Page 113 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER TWO

Shemza

I t is quiet in the healer hut without Rachel and Vantos.

Strange how quick I have grown used to the sound of female voices - Rachel and Grace discussing the ways of healing in their musical language - and Vantos glaring at the forest from his sickbed, as if there were something out there he could berate into healing him quicker than I could.

I chuckle to myself. I have a deep fondness and respect for Vantos, but he is not an easy patient.

Only his desire to not do anything to intimidate my new apprentices kept him in check, I think.

But I do not worry for Rachel travelling with him to Darran’s tribe.

He will be on his best behaviour with her.

It is my own behaviour I must think on now, for as soon as Sally finishes Jassal’s lessons, we go to visit with Lorna.

Grace has been visiting with each of her sisters, checking in with them about how they are settling in, looking over them as a healer to make sure they are recovering their health.

They have all eaten poorly for many sunsets, and have suffered the side effects - lethargy, unclearness in their headspaces, low moods.

But it is more than just this. Little Molly has terrible trouble with nightmares.

Hannah confesses to feeling paralysed by even the simplest of choices.

All of them have some affliction of the headspace that ails them.

Sally says that it is a result of their ill treatment by their old tribe chiefs.

They are used to cruelty, and now that it is gone, they are as confused and frightened as they are relieved.

My heartspace aches for every one of them.

My brothers and I have suffered greatly in our time, but nature’s cruelty is random and unchangeable.

The sickness that took so many of us could not be helped.

It was nobody’s fault. Trying to find someone responsible would be like trying to find someone to stop the rains from falling, the wind from blowing.

Even Lina’s influence only extends so far with such things.

We are all of us at the mercy of nature’s whims. It is why we must take great care to work within it, to respect it deeply and to not take more than it can sustain giving us.

My new tribe sisters have suffered at the hands of others in their tribe, and just the thought of it makes my blood heat, a fire burning in my heartspace.

My warrior’s spirit is not so easily roused - it is part of why I was chosen as healer - but just as my Cliff Top brothers turning from Lina’s ways sparks a fury in me, so too does the thought that anyone could treat my sisters so.

It is hard on my heartspace to think of how so many were taken from us, the mourning that the elders have gone through losing their linashas and younglings, the hopelessness my brothers have faced knowing we would be the last of our tribe.

And all the while in some distant forest, a tribe chief valued his sisters so little that he was cruel to them.

I am glad that Liv and her sisters found their way to our trees.

I am glad most of all that Lorna was with them.

Lorna whose pale skin glows like the twin moons, whose sunshine hair frames a delicate face, whose eyes could suck me into their depths so easily.

From the moment I first looked upon her, when she was sickly and weak at the sands, my heartspace has sung for her, its song unwavering in its intensity for every sunset since.

I am a thinking male, calm and rational where my brothers would be like to lose their headspaces. But around Lorna, it is as though that part of me forgets to work. Much as I am always glad to see her, I know my heartspace will not take well to hearing of her suffering.

I must swallow my outrage, though, treat her with the dispassion I can summon for her sisters.

Otherwise I may well draw her into my arms, attempt to soothe away her hurts with caresses.

The human females are skittish, fearful of my brothers and I.

I do not wish to give Lorna any cause to fear me.

When I hold her, it will be in the full knowledge that she desires it as much as I do.

Always I think to myself ‘when’. The alternative is too unbearable to consider.

The door to the healer’s hut opens, snapping me out of my musings. It is Grace, Sally behind her, come to fetch me for our visit with Lorna. Sally has Ahnjas in her arms, and he wriggles and fusses against her hold.

“He is very irritable today,” Sally says. “I do not wish to inflict him on anyone else.”

I grin, holding out my arms to take him. Sally raises an eyebrow but hands him over. He gives me a grumpy little look, as if the whole forest has aggrieved him this day.

“Do your teeth trouble you again, young Ahnjas?”

He jabs a finger at the side of his face in response.

His cheeks remain puffy, his skin flushed.

Though he is young in raskarran terms to be speaking, I know he has some words, his mother’s blood in him making him quick to use his voice.

That he does not greet me as he usually does tells me he is unhappy as clear as his expression.

“When even his building blocks cannot occupy him, you know it is a serious affliction,” Sally says, exasperation in her tone.

She is much exhausted these last few sunsets, her reserves depleted from the strenuous journey here. Her mate, Jaskry, is away with the hunters for long hours to ensure the tribe is well supplied for the big rains, leaving her without support for much of the day.

“You should not be afraid to seek help from others with him. Jassal, too. There will always be someone who would watch them for you, if you should need rest.”

“Liv does take them for me when I ask, but she has much to do helping others in the tribe. Besides, I do not wish my sister to think I am only glad to see her for her help with them.”

“I do not think she would think that. And Liv may be your blood-sister, but she is not your only sister. Would they not like to look after Jassal and Ahnjas also? Having many hands to help means not relying on any one pair overmuch.”

“They would watch Jassal, yes. She is not so difficult. And your brothers have been very good about teaching her raskarran skills, which keeps her busy and out from under my feet. But Ahnjas is too young for such things, and the females are nervous of caring for him. He is so small to them. Most of them have not seen a youngling his age before. Those who have, it was a long time ago, when they were only younglings themselves. They do not know how to be around him. Always they fear he will break.”

“He is little for his seasons, but not so fragile as that.” I set him down on the countertop, reaching for my supplies.

Fresh envida bark for him to chew. It is for pains of the muscles mostly, but it is good for younglings cutting teeth.

The action of chewing is as much a relief as the juices in the bark that dull hurts.

I also crush fresh djenti berries into a cup and fill it with warm water from the pot over the fire, mixing in a sliver of craval leaf.

It has a powerful calming effect when brewed into a tea.

This small dose will take the edge off Ahnjas’ discomforts without rendering him sleepy.

I test the temperature of the mix, and when it is sufficiently cool, I pull out a drawer I have not had cause to keep full for the seasons I have served as healer. I see Grace’s brows knit together as she watches me sprinkle a pinch of the substance into the drink.

“What… for?” she asks in stilted raskarran words.

I hold up my finger, show her the bright yellow powder there, then lick it off. Sweetness bursts on my tongue, almost overpowering. It is a common spice, used often in preparing sweet treats. I restocked my supply from Namson’s stores as soon as we arrived back from the sands.

I hold the drawer out to Grace. She dips her finger in then tastes it, pulling a face at the overly sweet flavour.

“It covers the bitterness of the djenti berries,” I say. “For when the patient does not know well enough to drink them despite their poor flavour.”

Sally relays my meaning to Grace as I pass the cup to Ahnjas. He gives it a suspicious sniff before raising it to his lips, taking a drink. His eyes brighten as the sweetness hits his tongue, and he drinks greedily, finishing with a satisfied, ‘Ah!’

“Thank you, Shemza,” Sally says. “Though I think I will keep him with me all the same. If that would not interfere too much?”

She asks the question again to Grace in human words. We both of us assure her it will not. I lift him into my arms, and this time he settles against me, his tail looping around my arm, the medicine working quickly to soothe away his irritations and calm the hurts that have troubled him.

We cross the village to the hut Lorna shares with Rachel.

She sleeps in there alone now, and I hope she is not lonely without her companion, although a selfish part of me is pleased for the excuse to spend time with her each day, carrying her water.

Grace knocks on the door, and Lorna lets us in, a wariness in her expression until she spies Ahnjas in my arms.

“ Hello ,” she says, tickling his cheek, her smile as bright as sunlight.

“ Ihowpyuhdonmind, ” Sally says. “ Hezfussytuday .”

There are only two chairs in Lorna’s hut - the most she would normally require.

Sally takes one, and we leave the other for Lorna.

She fetches some pelts from her bedroom and piles them on the floor for Ahnjas, setting down a few of her cups and bowls, along with a spoon for him to play with.

I think she expects him to hit the bowls with the spoon - younglings enjoy making grown ears ache with noise, I am told - but Ahnjas immediately begins to pile the things up, balancing bowls atop cups, laughing when his constructions collapse.