Beats

[Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.]

. . .

The first drops of rain quenched the deep thirst of the earth. The birds twittered and bathed in their perches and leaf bathes. The bright yellow feathers were deep and vibrant in the slick sheen of water. Lan hastened to block off the heavy flow of rain from his crop even as everything flooded away. Even as he cupped the flourishing buds in his hand, he watched as their soil became a murky soup. He’d quickly sent the smaller children back to the village. In the heavy rain, the children might easily succumb to the illness in the air. Now he spent several hours wading through the rain in hopes of saving what he could. Those that offered help he sent back and forth from the village with the precious bowls of his plants, the bottoms split with quick stabs of blades to ensure water draining. Thin ropes and cloth held the bowls together so bits and halves of pottery didn’t fall apart. The upper edges of the crop struggled against the wash of water, some of the smaller plants rushed past their roots to be buried in the muck and rain.

Lan pushed back his hair again, the morning began in a hectic blur, Ero waking him with the insistent press of lips. The sound of rain, shot through him and he dressed quickly only to rush into the grey light. His cloak soaked quickly, shedding water but becoming a heavy burden on his back. He let the cloak sop to the ground, his dark hair clinging to his paler flesh, slick with rain. His arms and legs were covered in dirt as he slipped and slid in the mud. He watched two of the rarer plants sink below the surface of a rush of water. Lan pushed the wall of stones higher and fished one of the pants out, mourning the loss of the second.

The battle against the rain was long. Overhead the sun mocked him as it shifted through the heavy clouds above. Trudging toward the village, his wet cloak dragged through the mud. Lan returned with the last of his saved crop. Two heavy pots, on under each arm, weighed him down. Lan let worried hands pull them from his care, as the boy traveled with Lan back to Phena’s hut. He thanked them with tired eyes and sank to the stone base of the hut.

Surrounded by the pots of his saved crop, Lan breathed a sigh that most of it could be saved. The sail hadn’t been washed too much, but there would be no hope of saving the rest. Perhaps in the high lands he might find a dryer soil source for what he saved. Shaking the weariness form his head, Lan turned his head toward the jungle in hopes of finding natural fibers to weave into stronger rope to hang the small plants. The rain cleaned him of the soil and plastered his long hair to his flesh. The leaves were like rubber in his hands as he fought to break the flexible bonds. With a sharp jerk of his arm he ripped the leaves free, the white marrow of the leaves poured out and in his thirst and exhaustion he licked at the sweet trail. Behind him the wet slosh of feet pushed through the mud.

“You’re soaking wet.” Ero pulled Lan back into his chest.

“So are you.”

A press of Ero lips to Lan’s neck urged Lan to tilt his head with a passionate groan.

“Come to the fire tonight.”

“I have work.”

“I want to see you in the firelight.”

“I have to finish with the crop.” Lan pulled away and stripped more long leaves from the bush wrapped around the tree.

“The village wants to see their healer. “Ero purred. “I want to see my healer in the firelight.”

Lan nodded dumbly. “I will be there.”

“they look beautiful against your skin.” Ero’s fingers brushed over the teeth at his neck.

The deep tones of the hunter’s voice pushed aside the warning in his mind. All that passion and desire aimed toward him, still caught Lan by surprise. Lan turned and pressed a wet kiss to Ero’s lips. “I have work to finish before the fire.”

Ero nodded, and pulled Lan close for another brutal kiss. “Finish quickly. We’ll work on my healing after the fire.”

“Change the bandages before you go to fire. They need to dry.”

Ero nodded and the footsteps retreated back into the deep of the jungle.

The slick heavy leaves snapped with fresh wet spring of leaves. The plush leaves shielded Lan from the worst of the rain. The village was near empty. The inhabitants burned small warm fires sending tuffs of smoke up through the double-eave of the roofs. The sight bought a happy chirp to his heart beat. Phena waited for him at the entrance to their hut.

“You send all the boys in and go play in the rain yourself.”

“I had work to do Phena. I can’t let the village suffer because of rain.’

She smiled and left him on the stone and dirt steps of the hut. Lan sat under the overhang and pulled the leaves into the thin threads before braiding them together. The rope grew in slow steady increments. The sticky fibers fused together as he braided the long rope together. The weave of the robe grew longer and longer.

The tap of nimble fingers on his shoulder, turned him around.

“Eat.” Phena pushed the bowl toward Lan and smiled as he brought it to his lips.

“You should stay inside. The baby will be here soon. The rain could hurt it.” Lan smelled the rich broth in the bowl, small hunks of hardy meat floated within the depths of the bowl. It was surprisingly smoky and sweet. The smooth taste washed over him. “Thank you.”

“Beautiful charm.” Phena smiled at his neck.

A heavy blush crossed over Lan’s cheeks and he quickly unknotted the teeth and pulled the leather from his neck.

Phena raised an eyebrow.

“Please don’t mention it to anyone.”

“I’m not so free tongued as to cause problems.”

“Thank you.”

“How much of your crop survived.” Phena looked out over the gathering of smashed bowls and pitifully drowned plants.

“Most of it. I’m hoping they’ll continue to grow and I’ll be able to plant seeds next growth season.”

“Where did you learn this?”

“It’s just a guess that it will work, but the upper circle grew hanging gardens in my village.”

“How did that work?”

Lan smiled and closed his eyes. “My village is not on the ground, we live in the canopy and suspend bridges across the huts. The higher up your hut, the more sunlight you have and in the top circles they hang huge hollowed trees, like canoes with holes in the bottoms, and plant flowers. Sometimes these gardens stretched from one heart tree to another.”

“That must be beautiful.”

“The ones that I saw were.”

“You did not see them all.”

“In my village people did not travel higher then their own hut unless it was to trade or pray.”

“So now you will have the first hanging garden here in Naltuk territory.”

“Nothing that grand, but if I can create a netting and weave the pots together, I can hang all of the netting from the eave of the roof and the water will drain through it all.” Lan frowned at the thought that some might see it as a rejection of their traditions, “I should find a way to do all this on the ground.”

“Why? It’s a good idea.”

“Yes, but it is the way of my people and not the way of the Naltuk.”

“We are your people Lan. Hang your crops. Some may look at you with strange eyes but none will think ill of you.”

Lan stared down at the long rope in his hands and slowed his speed. Perhaps this hadn’t been the most inspired of plans. “You should go inside Phena. I don’t want you catching ill.”

“Yes, yes. I hate to think what you’ll tell the child after it’s born.”

“After its born you can play long and hard, until then I have to worry for both of you.”

“The God and Goddess have looked after me this long.”

“And They have trusted me to look after you as well.” Lan stood and handed Phena his now empty bowl. “Even I will be in after I finish my work.”

She smiled, “Are you going to the fire tonight?”

“Yes.”

Phena turned around, surprised by the response. The look in her eyes spoke volumes but she didn’t actually say a word as she slipped passed the greenery flap to the hut.

Lan let his hands continue their work even as his mind wandered away. The fire would come quickly with the sun setting somewhere behind the clouds. The only real sign of night falling came as the darkening grey overhead. The long rope twisted, curled, and rolled over and over again at his feet. If Phena questioned his motives for going to the fire, what hope did he have of hiding his reasons from the rest of the tribe? A long sigh passed through his dry lips. The layer of water over his skin and soaked into his wrapping cooled further, bringing shivers to his spine before he conceded he’d need to warm his body near the fire regardless of the invitation. He leaned over the length of the robe and pushed his dark hair behind his ears. With a long sigh he quickly braided back his hair, knowing how poorly it must look in the tangled and wet state.

The green rope length threaded through the supports of the roof eave and after a series of knots, he was nearly certain that he could hang up some of his plats and perhaps he’d need to find a way to build up from the ground for most of the pots. Lan hung his head and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to work for his whole crop. He’d spent all day in the rain and muck banking on saving the crop only to have it die anyway. The pit in his chest expanded and after the first hammock-like rope was hung and the four pots of his rarest herbs were placed inside, Lan ceded that everything else would most likely be a loss. Perhaps he could trade his cloak or boots to someone in the tribe for something he could trade with the Amba for stores. It would mean the two day’s travel to and from his village, but it was hope. The thought of seeing and maybe even trading with his sister brought the first smile genuine smile to his lips in days; that would be good.

Piling his crop closely together, Lan tried to stack the sturdiest of the pots, together only to have them shift and split apart.

“A pair of stilts might work.”

Lan turned to the figure behind him to find Rosh leaned behind him.

“Rosh, it is good to see you walking so well.”

“Yes, you’ve done an excellent job healing me, Lan.”

The two men exchanged handshakes with tentative smiles.

“I was saying that if you use stilts, like how we buile huts you might be able to suspend the plants inside the stilts.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Here.” Rosh used his leaning stick to draw in the mud. “If you put two branches like this… and cross two between them and do that again than bind them together with another two crossed branches you can cross inside the stilts and put your pots inside. The water will still drain but you won’t depend on the roof to hold it all.”

“And I can let them grow like that.”

“We only use stilts in the center of the huts and weave around them, but you could eaves around the stilts to keep them strong.”

Lan tried to imagine whether or not it would work. “Doesn’t that take a long time.”

“No. It takes a long time to build the foundation of the hut. The rest of it goes up in two sun’s time. With things this small you could do a few every sun and in a quarter moon you’ll be finished.”

“Will you show me how?”

Rosh nodded.

“What do you want in trade?” In his head, Lan tried to size up what the teaching would cost him in goods. He had the clock and boots but Rosh already had boots and the cloak was wet and heavy in the rain season.

“No trade.” Rosh waved away the thought. “The work is something you would be taught when we build your hut next summer season.”

The awkward silence pervaded the conversation, the edges of words unspoken drifted into the gap between speakers.

“Will you be at fire tonight?” Rosh shifted from one foot to the other and back again.

“Yes.” Lan sighed, “I need the warmth after today.”

With a thoughtful nod, Rosh replied. “I will see you at fire, Healer.”

A wave of the hand and Lan watched the hunter leave.

. . .

The day wore on for the pack of hunters that crouched through the trees. In the heavy water on the ground, there was worry that snakes would begin to travel the water and lay low in the trees. The snakes might be good trophies for younger hunters, but larger game was desired while it still might be found. Ero growled and moved from his perch for the evening. The men would be tired after the long day and the grey sky darkened quickly. With a loud howl, Ero let the hunting party know that the lead hunter returned to the village. Answering howls told him the rest of the party would return as well. The thought of the dry hut waiting for him nearly brought a groan to Ero’s lips. His wounds stung with the cold soak of rain and he was eager to take Lan’s advise and get dry. His other enticement brought a feral smile to his lips, Lan was beautiful in the firelight if the feast taught him anything. This time the God would not be between them and Lan would return to their hut as he should have all along. Ero stoked a hand over his stomach as he walked on toward the village, the spear in his hand pointing the way home. The mud squished beneath his hide boots, coating the smooth hides in the slick, traction-less muck.

Villagers crowded in hut entrances and chatted under the eaves of their roofs. The hunting party made there way in with nothing to carry, meaning a night of eating yesterday’s hunt. It was nothing the village would consider a hardship for a night, but the longer they went without fresh meat the more they would dip into their stores. Ero’s brows crossed as he considered moving to the higher hunting grounds… they’d risk running into the Susek if they pushed too far into the hills and mountains but he couldn’t risk losing hunt without an attempt. Ero pushed past the flap of his hut. He unlaced the wet boots quickly and let them slosh next to the fire pit where they would warm and dry he quickly sparked some kindling and sat near the warmth. The threat of the Susek moved away from his mind as he pulled the cold wraps from his waist and lay out in the warmth his furs.

The fire heated up the hut quickly and Ero lay back against the furs and stared up at the roof. Before the sunrise, Lan would return with him to this spot. The thought alone made him ache to remove his wrap and feel the soft skin of his lover. Tonight would be the first night of the rain; the drums would pound out the pace of the night and the priests would chant and sing to the God and Goddess for a brief rain season and the quick return of the sun season. At the feast of the God, Lan’s body danced in the firelight, his hair a shiny reflection of the orange embers and his pale skin orange with the heart of the flame. The sight was beautiful, yes; but that could not compare to Lan himself dancing and enjoying feast. With a hungry groan, Ero waited for the cloth to dry, and the fire to be lit.

. . .

Lan walked toward the mass of the village in the still damp clock. Phena dried what she could by they hut fire, but still the rain seemed to cover everything. The villagers talked loudly and moved toward the center of the village with eager, wet footsteps. The soft drum beats began to travel through the hut lines. Under it the heavy bass of the larger drums pulsed beneath the lighter drums pushing the pace and urging the softer drums to new heights. The rain fell softly and insistently even over the high warm fires. Lan followed the movement of villagers to the center of the celebration. At the edge of the large gathering, Lan could make out Tetonia standing tall and proud in the circle of fires. His voice raised up in a chant before his cape-like robe whirled in the fire light, his arms reaching out and over the flames and he span in a circle. The people around him shouted and howled with glee and began to join into the dance, even as the rain trickled in from overhead.

A warm hand gripped his tightly and pulled him into the circle of dance. Immediately, Lan’s head shot up to see the broad grin on Ero’s face before the hunter threw back his head and howled out his pride. Lan’s feet scrambled to keep up with the circle at first, but he quickly caught the beat and found sounds of triumph escaping his own lips.

The flickering light glowed in Ero’s eyes and he looked over to Lan’s face; the light of the fire reverberated in every strand of his dark hair. The sight of his companion dancing among his people, warmed more than the close circle of the fire. Overhead the cold drops of water fell down to slide over Ero’s spine along with the heat of his flesh. With a flick of his hair, Lan exposed the pale, naked line of his neck and Ero felt his feet catch off beat. With a tug he led a laughing and panting Lan away from the large center fire to a smaller nearby circle of villagers. The fire was bright and lovely against his cold skin. Ero leaned down to the smaller body in front of him, his lips inches from the shell of Lan’s ear. “Why aren’t you wearing my claim?”

“I can’t here amongst the village.”

“Wear it always.” Ero growled.

“I do.” Lan whispered back, his hand found Ero’s discretely and brushed the braid of teeth along Ero’s wrist.

Ero’s fingers found the braid and he quickly tugged the knot free completely. He pulled the braid into his hand and with gentle fingers brushed aside Lan’s hair. “Wear it here.” The knot secured it soundly against Lan’s throat. Before he pressed a gentle kiss into Lan’s shoulder, Ero let his fingers drift down Lan’s spine.

“This village can’t see this.”

“I want to know that you’re mine. I want to see you relish in being with me.”

“I can’t have you Ero.” Lan hissed, “I know that.”

“Let’s go back to my hut.” Ero sighed. “No one will see the braid there.”

Lan blushed and nodded slowly. Once inside Ero’s hut he could pretend that there would be nothing but the night. Until dawn broke, the reality of his lost and dying crops, the worrisome wait for Phena’s baby and the dangers of the rain season faded away completely.