Amy Thomson: The Color of Distance

“We must hurry,” Kirito said, with a tinge of impatience. “The creature is weak and won’t remain stable for long.”

“Don’t worry, Ani. I won’t die,” Ilto said. “Not today. I want to understand this new animal first.”

Ani looked away, not wanting to see any more of his words. Ilto brushed her shoulder with his knuckles and turned to monitor Kirito and the new creature.

Ani loaded her blowgun and stood watching the forest around them. The afternoon thunderstorm had moved on toward the mountains, and the still air was a huge warm exhalation of rot, leaves, and the distant sweetness of flowers blooming high above in the canopy. Up in the trees a gudda lizard boomed out its throbbing call. Distant cries answered it. She scanned the branches. She wasn’t expecting anything to happen. Few predators were foolish enough to attack a Tendu, but it was always wise to be prepared.

Thrashing and a wet snapping noise made her glance down. Kirito was now the same strange, flat shade of brown as the creature. Convulsions racked her body. Her left leg was bent at an odd angle, broken by the force of her convulsions.

Every muscle and sinew of Ilto’s body stood out as he strained, trying to bring Kirito back into harmony. He was white with fatigue, and he was failing. If he didn’t break the link, Ilto would follow Kirito down into death.

The bones of Kirito’s left forearm snapped as Ani watched. Ani tore Ilto’s spur out of Kirito’s arm, breaking the link between them. Ilto cried out in pain, his skin a wordless rush of intense colors. A final violent convulsion racked Kirito’s broken frame, driving her bones through her skin with a rush of brilliant red blood. She lay still, her skin slowly fading to the silvery pallor of death. The humid air was filled with the salty, hot smell of Kirito’s blood and the swampy reek of her voided bowels.

Ani shook Ilto’s arm and patted his face in an attempt to rouse him. When Ilto didn’t respond she linked with him, flooding his body with her presence, forcing him to perceive something other than Kirito’s pain. At last Ilto acknowledged her presence, sending her feeble reassurance. She broke the link.

Ilto lay still for a while, looking up at her, his hand lying limply in hers. He had come so close to dying! He sat up very slowly, refusing Ani’s offer of assistance. Ochre with concern, Ani watched him struggle to sit up. Finally Ilto made it. He sat very still for a few moments; then he reached over and brushed the shoulder of Kirito’s corpse sadly.

“I will miss her,” he said in somber grey. “We shared many memories. Now I’m the only one in the village who remembers that far back.”

Ilto touched the new creature on its forearm. Blood trickled from the spot where Kirito’s spur had penetrated its skin. Before Ani could stop him, he linked with it.

“Siti! No! You’re too weak!” Ani reached out to snatch his arm away, but Ilto broke his link with the creature before she could do anything. He looked down at the strange new animal and the ruin of Kirito’s corpse. A grey cloud of grief flowed over his skin as he stood up.

“Kirito succeeded; it’s stabilized,” he told her. “It will live until we can take it back to the village for more work.” The words on his skin were pale and indistinct with exhaustion. Ani could barely understand him. She brushed his shoulder with her knuckles and Ilto turned to look at her.

“Forgive me for breaking the link, siti, but I thought Kirito was going to take you with her.”

An indistinct pattern of negation rippled across Ilto’s chest. He staggered and then sat, his legs too weak to support him.

With an effort he focused himself. “I need your strength, bai.” He flushed a washed-out shade of brown, embarrassed by his need. He held his arms out to her, spurs up.

Ani linked spurs with Ilto, joining with him in the healing communion of allu-a. Ilto’s blood was sour with fatigue and his energy reserves were dangerously low. She sent sugars into his depleted system to give him energy. Then she broke down the poisons in his blood. Once the fatigue toxins were gone, she scanned him more closely, looking for more subtle problems. It was then that she tasted a faint taint in his blood. It disturbed her, but Ilto broke the link between them before she could investigate further.

“No, bai,” he told her gently. “You’ve done enough. I was following Kirito down to death, and you brought me back. You are as skilled as any elder, and better than spme of them.”

Ani looked away, frightened by the implications of his praise. She looked back at him. “I don’t want to lose you, siti. I’m happy being your bami. I’m not ready to become an elder.”

“You’ve been ready for a long time now,” he told her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.” He sat up then, still a little pale, but better. He needed food, fruit and meat, before he would be ready to travel. Ani pulled several bright blue tumbi out of her gathering bag and gave them to him. Juice ran down Ilto’s chin as he bit hungrily into the sweet fruit. Ani helped him over to the base of a nearby tree, settling him between two massive, buttressed roots.

“We passed one of Hanto’s na trees a while back. I’ll go get some narey and honey,” she told him. She leaped up the tree and bounded through the canopy until she came to the thick-trunked na tree. A swarm of tilan buzzed curiously around her as she reached the tree, but they drew off when they recognized the familiar scent of her tribe. The Tendu’s na trees were carefully guarded. If the bees had not recognized her, they would have descended in a cloud of stinging fury. Few creatures intruded into a tilan-protected na tree more than once.

Ani paused to catch her breath. Allu-a with Ilto had tired her. She pulled two more tumbi out of her satchel, eating one and breaking the other open for the tilan. The bees clustered thickly on the fruit. Misty grey regret clouded her skin. Normally she would have fed them honeydew straight from her wrist spurs, but she was still drained from healing Ilto.

She climbed into the hollow tree trunk, descending past humming chambers of tilan hives until she reached the pool of water at the bottom of the tree. Even though her need was urgent, she felt a little guilty taking food from an elder’s tree without permission. At least this was Hanto’s tree. The young elder respected Ilto. She would be honored to have helped him.

Hanto took good care of her trees, Ani noted with admiration. The tilan were prosperous and the glow fungus illuminating the inside of the trunk was healthy. The water in the pool in the tree’s base was clean and pure. The narey swimming in its depths would be plump and strong.

Ani slid into the dark, rich water, feeling the vibrations of the startled narey as they rushed to bury themselves in the bottom of the tank. She dove after them, reaching down into the thick, oozing sediment with both hands, grabbing a wriggling narey in her claws and stopping its struggles with a quick sting from her spurs. Ilto was popular as a mate. This might even be one of his own offspring. Ilto could easily repay Hanto with narey from his own thriving brood.

Ani paused at the rim of the reservoir to lay a small clutch of infertile eggs to feed the remaining narey. It wasn’t necessary, but Ilto had taught her the virtues of generosity. Once the narey was butchered, she wrapped it in a fresh leaf and put it in her satchel. Then she gathered several large honeycombs from the tilan hives. She ate one, sucking out the sweet honey, and leaving the waxy, indigestible comb for the tilan to eat and recycle back into their hives.

Renewed by her snack, Ani set off, swinging through the trees at a dangerous pace, hurrying back to Ilto. It was dangerous to leave him alone when he was so weak.