FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Subsequent a tearful goodbye between Uyutuk and Namo and a promise to return when she could, afternoon found the pair on the metaphorical dusty trail toward Uat’sn, which, in this case, was also a literal dusty trail. As Martin inspected the map, still wearing the messenger’s pendant offered to him by the elders of Benuun, he scrawled additional notes to the series he had taken about their travels so far. The fact that he and Namo had taken on the task of relaying the treachery that befell Benuun to the people of Uat’sn only served to remove the doubt from his mind as to whether the course they had charted in the interest of finding his former master was the best one.

“I can’t believe they gave us new clothes and fresh food and stuff! That was so darn nice of ‘em!” Namo had inspected the earth-toned shawl she was given, twirling the woven fabric between her fingers. Martin could still detect the sadness of loss in her voice, but seemed to be trying to purposefully push it aside in the interest of appearing joyful. Something about the way she tried to conceal her grief made Martin a bit uneasy.

Nevertheless, the man couldn’t help but agree with her sentiments. “I wonder if this is why they were so hesitant to give us the job, so to speak. Are these elaborate gifts necessary for every diplomatic mission?”

“Dip-lo-mat-ic? What’s that mean?”

“Like, communicating between two groups of people, like cities, or nations, et cetera.”

Namo paused in thought, trying to remember. “You know, I didn’t really pay attention when I was growing up. I’m not sure if this is outta the ordinary.”

As they slowly descended from the mesa on which the village of Benuun had apparently been built, he traced on the map tentative topography lines based on his best estimate of the pace of their descent. Namo was singing to herself, but the song was a bit of a somber one. Not necessarily a musical lament, but nor was it the jolly marches that she typically sang while they were traveling. The cliff they had scaled on their way up had gave way to a more gentle decline in slope on their way south. Martin had to admit that the site made for a surprisingly good location for a settlement, considering the people of Benuun apparently had access to spring water, the village was relatively cool and shaded thanks to its high elevation, and the mesa provided a naturally defensible location.

Martin could tell that the map on which he made notes was woefully dated; for one, the village they were heading toward was listed as “Watson”, the name it had before it was abandoned by humans. “Did you ever hear the story about why Watson was abandoned?”

“Hmm? Abandoned by humans, you mean?” Namo asked.

“Yeah.”

“I think I remember hearing about it as a girl. Somethin’ about some disease, right?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. As far as I know, nobody really figured out the real cause. But whatever happened, it only seemed to affect humans.”

“I s’pose that’s why there are Akepmuu living there again now, huh?”

“Again?” Martin looked up from the map to Namo, marching ahead of him while searching for any unfamiliar plants in the area. “Fauns lived there before humans settled the town?”

“You betcha!” She declared, her accent giving an almost musical notation to the phrase. “In Jeju we sing songs about an ancient village between Lat’snona—the lake—and Kuu’snoba—the, uh, sea thatcha said you were gonna swim across back in Fordham. I’m pretty sure that’s the name of the village that became where the amonuunkep live, which then became Uat’sn. It’s a really pretty song too, don’tcha know? I should sing it for ya, but it’s not really the best traveling song. It’s about a girl and a boy—brother and sister, I mean—who died as kids. Their parents were so sad because their kids died that they went their separate ways. When the spirits of the girl and the boy grew up, they came back from their home in the stars to live with their parents. One went to Jeju and the other went to Uat’sn, but at that time it was called Unaata. They brought their parents back together with their love. It’s really a song that makes you feel lots of ways: happy, sad, and everything in between.”

Martin only half-listened to her monologue, having gotten distracted by the names of the geographic features she had described. Martin looked at his map and, perhaps predictably, didn’t find any landmarks of the names that Namo had described. “What are those names you referred to again?”

“Huh? Which names?” Namo shook her head as if snapping out of a trance.

“The names for the places that you said Uat’sn was situated between.”

“Places Uat’sn is situated between…” She sounded as if she were wracking her brain for a distant memory. “Oh, you mean Lat’snona and Kuu’snoba?”

“Yeah, those places.”

“Lat’snona is a big lake, like, really big! It’s west of Jeju, and I think it’s east of Uat’sn. Kuu’snoba is to the west, like where you were planning on going. I’ve never seen it though! But then again, I’ve never been this far west in general. You, um, are still planning on going west, right?”

Martin examined the map. The place she described as Lat’snona was probably the landmark he knew as Sundered Lake, which was more akin to an inland sea in sheer size, and which fed many regional river systems, including the Pinuntuu River which Fordham straddled, to the north and where their journey together more or less had begun. The second landmark was likely the Tychean Sea, the body of water separating the continents of Sinoe to the east and Echo to the west. Martin made notes about the names of these places in Kepmuun under their English names, doing his best to spell out the language in the Latin alphabet.

Notably, the area immediately south of the southern edge of Sundered Lake, coincidentally near where Uat’sn was located, the map was completely blank, as if the cartographers had planned to add to it but never got around to doing so. To Martin, this presented an opportunity to hone his craft, if they ended up continuing south from Uat’sn. His mind wandered again toward the tools he had left back in Vernon. In the absence of telescopes, sextants, or drawing compasses, his cartography would be reasonable guesses at best. But, he supposed, if widespread maps of this region didn’t exist, then perhaps knowledge of the natural resources were also lacking. This presented opportunity, and opportunity presented the promise of coin to an interested buyer. Perhaps, when all was said and done, the mayor of Fordham would fund a mineral survey to the south shore of Sundered lake—

“Maa’ko?”

Martin looked up from his map, startled. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“I asked if you’re still planning on going out west after we get done at Uat’sn.”

The rogue nodded. “We’ve already come this far. I think we need to keep going, especially if Afzal is involved.

“That’s good. I’m glad we can still travel there together,” the woman replied, not in the least shy about having a new traveling partner.

The pair continued down the trail in relative silence before Martin had a sudden recollection. “Ah, shit.”

Namo turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to ask the councilors of Benuun about their negotiations with the people of Fordham.”

“Huh?”

“Like, Fordham was hiring laborers from Benuun or… you know what, never mind. It’s not important anymore. Maybe we can ask on our way back.”

Martin’s achiness and tremors had afflicted him sporadically since they had been on the road, and often he found his thoughts turning to drink. His stay in Benuun had been so brief he had scarcely had a moment to think about how long it had been since he enjoyed a whiskey on the rocks or literally any liquor of any kind. At this point, the man felt that he would gratefully lick whiskey off of rocks if given half a chance.

“Hey, check this out, Maa’ko,” Namo said, the following evening, between bites of improvised foraged salad as they set up camp for the evening. Or rather, as Martin set up his tent for the evening while Namo ate; the faun preferred to sleep on a simple blanket amidst the elements.

“More plant stuff?” Martin’s nerves were frayed, but he knew that Namo’s behavior wasn’t her fault—it was just who she was. He repressed his irritable nature as best he could.

“Always more plant stuff!” Namo said, holding out a stem she had pruned from a small annual. “Quiz time!”

Martin inspected the stem for a moment, blinking to focus through his headache. An herbaceous little thing, with leaves that reminded him of little hands that branched from a single point. At the tip of the stem was a series of tiny lavender flowers that converged at a single, tiny stem. “Alternating, compound, palmate leaves; flowers axial…” Martin wracked his brain for the morphology of the term.

Namo danced in place, hopping from one foot to the next. “Oh, you’re so close, so close Maa’ko!”

“Shit,” Martin spat, “you literally just taught me this one, too.” He closed his eyes, thinking back to their conversation the day prior. A woody stem. A discussion on the difference between thorns, prickles, and spines. A conversation on inflorescence types with a cluster of yellow-orange flowers altogether similar in appearance to this plant, save for the color. “Umbel! The flower is an umbel.”

“Yes!” Namo shouted, throwing her arms in the air as if she had just scored first place in a high-stakes plant identification contest. “I knew you’d do it! Your reward is…” she drew out the suspense, before presenting him with the stem. “Ta-da!”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “My reward is plant?”

“It shore is!” Namo replied. “Try it, it’s super tasty!”

“I already told you, I don’t eat random plants.”

Namo pouted. “Aww, but come on, this one is really good. You gotta at least give it a try. These grow all over back in Jeju, and my botanist friend Dr. Susan—you know, the human—she ate them too!”

Martin supposed there was no way he was getting out of this except by humoring Namo’s request. He gingerly plucked the plant from the faun woman’s grasp and bit into the base of the stem, leaving the flower intact. He chewed it thoughtfully. It was actually a pretty pleasant taste, fresh and peppery, almost like parsley. “Hey, this isn’t bad!” He put the rest of the stem in his mouth. Even the flower had that peppery flavor.

The faun botanist chuckled triumphantly. “I told you you’d like it!”

As Martin began building a fire, having assembled a small pile of deadwood from stands of scrubby oaks that characterized the chaparral they had transitioned to on their descent from the bluff on which Benuun was situated. It wasn’t until after he had kindled the embers into a respectable fire that he realized that his headache had dissipated.

“Hey Namo?”

“Yes?” The faun said, chewing on something, which Martin thought was interesting, since she had stopped eating several minutes ago.

“What can you tell me about the plant you made me try earlier?”

She swallowed whatever it was she was eating. “Well, kek’sna is a lovely little herb. It’s very nutritious… good as a spice when dried and ground… and…” she said, drawing out the last word, “whether it’s eaten raw or brewed in tea it’s a headache remedy”. She gave a knowing wink.

Martin was unnerved at how well she had read him. Was it that obvious? “Did you happen to pick any more, by chance?”

Namo puffed out her chest with pride as she began dressing down for the evening, unfastening the shawl she wore to cover her upper body. “Of course I did, Maa’ko! Look who you’re talking to! What kinda botanist would I be if I didn’t take lotsa plant samples?”

The man averted his eyes abashedly from his now topless traveling companion, instead peering into the bag he had received from the elders of Benuun. He pulled out a smaller pouch containing a handful of paste not too dissimilar to the paste that Namo had provided him as food on the day they met. Having found the courage to try the rations the previous night, he found they were inoffensive, but that was about as much as he could praise it. He scooped the plant-based paste out of the sack with one of his metal spoons and ate it as Namo walked over to him, still without a covering for her upper body. She sat to his left, looking skyward as the fire illuminated the smoke curling above. “So, whatcha think of that pepkuunon?” She asked, presumably referring to the paste he was eating by the spoonful.

“It’s alright, I guess. Kinda bland.” Martin was a bit tongue-tied. He didn’t want to call attention to the faun being half-naked, especially since it was probably not inappropriate for fauns of either sex to go topless. In an attempt to take his mind off the half-naked woman next to him, he considered whether there were other faun women he had encountered in Benuun who similarly wore no upper-body clothing while he was in the village, but his memory failed him. The only woman he knew for sure who had dressed similarly was So’onuu, and unlike Uyutuk’s spouse, the tuft of fur covering Namo’s chest wasn’t nearly as voluminous as to completely conceal the modest swell of her breasts.

“Mine’s better,” Namo said flatly, staring at the pouch Martin was holding.

“Y-your what is better?” Martin almost choked, wondering if the woman was suddenly telepathic.

“My pepkuunon. It tastes better. I season it with local herbs. When I can, I try to use a bit of salt, too,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if there were no question that her cooking was superior.

“Maybe I’ll try it someday and compare. We could do a blind taste test,” the man replied. “Assuming you still have some on you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Namo nodded. “I try to stretch it out so I can eat it when there aren’t any tasty plants nearby. But I can share it with you, as a treat. If you’re nice enough to me,” she said, with a wink.

“The last time you tried to give me some was when we first met, wasn’t it? I wasn’t being very nice to you then.”

“T-that was different. You were more desperate then than you are now. You’ve come a long way.” She sounded as if she were trying to justify it to herself as much as she was to him.

Days passed as the pair made their way southwest, with nary a soul encountered on the road. Though the early fall weather was clear, the evenings began to feel brisk as they continued on their journey, in part due to the westerly wind that had blown consistently since they had descended from the bluff. Their days of travel were accompanied by occasional botany lessons; Namo rarely was unable to discern something about the taxonomic affinities of plants, even if she didn’t recognize the particular species. Their evenings were accompanied by fireside banter and impromptu singing on the part of Namo. Several nights found Martin awake, staring at the roof of his canvas tent, sweating through his physical desire for just one sip, one drop of liquor. On many of these nights, he could swear he heard soft sniffling coming from Namo’s bedroll, which filled the man with melancholy—he was sure she grieved the loss of Uno’opan and wished to comfort her, but was unsure how to do so respectfully.

Martin wasn’t sure what had changed, but whereas merely a week prior he found her incessant childhood anecdotes and ramblings about plants dull at best, irritating at worst, he admitted now he was a bit curious about the plants she found interesting. Just a bit though, he consoled himself. What he found particularly amusing was her grasp of the scientific method, which far exceeded his in practice. As far as he could tell, she could clearly identify what major group a plant belonged to based on the layout of its stems, leaves, flowers, root forms, and any number of other features. But the woman recognized that just because it was a part of the same major group as another species, that didn’t necessarily mean a given plant was medicinally useful. In fact, she had explained to him that many delicious plants, including the “pepper parsley” he had eaten to curb his headache several nights prior, were closely related to others that could make a person drop dead.

“How do you tell the difference, generally?” Martin asked, staring at the western horizon as they walked through the craggy chaparral.

“That’s a good question, and it’s always tricky. Oftentimes, when it’s a fruit you’re talkin’ about, it’s not so hard. If they’re brightly colored, like bright red especially, that can be bad. Sometimes, anyway. But when it’s the leaves, flowers, or root, sometimes it’s best to cook the plant first. Boilin’ the plants usually makes the bad stuff go away, don’tcha know? Ya just gotta be careful then because sometimes the water ya boil the plant in then becomes the dangerous part.”

Martin nodded in understanding, still looking at the rock formations in the distance. He supposed that part of the reason why he had taken somewhat of a liking to Namo’s horticultural monologues was because they distracted him from the sense of foreboding he had felt since his brush with death in Fordham. Was he inviting calamity upon himself and Namo by undertaking this mission to Uat’sn? He knew there was no room for such doubts, but worry frayed his already threadbare nerves nonetheless. And so, to distract himself, he would force himself to entertain his companion’s botanical interests, examine the scenery, and jot notes in his travel journal and on his map.

The red sandstone formation they had scaled to reach Benuun had given way to sandy ocher brown basement rock. Judging by the exposed layers visible in the form of uplifted hills, irregular, jagged, and unforgiving in their appearance, he guessed that much of the surrounding material was likely schist, as indicated by the scaly, jagged texture he could make out in the nearest rock formations. These uplifted formations, like the bony spine of a titan erupting from the earth after eons of being submerged, were relatively devoid of plant life when compared to the flats between the formations, which served as nurseries for all manner of microphyllous—a term he learned meant small-leaved—shrubs and forbs. Namo posited that this likely meant that they were in a relatively arid location, which Martin supposed made sense: many of the plants seemed relatively similar to those in Vernon, which didn’t see a whole lot of rain each year until one went up into the hills surrounding the town.

The trail they had followed was so seldom used in places that it was nearly impossible for them to follow the route; occasionally, the dirt path was narrow enough where they were forced to proceed single file. Nevertheless, thanks to Martin’s compass and Namo’s exceptional sense of direction, the pair were never truly lost. Still, just to be safe, Martin retrieved his map from his pack and examined it. Assuming the distances were accurate, which was certainly a generous assumption, the pair were only another day or two’s travel northeast of Uat’sn. In addition, Sundered Lake lied merely half a day’s travel to the west. “Maybe when we finish up at Uat’sn, there might be time for us to stop by the lake for a bit.”

“Oh, that’d be fun, I tell ya. It’s been a while since I’ve gone for a nice swim!”

The hapless thief had to consciously avoid thinking of what the faun would look like in a bathing suit.