Aĉaĵego

IX: Tributes

Chapter IX: Tributes

Days passed. Karesema did not return. Floreca tried not to worry about her; she knew it would take some time for her to recover from the days she'd spent without food, and her head injury might have still been bothering her, too. If she needed to rest before she would be able to make the trip back up the mountain, that was understandable. Besides, it might take time to procure the medicine. Traveling merchants were the only way to get it; it was apparently made of plants that didn't grow in Floreca's area. If there were no merchants around that had it, Karesema would have to wait until one came.

The Aĉaĵego spent a lot of time hunting; small animals for Floreca and large ones for itself. Floreca had tried to accompany it, but she'd rapidly grown weaker over the last few days. Soul-drain gave a person a ravenous appetite; no matter how much she ate, she never had enough energy, and always felt at least a little hungry. At home there was enough available food that she could function. Now, it was a struggle to walk for more than a few paces. So she decided to save her strength until Karesema came back with the medicine. She spent most of her days on a black, platform-like boulder on the edge of the ledge above the cave; it absorbed the heat and kept her warm on windy days, and provided a nice view of the mountain below. Had she been younger, she might have found those hours tedious. But now, after having thought she didn't have much time left to live, she couldn't complain about having an excess of time to herself to enjoy the sunshine, and the view of her village from the mountain.

When the Aĉaĵego was home, they told stories. There were other things Floreca would have preferred to talk about, but the Aĉaĵego asked for a new story every night. "I'm going to run out of stories!" Floreca had protested, but she knew she wouldn't. Her mother had once said the same, but when she did run out of stories, she started making her own. Floreca struggled to remember them – unlike the rest of the stories her mother had told her, the religious stories, they had never been reinforced by other storytellers after her mother's death – but she used her own imagination to fill in what she couldn't remember, and began spending her days deciding how the evening's story would go.

A few times, people passed by coming up and down the mountain. She always waved at them from afar, and a few waved back, but they were all strangers and none of them seemed interest in speaking to her. Maybe they thought she was a sacrifice. She didn't know how long it would take for the news to spread that the Aĉaĵego wouldn't be taking sacrifices anymore.

When Karesema finally did return, it was early morning. She and the Aĉaĵego were both still asleep, huddled up together under the gap of the cave that let in the sunlight. Floreca heard her sister's voice in her dreams, felt gentle hands running up and down her arms... then a booming roar shook the air. She jumped up to see her frightened sister, kneeling on the ground and staring up at an equally frightened Aĉaĵego.

"Wh- what's wrong?" Floreca asked, ears ringing.

"It is thy sister," said the Aĉaĵego, now completely calm. "When I awoke, I was frightened, for I saw that there was another human among us, but I knew her not."

"Frightened!" Karesema exclaimed. "You're an Aĉaĵego; not a rabbit! What cause do you have to be afraid of people?"

"Some humans carry claws."

This comment was ignored as Floreca threw herself into her sister's arms, knocking the older girl off balance. Karesema wobbled for a second and then held herself up with her left arm, wrapping her right arm around Floreca. "Franjo! I really missed you!"

"I missed you, too," said Karesema. "I'm really sorry it took me so long to get here. I..." Her voice trailed off as she adjusted her position, shifting her center of gravity as Floreca's weight bore down on her. She didn't resume her sentence when she found a position she could hold, knowing that Floreca wanted to be held for just a minute longer before speaking. Karesema's grip was strong; Floreca could let herself relax against her, dead weight.