With one arm draped over herself and the other clutching her ration with but two fingers only, Zamara looked down at the distasteful bit of food and struggled with the growling of her stomach as well as the obligation to this kindly shaman. A fat, dead maggot garnished the side she stared at and with futile childishness she plucked it from the bar so that she could properly pretend the rest did not have more waiting for her to crunch into. She shuddered, then took a bite.
Her face immediately scrunched up as the dry thing spread across her tongue and she hurried to be done with it. Zamara gagged after another chomp and, despite her gnawing hunger, encountered trouble in finishing it. After it was reduced to crumbs upon the ground the disgusted dancer crawled her way over toward the water to wash the taste away as best she could.
As she lay prone, she listened to Chaele. And then she looked up to the landscape she spoke of. Suddenly, it was as if Zamara were seeing it for the first time since she had wandered into this wilderness, filtered through the eyes of the shaman.
A cacophony of noises was the first thing she noticed. The songs of birds mingled with the distant croaks of frogs and the constantly chirping and buzzing of a thousand different varieties of insects. The trees withstood their shapes in the failing light but seemed to take on a more sentinel-like appearance, as though they were guards upon the horizon offering shelter to any that could claim it. The creek, she realized, was fed by a larger river uphill and split off to generate dozens of other similar paths. The blood in the veins of this living, breathing organism.
Slowly Zamara pushed herself back into a sitting position and turned her gaze back to Chaele, then began to assault her own lip beneath a nervous chewing. ”I…have nowhere to go. And I can’t go back there…you are right about every bit of it.”
The pause after she fell silent was pregnant and hopeful.
Her face immediately scrunched up as the dry thing spread across her tongue and she hurried to be done with it. Zamara gagged after another chomp and, despite her gnawing hunger, encountered trouble in finishing it. After it was reduced to crumbs upon the ground the disgusted dancer crawled her way over toward the water to wash the taste away as best she could.
As she lay prone, she listened to Chaele. And then she looked up to the landscape she spoke of. Suddenly, it was as if Zamara were seeing it for the first time since she had wandered into this wilderness, filtered through the eyes of the shaman.
A cacophony of noises was the first thing she noticed. The songs of birds mingled with the distant croaks of frogs and the constantly chirping and buzzing of a thousand different varieties of insects. The trees withstood their shapes in the failing light but seemed to take on a more sentinel-like appearance, as though they were guards upon the horizon offering shelter to any that could claim it. The creek, she realized, was fed by a larger river uphill and split off to generate dozens of other similar paths. The blood in the veins of this living, breathing organism.
Slowly Zamara pushed herself back into a sitting position and turned her gaze back to Chaele, then began to assault her own lip beneath a nervous chewing. ”I…have nowhere to go. And I can’t go back there…you are right about every bit of it.”
The pause after she fell silent was pregnant and hopeful.
Zamara
