Then a complex pattern appeared on Ripple’s chest, and the alien held out its wrists, bright red spurs pointing upward. Juna panicked for a moment, thinking that it was asking her to join spurs, but it ignored her, looking instead at the other aliens. It was asking something of them. The aliens turned a soft, misty grey. One by one horizontal bars flickered across their chests as they agreed.
Spiral touched Juna lightly on the shoulder, and pointed to Juna’s bed of leaves. It indicated that she should lie down and sleep. Then it left her and joined the other aliens. The game was over; she had been dismissed. Juna watched as the aliens linked arms in a large circle, and abandoned themselves to their strange communion. It reminded her of the two aliens healing the lizard in the forest, only there was a ritual solemnity to it.
Juna yawned. The huge meal on top of a long, stressful day had made her sleepy. She burrowed deeper into the warm, moist pile of leaves and slid down into sleep.
The next morning Spiral nudged Juna awake, beckoning for her to follow. Juna followed the alien down the inside of the trunk to the pool at the tree’s base. Spiral dove in. Juna, eager to rid her skin of the rotting leaves from her bed, plunged in too. The tepid water felt wonderful. Curious, she dove for the bottom. The pool was surprisingly deep, at least three and a half or four meters. The bottom was soft mud. Something wriggled under her questing fingers. Startled, Juna shot toward the surface, emerging with a splash that drew curious stares from the aliens seated around the pool. She swam to the edge of the pool and sat on a low ledge.
Spiral emerged a few moments later, carrying a fat, wriggling burden. Juna thought it was a fish. When Spiral handed it to her she realized that it was an enormous tadpole. It was the size of a large house cat, mud-brown, with an oily, iridescent sheen. Its tail was horizontally flattened like a dolphin’s and its eyes were large and golden, with vertical catlike irises. The hind legs were strong and well-developed. Beneath the translucent skin, the small dark lump of its heart pulsed slowly and steadily behind its gills. It was soft, slippery, and cool, like the mud at the bottom of a lake.
Juna wondered what species it was, and how closely related it was to the aliens. She wished again for her computer, so that she could catalogue the tadpole. So much knowledge was slipping through her fingers without it.
The tadpole wriggled wildly, slipped out of her grasp, and fell back into the pool with a soft plop. Spiral shot after it, caught it with both hands, and stuck a wrist spur into it. It ceased wriggling and lay motionless. Spiral handed it to Juna, and dove into the depths of the pool.
A small, dark green alien climbed down to the edge of the pool, carrying a bulging satchel. Juna watched curiously. There were at least a couple dozen of these smaller aliens in the village. They were darker in color and lacked the red stripes that ran along the back of the others. Juna had never seen them change color. The larger aliens ignored them. They moved quietly in the background, cleaning up, helping prepare meals, and carrying things. They puzzled Juna. If they were juveniles, where were their parents? If they weren’t juveniles, what were they? A related, less intelligent species? A neuter form, like worker bees?
The small alien pulled handfuls of food scraps out of its satchel, tossing them into the pool. The calm surface churned and boiled as hungry tadpoles gobbled the food scraps. They devoured it all—meat, fruit, vegetables, even the huge, tough leaves that the aliens used as plates. Juna opened the mouth of the limp tadpole in her lap, revealing sharp, predatory-looking teeth in front, and flat, powerful molars in back. They certainly had the dental equipment to eat almost anything.
There was a sudden surge in the water as Spiral caught a feeding tadpole. The alien stung it with a wrist spur and flung it toward Juna. Spiral watched her until she had hold of it, then dove again, emerging with another tadpole in its grasp. It caught nearly a dozen tadpoles, then climbed out and began butchering them with a wooden knife. The alien flung the offal into the pool, where it was eaten as soon as it hit the water. Juna was shocked that the aliens would eat tadpoles, then reminded herself that some humans ate monkey meat. The tadpoles must be some sort of related species. Perhaps the worker species was trading some of its voung for the protection afforded by the aliens. She shook her head; it was a nice theory, but it didn’t feel right to her. Clearly she was missing some important piece of the puzzle.
When the tadpoles were reduced to bite-sized pieces, the alien wrapped the meat in a large green leaf and carried it back to their room. Then they went out into the canopy. Juna spent the morning gathering fruit, while Spiral hunted. They returned with heavy, bulging bags full of game and fruit.
Back in the room, preparations were underway for a feast of epic proportions. There were large leaf-lined baskets full of meat and fruit, and leafy platters piled high with honeycombs. Even Ripple was busy helping out. Its color looked better today, and it no longer seemed as weak. Perhaps the circle last night had something to do with it. Could the other aliens have been healing it? Were they celebrating the alien’s recovery?
Juna was set to work helping the dark green workers fill baskets with food and carry them up to the top of the tree, where some of the elders oversaw the food’s arrangement. There was an air of subdued excitement, and much bustling about as they chittered loudly and flickered to each other.
Juna was sitting in the crotch of the tree arranging a platter of food, when she heard a scream. She looked up. In the next tree, the largest snake she had ever seen was coiled around a worker. The alien’s legs quivered and gave an occasional reflexive twitch, but already its head had disappeared inside the serpent’s huge maw. The worker’s skin turned silvery white as Juna watched. The other workers had scattered. They huddled in frightened groups, watching the snake consume its prey. Several of the larger aliens glanced up and then continued with what they were doing.
Juna clung to the branch, watching the worker disappear down the throat of the snake. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The death of this alien apparently meant no more than the death of a mouse or a bird to the rest of the village. Juna looked away as the snake, with the feet of its prey still protruding from its mouth, slithered off. Juna left the half-finished platter for someone else to arrange, and walked to the end of a branch. She was sickened by what she had seen.
She stared off into the jungle. Why had none of the others tried to save the alien? Clearly they couldn’t be juvenile forms of the aliens; she couldn’t imagine any intelligent species allowing its children to die without lifting a hand to save them. The aliens seemed to regard the workers as expendable. So much for her protection theory. So what was really going on here? She looked at the now-empty branch where the snake had been, and shuddered. It had been a horrible death, made more horrible by the fact that no one had lifted a hand to help the little alien.
A great, hollow booming resonated throughout the tree, interrupting Juna’s thoughts. The feast was about to start. Looking down, she saw several aliens pounding hard on the huge buttresses of the tree with large sticks. Clouds of bees streamed out of the tree like iridescent smoke.
After the bees dispersed, a group of aliens climbed out of the tree’s great hollow. They wore garlands of flowers or necklaces of shells, teeth, or fish scales. Some even* wore necklaces made from the strung-together corpses of tiny dried birds. Others carried sprays of branches. Juna found herself wondering if there was any way she could trade for some of the necklaces, especially the one with the dried birds. It would be a treasure trove of specimens.