Re:tort

You came to in a tree. Shortly after, you fell out of the tree.

You came to on the sand below the tree. A few mumbled, sputtering words rustled out of your mouth, mostly incoherent, and entirely vulgar.

“You’ve had better days, I take it.”

You looked around for the source of the nasal, rasping voice, blinking the fuzzy dots across your vision into clarity. No one blinked back.

“Who said that?”

“I did.”

The boulder across the clearing started ambling toward you. As it drew closer, the scaly legs and draconic neck shifted into focus, a pair of shining black eyes gazing into yours.

“I’m dying,” you muttered aloud, “I’m dying. My brain’s giving out.”

“Both of those things are probably true,” mused your visitor. “I don’t see what that has to do with me, though.”

You groaned as a burning ache wracked your back and gut.

“Turtles can’t talk,” you moaned back, almost shouting.

“Not all of them,” responded the reptile laconically. “Again, not really a statement that applies to me, anyway. I mean, if turtles can talk, that doesn’t affect me, a tortoise. Know what I mean?”

You paused.

“What’s the diff—”

“Wow, okay, whatever. Have a nice life—death—either one. Something I don’t have to be a part of.”

The dusty behemoth started to trudge off toward a patch of grass.

“Wait!” you called out. “Wait, I’m sorry, that was…that was rude. Ignorant. Please. I need your help.”

“Even if I wanted to,” sighed the tortoise, “I don’t know how much help I could be.”

“But there’ve gotta be other people on this island! Other humans you could go talk to for me— y’know, tell ‘em where I am.”

“Sorry, softie, the other humans left before the storm hit. You’re the only one I’ve seen for days. Maybe weeks.”

“Oh,” you murmured, face falling. “So…I am gonna die here.”

“There’s a good chance, yeah. I’m not one for mincing words.”

You lay a moment in the shade of the palms, shielded from the morning sun, before pulling yourself up to sit back against the tree that had evicted you some hours prior. The sound of the ocean lapping against the rocky beach tugged at your attention, mixed with the throbbing in your head. You cleared your scratchy throat.

“So…what, did you come to gloat?”

“No,” replied the tortoise plainly. “I may be…mmm, spicy, but I wouldn’t call myself cruel.”

“Okay. Then why? Why come over and talk to someone probably on the brink of death? Why not just go on with your day?”

The tortoise took a deep breath.

“From what I understand, humans will do…a lot to keep each other from dying. Maybe they’d do anything, under the right circumstances. My kind, well…there’s not much a pair of these ol’ legs can do if another tortoise is in danger. The most we can usually do is stand by that tortoise’s side. Keep ‘em company at the end.

“Pardon me for assuming you’d want the same kind of thing; but it seemed better than doing nothing.”

You took in the gray-brown, wrinkled features before you, the massive dome of a shell, trunks of legs. Your gaze drifted back to those eyes, deeper and blacker than yours, boring back into you.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“Don't mention it.”

A flurry of emerald feathers flitted onto a nearby branch. Its pint-sized beak rose and twittered out a tune. Elsewhere on the island, a teensy melody echoed back. The emerald birdlet vanished in a huff. You breathed in the scent of hot earth, volcanic rock, before carrying on.

“You never really explained it, y'know.”

“Cryptic statements: fun, but seldom useful. Y'wanna try that again?”

“Yeah, fair.” You fidgeted by the tree trunk. “You said that there are talking turtles—not to mention you, a talking tortoise.”

“I did.”

“All right, assuming I’m not just losing my mind…why haven’t I heard of them before?”

“Oh, odds are, you have. Most humans have tales of talking animals somewhere in their lore.”

“But, I mean…we all understand that it’s not real. The tortoises can talk in the context of the fable; and then we go back to real life, where they can’t.”

The tortoise swayed its neck back and forth gently as it responded.

“For the most part, that’s true. But the tales hearken back to a different time, an older, stranger time.”

The tortoise turned to face the sea and open sky.

“Humans couldn’t always speak—not all of you, that is. They were once like the rest of us. One individual chosen every generation to speak on behalf of its kin. There are those of us left who remember the old ways. My kind are blessed in that regard—long lives, long memories.”

“What…what happened?”

The tortoise blinked prosaically.

“Oh, you stole their voices, obviously. Somehow, the humans managed to wrest away the ability to speak from the low creatures—the ants, the slugs, the sea stars. Your kind stole their speakers away so that each of your people could have a voice. Or most of them, anyway.

“Those of us who remain, we choose to lie low. Who knows what else you might take from us?”

“Hello?”

The faint shout rippled over the ridge, from somewhere out of sight. Your head rolled back to look at the tortoise.

“One of your friends? A li’l birdie?”

The tortoise froze.

“Listen. You never met me, you never saw me. Understood?”

“I…I don’t….”

The voice shouted out again.

“Just stay there—I’ll come to you!”

The tortoise looked at you.

“Please.”

It turned and traipsed off into the trees.

Soon after, a woman burst through the bushes, eyes wide. She crouched by your side and heaved a pack off her shoulder, rifling through its pockets.

“Oh, I found you! Are you all right?”

“Yes…yes, I’m injured, but I think I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Are there any others with you?”

You looked to the treeline, where the tortoise disappeared.

“No. No one else.”