled, crashing down to her knees. A cry choked her, though she refused to let it loose. Tidal Spears didn’t cry. Nor did they whine or complain. That got her to her feet again, though this time she felt like she was walking on air. One cautious step in front of the other, arms gently floating at her sides, and the young Myrian hopped forward. The heat and dehydration were getting to her.
Quick step, step, step and a leap over the branch that she envisioned to be in her way; in reality, there was nothing there. Ema floated and flitted over the squishy floor, her arms held delicately away from her sides and gently bent. Before her eyes, the Taut Drum’s celebratory fires danced and roared; it had been only a fortnight since she had returned from the neighboring Clan, their music and their dancers still fresh in her mind. She stepped her way through what she thought was the opening dance, the dancers floating around the edge of the great fire like a leaf caught in the breeze.
Her skin was so hot, her mouth so dry, Ema could feel the flames on her face, smell the thick, fragrant smoke that twisted and was ripped away by the winds. She was there. She was part of it all. Her heart thudded heavily like the bass drum in her memory, her pulse quickening like the pounding of feet on the tightly packed earth. Ema felt lightheaded, but she didn’t stop her twirling and skipping, her ungraceful lurches from place to place as she tried to dance the dance in her mind.
Exhaustion eventually came, leaving the girl a spent pile of feverish flesh and bone on the fallen leaves and stones. Night had fallen once more, the horizon hinting at an early morning. Ema had laid in her heap long enough for the dew to settle upon her, like it did everything, over night. Parched skin soaked up the moisture quicker than it could settle; by morning the girl woke shivering, a trickle of water dripping into her open mouth from the tip of her nose. That little sip had been life. The furious pounding of her head and heart lessened, but the drumbeat persisted. It insisted she stand, and she did. It told her to move, to dance, and she sprang into action. She had to do this.
There was no longer any thought other than her dance. Her dance to the drums, to the water. She was ready. They were wrong. How wondrous it would be… She could only imagine. The heat of her skin continued to recede, her muscles stretching and lengthen as she danced, her movements becoming more fluid; a rolling, gate brought her through the trees and over any obstacles. The choppy, jerky awkwardness was gone. She was one with her purpose.
A day and a night, a small collection of dew and the soft flesh of some plants sustained her. And still she danced, despite the fatigue in her limbs and the pounding of her heart. She had to find it, she had too; but there it was. It wasn’t the ocean she had originally sought, but a tiny stream that wound across her path, ducking in and out of the trees.
Ema fell to her knees next to the trickle of water, tears that she could now afford to waste trickling down her cheeks, smearing snaking streams similar to the one at her feet through all the dirt and grime. How could she have been so foolish? She hadn’t been ready. She had no idea what she needed.
The cool, live giving liquid was scooped up in both hands and brought to her lips with a revered sort of slowness, a new elegance in her motions that Ema could not have explained where it came from.
Above, there was a laugh. Ema lifted her gaze from the trickle of water between her fingers and started, falling backwards onto her butt. A woman was there, flowing and undulating in a way that inspired jealousy in the little Myrian, who could only dream she would ever be able to move in such a way. The woman laughed again, reaching up to take Ema by both hands and drawing her back to her feet. The girl felt a cold trickling sensation spread throughout her body. And then nothing else mattered.
The rain began to fall. |
by Emalay on June 27th, 2012, 7:39 pm 
