Human (25 page)

“I thought you would like to wash,” Shahn said.

“Definitely,” replied Ivy, getting to her feet.

From the recesses of her pouch, Shahn pulled a small mass of pulpy plant material and took it to the river’s edge, setting it on a flat rock. Cupping water onto it, she mashed it with her fist producing a lather of slippery juice then came back to Ivy. “I'll clean your hides while you bathe,” Shahn offered. She looked up at Ivy, unsure how to begin peeling the layers of clothes away.

“Thank you, but I can do it,” said Ivy. “These
hides
get very heavy when they’re wet and you’re, well - I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Ivy finished lamely.

Shahn laughed. “I carry fish heavier than that Hiranah.” She ran her finger down the seam of Ivy’s jeans curiously. “I’ve never seen an animal with this pattern though.”

“They’re um, made of plants,” Ivy said, regretting it instantly. Denim was not exactly hobbit
couture
.

“Blue plants?” Shahn smiled. “I haven’t seen those.” Shahn stepped back then stared up at Ivy, waiting. “So, will you wash?”

Of course. No modesty required.
Ivy took a deep breath and then stripped to her underwear. As she peeled the jeans from her ankle, she winced in pain. The cut was still weeping and sticky. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Shahn frown.

Ivy immersed herself in the chilled river with a gasp. She rubbed the pulp over her hair and skin, grateful for the friction and carefully cleaned the blood from her swollen ankle. Shahn walked knee deep with Ivy's singlet, squatting to accommodate her round belly. She hummed monotonously as she scrubbed it and Ivy was reminded of the dusk song she’d witnessed in Gihn's memory. The note Shahn hummed was probably her part of the harmonic whole. Ivy felt a hollow ache for the loss of her cello and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Dragging her jeans into the water, Ivy scrubbed the blood stains against the rock using the rest of the soapy pulp. They weren't clean but they would do. She wrung them out and spread them on a rock to dry. The sun was higher now, warming her skin.

Her attention was interrupted by a rustling in the trees. Kyah dropped to the ground nearby. She picked around the base of a candlenut tree before settling down. From behind her, a small boy clutching a grass woven bag dropped to the ground as well. He scampered to where Kyah was sitting with a huge grin on his face. The boy began to climb into the bonobo’s lap, his knees splayed to each side.

Kyah’s lips drew back in fear. She tensed at the unfamiliar contact, letting out shrill barks of distress.

“No!” Ivy pushed through the water. “He’ll get hurt! Kyah’s not used to other people.”

The boy looked infantile, only two feet tall, but leanly proportioned with none of the baby fat of an infant. Perhaps five or six years old, Ivy thought fleetingly, but it was almost impossible to tell as the size difference to a human child was so marked. He stared up at the bonobo then suddenly knocked his forehead onto hers, rubbing them together enthusiastically. Kyah’s shrill barking stopped short. She stared at the boy warily.

The boy giggled again and reached high, dragging his little fingers down Kyah’s face and resting them over her scratched chest where he stopped. He drew small circles around the mark with his tiny fingertip. Kyah growled uneasily, and looked to Ivy who was desperately signing the word “baby” as she scrambled onto the grass edge of the river.

Shahn pulled Ivy back gently as she made to pass by.

“I think Trahg is safe,” Shahn said placidly.

“No, you don't understand,” said Ivy. “Kyah doesn’t trust people. She could hurt him very badly.” Kyah was unquestionably intelligent, but ultimately instinctual. If she felt threatened, the bonobo could break the child’s bones.

“Just wait,” Shahn said.

Kyah pushed the boy off. Unfazed, the little boy climbed back on. He curled his spindly legs into Kyah’s lap and pulled open his woven bag. He retrieved some fruit and handed it to Kyah, who sniffed it. Hesitantly, Kyah ran her own fingertips down the boy’s face, poking him gently in the nostril and mouth and making him giggle. Then they sat, seemingly transfixed, considering each other for a long moment.

What are they seeing?
Ivy wondered, still itching to intervene, despite Shahn’s insistence.
An abused ape and prehistoric child, so alien to each other across time, continents and jungles, real and concrete…

Still connected, Shahn answered Ivy's thought.

“I think they see a friend, Hiranah.” She smiled reassuringly.

Trahg suddenly laughed into the bonobo's hair as Kyah's fingertips found a ticklish spot under his chin. He knocked Kyah’s hand away roughly.

Kyah’s nostrils flared in anger. Ivy’s heart skipped a beat.

Oh no.

“Wait,” Shahn said again, more insistantly.

Kyah’s response was instinctual, but not in the way Ivy expected. The bonobo gently brushed Trahg’s hair back from his face. Kyah lifted her wrist and gently presented the back of her long hand to the little boy’s lips.

“You were right,” Ivy whispered to Shahn. She felt her eyes burn with emotion.

It was the reassurance of a mother primate to an infant. Perhaps, in that very first year of Kyah’s life, her own mother had done it to her.
Did she remember?
Innate protection and care for the boy was cemented in Kyah’s kiss. The connection seemed to transcend species and language. Ivy wiped away a tear.

Shahn left Ivy alone by a smoking hearth. Dozens of eyes penetrated her solitude but no one approached. Across the cave, she saw Shahn approach a grey-haired woman who shot furtive glances in Ivy’s direction as they spoke. The woman quickly tumbled something into Shahn’s hands and shooed her away, scanning the vicinity as she left.

Shahn returned with various plants. She set to work by the coals, plucking dark, heart shaped leaves from a vine and piling them onto a flat stone. She ground half of the leaves into a green mash and then scooped them into a shallow bone dish brimming with water. Shahn nestled the bowl on coals to steep. After a few minutes, Shahn picked it back up and stirred it with her fingers. She turned to Ivy, tapping softly on the leg of her jeans.

Ivy hurried to roll the leg of her jeans up, exposing the seeping pink cut.

“The juice will cool your wound and reduce pain,” explained Shahn as she dribbled warm liquid over the wound with steady hands. “Lahstri is our healer, but Krue won’t let her… well, I can do it for now.” Ivy looked around. Lahstri, whom Ivy assumed was the grey haired woman Shahn had spoken to, was now nowhere to be seen.

Next, Shahn pulled an orange, segmented root from the bundle. She ground it on a flat rock, and then placed the separated fibres in tepid water over the coals, spinning the mixture as it warmed. When she was satisfied, Shahn used her fingers to scoop the pulp onto some leaves. The paste smelled strong and aromatic. Shahn placed the poultice against Ivy’s skin using the dark leaves as a protective outer layer.

“The root will clean your blood,” Shahn explained. Ivy recognised the leaves used to wrap the poultice, and also those steeped to wash the open sore as those of the betel plant. Betel juice, she had learned only recently, was a natural analgesic. The orange rhizome Ivy guessed must be turmeric, although Ivy would never have known how to find it herself. Its roots held antiseptic and anti-inflammatory properties and were used to cleanse wounds and stimulate recovery. Ivy’s thoughts wandered to a memory less than a week gone.

“Archaeobotany, guys.” Ivy had begun as she walked in. “A veritable treasure trove of palaeontological gold. This is how we study the emergence of agriculture, changing seasons and ice ages and of course, the prehistoric culinary arts.” Ivy was on top of the world; she had just passed Orrin in the courtyard and exchanged not-so-subtle glances. “So, who can give me an example of methodologies used?”

As usual Kathryn's hand shot up first. “Palynology.”

“Brilliant. Pollen is everywhere. We can use the presence of pollen in archaeological digs to reconstruct the environment at the time of site occupation. Pollen equals plants and plants can tell us what season, what climate and what environment our ancestors were living in. Another one?”

“Shit,” smirked Travis from behind a paper coffee cup.

“Charming.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “But surprisingly astute Travis. Coprolites. If we look at the micro remains of plant matter in fossilised faeces, human or animal, we can actually tell what plants they had been eating. There’s often a good collection of seeds, plant fibres, cellulose and nuts -” Travis chortled - “still present in faeces which we can identify to species level. If we’re lucky we even get their date.” Travis laughed out loud, spraying a mouthful of coffee across the desk.

“Dude!” Oliver grimaced, wiping it from the back of his neck with his sleeve.

Ivy sighed. “It's a surprisingly useful tool for those mature enough to handle it.” She raised an eyebrow to the handful of others who were snickering appreciatively.

“Not something I’m gonna handle,” murmured Travis.

“Okay moving on.” There were no takers. “Anyone heard of phytoliths?”

“I have,” offered Kathryn. “They're the newest way of identifying plant remains.” She straightened up imperiously. “During growth, many species of plants take inorganic substances like silica and calcium oxalate from the soil, which then gets deposited within their cells. After they die and decay, these microscopic, rigid and uniquely shaped secretions, called phytoliths, end up back in the soil and can survive in conditions that destroy most of our organic archaeological evidence. Each species of plant has a distinct phytolith shape, and we can source them from residues on food preparation tools, ritual offerings, in agricultural soil and even food build up on fossilised teeth.” Kathryn sat back with a self-satisfied smirk as Ivy clapped alone.

“Perfect, thanks. And if you ever do post-grad Kathryn, you’re mine.”

A dreadlocked boy spoke up. “But there are so many species of plants in the world, I mean, how can you tell which phytolith is from which plant?”

“Excellent question Jace and it deserves a thorough answer.” Ivy smirked. “Come by the res lab this afternoon and I'll show you. I'm currently using modern plant samples from the Lesser Sunda Islands to create a catalogue of phytoliths that might be represented on stone tools from our digs there.” Ivy jumped up and grabbed a stack of photocopied reference charts, dropping them in front of him. “We've got lots of ethnographic data already on what plants are used by local indigenous groups, so we use them as a starting point. We identify and collect the leaves, roots, flower, fruit and stems of the plants; then isolate the phytoliths under a microscope and begin the stimulating and relentless slog of cataloguing them for future archaeological reference. For the record, if anyone would like to join Jace in this highly esteemed task for extra credit, feel free to volunteer. I've got five boxes waiting that have just arrived through customs.” Jace groaned and sunk low in his chair. Ivy couldn't help but laugh at the terrified faces in front of her, all but Kathryn, doing their best to look inconspicuous. “Come on guys! This is real archaeology for you. And don't forget - microscopes are so hot right now.”

There were at least one hundred hobbits, probably more, divided between seventeen hearths. Ivy had been given a sleeping mat at Shahn’s hearth, which was shared with her mate Xiou, little Trahg and Shahn’s younger sister Leihna. Gihn also shared the hearth and Ivy had come to realize he was Xiou’s father.

Shahn presented Ivy with the shoulder blade of a large animal serving as a plate, heaped with stewed vegetables. Pinang nuts, yam bean tubers and wild cow pea were blended with grassy aromatic herbs giving off a rich, savoury smell. Ivy scoffed it gratefully, and when she was done, Shahn passed her a stomach pouch of water. Although the idea of putting her lips to the vessel of a stomach to drink was entirely unsavoury, Ivy had no choice. Shahn had not seemed surprised by Ivy's request that her own diet disclude meat, apparently accepting it as just another peculiarity of Ivy's version of human.