Human (47 page)

A hush fell across the crowd as they processed Ivy's words. Seconds later, she heard a wail from somewhere within the group. Like a shock wave, the pent up grief and anger of so many deaths rippled through the tribe. They turned to each other, searching for reassurance that no more of their loved ones would succumb to such a horrifying and pitiful death. Juna and a handful of others with dead mates let silent tears fall at the injustice. But many raised their fists in the air, clamouring and shouting for Ivy’s explanation. There was now a face to blame. A very specific face.

“Please! Listen to me.” Ivy said over the din. “We must be very, very careful. This karathah hunter will not give up; I saw the determination in his eyes. I don’t know why he’s doing it but now that he’s seen me, I think he’ll only try harder.” Ivy had no doubt that the girls from the trade offering had alerted their tribe. Now the red-beaded hunter would confirm it. If anything, her presence may have put the hobbits in more immediate danger than they were already in. “This man wants me dead just as much as he wants to kill you.” She choked back her own fear.

For what seemed the hundredth time since she arrived, Ivy ached to go home. She wanted to push aside the faded lemon curtains from her kitchen to see Tom down below with his rake. Or lose herself in the comfort of her books and skulls and papers. Ivy's fingers ached to feel the softly vibrating strings of her cello and smell the faint musk of resin on her bow and fingertips. But it was Orrin, and the promise of his trust, that Ivy ached for most. A touch that was so far out of reach, it no longer existed. She pushed the ache down and pulled herself up tall.

“But how can we stop him?” called Floni, still hugging Turi close to her chest. “The karathah are too big to fight.”

She was right. Homo sapiens were a formidable enemy to have and the odds were not only in their favour, but in the future, they had already won.

Ivy’s new family watched her anxiously, waiting for a reply. She summoned every ounce of conviction she had left within her. “Krue was right about one thing - you are not too small to fight back. And I will fight with you.”

Ivy had fed the surviving poisoned hunter charcoal from the hearth, in the hope it would absorb the toxins within his digestive tract, but he was too far gone. His wasted body was removed before sunrise and the tribe grieved anew.

Later, Ivy joined a group of women foraging, leaving Kyah teaching symbols to the children at the cave. They each held digging sticks and carried long hide bags draped across their backs. Bending low to dig a turmeric root, Shahn groaned, holding her distended belly. Ivy, not far behind, dashed over.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, sweet one.” Shahn smiled up at Ivy, a little breathless. “The baby moves, that's all. She is close to joining us and tells me so more frequently.” Shahn pulled Ivy’s hand gently onto her pregnant belly. It felt as hard as a rock but after a few moments, softened.

“She?” Ivy asked. “Do you think you’re carrying a girl?”

Shahn smiled. “A mother always knows.”

“Well, I don’t want you to hurt yourself or her. I'll do this,” Ivy said. The tiny mother reluctantly lowered herself onto the grass while Ivy went about digging at her direction. A handful of women gathered around Shahn, also concerned.

“Do you need to return home?” Lahstri knelt down, her hands spread across Shahn’s pregnant middle. With skilled fingers, she assessed the unborn baby’s movements, and then answered her own question. “No. The false contractions have begun though. It won’t be long now, perhaps by the next full moon.”

Ivy glanced at the sky where a waxing moon was already creeping into the sky.
Just over another month then.
Although she had no way to test it yet, Ivy suspected that Homo floresiensis may differ from her own species of human in yet another way. Using Rinap and Leihna as a reference, Ivy guessed that young hobbit women reached sexual maturity by about twelve years old. Whether the gestational period of hobbit babies was similarly shortened was an idea that intrigued Ivy. A common ancestor to both humans and hobbit may have carried their babies for as little as eight months and despite other factors being involved, the general tendency was for smaller mammals to have shortened periods of gestation. If it was true, the marginal time advantage that gave the hobbits in creating each new generation might one day prove invaluable. Ivy made a mental note to add the hypothesis to her field journal and keep track of the next pregnancy.
Not that anyone will ever read it of course, but still.
The battered journal had become the only bridge between her old life and new. She wrote in it religiously, dreading the day she would inevitably run out of pencils.

The other women began rubbing Shahn’s belly and discussing the upcoming labour. With the mortality rate extreme and their family declining so rapidly, the women rushed to ease Shahn’s worries.

“It will be a strong child, you will see,” one woman said.

“Another gift of life like little Trahg. All will be well,” added Floni.

“We’ll celebrate for many moons to come,” Kora patted Shahn’s arm.

Ivy wandered away with Shahn's digging stick. A few metres ahead, a woman was standing alone, with only her head and shoulders above the long grass. She was staring at the others discussing Shahn’s belly with a look of utter wretchedness on her face.

Ivy knew that look. She had once worn it herself, before she learnt to mask her heartache for the sake of other’s comfort. The woman's face had a shroud of
loss
.

“That's Emiri.” Ivy looked down to find Leihna standing beside her.

“Is she alright? Should I say something?” asked Ivy.

“She wouldn’t answer you if you did.” Leihna shifted a heavy bag of tubers over her shoulder. Her digging stick hung from her wrist by a string of woven bamboo.

“She looks so sad,” Ivy said. “I’ve never even noticed her.”

“I don't think she wants to be noticed.”

Ivy felt a familiar twist of concern. “Was it the karathah?”

“Not only them,” Leihna answered. “Emiri has grieved for a very long time. Her mate, Budi, was the first to die of the Swift Death, so I suppose the karathah are to blame for that. He suffered badly. But she was already grieving. Emiri has lost four children, all born too soon. Now she only dwells in the sadness of her own thoughts.” Leihna turned to look up at Ivy and suddenly seemed much older than her twelve years. “It's the Slow Death, Hiranah. It is worse than the Swift Death because it strikes us at our heart - our family. Without our family, we’re nothing.”

Ivy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “There must be something I can do to help her?”

“Just love her as we do, Hiranah,” Leihna said. “It's especially difficult for her now with Api just born and my sister not far due. She enjoys watching the children play though. At times we think perhaps she’s coming back to us. But then, after dusk song every night, Emiri leaves us. She walks through the forest calling for them.” Leihna stopped abruptly and looked up. Her face was drowning and eyes brimmed crimson. “She's been broken by sadness.”

Ivy bent down, gathering the girl in her arms. She rubbed their foreheads together gently.

“I’m going to change the way things are, Leihna,” Ivy promised. “It might be too late for Emiri, but it’s not for you.”

By now the group of women had begun to move on. Ahead, the forest closed in and sheltered the river from view. Phren ushered Emiri amongst them, so Ivy and Leihna followed behind.

Leihna took her hand. “There are sweet berries growing in this thicket, I’ll show you where. Yesterday Filhia ate so many she was sick.”

A shrill bird call broke the breeze. Leihna yanked Ivy’s arm down roughly.

“Lie flat, Hiranah! Quick! There are karathah ahead!”

Ivy collapsed to her stomach, pressing her cheek to the ground in the long grass. “How do you know?”

“That call was Rinap, scouting ahead. She must have seen them.”

A different bird call sounded, but this time Ivy recognized Rinap’s tone underneath it.

“There are lots of them,” Leihna breathed. “More than us.”

“But what about Shahn! Where is she?” Ivy strained to see through the grass, but saw no sign of the women she had been walking with until a moment ago.

“Shahn will be fine; she knows the call. Stay here while I find the others.” Leihna jumped into a crouch and took off like lightning, disappearing into the sea of grass.

Slow minutes passed. Ivy's face was licked with sweat and dirt. Ants began to trail up her arms and legs, biting as they went.
Shahn’s so heavily pregnant - she can't possibly run as fast as the others. She can’t bend and hide as seamlessly as they can, either.
Leihna’s been gone too long.
I have to help.
Making up her mind, Ivy inched forward, taking care not to let her bright red hair break the surface. Crawling in the direction that Shahn had been standing, the shadow of the forest grew cooler and heavier. A rush of water told Ivy she was close to the river. Raucous voices bounced off the water’s surface. Raking the undergrowth with her eyes, Ivy crept toward the voices, hugging the darkest patches of cover, then leaned back, crouching against the side of a buttressed tree. There was no long grass to hide her here.

Then she saw them.

A group of women stood, ankle deep in water, chatting and swaying drift nets through the shallows. They were slender and graceful, with thick black plaits hanging down their backs. A handful of small children played on the opposite shore, giggling and splashing in the shallows. Further upstream, three men stood intently still, knee deep in the water with long fishing spears frozen just above the surface.

Ivy's breath hitched. She thrust her back hard against the tree behind her, willing it to swallow her into safety.
Him.
The toxic red seeds hung in clumps from his hair, tapping his shoulders as he turned his head incrementally, angling his spear.
Murderer.
Ivy's hands shook as a rush of adrenaline hit her veins. For the briefest moments, the scene before her had seemed so harmless. The children's joy was infectious and the good natured chattering of their mothers, serene. But this man, Ivy knew, was anything but safe. With a quick lunge he snapped his spear down, dragging up a writhing fish. He nodded at another man and pulled it from the shaft, then tossed it into a basket on the river’s edge. Ivy’s heart thundered as she cursed her stupidity. Her spear was back at the cave.
I don’t even have
a blade…
Ivy licked her lips nervously, preparing to back away. There was no way she’d survive if he caught her here.
God knows how I managed it the first time.

As Ivy slipped backward, someone brushed by.

“Emiri!” Ivy whispered as loud as she dared. The woman didn't respond. Instead she stood staring at the karathah, her body barely concealed by the undergrowth. Emiri's pupils were dilated and her irises glassy, she cocked her head to the side. A faint smile haunted her lips. Ivy stretched toward her as far as she dared. Her fingers grazed the woman’s wrist. Emiri kept walking, directly toward the riverbank.

“Please, no! Come back.” Ivy begged in a whisper. “Emiri!” Ivy couldn’t follow her. Where the hobbit was small and naturally concealed by dark skin and soft movements, Ivy was too big, too white and too clumsy. When her second whispered plea was ignored, Ivy followed the woman's line of sight. Instantly, her gut twisted in fear and a fresh break of sweat drenched her face cold.
No please! No, no, no!

A Homo sapien baby was asleep at the forest edge in a basket made of woven grass. It looked no more than six months old and was curled peacefully in the shade while its mother was busy netting fish with the other women. No one was paying it any attention, having no reason to fear for it with the hunters nearby.

Emiri stepped clear out of the forest cover. Her face was radiant, lit up like a candle from inside. Pure maternal love poured from her into the sleeping form as she picked it up. The child was markedly different to the tiny woman holding it. It had a stub of a chin and a wide forehead and was almost as big as three-year-old Turi. But Emiri clearly saw no difference that mattered. She turned away, oblivious to the danger the baby held as Ivy watched, petrified. Emiri walked slowly back to the trees, singing softly as she cradled it in her arms. For the briefest of moments, the broken woman was whole.

As Ivy stepped toward her, she caught a glimpse of one of the karathah women turning around. A scream shattered the afternoon. Ivy knew instinctively that it was not fear of herself this time, but fear for the stolen child. Emiri looked up and met Ivy's eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. But there was no fear within her. Instead, Emiri looked down at her own arms with wide eyes, pulled the baby tightly to her chest and, with a glint of resolve, began to run.

Ivy raced through the trees as the shouts rose behind them. She threw a look over her shoulder as she stumbled and saw the red beaded hunter gaining ground, with the two fishermen and two women at his heels. The baby's mother was pleading through tears as she tore ahead, with a desperate surge of adrenaline. Jostled from its slumber, the baby woke and began to cry. Emiri looked to Ivy. She slowed. The unseeing glaze began to shadow her eyes once more. She turned away, letting the weight of grief fall back over her.
She knew.