“Who are you?” Ciph inquired as he used his thumb to brush tears of frustration from Olivia’s cheeks.

“My name’s Gainor, Wellington Gainor. Most folks call me Wells. I was on my way to find some Eolians to see if they’d help us,” Wells shoved his hands nervously into what was left of his trouser pockets. He avoided looking at Olivia as he added, “Um, listen some of the Redrot got her, too. I think you’d be the better person to explain to her what has to happen next.”

Ciph stood and stared at Wells. Ciph’s friend, Sanbbey, and one other Eolian came forward and knelt beside Olivia. Sanbbey asked, “Your right hand is dominant, yes?” She nodded. “Then we’ll chop away the bark and wood on your left. You’ll be cut. We’ll be careful, but it’s almost inevitable that you’ll be hurt, Survivor. At least if it’s your left arm then you’ll continue to be able to do most things while you heal.” The other Eolian gently moved Olivia's face away from where they were going to work as Sanbbey cautioned, “Keep your head turned and your eyes closed as much as possible.”

Olivia did as requested. She could hear and feel the hacking and chopping against the wood and her curiosity urged her to see what they were doing, but when she gave in and decided to peek, the Eolian kept her face still and Sanbbey said, “Not yet, Survivor. Not yet. Ciph is going to help with the Redrot. We can already see where it’s eaten into your skin so we can’t wait, you need to be treated immediately. Don’t be afraid.”

Warm liquid splashed against her calf and ankle. The odor of urine filled her nostrils.

“That’s piss! Who’s pissing on me, you dirty —,” she shouted as she jerked to one side trying to move her leg and free herself from the Cushy Soft tree. A sharp pain pierced her arm and then a tearing sensation brought agony to her shoulders.

“Sorry,” Sanbbey said contritely as he hacked at the tree. “You moved so fast I couldn’t stop. I’m sorry.”

“Dearest, please, stay as still as you can,” Ciph pleaded.

“You pissed on me, didn’t you?” She responded angrily. The grip on her face tightened, so all Olivia could do was squint sideways at him.

“I had to. It will eat completely through your leg, and you’ll lose your entire foot,” he said woefully. “The Blood Umbrella plant kills its victims and sprays them with Redrot to make the bodies decay quickly. Their seedlings feed off them.”

“Pissing stops that?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes, I don’t know why. I know about music and bone flower flutes,” he responded with a grin. He knelt beside her and took over holding her face. “A healer might be able to explain it. Or an Earth Scientist if there are any left. I think it’s because something in the p…piss satisfies the decay-producing chemicals enough that they shut down. We can wash you off when we get home. We’d do that anyway, but I will personally scrub your feet and legs where…well…where I…” 

She leaned her head forward and curled as best she could into his hands and murmured, “Ciph.”

“Olivia,” he replied softly.

“We’re ready,” Sanbbey interjected.

“This is going to hurt,” Ciph said as he rubbed her cheek with his fingers. “We have to work your left side out and then we’ll be able to tilt you and pull you out from under the ridge holding your right side in place. Ready?”

“Ready!” she responded bravely. Ciph was right. The pain was more than anything else she’d experienced. Not even being slammed around in the shuttle as it crashed into the face of that mountain physically hurt as much as being freed from the Cushy Soft tree. She tried not to scream but did. She tried not to swear, but she did. As soon as she was finally free, she collapsed against Ciph who embraced her until her breathing evened out. Once it did, he stood, lifted her in his arms, then leaped into the air to take her to a healer. When they landed, she was grateful to see that the other Eolians had brought Wells Gainor with them.

While the healer tended to Olivia, Ciph’s family found better clothing for Wells and brought him water to bathe, and produced a straight razor so he could treat himself to a shave. When that was done, they tended to his bruises and scrapes. During the community meal, however, Wells stood abruptly and said, “We need your help. We have very little food and no clothing beyond the rags on our backs. Some of us are trapped. Please help us.”

Before Callof could respond, Jaicn, a young Eolian widow with a small child sitting next to her, asked angrily, “Why should any of us help the Earth humans? They kill any of us who get near them. They killed my One when all he was doing was gathering fruit for us.”

“Not the prisoners,” Wells argued. “The people who need help are prisoners.”

Jaicn narrowed her eyes, but Callof waved a restraining hand at her and said, “What has happened? Earth humans collected more food than they needed and kept it in what they called cellars that they dug into the ground. Why not use that food?”

“It’s gone. When the gaolers and rich mongrels left, they completely abandoned us,” Wells replied. He strode to where Olivia sat with Ciph. Her left arm was in a sling and her legs and feet were swollen from the healer’s treatment. He narrowed his eyes and added, “Rich mongrels like her.”

Ciph rose and stepped in front of Olivia. He clenched his teeth and snarled, “Back away.”

“Why should I, you insignificant flute blower,” Wells said, raising his fists. “She’s no different from a murderer.”  

©2022 Vera S Scott

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