Deep in the Violet | Neteyam X fem OC

Chapter eleven

The camp remained shrouded in eerie silence as all eyes were fixed on the departing warriors, fading into an uncertain future. Hearts ached, and people stood still at the very edge of the floating rocks, even after the group had disappeared beyond the horizon. Everyone watched, clinging to this moment, as it could likely be the last time they saw some of them.

Mo'at's resolute voice finally broke the silence. "Well, what are we all waiting for? We need to prepare in advance, just in case any injured are brought to us!" She quickly set the course, organizing several groups and assigning them designated tasks.

She then stepped closer to Kiri and Tuk. "I need you to fly out and gather some herbs. We're running dangerously low on a few essential ones." As soon as Mo'at described what they needed to search for, they settled on their ikrans and took off, each heading to a special location where medicinal plants grew.

"I want to help with something too!" Naveah declared with unwavering determination. She couldn't stand the thought of being the only one left without a purpose. Besides, she needed something to occupy her mind, a distraction from the unsettling dangers lurking at the southern borders.

Mo'at glanced at her, studying her bandaged arm. "And are you in any condition to do so?"

"Of course, this is nothing!" Naveah exclaimed. She quickly looked around, checking if Spider was nearby. It seemed as if he had already headed back to the lab. 'Well, I did say I'd do my best, Spider,' she thought, before quickly freeing her arm from the sling.

Mo'at looked around. The Volcano people, even when immersed in their tasks, kept shooting revolting glares towards Naveah. The nearby Omatikaya women that overheard their conversation did not seem keen either to let Naveah join them. Mo'at felt a pang of pity towards the albino girl. She sighed, "Alright, follow me then."

They headed to the Tsahìk's tent. It was wide and spacious, with a big fire pit in the middle. "Are you familiar with herbology? Can you recognize any of these?" Mo'at pointed to numerous vials, doses, and bowls. Each contained either dried mushrooms, flowers and leaves, silky balms, or aromatic essential oils. Naveah stepped closer, carefully lifting the lids of many jars and sniffing their contents, while Mo'at watched with anticipation. She found herself helpless, realizing that she had never come across most of these smells before. It was evident that many of the herbs that the Omatikaya used did not grow where she came from. But, finally! Her nose caught a familiar sweet scent, and she immediately recognized paywll, which she often used to treat her sunburnt skin. The only other two she could identify were the ground episoth seeds with their rich earthy aroma, and the strong, pungent smell of yalna that Neteyam had used to treat her wounds last night.

"Well?" Mo'at inquired.

"I'm sorry, most of these are unfamiliar to me. I recognized only three," Naveah admitted, her disappointment evident.

"That's still better than none," Mo'at sighed. She then bent down, coaxing the fire to life a little with a few blows. "Usually, it's my granddaughters assisting me with the brewing." A sincere smile stretched upon her lips, as she continued. "Tuk has a lot of potential, I even dare to say I may choose her as the next tsakarem." She hung a big pottery bowl above the fire, securing it onto a tripod. "But I guess your help should be enough until she returns. Let's get to work."

Mo'at carefully selected several jars, while Naveah fetched a stone mortar and placed it closer to the fire. The Tsahìk began measuring precise amounts of herbs, loading them into the mortar. Naveah settled down, and with determination, she gripped a large wooden pestle, holding it with her right hand. She set to work, grinding the herbs  into a fine powder.

Outside the tent, footsteps gradually grew louder as they approached. A deep, rumbling voice broke the concentration inside. "We've brought the wood and water as you requested." Naveah looked up to see Raxtan, his massive hands bearing a heavy stack of logs, accompanied by two other men from the Volcano clan, each bringing a large jug filled with fresh water.