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dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2KK8Xhg
I want to be writing but I’m so far from any of my WIPs and I have to get immersed in one again and kind of wriggle around until I line back up with the intentions of any of it and I just– it’s effort, you know?
That’s the downside of being so busy in the summers. It’s meaningful work, at the farm, but Christ, it’s so goddamn long since I just– sat and wrote for thousands of words, you know? It’s so goddamn long. And I don’t feel right unless I’ve done that, you know?
Anyway. Been attempting to reread some stuff. Keep not managing to get sucked back in. V. annoying.
Life went on, children grew up. Ula was kind of looking forward to being able to have more abstract conversations with Osana, and to get to know her as a person instead of a small bundle of inarticulate needs.
Osana was narrating the rest of the trip, and they were going much slower now, but they weren’t really in a hurry. They’d just been sent by Ula’s great-aunt to check up on Bixenta, their matriarch, who had been meant to be checking in on the radio collar trackers for the mammoth herd. The herd had been out of range for much of the winter, as expected, and their migration should by now be far enough along for them to have begun to come back into range.
“You remember your Auntie Edurni, don’t you?” Ula said, when there was a pause.
Osana frowned up at her, and shook her head a little.
“Edurni,” Ula said. “She’s big, she’s a mammoth, with her tusks still small enough to be straight, and she picked you up in her trunk, do you remember?”
“Oh,” Osana said, thinking.
“And her mother, Zakiyah,” Ula said. “With the big curving tusks. Do you remember her?”
“Maybe,” Osana said. Then she launched into a fanciful story Ula only understood about every other word of, something about giant birds with tusks, flying. Well, maybe Osana’s memory wasn’t very good yet, but she had a great imagination, that was for sure.
Probably. Ula wasn’t really sure what exactly she was talking about. Her own mother was better at puzzling out Osana’s speech, having a great deal more practice with the speaking habits of the very young.
Gotzon was standing outside the roughly-carved portico of the ancestor shrine and dovecote complex, arms crossed, back leaned against the wall so he could look out over the valley. He smiled as Ula and Osana approached, but Ula had seen that his expression had been grim.
Osana greeted him brightly, and he grinned back at her, his face collapsing into wrinkles. He wasn’t ancient, but he was well over fifty, and sun-beaten. He’d been a herder in his youth, and a message-carrier, and had settled in as the shrine attendant when Ula herself was a teenager. He’d been the one to teach her message shorthand and how to operate the radio.
“How’s it going?” Ula asked. “I just thought I’d bring Osana up to show her the tracker readouts and the radio.”
Gotzon sighed, face going solemn. “There’s nothing to see on the tracker readouts,” he said.
Ula blinked, astonished. “But that’s– they’re not in range?” That was dire to contemplate, that something had so delayed the herd’s migration that they weren’t back within range of the receivers yet.
“Or the interference that’s got our radio down is bad enough to affect the transmitters too,” Gotzon said.
Ula considered that. Osana had freed herself from Ula’s grip and had gone over to Gotzon, who picked her up to listen to what she was telling him. “I didn’t know the transmitters could be affected,” Ula said.
“Oh,” Gotzon said, “they can, absolutely. It’s less noticeable because they’re not so constant as the radios. And they’re a little more robust, but.” He shook his head. “And if the transmitters are down, the translators might be as well.”
“The translators,” Ula said. “I didn’t think they– used any of the same technology.” The transmitters were embedded in the translators, and all of them fastened together onto collars that the mammoths wore.
“They’re all interconnected,” Gotzon said.
(Your picture was not posted)
I want to be writing but I’m so far from any of my WIPs and I have to get immersed in one again and kind of wriggle around until I line back up with the intentions of any of it and I just– it’s effort, you know?
That’s the downside of being so busy in the summers. It’s meaningful work, at the farm, but Christ, it’s so goddamn long since I just– sat and wrote for thousands of words, you know? It’s so goddamn long. And I don’t feel right unless I’ve done that, you know?
Anyway. Been attempting to reread some stuff. Keep not managing to get sucked back in. V. annoying.
Life went on, children grew up. Ula was kind of looking forward to being able to have more abstract conversations with Osana, and to get to know her as a person instead of a small bundle of inarticulate needs.
Osana was narrating the rest of the trip, and they were going much slower now, but they weren’t really in a hurry. They’d just been sent by Ula’s great-aunt to check up on Bixenta, their matriarch, who had been meant to be checking in on the radio collar trackers for the mammoth herd. The herd had been out of range for much of the winter, as expected, and their migration should by now be far enough along for them to have begun to come back into range.
“You remember your Auntie Edurni, don’t you?” Ula said, when there was a pause.
Osana frowned up at her, and shook her head a little.
“Edurni,” Ula said. “She’s big, she’s a mammoth, with her tusks still small enough to be straight, and she picked you up in her trunk, do you remember?”
“Oh,” Osana said, thinking.
“And her mother, Zakiyah,” Ula said. “With the big curving tusks. Do you remember her?”
“Maybe,” Osana said. Then she launched into a fanciful story Ula only understood about every other word of, something about giant birds with tusks, flying. Well, maybe Osana’s memory wasn’t very good yet, but she had a great imagination, that was for sure.
Probably. Ula wasn’t really sure what exactly she was talking about. Her own mother was better at puzzling out Osana’s speech, having a great deal more practice with the speaking habits of the very young.
Gotzon was standing outside the roughly-carved portico of the ancestor shrine and dovecote complex, arms crossed, back leaned against the wall so he could look out over the valley. He smiled as Ula and Osana approached, but Ula had seen that his expression had been grim.
Osana greeted him brightly, and he grinned back at her, his face collapsing into wrinkles. He wasn’t ancient, but he was well over fifty, and sun-beaten. He’d been a herder in his youth, and a message-carrier, and had settled in as the shrine attendant when Ula herself was a teenager. He’d been the one to teach her message shorthand and how to operate the radio.
“How’s it going?” Ula asked. “I just thought I’d bring Osana up to show her the tracker readouts and the radio.”
Gotzon sighed, face going solemn. “There’s nothing to see on the tracker readouts,” he said.
Ula blinked, astonished. “But that’s– they’re not in range?” That was dire to contemplate, that something had so delayed the herd’s migration that they weren’t back within range of the receivers yet.
“Or the interference that’s got our radio down is bad enough to affect the transmitters too,” Gotzon said.
Ula considered that. Osana had freed herself from Ula’s grip and had gone over to Gotzon, who picked her up to listen to what she was telling him. “I didn’t know the transmitters could be affected,” Ula said.
“Oh,” Gotzon said, “they can, absolutely. It’s less noticeable because they’re not so constant as the radios. And they’re a little more robust, but.” He shook his head. “And if the transmitters are down, the translators might be as well.”
“The translators,” Ula said. “I didn’t think they– used any of the same technology.” The transmitters were embedded in the translators, and all of them fastened together onto collars that the mammoths wore.
“They’re all interconnected,” Gotzon said.
(Your picture was not posted)
