Concavenator:
The inn in Yakak'ratu had seemed so squalid, when Kukri had been comparing to the velvet cushions of the chapterhouse in Grikaa and not to bare windswept stone; but now it felt as comfortable as an egg in a warm nest. The pain in Kukri's ankle had mostly disappeared, only to return in sudden fits when she turned under the blankets with too little caution. Even the troubling thoughts of the previous days were scarce, since she spent most of that time unconscious, or sipping hot teas thickened with generous doses of penguin blubber.
But now the funds were starting to run low. It was time to move back to the capital, do the serious interpretation work, and present the results to the Guild's fellows. One grey morning she pulled up in a sitting position in her bed, with her tail still safely tucked below, and told Giya: “It's time for me to leave. Today I will look for a sled back to Grikaa, and leave with our data and many fond memories. I hope you too have had the chance to rest, as my offer to take you with me still stands. Will you come?” And offered her a mug, glistening with fat.
pinkgothic:
The logistics of the offer were still unclear, even to Kukri. It was of course easy for Giya to join Kukri in travel, but a little harder for Giya to stay in Grikaa once there. Still, compared to their shared adventure across the inhospitable ice, it was bound to be an easy exercise.
No doubt as the hardships of the trek faded in intensity in her memories, Kukri would grumble and protest the inconveniences as they arose, but the fact remained: As Giya's host and mentor, she would figure out a way.
Concavenator:
“I– I would”, said Giya, rising from the stool. “I will tell my father I am leaving – my sisters, if I can – it will not take long, there is, there is little I can take –” She folded down the documents she had been studying (although she wasn't quite able to read completely on her own, she had taken a keen interest to the maps and diagrams, and spent a full hundredth of a day in contemplation of an engraving of folded sedimentary layers) and fastened her coat, as if readying to run out in the snow in that very moment.
Just as she turned to climb down the ladder to the inn's entrance, she turned and asked: “Maybe you'd like to come too, if you have this time…?”
pinkgothic:
There was the matter of organising the way back, but it struck Kukri then and there that it was rather impolite not to say farewell, herself, after having gone through the trouble of introducing herself to the family in the first place - not that 'family' was quite the right word. Giya did a better job of the terminology, certainly. There was far less ambiguity in 'father' or 'sister'.
She hesitated. It hadn't been a wholly pleasant encounter last time. If she could avoid it, she would feel better about taking Giya away from Yakak'ratu, less haunted by the sight of the tattered folk she was leaving behind. With Giya having been gone for a few days on the expedition to the glaciers, their situation was probably not improved.
And so both a guilty personal distaste and a concern for arrangements she hadn't made yet came together, and she finally said: “I appreciate the invitation, but I should organise the sled.”
Concavenator:
Giya came to a sudden halt with one boot on the ladder's first rung. She stared at the loose floorboards for a few instants, slightly shifted her weight as if unsure whether to move down or return up, and finally said: “It will be short, I will come back so I can help you for that”. Her first step down the ladder was slow, but she picked up speed descending until in a moment she was out of the door, vanished into the hissing wind.
Kukri was alone once more in the room, with the shivering light and the creaking walls and the warm smell of blubber tea. As unpleasant as the idea was, she had to go outside as well. Her first task was to find a sled driver willing to carry passengers, and who didn't seem likely to rob them or to carry forbidden cargo. With a good sail sled they could be back in Grikaa by tomorrow, and one pulled by a good team of astrapotheres could make it in a couple days, either way before their supplies and money completely ran out.
She carefully slid out of the bed and winced as her injured foot touched the floor, leaning back against the mattress and groping for the walking stick. Right, there was that too.
pinkgothic:
It really was such a pest that it was still tender. She knew enough of the workings of her body to know with certainty that the damage was quite minor, but her body insisted otherwise with unfortunate vehemence. But that, too, was a reason not to also visit Giya's father and his brood again - she would have slowed it down considerably. It lessened the sting of guilt a little.
Instead, she now limped down the ladder, careful in her descent. Then she was down, and despite her handicap, far too quickly outside in the biting cold, pulling her coat close and stalking with an awkward gait toward the road she had originally come in on.
The distance felt greater than she remembered, but she blamed it on her foot. Walking simply took a greater concentration and it was a little slower than her normal walking speed; the combination made the walk stretch. As the main road came into view, she kept an eye out for sleds and their owners.
Concavenator:
Now that the Month of Water was beginning, the streets were considerably more crowded. Dawns were still blurring into sunsets, and torches and bonfires were still the chief sources of light, but people were much more confident in braving the environment outside. The Awakening market was still ongoing, with its little wooden benches and cabins bursting with smoked fish, bottled resin, flasks of podocarp wine, iguanodont hides, cast iron pots, devotional pictures in ochre and charcoal, and all sorts of talismans carved from wood, amber, ivory, and jet. With all the people travelling to and fro in such occasions, there must be plenty of drivers.
Indeed the mast of a sail sled rose between columns of smoke, many paces behind a row of cabin. It tottered in the wind, straining against its rigging, with many loud imprecations accompanying its movements.
pinkgothic:
There was something reassuring in the bustle, a familiarity within all the strangeness of this distant place, like a promise of infinite tomorrows. But even 'Au'a the Watchful could not promise that, and while Kukri had not tried to think too hard of her first conclusions, lest it poison later, thorough analysis, the glaciers made no such promise, either.
None of those thoughts would get her a sled, though, and so she worked her way forward to the sail sled, curious to speak to its owner.
Concavenator:
A middle-aged woman stood at the side of the sled, at the feet of creaking cords and flapping tarp, piling burlap sacks on its bridge, and rushing back and forth between its sides to balance the weight. She had a heavy padded coat bundled about herself, and a bulky feather beard emerging from it. Her eyes darted all around, as if awaiting or fearing something. The actual sled, some six paces long, sat on the frozen ground on battered wooden runners, crusted with brine and mud. It would need to be dragged onto open ground before departure, and indeed the harnesses hung from the sled's sides; Kukri feared they were meant for 'ikra use, rather than for draft animals.
pinkgothic:
Even moral aesthetics aside, if the sled was going to be pulled by 'ikra, she might as well walk back - 'ikra had the endurance of 'ikra and she had only just proven that Giya and her had good endurance. She allowed herself to approach the sled a little more closely to inspect the harnesses, to better guess what really might end up pulling the sled.
Concavenator:
The harnesses seemed to end in handholds, rather than collars. That was rather unpleasant, but there was next to no chance that a sled of that size, with that amount of cargo, would be pulled by hand for more than one or two leagues, after which the wind would do all heavy work. Animals might be employed for the travel back south, which would be against the wind. Still, with her suffering ankle, even a single league dragging a heavy load would be a rather miserable experience. Much would depend from the driver's plans.
pinkgothic:
Reluctantly, she approached the 'ikra that was flitting about the sled. “Pardon,” she dared to interrupt. “I and my apprentice of the Society of Natural Philosophy are seeking passage to Grikaa. Are you headed in that direction or toward Ki'akrai, and can your sled spare some space for two paying passengers?”
Concavenator:
“Grikaa”, the worker said matter-of-factly, as confirmed by her accent, which lacked any trace of the Tayaka notes of southern speech. About the rest, she had to think a few instants more. “Space I got, if you don't have much load yourselves. Usually it's, uhm, thirty bits a head for the whole route, but I can make it twenty if you help me pull the sled to open ground.” She scratched her feather beard, and threw quick glances out at the bustling town. “But you and whoever have to be here in a quarter of a day, because I'm running late on my schedule already”.
pinkgothic:
The schedule was surprising, but welcome - the less time they had to continue spending here, the better, and they were about ready to bail. “I have an injured leg,” Kukri admitted - not that it wasn't clearly obvious, but speaking plainly of it seemed only polite. “But I suspect that my apprentice may be able to help.” She was tempted but not quite willing to make the decision for Giya - even if that meant spending the rest of her money on only the ride. They'd recovered well from the trek to the glacier, they could surely handle the discomfort of chewing on old food on the way.
Concavenator:
“Fine for me,” she – the sled's driver, presumably, as nobody else had appeared – replied. “Then I reckon you should go and call her. Sure hope she's not too far. But as long as the quarter day's not done, you'll find me here”. She drummed with her fingers on the side of the sled and looked away from Kukri, not toward the open tundra, but the shacks and cabins of Yakak'ratu.
pinkgothic:
There was a brief hesitance in Kukri's posture, her attention sweeping down along the road - but the sled seemed the best choice, structurally sound and with a strong sail, so any minor misgiving she might have about the financial arrangement and the strangeness of the lack of beasts to pull it with seemed petty. She gestured an acknowledgement, then began to stalk away from the sled, trying to recall the path to Giya's family house.
Concavenator:
It was striking how different the city looked, with so many more people walking around, the light of lamps and bonfires multiplied, and the snow mostly cleared away or trampled into mush. The demeanor of people did not seem correspondingly more cheerful, but that might be attributed to Kukri's own exhaustion and concerns. There was the temple yard where she had started looking for a guide – how strange that someone else altogether could have taken Giya's place – now cleaned up, solemnly empty, and festooned with ribbons of beaten bark. There were the smokehouses and bakeries where she had bought her last-hour supplies. And there, looking as lonely and cobbled-together as earlier, wedged between two sturdier buildings with nothing but curtains to protect it from the throes of a dying winter, was the dwelling-place of Giya's father.
pinkgothic:
Kukri tried to banish the unhappiness from her body language as she approached, fighting against the reluctance to expose herself to that measure of poverty again. It was real, she told herself, and ignoring it wouldn't make it go away. The best she could do for these people was to ensure at least one of their family prospered.
Quietly, she approached the family home, looking for signs of Giya.
Concavenator:
A kid burst out of the curtains, hopping, not walking, in the manner of nestlings; his or her feet broke through the upper crust of snow just a pace in front of Kukri's boots. The little creature, whose fluff had not quite lost the messy grey of the nest, looked up at Kukri and, before she could react in any way, rushed back into the gloom, as if caught in the middle of some blasphemous act.
A feeble voice seeped out from the house: “Who's there? What's that?”
pinkgothic:
Djayu, almost surely. “It is again Kukri of the Society of Natural Philosophy,” Kukri introduced herself, still careful in her approach, both for the sake of her mildly mangled limb and for the sake of the decency of anyone she might unwittingly surprise with her presence, even after announcing herself - certainly, she'd rather not spook another little hatchling. “Is Giya here?”
Concavenator:
“Ah,” said the man, lifting his head from the makeshift couch in which he sat, and raising a wing to give shelter to the kid; “Welcome back, est… esteemed philosopher. I… hope, I do hope, that your travel was well. Now, you wish– to leave?” Kukri saw that Giya was reclining next to him, with her head resting on the down of his folded thigh.
pinkgothic:
“Thank you,” Kukri said. “I was a bit of a fool and hurt my foot, but it is a minor injury, more inconvenience than likely to spell any lasting trouble. Indeed, though, I must head back to Grikaa, where my skills are of use and I can earn my keep. And–” she gestured to Giya respectfully, “–your daughter, in time. There is a sled waiting for us; not too urgently, mind you, so please don't feel like you must hurry.”
Concavenator:
“Ah, yes, yes”, he said, looking somewhat uncomfortable, and his eyes darted back and forth between Kukri and Giya even as his head remained still; “So you must, you must go, now? I am the Guild's obedient servant –” His breath caught a snag, and he was unable to say anything more. Giya lifted her muzzle from the greyish fuzz and spoke quietly: “When you wish we are free to go, Kukri. Only if you wish to eat and drink with us before, my sisters can give you. Or I will follow you to Grikaa”.
pinkgothic:
As before, there was little that Kukri wanted less than to observe these people - it felt like disrespectful gawking from inside, making her rather uncomfortable. She would certainly take none of their food and drink, given how short they were of it. But she also did not mean to rush her freshly baked apprentice, and so she said the thing that was right, not the thing that she wanted: “I have no need for sustenance, but would be honoured to be your guest if you will let me simply sit by.” None of it was a lie - she would be honoured, in the sense that one was humbled by another's deeds, rather than their person or achievements.
Concavenator:
Something turned slightly less gloomy in Giya's posture. “Sit with us, then, please”. She half-rose in order to take a rolled-up cloth from the ragged pile that formed most of Djayu's makeshift nest, and spread it to cover a patch of ground. Despite all, that piece of cloth was in surprisingly good shape, and certainly the best-looking of the pile, having once been embroidered with the white and yellow pinpricks of the blooming tundra, and with cross-shaped pelagorns soaring across the glassy sky. There was something sacrilegous in stepping over that object and mashing it under one's crusty boots into the dirt, and yet that is precisely was she was expected to do.
pinkgothic:
And so she sat, doing a decent job at hiding how uncomfortable it made her. Giya had sacrificed plenty of things to help her and to come with her now; surely Kukri could bear these moments, in turn. At least that's how she considered it. She tucked her arms under her body, dipping her muzzle in a polite gesture of thanks.
Concavenator:
For some time it was peaceful, even pleasant, the kind of drowsy warmth one finds in a nest, even if it belongs to strangers. Old Djayu was not a poor host, in his way. Giya drew near to Kukri and for an instant seemed about to poke her with her snout as one would a nestling, though she changed her mind at once.
A voice rang out, in the trampled square just beyond the curtains. “Oi! Philosopher! Time to go!” The people in the nest were run through by a current as they were jerked back to consciousness.
pinkgothic:
The voice startled Kukri - by her understanding, there was still some time, if certainly not an excess of it. Was it even the person she had chartered that was calling for her? It seemed strange that the woman would look for Kukri when she owed her no such courtesy. She rose at once, pushing her head out past the drapes to satisfy her flustered curiosity.
Concavenator:
It was not. The person in question was somewhat younger and leaner, wrapped into a flapping dark cloak and a broad-brimmed hat. “Quick, you!” she shouted, though not so loud that she'd be heard across the street. “The sled's about to go! Come, take your stuff, or we'll leave you here!” Then, with no further explanation, she turned around, cloak and brim pressed against her snout, and strode off through the alley.
pinkgothic:
Oh - an associate of the sled driver, then. Kukri whipped her own head back around to glance toward Giya. “Giya, it's time to go,” she said, as gently as the abruptness of it allowed.
Concavenator:
Giya leapt up to her feet, twitched as if to shake torpor off herself, and jumped out onto the cold floor. She made a couple steps toward Kukri and the open space, tilted her head toward Djayu and looked at him in silence for several heartbeats, still walking, more slowly but surely, away from the nest. And in a moment they were both out, in the dim flickering lamplight, staring at a cloaked figure that almost disappeared in the distance.
pinkgothic:
As a last gesture to the family she was rending apart, Kukri said: “Thank you for your hospitality. May 'Au'a shine upon you.” Said, she took to limping out of the abode and after the cloaked woman at the fastest possible pace - which, to be quite fair to her, was a decent one, if not necessarily sustainable for more than a kilometre. There was nothing broken, after all, it was just tender, and she could override her discomfort by power of will.
Concavenator:
Djayu had already vanished behind the drapes, but Kukri heard him reply: “And upon you, madam. Thanks”. And then he added with a strained voice something in the local dialect, which included Giya's name.
Giya pursued Kukri in silence, helding her speed even with her companion's. For a while, there was no sound except the crinkle of snow underfoot, the whistle of rushing air, and increasingly heavy breathing. Several times the stranger disappeared behind a corner or a crowd only to reappear heartbeats later. Finally the travelers caught up with her.