Day 18, evening, 29,216 total word count. 2,022 today.

On track to finish on November 30. I am 58% done. Wow.

Today's excerpt:

The Trackers then set about the meal preparation, which had been delayed by the conversation and history lessons. Just as Moa’qi had done for Sylk on his original return from the wilderness they all prepared and served Moa’qi and Sylk. It was the same type of fare, sweet cakes, savory sausages, and more of the thick rich cardamom coffee. Sylk realized this must be some sort of tradition. He thanked the Tracker earnestly for coming to look for them, and for carrying such amounts of food. It was the first time he really ate without thinking, and he was enjoying the easy camaraderie. The men all spoke freely about things he was not used to hearing. Sylk stayed out of these conversations, not because he couldn’t join in, but because of lack of anything relevant to say. This was Adult Talk, and he had not been privy to such talk before.

Moa’qi had started the conversation by a general request for news of the tribe over the last 5 lightdark cycles. Tracker1 began with a simple recounting of stores of food, prospects of hunting, Bruta sightings, etc. Tracker2 picked up with some light information that Sylk gradually realized was basically gossip: who was seeing whom, little romances, someone being with child, and finally a funny story about a spat over dew gatherers between The Herbalist, which everyone respected for his knowledge and disliked for his demeanor, and Gwadi, the cheesemaker.

Gwadi was a tribe favorite. Not only did she make cheese from the cabrito milk, but she was always ready with some quip or anecdote apropos to the situation. Her humor could be biting though, and sarcasm always seems to be appreciated by everyone except the recipient. But her genuine good nature, and underlying kindness prevented anyone from staying angry. There was always something happening around her, people laughing, and people getting upset. But the anger always passed, and she was genuinely liked by everyone. The story was recounted thusly:

Apparently Gwadi had come out of her little hut to find The Herbalist holding one of her dew gatherers, and a full skin of water. The Herbalist was renowned for failing to set out his gatherers each evening, and had been suspected of ‘borrowing’ water from the Tribe. No one really minded at the moment, it being the wet season, and plenty of water was available. And, no one would ever refuse water when there was need. But water theft could be a serious crime, all the more because it was not necessary. This laziness on the part of The Herbalist was nearly legendary, and he did not cherish holding such a reputation. It was suspected that he avoided the reputation by getting up very early and taking a little from all. It was, however, a problem, and the Muktai were being asked to address The Herbalist. The essential dishonesty was troubling to the people of the tribe, but his herbal knowledge was valued and required. It was kind of a pickle, and there was reticence to address the issue.

Gwadi had emerged and pretty much caught him in the act. She stopped, went into an exaggerated stretch and yawned a loud ululating yawn that almost but not quite sounded like an alarm. Probably not coincidentally, it sounded like the Bandit Alarm. Naturally, since most people were awake and preparing to exit their huts, the walkways between the huts were suddenly crowded with witnesses. By this time, in her exaggerated stretch, she had nearly bent over backward to the ground, and her ululation cut off with a strangling noise. The stage now set, she straightened up, looked The Herbalist in the eye and exclaimed “What are you doing pouring your water into My Water Skin? What, do you think I need your charity??”

People started laughing, as all water skins are clearly marked with beadwork or paint clearly signifying who was the owner. This tack stunned The Herbalist, and his confused expression caused more laughter.

“I know I am getting old, and I know you are without a Mate, as am I, but this symbolism is too much.” She stopped and let this sink in then, “I am not so old that I am desperate however. Many of the young new men I have trapped, er, entertained in my hut.” Laughter from the Tribe. “But, if you have such a hot desire to fill my emptiness with your fullness, then there are the usual channels for accommodating your randyness!” This prompted gales of laughter from the witnesses.

Flabbergasted, The Herbalist shouted “I am not filling your skin with my water!” More laughter. Red faced and shouting, “I was pouring your water into my skin!” His confession out of his lips in front of the whole tribe, he stood there, purple in his embarrassment. Some uncomfortable nervous laughter escaped from various witnesses, but petered out into silence. The man had confessed to a crime in front of multiple witnesses.

Feigning mock seriousness, Gwadi walked up to The Herbalist with a grave look. “A wrong so publicly confessed can only be forgiven. It is the way of the Tribe.” She took the skin from the stunned Herbalist, poured a measure into her dew gatherer, and handed it back. Winking and with a smile she said, “If however, you ever wish to fill me up, you will find me pliant and willing.” Turning she walked into her hut with an exaggerate wriggling movement and disappeared inside.

When the story was over, and the laughter subsided, Tracker3 commented that while the incident was indeed humorous to the tribe, it had been more than humiliating to The Herbalist. He had been in a dark humour, and there was concern, as he was unusually gruff with all. Of greatest concern was the fact that he seemed to be nursing a deep grudge against Gwadi, and the air of tension seemed ominously portending.

“I fear that the situation must be defused in some manner. I had hoped to broach this subject with you, Moa’qi, under somewhat different circumstances. You see, The Muktai felt that it would be provident to provide the tribe with an heir to the Herbalist. This would perform three results, distract The Herbalist from his anger and chagrin, provide a diversion for him, and a measure of restored respect, and provides the Tribe with an Herbalist for the future.

“I had hoped to apprentice Sylk here to The Herbalist.”

seeya. fb

Day 18, 28k+ so far, 1200 or so this morning

Did not write last night either.

Didn't post any excerpts this morning either. Went to work instead.

Will post excerpts tonight after I knock out another 2k or so words.

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Day 17, total word count to date: 27,194. Did not write last night.

Took last night off for my birthday so will have to write another 1000 words tonight to stay on track. But that is OK, as the is the original plan.

Note for this excerpt: I have introduced three new characters, and rather than waste time trying to come up with names right now, they are designated Tracker1, Tracker2 and Tracker3. Later, probably at the end of the month, I will determine their names, and through the magic of find and replace will give them some sort of suitable name.

Today's excerpt:

This stopped the conversation while the men considered how to answer a dumb question from a Man and Warrior of the Tribe without offering insult. The Trackers looked at Moa’qi, but he sat impassively, sipping cardamom coffee. Tracker2 took a breath, and began, “You are a New Man, and so your question is fair. Some would say you were brought early to this knowledge, though, that decision is solely that of your Master, and therefore above reproach. However, it is usually done”, pause with a glance at Moa’qi, “under different circumstances.” With this small speech, Tracker2 had gently chided Moa’qi, and excuse Sylk’s dumb question. He then proceeded to explain the tribal custom concerning Flat Rock.

“Countless seasons ago, the village was not where we are today. In fact, the village was not the size it is today. It was in fact larger. We were not in the place we occupy today. We were in fact within one day’s hike of Flat Rock. A man in need could get there and back within the same Light. The mystery of the water was known at that time, and was common knowledge to all above 20 seasons. This then is where you receive the vague hints and legends of ‘streams’ and flowing water.

“For reasons that are debated, the tribe suffered an illness, and about 1/3 of the tribe was lost to an implacable death. It was horrid, attacking the lungs and skin, and the first to go was our medicine maker. With no one of his skill, and no knowledge of the issues creating the illness, we were laid low. Their was dissent, and strife, and much ancillary disease, as we were unprepared for the disposal of so many bodies. That is when we began the Burning as the Final Ascent. We used to place our dead back into the Earth. Now we send them to the sky. Even this caused great dissent and consternation.

“Finally, there was a split and a plan. Approximately ½ the tribe determined to move. From that group we remain. We have rebuilt about to about 70% of the original tribe at the time of the split. However, we are currently only about 30% of the original thriving tribe.

“Flat Rock, while always considered a place of power, is also a place of dread. We moved far enough from it that it was more than a day’s hike away. And we focused our attentions in other directions. And the lore of Flat Rock was relegated to the Muktai, to disseminate in time to those they would.” Tracker2 paused and looked again at Moa’qi, seeming to need direction. He received none, and so continued cautiously, “This because… there are those that believe-”, furtive glance at Moa’qi, “-that Flat Rock was simply the, ahh, victim… of circumstance. And in truth, no ill has befallen those that make the trek.”

Sylk had been listening to all that he was hearing, while formulating what he figured had to be the obvious question. He took advantage of the break in the narrative to ask, “What of the other tribe.”

Tracker1 spoke with a hollow tone, “We do not speak of that.”

Tracker2 and Tracker3 looked uncomfortable. Moa’qi sipped carefully on his cardamom coffee, looking over the top of his cup at Tracker1. Lowering his cup, he said to the group, in general, “We do not withhold information from Men of The Tribe.”

Tracker1 flinched, as though slapped. Tracker2 and Tracker3 looked away. Sylk followed suit. They sat in an uncomfortable silence.

Addressing Moa’qi, Tracker1 finally spoke. “Obviously, we do speak of this, as there are those that know, that the lessons and stories may be passed on. But, the narrative is difficult, and filled with concepts not in our tribe. Usually this is done in Council. I feel it is prudent to continue this tradition at least.”

Moa’qi nodded assent. “Your words are wise Tracker1.” Speaking to Sylk, he said, “That question will be answered in time, by the tribe, in the usual manner. Tracker1 reminds me that many standards have been – bent. These processes exist for good reason, perhaps it is time to reassert their legitimacy, lest you think that nothing matters. Please, Tracker2, continue the narrative of our tribe.”

Looking relieved, Tracker2 took up where he left off. “The Muktai, then, as a unit, commonly determine who will be told what of Flat Rock, and the time. The only person I know of that received information regarding Flat Rock outside the normal program was Jedediah…” Here Tracker3 flashed a quick glance at Moa’qi, then Sylk, then back to his mug. “… and he of course was destined for First Chair.

“The tribe gradually lost general knowledge of Flat Rock, just the stream legends and a few archaic words, such as ‘drown’ remain. But they are treated as fantastic stories or even allegory. Representative of an Idea, not a Fact. Part of the lore of the Tribe.

“In fact, however, it is a legacy, and like most legacies, has the potential for a negative connotation. It can be a bequeathing of value, or a transmittal of – disease.”

Again Sylk took advantage of the break in narrative to ask another question. “This disease. Was it localized? Did moving the Tribe distance it from the source of disease?”

Moa’qi answered. “Yes.” No one else spoke.

“Was there ever any discovery of what caused the disease? I ask, because I wonder if it was a localized phenomenon, then perhaps we endanger the tribe by going near the origination point.”

The Trackers appreciated this question, as it demonstrated the fact of the New Man. No childish question, it went to the heart of what matters, i.e., the safety of the Tribe. Nodding approvingly, Tracker3 spoke for the first time, “We appreciate your question. The short answer is apparently not. There has never been a reoccurrence since we have moved. There is debate about whether something specific to our new location provides tribal protection, or whether the source of disease vanished with the last of the dead.”

ciao for now. fb

Day 16, and It's my Birthday! 26,015 total words. 1,249 this morning.

I am on track, even if I don't write another word today. The spreadsheet generously provided by someone from NaNoWriMo indicates a projected finish day of Nov 30.

Cool.

Today's excerpt

He pressed hard against Flat Rock, sensing the approach of two bipedal somethings. There were little short-lived instances of a strange light. The creatures would stop, the light would come and go, and they would move. Whatever they were, they were approaching the campsite. Sylk realized he recognized the movement of one of the creatures, their visitor from earlier in the night. The other was smaller, and more delicate in movement, but with that same weird otherworldly feeling.

He could actually hear their footsteps now, not just feel their vibrations. They were in reality quite clumsy, but Sylk also realized that, had he and Moa’qi been relying on sound alone, they would have had little time to make a getaway without being detected. He was very grateful for his newly developed sense. He also realized that Moa’qi either had a much higher or attuned sensitivity, or that he must have expected this. Sylk resolved to ask about this in daylight, when he felt they would be safe.

The two creatures arrived at the site, and a light blazed forth. There was a moment of silence, then some loud harsh words from one, and the other, softer, more controlled, shushed the first. They walked about for a second or two, trying, Sylk guessed, to pick up a trail. There was silence again, and then a low heated discussion. Sylk could not make out the words, but the emotion was apparent. One was angry, the other imploring. The discussion ebbed and flowed, then stopped for a moment. The light flicked off. The harsher voice, which Sylk now characterized as male, began the imploring again. The other did not respond. The imploring continued until it changed character, and became anger as well. This was followed by a long silence. The softer, more controlled voice said something curt, and the strange unnatural white light blazed again. Sylk saw a beam sweep the rock face in front of him. He wondered if the optical illusion would hold under those lighting conditions. It swept back again, and the softer voice, which Sylk determined to be female, had a quizzical tone. Sylk realized that she was noticing something odd, but could not figure it out. The male became impatient, and the arguing started in earnest.

There was a scuffle, a scream, a sound of flesh hitting Flat Rock, and a crunch. Then one set of sounds moved off into the dark, carrying the light source with it. The other stayed where it was, and did not move. Sylk was unsure, but he thought the male had run off, and the female remained. He guessed from the sounds, and the flight, that the female had perhaps been killed or at least injured severely. They lay still for what seemed like forever. Moa’qi did not move. Sylk dared not.

He lay still in the dark, and finally relaxed. He knew there was nothing nearby, and with the cozy comfort of Flat Rock, he knew that he would be aware of any movement coming near. He slept.

A roaring, gushing sound awakened him. He sat up, wiping the dew from himself, and realizing he was hearing the cataract. It was nearly deafening. He turned toward Moa’qi and realized that again, when he woke, Moa’qi was sitting, looking at him, having woken up some time prior. Sylk wondered if he would ever wake up before his Master. Then, some prescience told him, that he really never wanted to. The thought troubled him, and he looked away. Glancing out toward the plain, he asked, “Is there danger?”

“Always. Come, we look to the cataract first.” They stayed on the ledge and moved toward the sound. Soon they were in a mist, and became soaked again, as if a new dew had fallen. Sylk could see the rushing water ahead. Moa’qi tapped him on the shoulder and bid him move toward the edge and peer over. The sight was awe-inspiring. The water hurtling over the edge was pounding into the ground below. White foam was spewing everywhere, and the mist hung about like clouds. Sylk thought he detected a hint of color, in a kind of arc, near the base where the water was pounding. He pointed it out to Moa’qi. Moa’qi just smiled. Speech was impossible in the noise. Sylk returned his attention to the crashing water, and then looked out toward where the water was spilling out from the depression. He knew now why the ground looked as it had the day they had arrive. The power and fury humbled his mind. He gazed mutely for a while, before looking around the surrounding ground near the hollowed out area. He noticed at that moment a body of some sort almost directly below him. He motioned to his Master again, pointing down. Moa’qi nodded, and tapping Sylk’s shoulder again, turned to leave.

When they were far enough away to carry on conversation, Sylk asked again about danger. He was given the same laconic response. “Always”, was all his Master would say. Sylk was wearying of this enforced mystery, but did not dare broach the subject now.

Sylk chewed on his lip. Was this going to be another of those kinds of days? He chose his words carefully, and began, “Right, but, last night we moved just after the fire died completely. You were in a hurry, but not worried. We hid. There was two of – them. We remained silent, and now we talk. So, the danger, if that is what we hid from, must be not nearly so near. So, are we in imminent danger?”

“Why do you ask questions which have already been answered?”

May or may not write tonight. It is my birthday, you know. ciao. fb

Day 15, The Half Way Point. 24,766 total words; 2157 today

Statistically speaking, I am at 50%. And, it is half the month.

Woo hoo

Tired. Will post excerpts tomorrow.

Day 14 22,609 total; 3377 today. None at all yesterday.

Yesterday I kind of took the day off. Didn't write one word.

Today, I did 3,377, as that is what it took to get back on track. Feeling pretty good. That is easily my high word count so far.

Today's excerpt:

“This is the Tale of Moab”
“which is about the tail of Moab”
“which twas in front, not in back”
“and very hard it was packed!”
“with a mind of its own”
“and sometimes a bone”
“twould seek that which it lacked”

“Moab had quite the tiller”
“against boredom it provided much filler”
“he would till all the fields”
“till his tiller annealed”
“he would low like a cow”
“oh the fields he did plow”
“but some would simply not yield”

“Again then, to the seven seas”
“to learn what it would take to please”
“you mean the seven virgins!”
“to satisfy those urgin’s”
“as you like as they say”
“with these words we will play”
“but he’d need the skill set of surgeons”

The rhyming and word play went on an on recounting his visiting of the seven virgins while they finished and cleaned up and prepared for sleep. Sylk had lost track of the whereabouts of the visitor in the dark, but Moa’qi indicated that it had in fact moved off. They reached a stopping point to the Tale of Moab and Sylk asked what had been in the dark.

“Tell me”, Moa’qi replied, “what you were able to determine.”

Sylk recalled as best he could the original vibrations, then replied, “bi-pedal, though it did not feel like any of our tribe. Something was different. It is hard for me to tell. Since we’ve been off Flat Rock, it is like”, he hesitated, trying to find the right description. “Well, like I have cotton in my ears. Or feet. Something.”

Moa’qi just nodded so Sylk continued, “but it was not any herd animal, or any of those creatures that come out at night, sliding along. I have to guess it was a man, except, well, it wasn’t. Something about the sound of the steps. The gait was wrong, and the – sound, er, vibration, just wasn’t right… somehow.” Sylk was embarrassed. He was fumbling, and couldn’t really figure out why. But the vibration on the ground was muffled in some as compared to Flat Rock. He got distracted by this line of thought, and asked “Why could I sense things on Flat Rock better than on the earth? The vibration had to be transferred through the earth to Flat Rock, didn’t it?”

“Later.” Moa’qi was stern. “What else do you recall?”

Sylk looked at his Master’s face in the dying light from the fire. It had a hardness that concerned him. “Are we in danger?”

Moa’qi’s face softened. “Answer me. What else did you feel, sense; what else do you remember?”

Pausing to gather his sense/thought, Sylk replied, “It came slow and haltingly, trying to mimic natural sounds. From that direction…” he started to point but Moa’qi tossed a dew gatherer to him, forcing him to alter his movement to catch it.

“Don’t point. Just talk. Natural hand gestures.” His master war very earnest.

“Well from more or less opposite the way we came to Flat Rock, and roughly perpendicular to where I believe our village lies.” He paused. His Master said nothing. “Then, when it finally moved again, it was back the way it came, only, I’m not sure that wasn’t intentionally misleading.”

“Interesting. Why do you say that?”

“There was less care in the movement away then there was here. Like it wanted us to know.”

“Very good.” Moa’qi prepared bedding. “We go in the morning as originally planned. We will wake early. We will gather our hidden gear, then double time it to the village.”

“Moa’qi, what was that in the dark?”

There was a long silence. Finally Moa’qi spoke softly, “You remember the stories, when you were very young, about The Others? The short ones with the blue eyes and the different skin?”