Wen-le-gone watches the Slain.
Knows his wounds are healing
by the way he moves,
by the numbers
of his waking hours,
by his tending of the fire.
Uncertain of this silent Slain.
His kindness to Odymn deliberate.
But Wen-le-gone, he ignores.
Wen-le-gone tries
casual conversation.
"Aul'gruth.
Marneth hath-arn.
The west wind gritty and dry.
A storm brews in the Darn'el."
The Slain looks around him.
As if he doesn't know who speaks.
Returns to placing
sticks on the fire.
Wen-le-gone tries
a personal approach.
Wraps his tail
around the ankle of the Slain.
Says, "Whan-log.
Felnas'ath-ben'nen.
You are sleeping well.
Your wounds are healing."
The Slain shoos him away,
as if he were annoyance,
a midlar or an evernell.
Desperate, the Argenop
sets himself on fire.
Stands on the embers.
Allows his tail
to smoulder.
The Slain grabs the Argenop.
Rolls him in the dirt.
Stomps on the end of his tail.
"Thank you,"
says Wen-le-gone.
"Don't stand so near to the fire,"
says the Slain.
"Ma'far'natha.
I have a gift for you,"
says Wen-le-gone.
"An aid to walking.
In the tradition
of the Argenop elder.
Whimlet'varn.
You will find it useful."
The Argenop
holds out the stick
he has carved.
An elegant staff.
Fashioned with his teeth.
Symbols from Argenop belief.
The fire sign of Amblyn.
Flat ellipse of De-al.
The Slain ponders the Argenop.
As though he has never
laid eyes on him before.
Accepts the staff with a nod.
Tests its lightness,
its strength,
the give of the wood.
Traces the carvings with a finger.
Pats the Argenop
on his furry shoulder.
YOU ARE READING
Meniscus: One Point Five - Forty Missing Days
Science FictionAfter the Slain is shot, Odymn and an Argenop elder work together to try and return him to good health. As they journey towards the Themble, survival is a challenge. Odymn must add to her foraging skills and survive an attack by the vicious kotildi...
