Scars

The air is chilly on this side of the hill; you should thank the compound Leader for insisting you wear his Deep Mud coat if you wanted to accompany me up here. You’re writing for the compound newsletter, is that right? So the residents can learn about the newest addition to the compound, meaning me and Gerta? And Hatcher, of course. Having to cut away these scrubby vines with every damn step makes it seem like we’ve been climbing forever. I’m glad the Leader suggested bringing the machete, god, the vines are terrible, and the thorns! But at least they’re not roses. Oh, right, easy for you to laugh … my goodness, you’re out of breath, aren’t you? Time to get a bit more exercise, perhaps? If you want to hear about us you’ll have to keep up with me. C’mon, we’re almost to the top, and I need to explore while I’ve got the chance. I’ve wanted to climb this hill ever since we moved into the compound two weeks ago, but, pardon me, I’ve been a little busy, and Hatcher doesn’t like to babysit. As if he has a choice. Between recovering from the merbintal, looking after the baby, unpacking, and starting a garden while the weather holds, it took me longer than I expected to get the chance to come up here. You’ve never been to the lookout before? Well, let’s see if the view lives up to its reputation…

Oh wow, look at that expanse! I can’t even count the hoodoos, and they're so tall, all interspersed with bunch grasses, and there are even a few small trees, here and there, see them? They’re not flowering right now but the edges of the leaves glow silver like that all year ‘round. Those are sandy broom trees, you know, the ones with the stinky purple flowers that spit pollen rain? I read about them during the trip from the Outerlands. Their fruit is famous for its blue seeds and sweet pulp, but the pollen rain from the flowers makes a nasty burn. No wonder the orthixai love this valley, with so much food and material for scratching out their nests, and plenty of nooks and crannies for their kits to hide in. Amazing! Good decision to settle here. Let’s hope the climate lives up to the landscape; I don’t know that I could get through another time of Winter Storms like the last one.

The very first day we arrived a woman from four parcels down came to our main gate with a sack of grain, a calling horn, and some seeds to start my own garden. She introduced herself as MiJa and told me that the top of this hill is the best place for a view of the orthixai range which was, after all, the whole reason we decided to relocate here when Winter Storms destroyed our last compound. Yes, I realize the Outerlands are famous for the intensity of Winter Storms but I grew up there and never went through anything like these, and I refused to bring Gerta up in that climate, even though the Outerlands orthixai are practically domesticated, they’re so tame. My Outerlands compound Leader had assured me the hunting was exceptionally good on this range, and if you don’t have access to fish everyone knows that orthixai eggs are the absolute best source of protein, plus their skins make the warmest and most waterproof clothing for Deep Muds and Winter Storms. Obviously, you must know that by now, since you’re wearing one of their coats.

Oh my gosh, yes, I wouldn’t have been able to make the move without the help of my AdIndal, especially since I was so fresh from acquisition. Of course, Hatcher could have helped more with diaper changes and getting things unpacked and put away, but he was busy with more pressing matters, like hunting for an orthixam that will keep us in protein until the moon returns. Thank the Leaders he was able to find and subdue an orthixam within just a week, and yes, it’s a cow. The calling horn that MiJa gave us did the trick. Fortunately, Hatcher had his fighting stick and poison darts with him or he’d never have been able to keep the bull away from the nest long enough to get the cow into the wagon. No, the poison won’t hurt him; it’s very weak, only enough to calm the bull down enough so he'd follow the wagon into the compound without attacking Hatcher, and it wears off within two passes of the sun. The cow had already laid once and Hatcher harvested the eggs so we’ll have enough to eat for a while, at least until Gerta is old enough to start eating solid food. I expect the cow to lay again any day now; meanwhile, Hatcher is taming the bull so we can get the cow to produce on a timeline that will be sustainable through the season of Deep Muds. Hopefully we’ll harvest enough eggs that I can smoke and pickle some to get us through Winter Storms as well. I’m counting on Winter Storms being milder here than in the Outerlands, please tell me it’s true? Oh, good. The taming process seems to be going pretty well, thanks for asking. The vocalizations are the hardest, but Hatcher learned the songs from the orthixai in the Outerlands for his last Assigner before she went to permasleep, so I’m sure he’ll be able to train the bull to sing to the cow on command.

You want to know about my experience so far with Hatcher? I've been his Assigner for, what is it? Sixteen moons now? don’t know what I’d do without him, really. He’s a good AdIndal, although I don’t like to call him that. I know that most people refer to their AdIndals as Aladdin, but to me the inference of magic is irrelevant. It’s also confusing to children, in my experience. I realize that Gerta is too young to understand magic, or anything else for that matter, other than that my nipple is either close enough to her mouth or it isn’t. I just think that calling the helpers “Aladdin” gives people a false sense of their having actual humanity or magical powers, or both, when obviously there’s nothing either human or magical about them. AdIndal is a pretty ingenious thing to call an AI robot to begin with, in my opinion, so I prefer to call him by what he is, an AdIndal, or else I just call him Hatcher, since his primary responsibility is to make sure we have eggs. At least, that’s what I’m calling him right now, while he’s tending to the orthixam cow until she stops laying, or until he can get the bull to sing on command, or both.

The air on this hilltop is really fresh. A bit bracing, actually. My skin is all goose-bumpy. The chill sometimes makes my old wounds hurt, particularly these scars on my neck. Oh, gosh, you don’t need to pretend you didn’t notice them, although I suppose I should thank you for your discretion. I realize you can’t look at me without seeing them, and the discoloration can put people off if they haven’t met me before.

Good Leader no, the merbintal had nothing to do with these scars. Can you not tell these scars are nearly as old as I am? And since the merbintal is about acquiring young, why would it leave me scars on my neck? Or were you just looking for a graceful way to get the scars into our conversation? Or are you actually trying to get me to divulge more details about the merbintal? Not very subtle of you, I must say. It must be hard for you, wondering what, exactly, the merbintal is. But if you can’t acquire young - - which, obviously, no man ever will - - you simply can’t fully grasp the merbintal, so you shouldn’t even try. All I can tell you is that it starts five weeks before and ends five weeks after acquisition and it is all completely safe and utterly sacred. The Adindals that are specially programmed are usually quite capable of providing all the help the mothers need. And yes, sometimes people die … but that’s beside the point. Plus, you already knew all of that, surely? Didn’t all you boys spend most of your Elevating Years speculating about everything relating to merbintal, from conception to acquisition? You don’t fool me for a second.

No, these scars are from long before… in fact, so long ago I barely remember the whole event. Sometimes I even wonder if I truly remember what happened, or if I’ve just reconstructed it in my mind from stories my cousins told me. Because they were there, you see, and they’re all older. Dusty archers? Really? When was the last time you read a history book? If you're writing for a newsletter you really do need a better grasp of the facts. No, these scars are not from a dusty archer attack, although my father did battle with them in the Earlier Times and he’ll vouch for their fierceness and their weaponry.

These scars are from roses. Yes, roses, I swear! I know people say they don’t exist, but I’m proof that they do and it’s a miracle that I lived through them all those years ago to tell you or anyone else. Look, you’re the one who insisted on coming on this trek with me so if you want to call me a liar there’s nothing I can do about it. But I’m the one with the scars, right? And I’m telling you that while it’s true that the roses are extremely rare and only found in the Hintermountains, and that they are very aggressive and can be lethal. Even so, they didn’t kill me, but they left their marks on my neck. Permanently. A conversation piece for people like you who have no shame in pretending not to stare at me and wonder what the hell happened and why is my head still attached, and am I even telling the truth about it? Don’t even bother apologizing. I’m used to it now, 32 years later, as curious as are the people brave enough to actually ask me what happened, it takes a lot of nerve for you to not believe me when I answer your questions. On the other hand, I came up through the Elevating Years being teased about my scars, so I no longer indulge in getting my feelings hurt. The other kids would wonder how my head didn’t come off, the wounds went so deep. No doubt it would’ve turned out otherwise if I’d been any older, since our healing powers decrease with time, but even at only six years old I was very lucky to get through the roses with all my limbs intact and my head as well.

Hey, I need to get back to the compound. It’s cold up here plus Gerta’s going to wake up from her nap any time and I’ll need to feed her. Are you coming?