Heart Rot

❻ - SIX

Comalpo rose early the next morning to red sunsrise peeking through the slits in the window-screens and hitting him on the nose. All his siblings were still deeply asleep; to his right, Tliichpil had the blanket pulled up high enough that nothing of him could be seen but his hair, which stuck up like an unkempt hedgehog. Carefully, Comalpo stood up and brushed his own back down, then tied on his aprons and shrugged on his tunic. He unlatched his hammock and crept over to the hearth.

He slipped on another piece of fuel to replenish the coals. Poking a hand into the water jug, he found that needed to be refilled as well, so he hauled it onto one hip and slipped out over the rear threshold. Usually it was Lotlixya who woke up the household in the mornings, but she had been very clear anyone was allowed to help her if they wanted.

They hadn't brought her any fowl yesterday. This would make up for it.

One of the moons - Yeri, the larger - was still hanging fat and yellow above the treetops to the west as he went up to the dam. It seemed that scarcely anybody else had woken yet either - he passed one woman coming back with her own filled water jug, who met his eyes quickly and then looked away again, speeding up her pace.

The lake surface was dusted with pollen, and he swept open a clear space upon the surface before dipping the jug in. A water strider darted away as it filled with several gloops, each increasing in tone. Several paces up the bank, a snake slithered out of the overhanging brush and dipped its own head neatly to the water; Comalpo froze, jug still underwater, watching its tongue flicker in and out.

They didn't like to come near the trails, he reminded himself. Too much smell of human. He should be safe; it was really only lone hunters that they would attack.

It raised its head and delicately tasted at the air, then turned and vanished again among the dappled shadows. Comalpo let out his breath and drew up the filled jug, drops trickling down his leg as he brought it back.

"Oh!" chirped Lotlixya when he stepped back across the threshold, rising from her crouch by the hearth. Her hammock had been re-rolled as well, and there were strands of red-brown dough stuck over her hands. "Thank you! I wondered where you'd got to with that." She picked the dough off absently before reaching out to take the jug from him.

"No, no, I've got it." He crouched to put it back down, then straightened, stretching out his wrists. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yeah, go wake up your lazy siblings."

Tliichpil was the closest, so he received the dubious honour of being shaken awake first. "Mrrp," he hummed like a cat, pushing at Comalpo's hands before shoving down the edge of his blanket and elbowing himself up to sitting.

Comalpo winced involuntarily. The whole right half of Tliichpil's face was bruised blue and maroon, both his eyes shadowed and swollen. More bruises mottled his arms and chest.

Tliichpil caught the look and frowned pathetically. "Does it really look that bad?"

"Honestly? Yes. Does it hurt much?"

He crinkled his nose. "Some. Thought it would be a little worse, though, actually."

Comalpo woke and helped his youngest sister and brother Catlitla and Talzalhi into their small sleeveless tunics, and then tied second-youngest sister Nochci's sash for her in the back. By the time he had finished plaiting Nochci's hair up for her, Lotlixya had called that the food was ready, and they all piled over to snatch up cakes off the hearth, passing around the jar of honey.

"Can you make special Lotli stew for the evening meal?" Catlitla asked her, mouth half-full of cake.

She sucked a dribble of honey off her forefinger. "Probably," she said. "I know I have bindweed and redshade - Mala, you're right over there, what other good stew ingredients do we have?"