Heart Rot

❷ - TWO

Comalpo hoped it wasn't an omen - two trogon, scarlet flashes up in the canopy, repeating their grinding-wood cry as they hopped from branch to branch. He dropped his gaze just before he tripped over a root, and managed to hop over it instead, guiltily yanking his spear-butt from the mud. Not that being fast enough would prevent small sediment particles working themselves into the grain and shortening its lifespan, because if it had touched the ground it was already too late for that, but it would prevent anyone from seeing and criticizing him.

Tliichpil, who didn't count for that purpose because he was not the kind of person who liked to criticize, nonetheless smirked at him from several paces ahead. His spear hung loosely in his hand, the absolute image of unhurried confidence. At least every few days they trod this path, and the dirt was so packed down that none of it gave off anymore, even when walked with wet feet. But the roots had been worn to stand out like buttresses and could catch an unwary toe.

There were likely to be waterbirds at the mere still, for the wet season was only just fading to dry, and they would not have yet flown away to the north to lay their eggs and raise their chicks. That was what they headed out to hunt - although Comalpo also carried at his hip a net bag in case of what Tliichpil had jokingly called an "unexpected groundnut encounter".

His lips reflexively twitched even at the memory. Not a phrase he would have come up with on his own, but of course, that, in addition to not criticizing him, was what Tliichpil was for - his broken reflection, his other half since the earliest they could both remember. The one who made the jokes. The relaxed one, the clever one, to Comalpo's quietness and seriousness.

He hopped over another ridge, landing in a mat of fallen leaves. Besides, even if the trogon were an omen, he would not know how to interpret it. For fate was not always negative - half of it Hualma had knotted, always for the good. And as if on cue, both trogon spread their wings and lifted off, disappearing into black specks among the canopy. There. That was better. No reason to worry, and ruin what was shaping up to be an excellent day - patches of sunlight cut through the canopy in a bright, clear green, outlining the myriad of colours displayed by the leaves of the understory to capture it as it filtered down. Purple-streaked bromeliads, reddish-black arrowleaf, and citrine-stalked lianas shimmered like gems on all sides. A dragonfly buzzed up, considered him for a heartbeat, then sped away again.

And anyway, he would need most of his focus to keep a close eye out for those unexpected groundnuts.

"What's so funny?" Tliichpil asked as he caught up. He fell into step behind Comalpo again, and they continued.

"Nothing."

He poked him in the back. "C'mon, what?"

"Nothing. Really."

Tliichpil huffed. "You're a dork."

"You're worse." After all, he came up with these silly turns of phrase.

Companionable quiet fell again. They reached the cross-roads - although it was not, truly, for beside the village path four others led away, winding like an outstretched hand up and across the valley. They took the leftmost, which began to climb upwards. In the heavy rains it became a stream itself, lined in the bottom with stones - these rolled and clattered under their feet.

Comalpo hauled himself up through a particularly steep section with all four limbs, like a cat. Tliichpil followed with three, leaning far enough back to force his weight into the ground that he warned "Be careful."

"I am."

"Then be more so."

Tliichpil rolled his eyes and gripped another ridge with his other hand. He dragged himself over the upper edge and stood, brushing dust off his apron. The ground flattened out at the top of the ridge, and the path wound ochre over it and dipped down into the next vale.

Well, time wasn't going to wait for them. Comalpo turned and started off again, and, as always, Tliichpil followed.

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FOOTNOTE

* trogon -  Any of numerous nonpasserine tropical birds (family Trogonidae) with brilliant often iridescent plumage.

* understory -  The vegetative layer and especially the trees and shrubs between the forest canopy and the ground cover.

* bromeliads - Bromeliads are relatively slow-growing plants that take one to three years to mature into flowering plants.

* arrowleaf -  Arrowleaf is a plant in Sons of the Forest with green leaves and stems, yellow flowers.

* citrine - Citrine is the yellow to red-orange variety of crystalline quartz.

*  liana - A liana is a long-stemmed, woody vine that is rooted in the soil at ground level and uses trees, as well as other means of vertical support, to climb up to the canopy in search of direct sunlight.

* ochre - Ochre or ocher in American English, is a natural clay earth pigment, a mixture of ferric oxide and varying amounts of clay and sand.