Bayou Remedy

Part 24

Sorry it took so long for an update, things have been absolutely crazy with the holidays, but I'm back on schedule now! 

This first update of the year is rather short, sorry, but I hope to have another, longer one posted by the end of the day. Enjoy!

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Itzel startled awake as a strange whooping cry rent the morning air. He rolled over, seeking the source of the sound, before he remembered that he wasn't safely tucked into his nest and was instead some thirty feet above the swamp's surface. As it was, only a mad scramble and the judicious application of claws saved him from a rather unceremonious, and potentially fatal, fall. Heart beating a bit quicker than normal, Itzel settled himself more firmly onto his many perches.

He grumbled unhappily as he did so and soon gave up on any semblance of comfort in favor of security. This was the problem with sleeping in unfamiliar territory, one could never truly find a comfortable bed. The matter wasn't helped by the fact that most of the trees in this part of the swamp were smaller than he was used to, too many of them being of relatively new growth and therefore too small to support his weight. The only upside was that they were still young enough to grow in clumps and thus it was possible for him to string his length among a great many of them without putting too much strain on any given tree. It wasn't perfect or anywhere near comfortable, but it was effective and insured he wasn't sleeping in muck and out of the reach of the few predators that might attack him in his sleep.

Blearily, Itzel cast his gaze about the swamp. He didn't see any monster or beast that could account for the noise, but perhaps it had already gone. Or was a figment of his dreams. That could have been it, but he also didn't see any of the other creatures normally active in the morning. In fact, the only creature he did see was the two-legger and it was acting strangely again.

Itzel watched as the two-legger did an odd little skip and twirl across its camp. It was... dancing? Was that what it was doing? Its movement weren't particularly graceful if that's what it was doing, untrained to say the very least. Clumsy even, Itzel winced as the two-legger tripped over an uneven patch of ground but it righted itself before it completed the fall. That effectively put an end to the creature's odd behavior, but it left Itzel confused as to why the two-legger had even started dancing. If that was actually what it had been doing, which he wasn't sure of at all. He settled in to watch.

The two-legger was holding something, grinning widely as it gazed at the small object in its hand. It took a moment for Itzel to recognize it for the small clay jar he'd left in the bag the night before. Unconsciously, his fingers brushed the pouch where the two-legger's gift lay safely ensconced. It was a bracelet of surprising beauty and incredible fragility, he knew because he'd already broken one of the beads trying to figure out what it was made of. He still had no clue but he'd also stopped trying after that first precious bead had shattered in his grip. It was sharp too, whatever it was, having sliced his fingers as it splintered. It wasn't clay. Nor was it stone, though he'd seem some that were similar to these beads before. The beads held a vibrant bloody shade but remained translucent at the same time. They were shiny and delicate, reflecting the moon's light effortlessly when he'd withdrawn them from the glowing bag. Beautiful.

He'd been surprised and awed by it the night before, so much so that he knew he could just leave it there, but he'd also know he couldn't just take the bracelet. Not when the gifted was a shaman. It would have been rude, and he'd never be disrespectful of a shaman, not if he could help it at least. Shamans reacted... oddly to insults, both intentional or perceived.

So, he'd left something in turn. Not nearly adequate for the gift that was given, but it was all he had on him that might be of use to the two-legger and until he returned to his nest or went hunting he had nothing else to make up for the difference in gifting quality. He glanced up at the rising sun, in another hour or so it would be warm enough for him to do more than just lounge on the branches and watch. In another hour he'd go hunting, maybe return to his nest for a bit for supplies. He returned his gaze to the two-legger, in another hour he'd leave it on its own for a while. The thought filled him with a sick sense of unease.