Chapter IX: Tributes

Days passed. Karesema did not return. Floreca tried not to worry about her; she knew it would take some time for her to recover from the days she'd spent without food, and her head injury might have still been bothering her, too. If she needed to rest before she would be able to make the trip back up the mountain, that was understandable. Besides, it might take time to procure the medicine. Traveling merchants were the only way to get it; it was apparently made of plants that didn't grow in Floreca's area. If there were no merchants around that had it, Karesema would have to wait until one came.

The Aĉaĵego spent a lot of time hunting; small animals for Floreca and large ones for itself. Floreca had tried to accompany it, but she'd rapidly grown weaker over the last few days. Soul-drain gave a person a ravenous appetite; no matter how much she ate, she never had enough energy, and always felt at least a little hungry. At home there was enough available food that she could function. Now, it was a struggle to walk for more than a few paces. So she decided to save her strength until Karesema came back with the medicine. She spent most of her days on a black, platform-like boulder on the edge of the ledge above the cave; it absorbed the heat and kept her warm on windy days, and provided a nice view of the mountain below. Had she been younger, she might have found those hours tedious. But now, after having thought she didn't have much time left to live, she couldn't complain about having an excess of time to herself to enjoy the sunshine, and the view of her village from the mountain.

When the Aĉaĵego was home, they told stories. There were other things Floreca would have preferred to talk about, but the Aĉaĵego asked for a new story every night. "I'm going to run out of stories!" Floreca had protested, but she knew she wouldn't. Her mother had once said the same, but when she did run out of stories, she started making her own. Floreca struggled to remember them – unlike the rest of the stories her mother had told her, the religious stories, they had never been reinforced by other storytellers after her mother's death – but she used her own imagination to fill in what she couldn't remember, and began spending her days deciding how the evening's story would go.

A few times, people passed by coming up and down the mountain. She always waved at them from afar, and a few waved back, but they were all strangers and none of them seemed interest in speaking to her. Maybe they thought she was a sacrifice. She didn't know how long it would take for the news to spread that the Aĉaĵego wouldn't be taking sacrifices anymore.

When Karesema finally did return, it was early morning. She and the Aĉaĵego were both still asleep, huddled up together under the gap of the cave that let in the sunlight. Floreca heard her sister's voice in her dreams, felt gentle hands running up and down her arms... then a booming roar shook the air. She jumped up to see her frightened sister, kneeling on the ground and staring up at an equally frightened Aĉaĵego.

"Wh- what's wrong?" Floreca asked, ears ringing.

"It is thy sister," said the Aĉaĵego, now completely calm. "When I awoke, I was frightened, for I saw that there was another human among us, but I knew her not."

"Frightened!" Karesema exclaimed. "You're an Aĉaĵego; not a rabbit! What cause do you have to be afraid of people?"

"Some humans carry claws."

This comment was ignored as Floreca threw herself into her sister's arms, knocking the older girl off balance. Karesema wobbled for a second and then held herself up with her left arm, wrapping her right arm around Floreca. "Franjo! I really missed you!"

"I missed you, too," said Karesema. "I'm really sorry it took me so long to get here. I..." Her voice trailed off as she adjusted her position, shifting her center of gravity as Floreca's weight bore down on her. She didn't resume her sentence when she found a position she could hold, knowing that Floreca wanted to be held for just a minute longer before speaking. Karesema's grip was strong; Floreca could let herself relax against her, dead weight.

After a minute of silent hugging, Karesema coaxed her up and invited her to take a walk. Floreca couldn't have actually walked any significant distance, but Karesema only meant she wanted to speak to her alone. She used to invite her family for walks when she wanted to say something she didn't want their father to hear. "If you still want to be on your feet at the end of the day, it means you haven't been working hard enough!" he used to say, though he allowed them to go if their work was done. But most of the time they only walked as far as the chicken coops, since in reality, Karesema shared their father's distaste for exerting energy on unproductive activities.

Karesema did not look pleased when the Aĉaĵego followed them out, looming in the cave with its head peeking out so only its nose touched the sunlight. Karesema's eyes wandered up the trail, as if there would be somewhere they could go that the Aĉaĵego could not follow them, but when she glanced back at Floreca, she seemed to lose the thought. "You're so thin!" Frustration flashed across her face, and she looked away. "I'm so sorry it took me so long. They wouldn't give me the medicine! They... didn't believe me until they got word from the other village that the Aĉaĵego didn't take their sacrifice."

"That's all right," Floreca said, as she went to sit at her usual perch. A large cloth sack had been left there, presumably by Karesema, though Floreca didn't recognize the cloth as anything they owned. The pattern was intricate and looked foreign, printed rather than embroidered as cloth from her own land usually was. "When you think about it from their point of view, that's not something they could take your word for without proof."

"Why do they think I would lie about that? If the Aĉaĵego was still taking sacrifices, you'd be dead, and I wouldn't have any reason to ask them for medicine. It's stupid."

"Franjo," Floreca said, not liking how close her sister had gotten to calling priests stupid. "It worked out in the end, so let's not dwell on it."

To Floreca's relief, Karesema didn't argue. She sat down beside Floreca and started rummaging through the sack, fumbling through a few clanging things at the bottom until she pulled out another, much smaller sack. Inside was a corked glass container, full of dried green and white herbs.

"Every day, make a pot of boiling water, take a cup, and put in a pinch of these herbs. Let it seep for a few minutes, and then drink it." She handed the container to Floreca, then knelt back down to rummage through the sack until she pulled out a pot and a cup. The cup was familiar, a wooden one from their home that Karesema had carved herself, but the pot was unfamiliar – it looked brand new with no rust to speak of, and well-made.

"Where did you get that?" Floreca asked. She knew they didn't have enough money to be buying new pots.

"I haven't got the chance to tell you yet. Sunbrila and her parents are at our village now. Sunbrila is going to get married to the blacksmith. This was a gift from her fiancé."

Floreca gasped. "She's engaged?" And to someone in her own village, too! She was elated for a second, forgetting that she herself no longer lived there and couldn't visit her, then wistful when she remembered. Though, she was happy for her. Her cousin's fiancé must have been a kind man, to send a gift to her, a total stranger. "I'm happy for her. And be sure to tell her fiancé that I'm very grateful for his generous gift."

"You're going to make me personally give your thanks to every single person who sent you something, aren't you?" said Karesema, with a weary smile, and she pulled the sack wide open in one sudden movement.

All kinds of things spilled out – fruits, blankets, new clothing. Karesema kicked some of the blankets, uncovering even more gifts – shoes, hair decorations, even a beautiful, finely-painted wooden doll. It was the kind of doll she had longed for when she was a child, the reason she used to beg to go around looking at the other carts in the marketplace when her own family was selling their crops, because the painted dolls were so beautiful it was enough to be able to look at them, even knowing she'd never have the chance to touch. Tears sprang to her eyes as she reached over to take the doll. "Who sent all this? It's... too kind."

"You've saved lives Floreca – innocent lives, even. You're a heroine. This is their thanks."

"I don't need all this," Floreca said, tears falling. "You and Jadinda should keep it – what am I going to do with new dresses?"

Karesema laughed. "Jadinda has more new dresses than she has use for. You should see the way the other children treat her now. They crowd around her like dogs around the meatmonger, asking her to tell them about you! Even the kids know what you've done – there will be songs about you someday, you know."

Floreca put the doll aside, fell into Karesema's arms, and began to sob.

"H-hey now! What's wrong?"

Floreca squeezed her tighter. It's not fair, she wanted to say. I want to go home! She wanted to see Jadinda wearing her new dresses and playing with her new friends, she wanted to attend Sunbrila's wedding and meet her cousin's new husband, she wanted to thank her community in person for all the lovely gifts, to bake pies with the fruits of her family's orchards and pass them out to her neighbors to return the favor, to heal from her sickness in her own home where she felt safe and comfortable and she knew her sisters would take care of her. What good did it do her to know people sang praises to her if she couldn't be around to see their happiness? She knew it was an irrational feeling. She knew she'd made the best decision she could. She knew it was working out better than she ever hoped.

And yet she felt so desperately homesick.

Karesema let her cry wordlessly, kept her arms wrapped around her loosely and stroked her hair, but her grip was loose. "I'm sorry. I thought that would make you happy." She sounded defeated.

"It does!" Floreca insisted. "I am happy!" She tried to force her mouth closed, to shush herself. She had no right to be crying. Karesema would worry about her. The Aĉaĵego was watching, too. She didn't want it to think she didn't like living with it.

"Then what's wrong?" Karesema asked.

Floreca couldn't answer; she was too focused on keeping her mouth clamped shut. Karesema put her hand on Floreca's head and used her thumb to brush the loose hair out of her face, peering into her eyes. "Does the Aĉaĵego... has it hurt you?"

"No! The Aĉaĵego has been nothing but kind!" she managed to squeak, turning her head away.

"Then what's the matter? What do you need?"

"Nothing," Floreca whimpered. "I don't know why I'm crying."

"Come on," said Karesema, tears springing to her own eyes. Her hand curled up at her side, twitching in helpless frustration. "Please, just tell me how I can help! You know I don't expect you to hide your sadness; I hate that! You can – " She suddenly raised her head, saw the Aĉaĵego looking straight at them, and let her sentence die mid-word.