Orrin was stunned. Hard-wired connection to the metal deposits under South East Asia. He felt like his mind exploded and had no idea what to do with the new information. There was something so tantalizing about the idea that an animal, human, whatever- had evolved such an intimate connection with metal. And not just any metal, but magnetite, the elusive crystals thought to give animals the ability to sense the polarity of the Earth’s magnetic field. And the Earth’s magnetic field, now that was something Orrin could get excited about.
Miraculously, they had paused in front of a sign welcoming visitors to the Department of Anatomical Sciences. The cage behind them jolted on its trolley and a quiet whine came from inside.
“The tranquilizer’s wearing off,” the courier offered.
Orrin stepped closer to the cage and saw that the ends of five small fingers had curled through the wide mesh opening on the top, gripping the crossed wires. Again, a soft whine came from the black hole inside the cage and Orrin could just make out the shine of eyes looking up from the dark. Twelve years old. Orrin felt sick. He turned to Alex who was eyeing the building laboratory directory.
“Will he feel it?”
Alex’s grim expression returned and his shoulders sagged under the weight of responsibility once more. “Absolutely.” He shook Orrin’s hand and laid the other on the top of the cage. “But I’ll do what I can for him. I always do.”
The physics lab was empty when Orrin returned. He was relieved. Dale’s confidence in their ability to recreate the energy shifts seemed desperately hinged on Orrin’s own. Those times that Orrin inevitably felt he’d hit another wall, Dale floundered and it took all of Orrin’s remaining energy to drag him back up to keep working. Exhausted and sick of being under an emotional microscope, Orrin collapsed into his office chair.
There was no doubt in Orrin's mind that Ivy was the catalyst for some monumental shift in human evolution. Homo floresiensis. Hobbit. The very name itself was absurd, but the reality of their impact was devastating. They had brought environmental ruin into the twenty-first century and social chaos onto the streets. For all that he'd tried not to think of it, the blood on that river stone came back to plague him. What did they do to you? Orrin shuddered at a new vision that swum before his burning eyes. Ivy bound and helpless, a sacrificial blade bearing swiftly upon her throat in primitive appeasement to some archaic idol. Jaysus, no. She would fight. Wouldn’t she?
That shield she cloaked herself with had deflected Orrin's prying questions so skilfully he’d almost missed her talent for it. She had let him stumble around her instead, hidden and safe in her own mind, always the objective observer.
No, not always.
Her blanket of self-protection mocked the rebellious passion that had burned in her eyes during that rally.
A shield it was, but shields could be thrown down. Passions could be ignited and flames cast. There was fire inside of her.
And Orrin knew. She would fight.
He considered going home for the night, but not seriously enough. What’s the point? Here he could work. At home he would be plagued with nightmares, failing again and again. He needed something to distract him while he worked. Orrin looked around. Fallen from the side of his desk onto an old oscilloscope, Orrin noticed his headphones. Music. It was as good a distraction as any.
Orrin pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed through his playlist.
Ivy had pushed her fringe behind her ear and he'd watched, wishing he had the nerve to reach out and do it for her. The cello case was balanced on her foot, almost standing as tall as she.
“Did you have an audience in here or something?”
“No, I just like practising in here sometimes.” Ivy had shrugged, blushing. “The acoustics are good and there's an audio recording facility set up for tutorial sessions. Students use it so they can slacken off in class and download the sessions later.” Typical. Orrin laughed as she continued. “When it's quiet, I record my cello practice so I can play it back at home. It helps me pick up mistakes.”
“I bet there aren't any. Mistakes, I mean.”
And he had done it. On a whim later that night, he'd logged into the tutorial room audio files and downloaded the track before it was deleted. Le Cygne - The Carnival of the Animals. And it was beautiful. Orrin didn't know much about music; he'd never played an instrument. But he'd listened to Ivy's cello sing against its bow and was sure he was hearing perfection. He'd played it a few times over, then gone to bed and forgotten it. Until now.
As he touched the play button on his phone, he almost thought it wouldn't work. That this one final thing, undisputed evidence that he had known her and touched her, would disappear as well. But no. The recording began. Strings humming softly under a bow. A few notes and plucks to tune.
Then Ivy. That haunting melody that took him right back to her kitchen as if it were yesterday, where she had closed her eyes as she played, lost in the music. Her fingers had danced on the neck of it and Orrin was transfixed, holding his coffee as it went cold, unable to look away. He'd never understood music before. He'd enjoyed it, appreciated the artistry, of course. But finally, Orrin suddenly understood it. Ivy's soul and fire were resonating within the cello's song. The Carnival of the Animals. Her passion and purpose. The Animals.
It had survived. Of course it had, his phone had been with him, in his pocket. It had been protected, as he had himself. And he had never been more grateful for small mercies. More than the river stone or amulet, this was truly Ivy.
Orrin listened to the track on repeat for an hour. Unlocking his desk drawer, his hand closed over her amulet. Removed from its archaeological wrappings, it should have been stone cold against the locked metal drawer, but instead it radiated heat like warm skin. He couldn’t let it go.
The sky grew dark unnoticed. Trapped in his tiny office, Orrin sank back into his work, looking for that elusive link that might explain how the bizarre measurements his laboratory had undergone could unravel Ivy's disappearance.
A shrill ring tone jolted his attention from the computer screen. It was past midnight. Dimitri Angelis. He thumbed the receiver in relief.
“Dimi?”
It was all Ivy could do to hold herself back. She clenched her jaw as Krue regaled the entire tribe with his tale of her duplicity, revelling in the shocked whispers and panic he provoked. As much as she itched to grab Krue and shake the truth out of him it would only serve to validate his lies. Gihn held the amulet tightly against her wrist, acting as translator.
“How dare you!” Ivy finally yelled, towering over him. “I saved your life! That karathah hunter would have killed you without a second thought. I nearly died to save you and this whole tribe and you’re still questioning my loyalty?” Ivy was livid. “I've already lost everything. It was you that brought me here, Krue. Your people! You stole my life by doing it and now you thank me with accusations! Perhaps I should join the karathah; at least they might appreciate me!” The minute the words left her lips, Ivy regretted it. A collective gasp echoed through the crowd and for a moment, Ivy imagined many were seeing her as she really was; an outsider and Homo sapien, and not the saviour they’d received her as. No doubt some of them, like Krue, saw only a threat in her presence, but for the most part, the hobbits accepted and perhaps even loved her. She scowled at Krue who looked spitefully gratified at her outburst. Ivy took a calming breath. She addressed the group at large.
“The karathah hunter that we found at the hot spring has been poisoning the water. He has been deliberately killing your hunters for many moons with this plant.” Ivy held up the bowl and Rosary Pea seeds that the man had left by the waterhole. “Kyah and I fought him and chased him away, but he left his belongings behind. I brought them to you to prove what he did.” She shot an angry look to Krue. “I will explain how he did it to anyone who wants to understand, but the most important thing to know is this; the Swift Death is ove
r. No more hunters will get sick and die from it, as long as you do as I say.”
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 s
een 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.
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