Page 36 of Challenged

As I pass the outer edges of our hunting grounds, I start to focus on the trees, looking around me for signs of the blight. Branches sagging under their own weight that have no reason to be. Discoloured bark. It does not take long to spot them - a sign that the blight is still thick here.

I keep running a while, stopping every so often for a better look. When it becomes challenging to find signs of the blight, I slow to a walk. When I have not seen any for the depth of several trees, I stop. Have a really good hunt among the branches and trunks. Finding nothing, I track back towards the Mercenia hut until I find the first patches of rot. Tiny, not well established. The outer edge of the contagion.

Shemza gifted each of us hunters with a small pouch of stain this morning - a mixture made from certain herbs he uses in his healing that can be applied to surfaces, the colour not washing away even in the thickest of rains. It will also colour my fingers for several sunsets, but unlike the ichor of yesterday, it will not irritate my skin. I scoop up some of the substance, smearing it in a bright red slash across the infected tree.

When whoever comes out this way to prep for the burn sees these marks, they will know to travel five or so trees out from here before they start felling them. That way, there is a buffer between the contagion and the healthy forest, even before the wood from those felled trees is used to start the burn. The fire will not take all the afflicted trees, but it does not have to. Every afflicted tree that burns will widen that buffer a little further until it is too far for the contagion to cross. A neat and clever solution to blights. I do not know which of our ancestors came up with such a thing, but I am grateful to them fortheir cleverness, and how it continues to keep us safe so many generations later.

Because one marked tree might be missed, I go a short distance in either direction around the perimeter, marking each tree I pass. Anghar, Jaskry and Paskar will be doing the same at the end of their paths. Tomorrow, we will map along the paths an equal distance between those we have taken today, while warriors follow today’s paths and begin felling trees. I hope this way, working closely together, we will get much of the labour done by the time all of the frozen females are awoken. It would be nice for the tribe to be able to turn our back on the Mercenia hut as one, returning to our village together.

Satisfied I have marked enough trees, I put away the stain in my pack and start walking back towards the Mercenia hut. I eat a few light snacks as I go, needing the energy the food provides, but not the heaviness of too much of it sitting in my stomach.

Physically, it is a harder journey home. The Mercenia hut sits at the crest of a slight hill - too slight to be noticeable just looking, but what the eye cannot see, the legs can certainly feel when running. I drink deep of my djenti berry tonic, hoping the bitter liquid will hold off the aches for a little while at least, then set off at a slow jog, warming up to a quick run.

Mentally, though, it is always easier to run towards home. Even an unpleasant temporary one such as the Mercenia hut. I smile. Home for me now will always be where my Angie is. It keeps my steps light, quick, to know that every one taken is one closer to her.

I hear the commotion of new arrivals before I break through the last of the trees to the clearing around the Mercenia hut. Thesound of tents being erected, exuberant conversations, supply crates being stacked, all filter through the trees to greet me. So I am smiling broadly, even as I stagger to a stop, bending double to help my burning lungs take in more air.

Shemza is at my side in a moment, handing me fresh djenti berry tonic. I swallow it down so fast, the bitter taste dances right over the top of my tongue.

“Anghar got back just moments before you,” Shemza says. “He is by the fire now, taking his midday meal. We have saved some for you also.”

I nod my gratitude, my lungs still not containing quite enough air to speak, and allow myself to be guided over to the fire. A bowl is pressed into my hands, and I eat, the thick, meaty broth rich and flavoursome. Obviously made with the supplies Vantos and his group brought with them, not our own dwindling stock.

“You have found much the same as I have, then,” Anghar says. He is almost finished with his bowl, his breathing no longer laboured, though sweat still beads in his hairline, a sheen on the rest of his skin that has not yet dried.

“About a half day’s steady running to the edge of it,” I say. “I have pushed hard to get back.”

“Likewise,” Anghar says.

I give him a lazy smile. “A canny male with no particular thing waiting for him might have taken his time on the return journey.”

Anghar arches a brow. “So as to avoid putting up tents?”

I shrug. “I am not saying it is something I would do, merely something that could be done.”

Anghar shakes his head at me. “The sooner the encampment is made, the sooner the warriors are free to start preparations for the burn.”

“The sooner we may all be back to the village and you back to your Ellie.”

His eyes shine with the warmth of his feelings for his linasha, even as sorrow at her absence from his side lurks there also. “In this way, I was running hard to get back to my linasha, just as you were.”

I lean forward to grip his shoulder. “You will be beside her again soon. No one wishes to linger here a moment longer than necessary.”

Anghar’s sorrow shifts into mirth. “Larzon in particular has worked as if Lina herself is driving him onward.”

“Nice to know his energy has been used for something constructive this day, rather than just complaining.”

“Oh, I think there is still plenty of breath in him for complaining,” Anghar says, laughing.

“Let us get him using that breath to prep for the burn tomorrow, then.”

Anghar grins, then gets up, stretching his back and legs, moving his weary limbs slowly to ease out the stiffness that will be setting in.

“I think I will go now and make myself useful to the new arrivals.”

I bolt the last of my meal and rise to my feet. My own legs creak some, but I have not been still long enough for them to truly grow stiff. I hope I can keep it at bay until tonight, when rest and the djenti berry tonic will undo it all as I sleep.

“I will come also.”

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