Page 15 of Warrior
“A picnic can be more than just eating on the ground,” Daisy issued a delicate snort. “It is a chance to be playful and spend time relaxing and enjoying good food. A picnic is fun.”
I settled between them on the blanket. The oddest knowledge that anything with Daisy would be fun milling around in my chest. The food before me was a strange combination. Two pieces of bread encasing slivers of meat and vegetables. Sprinkles of the spices Daisy loved so much clung to the edges of the bread. It smelled yeasty and meaty, and despite the strangeness, my mouth watered.
“It’s called a sandwich.” A familiar giggle followed her words. “Standard picnic fare.”
I took a bite. Vaktaire warriors subsisted mainly on protein for strength and agility, but thissandwichwas good.
“What else do you do on a picnic?” Ewok asked. He was eyeing Daisy's sandwich covetously, and she tore off a good chunk and handed it to him.
“Lots of things. You can play games, go on hikes… tonight I thought we’d have dinner and a movie.”
Ewok frowned. “Mobee?" he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
I knew the term, my own excited curiosity building as Daisy rose to her feet. All eyes turned as though she were the brightest star in the night sky. Not far off in my opinion.
She waved her hands at everyone, a signal to quiet down. The younglings complied with the precision of a military unit.
“Who wants to hear a story?”
I had to bite my lip to avoid being the loudest agreement in the room.
Daisy wove a tale about a man named Indiana Jones, who traveled the Earth searching for treasures and relics. The younglings listened hungrily, devouring her every word. I didn't attempt to stop the eager smile spreading on my face as the story unfolded. The younglings appeared enthralled by her tales—fascinated by her.
Just like me.
When the tale ended, after Indiana Jones won against a pit of vipers and an evil entity known as Nazis, voices groaned in disappointment. Yet, none resisted when Daisy announced time to wash up and head to bed. In fact, most younglings glowed happily, knowing it meant a moment of affection—a touch, a smile, or a hug from the human that had come to mean so much to each of them.
I busied myself helping to clean up the area, while the younglings moved single file past Daisy, garnering small moments of affection that made me envious to watch.
"George, what happened to your hand?"
Daisy's concerned voice made me stumble, causing Ewok to nearly drop the large woven basket we carried. Daisy stood with her hands clasped around the wrist of a young Garoot, an angry brow furrowing her brow. His hand sported a makeshift bandage loosely tied, and blood continued to seep through the dark, blue-stained fabric.
"I hurt it in the mines today,kida.” The boy was tiny and frail, save for his head, the swell of his larger brain made the appendage appear akin to an inverted triangle. Just as Vaktaire were bred to protect, Garoot were bred to heal. Even without formal training, the light blue youngling would already have far more medical knowledge than Daisy or me.
“Hurt it?” Daisy scoffed as she gingerly peeled back the ragged bandage. “George! It looks like it’s broken.”
“It was,” the Garoot youngling shrugged. “I set the bone. It will heal.”
The distress on Daisy’s face settled into a hateful knot in my stomach.
“The Garoot are born to healing. I’ve seen whelps much younger than George set bones and dress wounds," I told her as I piled the rest of the baskets into my arms.
"One-handed?" One perfect dark brow raised in challenge. She didn’t wait for me to answer, slipping an arm around George’s shoulder and turning him toward the steps. “You need to come to the kitchen so I can bandage this properly.”
The Garoot’s sigh of acquiescence was so exaggerated I nearly laughed He fell in step behind Ewok, who juggled a tower of baskets.
I held back, falling into step at Daisy’s side. “George?” I asked with a waggle of my brows. I did not know many Garoot but knew enough to guess that'George'was not his given moniker.
Daisy shrugged, her eyes misting slightly as they fell on the frail, pale blue figure before us. “He looks like my cousin George.”
“I did not think humans were pale blue with six fingers.”
She shot me a look, matched my grin, then sighed. In that small breath, I heard many emotions. “Like Ewok, he couldn't remember his name. Everybody should have a name.”
I glanced toward where the remainder of the children gathered their blankets. I doubted Ewok and George were the only nameless orphans and wondered what names she chose for the rest.
Once in the kitchen, Daisy parked George on a small rickety stool while Ewok and I tidied the kitchen. As usual, Daisy had taken care of everything. Only wrapping the leftovers remained, and there were few of those.
