Nymphaea

Chapter 31: Approach of civilizations

Stephen spent the rest of the day watching people’s daily routine. There wasn’t much he could do to help and even less people let him help (less equalling nothing but of course it was also difficult offering help if you didn’t speak the same language, neither in voice nor in gestures, and you didn’t want to ask Ayve for help to offer help). So he sat around and watched chunks of wood being turned into… -bowls, naturally, as well as wooden pearls and lids to already existing containers. Another nymph – a male one, actually – was busy spinning wool while another disentangled the raw material with something like a wooden comb. When Stephen wondered about the source for the wool, Ayve (who spent quite some time mixing herbs, chipping them and then rolling them up in leaves to thin cigarettes) explained that it came from yaks, as well as an occasional mouthful of milk.

“Do you hunt them?” Stephen enquired.

“Seldom. It happens since there are more of them than of other species left but we have agreed on only hunting if it’s necessary. It’s a difficult topic. Humans have turned these lands into a place where half of the species are endangered. Even some of the fishes are. The next time I’ll come here I’ll take some chickens with me, as last winter, including food for them. Hunting an outgrown yak is only sensible when the whole tribe is together. Which hardly ever happens these days.”

Stephen looked about. “You are deeper in the muck because of our” – meaning human – “exploitation of nature than you are letting on to, aren’t you?”

“What am I not letting on to?” Ayve replied.

“Well, so far you have let it sound as if you had a choice whether to cooperate or not…”

Ayve smirked. “Diplomacy. And pride. I will not cooperate under every condition. There are alternatives, though none I like.”

“-Such as…?”

Ayve put the first finished cigarette into his mouth, got up, went to the fire which burned low and lit it with a burning stick. Stephen noticed another man smoking as well but looking at Ayve as if he were committing a crime. It was the first time that Stephen noticed something like resentment or any kind of negative notion in one of the nymphs. Ayve sat down beside him again.

“Well, there are options like buying a relatively untouched piece of land and transferring the tribe there. One could found an NGO, something like an association for nature conservancy, and declare the area a private nature protection area. If it’s well organized, it might go unnoticed. Though I would prefer to have guards, guards of the other kind” – he motioned to the hand on which he wore his new ring lately, only that Stephen noticed that Ayve did not wear it at the moment – “if you get my meaning. That would be problem number one. Problem number two of course would be the transportation of my people to that new place. I don’t like exposing them to human technology and some, I guess, would bluntly refuse.” Ayve looked over to the other smoker with ostentation.

“And how come problem number one is a problem?” Stephen wondered.

Ayve smirked. “Well, for the same reason my mother went off screaming when she realized that she was carrying the spawn of the devil.” He shook his head, lowered his gaze and bit on his lower lip.

Stephen gave him a puzzled look.

“I told you how nymphs despise impulsive behaviour… violence, passion.”

Stephen nodded shortly. “Well, this other race is the embodiment of these traits. You saw them,” Stephen ignored the implications of this comment, “you experienced yourself the hard way how instinct driven and violent they can be.”

A chill went down Stephen’s spine as Ayve mentioned that, hinted at the information he had about is attacker.

“As far as the legend goes, our peoples once cooperated closer, traded, even interbred. It’s whispered that my line has some of their blood in it. Not that anyone would dare speak that out aloud. Especially not in the presence of my mother.” He grinned cynically and took another drag from the cigarette. “But I can hardly imagine how else the skill of mind influencing could have emerged in my father’s -I mean the man that raised me- my father’s ancestry. It’s not common for nymphs. But it’s much wider spread amongst my… genitor’s kind… or race, whatever.”

“So, what happened?” Stephen nudged him to go on. Ayve shrugged.

“The story goes they disputed about how to deal with the ever growing threat of human civilizations’ tendency to claim spacious areas completely for themselves and couldn’t settle on a mutual modus operandi. Our people wanted to avoid conflicts, rather move to other areas (as we did in the end), the others wanted to get the problem out of their way, wanted to defend their territory. That’s in their nature. They’re not as belligerent, as greedy, as some of your kind seem to be but they don’t like being pushed around either.”

“How come there have been no conflicts between ‘us’ and them, then?” Stephen dug deeper.

Ayve shrugged once more. “Lack of the right leader, I suppose. There were early fights but they were won by your kind, mostly. Which of course has added fuel to the fire. They’ve been laying low for a while, biding their time, waiting for the right moment but it didn’t come. And in the last dozen or so centuries they’ve just been lacking the right man at the top.”

That was unsettling. It meant a potential danger, didn’t it?

“Would a new leader change the course of action?”

Ayve puffed. And grinned mysteriously. “Not into the direction you fear. He knows better. But they have erected other pillars of power.”

“And those would be?” Stephen just loved to have to ask for every bit of information.

“Let’s say most of them don’t live in tribes somewhere in the woods.”

“Wow, that’s informative!” Stephen frowned.

Ayve smiled amusedly. And left it at that.

Stephen watched the lady who had so far been carving ornaments into the wooden pearls she had made binding those pearls into the little girl’s hair for a while. Then his gaze drifted back to the smoker (who had finished smoking by now but still looked disapprovingly at Ayve who had taken up his cigarette production again).

“Why does he stare at you like that anyway?”

Ayve replied without looking up to see who ‘he’ was. “It’s not appropriate for a man in my position to be smoking.” And as if on afterthought he added: “And he is not very fond of me talking so much with you either. Not to speak of leading you here, for that matter.”

Wasn’t it funny how Ayve’s responses always raised more questions than they answered?

“Why should you not smoke but he may? And what’s the problem of conversing with me?”

Ayve put a few cigarettes aside. “Do I really have to answer that second question? You’re a human. That’s problem enough.”

Stephen sighed. “Right. After thousand-five-hundred years. That seems justified.”

Ayve shot a side look at him. “What’s fifteen-hundred years to us? Not that the last incident of humans attacking nymphs lies that far back. It doesn’t matter that probably by now every human involved has died.”

Stephen wondered about that. Probably?

“He has been there and for him, watching mankind all this time, your whole kind is corrupted, the main reason for his misery,” Ayve spoke on.

“And it is inappropriate for a hunter to smoke because he needs all his senses to be on alert whereas the cigarette has a slightly calming effect. Not half as effective as the stuff that’s so popular with adolescents in your culture these days but it is still uncommon to smoke it if you still have an important position within the tribe. Smoking is only for old people, for people with aches and the like that need relaxation.”

Stephen nodded as sign of understanding.

“So it usually has more the value of a medicament for you. But… I mean, I know that cannabis is sometimes used to fight certain symptoms of medical conditions as well but smoking is never exactly healthy, is it?”

Ayve smiled weakly. “I don’t have a scientific survey to consult whether my mixture is good or not but I suppose you are right. There’s a reason I don’t smoke in the presence of children.”

“She’s sitting over there…,” Stephen pointed out that the girl was still present.

Ayve smirked. “Touché: not in front of children who are not socialised in the proper way; who don’t know when smoking is allowed and when not. She would never even think of smoking herself. Not that she had access to cigarettes.”

“-She could pinch yours,” Stephen chipped in.

That earned him a not very amused side-glance. “Nymphs don’t steal.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Now come on: isn’t that painted a little black and white?”

Ayve shook his head as if in disbelief of what he heard. “Stephen, believe me: we do not. That probably has a lot to do with our… or rather their socially acquired disrelish to get close to another person. That includes the person itself as well as the few things it owns, especially the hut and its contents. Again: if you think humans in modernized countries value their privacy and intimacy you have no idea. Our present living conditions have forced us to ease our self-imposed restrictions somewhat but still: pick-pocketing is beyond the ken of any nymph.”

Ayve started placing the cigarettes in a small wooden box.

“And you forget that the social penalties in a small community like ours are much tighter and more immediate than in your society. We depend on being able to fully trust everyone to not act selfish but to the benefit of the whole group.”

Stephen accepted that explanation.

“But still: you say she’s properly socialised but are you not a bad role model for her, breaking the conventions?”

Ayve smiled. “He thinks I’m breaking the conventions, by smoking although I still carry such an important task. I say, the only way I’m breaking the conventions is that I’m still carrying such an important task even though I have all the right in the world to be smoking,” he answered slyly.

Stephen looked at him in wonder. “Are you trying to say that you’re actually not fit for your task anymore? Why? Because of your age, or…?”

Ayve got up, fetched them two small bowls and filled them with tea. “I am indeed at a point in my life – age-wise – at which I should start thinking about stepping down and giving the task of leader to my successor. Most commonly my child, but another relative would do as well.” Ayve took a sip. “I’m sure you see the difficulty there.”

Stephen frowned. “Couldn’t perhaps your sister…?”

Ayve shook his head. “She carries some of the responsibility for this group already when I’m not here but I wouldn’t burden a mother with the full task, even if my father has managed both raising me and caring for the tribe. The task was different then. And she lacks important qualifications: she neither has the full amount of knowledge about rituals and healing although I’ve taught her the basics already nor does she have my connections to the world beyond ‘our borders’ (if we can even call this area ‘ours’). She’s definitely not suited to the task.”

“Seya?” Stephen proposed spontaneously.

Ayve shook his head. “We’re not closely related, he’s older than me and… a little naïve. As probably all of them are, lacking experience with your kind. I couldn’t pass on the task now. And it’s not that I’m really too old for the task. Neither have I started smoking just recently.”

Stephen sighed. “So, what makes you a qualified smoker and an unqualified leader?”

Ayve shrugged, taking another sip. “I’m dead by all rights. And my body has quite an opinion about what I should better not do. Sitting around in the cold like this is definitely on the checklist. My health condition has improved remarkably with the introduction of central heating and comforts like that but I really can’t stay more than a few days out here in this season.”

Stephen’s face showed concern. “Why, what happens?”

Ayve shrugged. “My lungs don’t like it, neither do my joints.”

Stephen frowned perplexed. He hadn’t noticed a thing. He would have loved to seek physical contact with Ayve now but he knew he mustn’t.

Ayve called out to the girl in his native language and she hurried over to him, grabbing a stick on the way. They started writing signs into the earth. It seemed as if Ayve was teaching her. That obviously meant their conversation was over.

On the other hand it was nice to see someone being enthusiastic for once. It was so hard to look behind people’s curtain here. Everyone was polite when directly approached and usually neutral looking when busy otherwise but it was nearly impossible to detect what people truly thought. The girl seemed eager to learn something new. Her eyes were wide, soaking up Ayve’s every word and gesture. How dull it must be to be the only person her age in the settlement. Even if Ayve emphasized that nymph children were not comparable to human children, Stephen thought that everyone needed another person to share your present views on the world, on life. Someone who was on the same intellectual level, who felt the same. A person you could discover the world with together, not just a teacher.

Now that he thought about it, Stephen believed that the child had probably waited for Ayve to call upon her. She had been lingering close-by the whole morning and had immediately jumped up when he had directed his attention to her. Luckily – well, perhaps because he knew – Ayve spent hours patiently explaining things to her, showing her new signs and making her practice them and answering questions she posed. Stephen had been even more delighted if he’d understood what they were saying.

Such as it was, he let them interact without disturbance. But when the two got up and moved to the back of the cave, Ayve carrying a torch, Stephen trailed behind. And he could bet that another pair of eyes was following all of them. The girl started naming out the different items and goods stored in the cave and writing down their names in the dirt, sometimes being patiently corrected by Ayve. She practically jumped around in excitement when Ayve told her something and then went back to the fire. Well, for a nymph girl practically jumping around in excitement translated clapping her hands without actually producing a true sound and smiling up at Ayve.

“What have you told her?” Stephen asked as they sat down again.

“I said she could prepare the tea for dinner,” Ayve replied. “She has a good knowledge of plants. It’s not customary to teach every young nymph in herbal lore but since there are so few young people I need to use the potential that is there. In the past there were enough people to develop specialized knowledge, to divide the people in settlements into groups with diverting tasks but right now it’s more important to give a broad basic education instead of a highly specialized to make sure that everything that needs to be done will be seen to.”

Some time later, the girl came with several bunches of herbs and other utensils she needed for the preparations and followed Ayve’s directions carefully. Stephen was glad that at the same time dinner preparations were started. His stomach had protested several times during the day, not quite getting the point of not having lunch.

When the girl had finished, the food was not yet ready, so she remained seated with them. It didn’t go past Stephen’s attention that she sneaked a few short glances at him. Then she whispered something to Ayve as if Stephen wasn’t supposed to hear it (despite his given inability to understand her).

Ayve eyed Stephen and proceeded to explain. Whatever it was.

“Would you mind turning up your sleeve?” he suddenly requested. Stephen answered him with a puzzled face. The girl tried to suppress a shy giggle.

Ayve smiled. “It’s your beard,” he explained, motioning towards the section of his own face where men usually grew bards.

Stephen frowned and touched his chin. Right: there were a few stubbles. He hadn’t thought about shaving this morning. He still looked nonplussed. “You can hardly call that a beard.”

“That’s not the point,” Ayve countered. “She has never seen hair growing at this place.”

Right. Now that he thought about it, Stephen had never seen Ayve shaving. And he’d always wondered about (or admired) the smooth, hairless skin of his. Stephen shoved up his sleeve so his lower arm was ready for scrutiny. Being blond, his body hair was not that eye-catching and for a man it really was modest but in the cold it stuck out enough to be seen even from the distance the girl kept. Ayve made a remark and she giggled again.

After dinner, the two of them visited the ‘bathroom’ again. Since there didn’t happen to hang a mirror from a tree or something, Stephen asked Ayve for aid with the shaving. It felt damn good to have Ayve completely to himself for a few moments, being cared for by him.

Stephen enjoyed the touch of Ayve’s fingers on his jaw as he directed his head to move so he could reach every inch of Stephen’s bearded skin, he enjoyed the soft grazing of the razor on his face. It felt even more intimate to have Ayve do this for him in this situation than it would usually have. It was the first touch in perhaps thirty hours.

Some time in the night Stephen awoke to find his trousers tighter than usual. He drew in the cold air that surrounded him and freed himself from the blankets in the hope that the coldness would ease down his need. But the contrast of the cold air against his heated loins made things only worse. He turned his head and eyed Ayve. Unfortunately, the tent was so well screened against the outside that it was pitch black inside. Stephen couldn’t see the man he so longed for.

He lay in the dark and listened for any sounds outside for a while. From the other end of the row of huts there came the soft sounds of someone snoring. Well, if that wasn’t something. Stephen had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from snorting with laughter. Finally something ‘human’.

Offhandedly, Stephen started slowly crawling on all fours in the direction Ayve should be bedded, feeling his way with his hands. He suddenly felt warm skin under his. Involuntarily he licked his lips and breathed out heavily. Stephen held Ayve’s inanimate hand with his right and with his left reached out to feel Ayve’s long mane. When he had found it, he gently pulled it back from his lover’s ear.

“Ayve,” he whispered with need in his voice. He slipped under Ayve’s cover and ground his desire against the slender man’s bottom. Goodness, the knowledge of being so close to the person who could give him release and yet not getting what he longed for made him nearly desperate. Ayve’s curves felt so good… If only he would let Stephen burry himself in them. The idea was overwhelmingly enticing.

Stephen pulled Ayve closer, pressing his face into Ayve’s hair against his shoulder, Stephen’s hips minutely moving, his hand slipping under the man’s shirt, feeling the smooth and yet scar-stricken surface of his chest. So warm, moving in the slow rhythm of sleep induced flat breathing. Stephen’s hand moved lower. Fortunately the button offered no resistance. “Ayve,” he murmured once more.

He found Ayve’s member perfectly relaxed. Three buttons later, Stephen had freed his own and rubbed it against Ayve’s bare behind. He called out Ayve’s name once more.

A gentle hand was placed on his head. I’m awake Stephen, I’m awake…

Relief flooded Stephen. Tainted with embarrassment for molesting Ayve like that. He ignored that impulse and pulled Ayve around to press his lips on Ayve’s. Teasingly soft fingertips stroked his behind and send cold chills up Stephen’s spine while he deepened the kiss. He reached for Ayve’s still inanimate penis and started stroking it to life.

It was exciting not to see his lover’s facial expression, to rely completely on their touches.

“I want you so,” Stephen breathed.

When he figured that Ayve was ready, Stephen moved to change positions.

Do you trust me? Ayve asked, hovering over Stephen.

“Yes,” was the blond’s reply, without a second of hesitation.

Something wet was applied to his anus and then he felt the smooth touch of Ayve’s glans. He teased him, only moving slightly in and then back. A hand was placed next to Stephen’s head and Ayve bent over him, carefully measuring his movements, accustoming Stephen’s behind to being widened, being entered. Stephen moaned when Ayve finally moved deeper inside. All the tension that had built up in him seemed to melt away.

He loved it when Ayve nuzzled against his cheek, pressing him slowly down onto the hide, holding him closely, moving ever so little, just relishing the feeling of Stephen’s tight body enclosing him. The tips of their tongues fenced with each other playfully, making his head dizzy.

Stephen clung to Ayve’s behind, pressing Ayve down into him, breathing raggedly. Somehow it didn’t matter that they didn’t proceed, that they didn’t move to climax. His member was painfully hot, alert. But Stephen just loved being so close to Ayve, hardly an inch on his body that wasn’t covered by his lover and definitely no inch that wasn’t screaming for more, that wasn’t screaming ‘never stop!’. It was perfect.

After what seemed an eternity and yet not nearly enough time, Ayve shifted so that they lay on their sides. He started moving. Stephen ground back into him, Ayve’s soft, demanding lips on his neck, his throat. He trembled as Ayve started stroking his penis, brushing his testicles every now and again. Again he teased him, putting in breaks so Stephen did not climax as he so wanted. It was sweet torture. But the journey was the reward, right?

He fell back, panting, against Ayve’s chest when his desire had finally flown out of him. It even felt good to feel Ayve’s hand welcome it, spreading it over his member. His eyes were watery.

Stephen took his time to enjoy the warmth, the bliss after, until thoughts slowly re-entered his mind.

“Why is it always me?” he asked. “Why do I as good as always have to make the first move?”

Ayve let his fingernails lightly graze over Stephen’s upper arm. Because I’m an awfully passive person when it comes to such things. You grow into that demeanour when you are not accepted the way you are. You stop being open, you stop approaching people because your unbalancedly negative experience has not provided you with the tools to evaluate how you are perceived by others.

Stephen moved back into Ayve, putting an arm around his upper leg, dreading the idea of such inability to know your own worth, even more in Ayve, who seemed so strong, so determined. “Don’t you know by now how much you mean to me?”

Ayve kissed Stephen gently on his shoulder. Rationally knowing facts and actually feeling them are two different things, he observed. But yes, even though I’m not yet fully aware of what this between us is emotionally, I don’t fear to approach you. Of course not. It’s just that I am so used to going about my life that way, taking things as they come rather than making them come, that I’m not even aware that this might irritate you.

Stephen turned around. “It’s not just about me.” He frowned. “I mean, don’t you have certain needs? You say you’ve had a handful of short affairs in something like fifteen hundred years, and even when we’re a couple you spend weeks and months in a row away. Here, or wherever you are. I…” His frown deepened. “I can’t grasp how anyone can live like that. Without someone to confide in, without someone to give you physical and emotional warmth. The thought alone to have to live like that makes me anxious!”

Ayve looked at him as if he didn’t know what to say. He trailed Stephen’s jaw line with his left hand. I’ve been growing up like that; I know how to handle it.

Stephen seized his hand. “But you’re not happy!”

Ayve smiled meekly. I never said I was.

Stephen shook his head and darted forward to hug Ayve and satisfy his own need for Ayve’s lips.

They rested in each other’s embrace. Stephen slowly drifted off into a light sleep again. Then he felt movement under him. The amount of skin on his decreased.

His hand tightened around Ayve’s arm and his eyes flew open. A dim light now cleaved into the hut and enabled Stephen to at least make out the faint outlines of Ayve’s body. His lover had sat up and seemed about to leave the tent.

“Stay,” Stephen demanded firmly. “I’m not yet through with you.” That didn’t sound right, he wished he’d found more adequate words to express that he wanted Ayve to share this moment with him a little longer but he couldn’t help that now.

He saw the silhouette bending forward and felt Ayve’s hand on the back of his head pulling him into a demanding kiss. Sensuous, making his lips and tongue tingle in pleasure. Stephen attempted to fall back and pull Ayve down with him. But Ayve refused that offer and ended the kiss.

I promised to go fishing this morning. You can accompany us if you feel up to it but it’s a long way and we need to move quickly to be back till evening.

“If you think I’m up to it, I’ll join you. I can’t stand sitting around and living on your people’s expenses without being able to contribute anything.” The press of warm lips on his cheek was Ayve’s response before he started rummaging for his clothes.

A shift took place in Stephen’s mind while he copied Ayve’s actions. So far his impression had been that the more he pressed Ayve for something, the more Ayve slipped from him. Now he wasn’t so sure about that. He still knew that he mustn’t try to confine Ayve but the last hours had revealed to him that Ayve might even welcome being… guided sometimes. Perhaps it was cleverer in some situations to take up a more active, demanding position. Without that, Stephen was sure, he’d never have gotten through to Ayve. Only approaching Ayve again and again had finally convinced Ayve to give their relationship a chance. He should have discerned the patterns of Ayve’s actions - respectively passiveness - earlier. It was so obvious all of a sudden.

When he thought about it, Ayve had seemed to enjoy being ‘hunted’. He had not immediately told Stephen to leave when as a teenager he had sought comfort in Ayve’s nightly embrace. Goodness, thinking about it now filled Stephen with embarrassment. Only the foolish courage of an adolescent would have made him crawl into the bed of a person who was so distanced like Ayve. He hadn’t known him at all. Not that he regretted a thing.

And then their encounter four years later in Dresden. Of course, Ayve had been the one to show himself in the first place. Stephen still didn’t know why he’d been there, now that he thought of it. But Stephen had been the one who had initiated the exchange of intimacies, though Ayve had shown no resistance. But exchange was too large a word, wasn’t it? Ayve hadn’t asked for any satisfaction of his own needs.

He never truly had. Ayve had always treated the whole affair like a game. The man had never acknowledged that he might truly have a need for Stephen himself. There had been no hiding of pleasure yet he had never admitted to the importance of Stephen in his own life. Ayve had underlined the limits of their relationship several times. Had that strictness, this rejection, been directed at Stephen or at Ayve himself?

No matter what, lately Ayve had changed. Stephen saw that Ayve wanted something deeper. That Ayve struggled against himself, had to force himself with every step he took towards Stephen. He needed help in this. Hadn’t he even told Stephen so? He needed a guide. At least in emotional matters. In the question of how to identify his own needs (which sounded ridiculous – a man his age still unaware of his own needs!) and how to proceed in sating them. Ayve had spent too much time in denial.

After morning toilet and a meagre breakfast, Ayve, Stephen, a nymph man and a nymph lady prepared for work. All of them each carried a huge basket on the back. Stephen’s contained his blankets and toilet articles since Ayve had hinted they might spend the night away. The nymphs indeed moved much quicker than Ayve and Stephen had done on their journey and exhibited a remarkable agility. A few times their companions had to wait for them while Ayve showed Stephen how to take certain obstacles without slipping out on wet, mossy stones or stepping into the den of an animal.

“Did I slow you down much?” Stephen murmured to Ayve when they’d finally reached a lake of impressive size and the other pair had departed to fish further up the shore whilst they were headed in the opposite direction.

Ayve shook his had in a reassuring gesture. We’re still well in time.

They went on for another few minutes until Ayve finally halted and put his basket down. Stephen followed suit and then took a few sips of the cold but fresh water of the lake. When he rose again and turned around, Ayve was gone. Or so he thought for a second.

Then a number of strange… sticks… hovered in front of his face. He looked up and saw Ayve sitting on a branch, obviously having fetched these things – three sticks were joined with a flat piece of wood - out of the tree and handing them down to him now. Stephen took them and put them down, accepting long, pointed, thin poles next.

Then Ayve jumped down and landed easily on the ground. Stephen suppressed any remarks. He didn’t see how one could climb that tree in the first place since there were no low branches. Yet, that obviously was the clue: the nymphs hid their equipment up there and if it had been easily accessible it wouldn’t have been a very safe hiding place.

“So, what’s this for? The poles perhaps to catch the fish?” Stephen concluded since they hadn’t brought any nets or fishing rods. “But what’s the rest?”

Ayve took one of those – it was one with shorter posts and therefore looked nearly like a three-legged table - and went to the water. Stephen noticed that at this point, the ground of the lake declined swiftly.

Ayve examined the ground for a moment and then rammed the posts into the water. Only the flat wooden piece that clearly served as a platform remained above the water. He looked at Stephen enquiringly as if to ask whether he got the point now and then stepped onto the platform. I need the next one. Stephen looked about and extinguished the second shortest poles.

The platforms eventually reached perhaps eight metres into the lake. After the first two had been positioned, Stephen had had to step onto them to hand Ayve the rest. He hadn’t really trusted this construction but it had lasted. Looking to the other side of the shore confirmed that the others were doing the same. Only that, from what Stephen could descry, they had erected their platforms with wider gaps between them. Ayve had probably guessed that Stephen wouldn’t be comfortable anyway and had refrained from setting the posts far enough apart to have to jump from one to the next as the nymphs in the distance did.

Finally, they each stood on a small platform with a pointed pole in their hand. Within a few hours, Ayve had a respectable number of fishes speared and securely put away in his basket. Stephen watched him attentively and tried to copy his technique but the results were meagre. Well, he had at least secured his own dinner.

In what Stephen guessed to be the early afternoon, they removed the platforms again and hung them one by one, each secured with leather straps, back into the tree.

As they moved back to the point where they had parted with the others, they picked up spare wood from the ground and filled the second basket with it. For some reasons Ayve told Stephen not to collect coniferous wood. When they reached their destination, Stephen noticed that the others also arrived with one basket full of fish and another basket holding fuel for a fire. In other words: Ayve had caught enough fish to cover for Stephen’s lack of skill and no one was even able to tell who had caught what. It shouldn’t have pleased him that such measures were necessary but Stephen was still glad.

They went the same way back on which they had come for a while but then they left the path and climbed the mountain that had flanked it all the way from the lake. They reached another cave, smaller this time and uninhabited, or so it seemed. But it had clearly been used before. One of them started building a fire, the rest applied a mixture of herbs and salt to their catch, pinned the fishes to hooks which were then lifted to the ceiling with a forked pole where they were hung up on an old, blackened frame which was jammed between the rocky walls there.

The next hours were spent with fuelling the fire with hardwood, at the same time making sure that it didn’t burn high – they only needed the smoke after all. When Stephen asked Ayve if it wasn’t necessary to heat the fish, Ayve shook his head.

“It keeps longer this way, actually. The ham you buy in the supermarket is preserved similarly.”

“And where do you get that salt from?”

“The water that flows through the salty rock absorbs it and we cook the water then to gain the salt. It’s a tiresome process but we manage to at least obtain enough to preserve our fish. That’s another reason why we don’t regularly hunt big animals: without salt the smoking is less efficient and we don’t have enough. In summer we don’t smoke the fish but go fishing more regularly instead.”

In the night they took turns watching the fire.

*

On the eve of their sixth day in the nymph settlement, Ayve proposed to leave the next morning. Stephen was surprised and assured Ayve that they needn’t leave because of him. But Ayve said they’d gain nothing more out of this if they stayed longer.

That night Stephen won the impression that there might be another reason. So far he had seen little of the physical problems Ayve had mentioned. Yet when he woke up in the darkness and silence of the night, there was a strange sound mingled with the even breathing of the man beside him.

As he crept over and rested his head on the lean chest, he heard a faint rattling. Suddenly he felt Ayve’s hand on his head, stroking his hair gently. For a man who was awake, that breathing was way to flat. Was he controlling it? Keeping himself from expanding his lungs too far as that might hurt more? Now Stephen was glad they were returning to properly heated rooms. That knowledge, that sound, made him uneasy.

***

Comments, critical annotations and suggestions are welcome.