Page 42 of Xefe
That meant if I put my mind to it, they would understand me, too. Eventually.What am I worried about?I could talk my way out of any situation. This would be a piece of cake. Maybe if I repeated it enough, I’d actually believe it.
I smiled, and the head pango reared back. Oops, more anti-smile-ers.What is wrong with everybody around here?They all hate joy. I snapped my lips shut and let the hoots and cries wash over me. I absorbed the rhythm and mimicked the sounds of the words I could make out.
“No bad. No steal baby,” I hooted while watching the leader’s eyes go wide in reaction to my words. Apparently, King Pango understood me.
Unfortunately, my translation seemed to enrage him. He jumped even more, bellowing out, “You hurt baby. Attack, attack.”
“No, no.” I thought about what they had said. I pointed at myself, trying to remember what he’d called me. “No-wing?”
The pangos settled immediately.
I rubbed Baby’s head and said, “Baby. No hurt.”
A slow rumble rushed through the group, echoing and bouncing off the cave walls. My only interpretation…Holy shit.
I pointed at myself again. “No-wing, no steal. Give baby. You.” I tried to move the little guy off my palm, but he clung tighter. His breathing seemed stronger. “Wake up, pangito,” I whispered in English. I think.
King Pango raced forward and tapped the baby on the head a little too forcefully for my liking.
“Hey, don’t—”
“Hooooooot!” The baby reared up and screamed bloody murder. He then rubbed his adorable eyes, hissing at the king while licking the last bit of blood from my palm.
I thought for sure the king would freak out on Baby, but he began to coo. I didn’t have a translation for it in my head.
The baby tittered and hopped up and down in my arms. Then he pointed at my hands. “Drink.”
Or maybe it meant blood? The translation was vague, and my mind offered several interpretations. I must have translated it wrong. Why would he—
“Blood?” The king rushed me and grabbed my palm. His sharp incisor bit down on the fleshy part of my thumb.
“Son of abitch.” I reared up and flicked King Pango off my hand. He flew back, and his tiny wings fluttered, supporting his roly-poly body. He bobbed in front of me as his wings fought gravity.
So, stinkin’ cute!I hoped I didn’t have to take him out, but I would if he kept nibbling on me. “Stop biting me!” I braced myself, ready for the onslaught of pangos. It was one thing to feed a baby but quite another to become some alien primate’s lunch. “I don’t like it.No bite!”
The king flew through the air, grabbed a vine, and swung back in front of me. “Blood.” All of the pangos chanted. “Blood. Blood. Blood.”
Baby raced up my arm, resting on my shoulder and burrowing into my hair. “Mama,” he hooted.
“Oh, no. No, no, no. I amnotyour mama.”
The king threw up his hands. “Mama!” Every pango repeated his words while he licked his lips greedily. After the chants settled down, he walked over and sort of shimmy-bowed and patted my leg. “Mama. Sit.Hoot.Sit, mama.” He patted the ground. “Sit. Safe. No blood.”
“No blood?” I balled my fists but eventually acquiesced. I was exhausted—tired to my core. I had failed in every mission I’d set out to accomplish today. I wanted a win.
Yeah right. What would you win? A bunch of baby pangos, mamacita?
Maybe. But I sat, and the pangos swarmed, touching my arms and legs. Baby had a field day, running into their arms but never traveling far from me. They screeched and hooted. I didn’t pay attention until they kept repeating one word. Snack? Or maybe it was lunch.
A cute little furball pango fluttered over with her silky wings and tugged at my hair. I didn’t shoo her away, but I repeated, just in case, “No blood.”
She tittered and hooted. “Snack.” Her tiny hands ran through my hair. It felt heavenly.
I let my lids droop and muttered, “Sure. What do I care? Go get yourself a snack.” At this point, I no longer knew what language I spoke.
But instead of leaving, she and a few other girl pangos—I knew this because they didn’t have any dangly bits hanging around—attacked my knotted locks. They sifted and untangled—the whole time tossing tiny yellow eggs onto the dirt floor.
The alien lice.As soon as a pango tossed one out, another would rush forward and pop it in their mouth. First, the king, and then the baby. One by one, the others followed. Maybe byorder of importance? Whatever it was, it was quite precise. I even got to see a few other baby pangos, not that they would get too close. They were so cute, huddled in their mamas’ arms, a few sucking on their boobs.
