Zahrah the Windseeker (18 page)

The wood wit's face moved next to the part of the hive closest to me. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch the face. Its round knobby cheekbones and thick lips looked soft, but I knew if I touched them, they would be hard as, well, wood.

"Just use your hand," the wood wit said.

I hesitated and then raised my hand to the golden honeycomb that glowed in the filtered jungle sunlight. The combs looked so perfect. Every single tiny cell had six sides, hexagons. I took a deep breath, thinking about Dari and how this was all for him and my safe return home. Then I dug my hand into the honeycomb. There was a soft popping sound and honey oozed around my hand. I held open the leaf and plopped down a large chunk of succulent honeycomb. Then I took some more and kept packing it in until the leaf was heavy.

"Aren't you going to have a taste?" the wood wit said as I started to close the leaf.

I looked at the package and then at the wood wit. The bees bustled over the beehive, appearing to work, though even I knew they were paying attention to me. A bunch of them flew down to start repairing the place where I had taken my share. The thought that the honey could poison me was, of course, still on my mind. So I planned to take the honey with me, find a nice baobab tree to climb into, and stare at it until I got the nerve to have a taste. If I could
get up
in a tree. It probably wasn't possible, not without putting something in my stomach first.

"I was going to," I said.

"Well, go on then," it said. "Might as well find out if you're going to live or die right now.
I'm
certainly curious."

I opened the leaf and looked at the golden, sticky honeycomb. It seemed like normal honey. I held it to my nose and sniffed. It smelled slightly of mangoes. The bees probably produced their honey using mango flower pollen. I frowned. What if they used pollen from those mystic mango trees? Then maybe the honey would smell bitterer, I thought. I grunted to myself, feeling lightheaded from the whip scorpion's poison, hunger, fear, and exhaustion.

"OK," I said. "I'm going to just do it."

I brought the open leaf to my mouth, held my breath, and took a bite. The bees suddenly burst into a melodious chorus of buzzing, several of them flying into the air and parading around the tree. I glanced up at them for a moment, and then all my senses were overtaken by the honey. My initial thoughts:
Waxy, chewy, and ... extremely sweet and delicious!
I took more bites. My body responded as if the honey were water and I was extremely dehydrated. Before I knew it, I had eaten over half of what I'd taken.

"Oh," I grunted, honey and wax all over my face. I stopped and blinked, becoming aware of myself again.
"Oh," I said again. I wrapped up the rest of the honey. "Thank y—" Then it hit me. It felt like hands angrily clenching my stomach and twisting. Then it felt as if my head were exploding and oozing out of my ears! I screamed and fell to the ground, and before everything went black I heard the wood wit laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing hard enough to shake the entire Greeny Jungle. I'd fallen to the ground and curled up next to the tree, still clutching the leaf full of honey, my eyes shut tight. But within minutes the bellyache passed completely. I gasped and quickly sat up. All my muscles groaned in unison but...

"What?" I whispered out loud.

I slowly, achingly sat up and looked at the tree. The wood wit was nowhere in sight. The beehive, however, was still there, covered completely with bees, including the place where I had taken the honeycomb chunk. They acted as if I weren't there, their buzzing unanimated and monotonous.

It took me a moment to realize it, but when I did, I patted my hands around my body. I was OK. I could feel the change. The poison wasn't gone. It wouldn't be gone for months. But I was alive and going to live. I stood up, stretched my legs, and rubbed the side of my head.

"OK," I whispered. Then I turned to the beehive. "Thank you."

For a moment, their buzzing grew slightly louder, then it returned to normal. I clutched the leaf of remaining honey to my chest and made my way back to my things. I was all right, and that meant Dari still had a chance. I looked up at the treetops, rubbing my dirty hands on my clothes. No longer did I think sleep was dangerous, so I planned to take a long rest.

I spent the next day in a nice baobab tree. Despite the fact that I was able to get a good night's sleep, I still felt exhausted when morning came. "Just one day," I told myself. The poison would remain in my blood for months, and I still had the risk of falling asleep anytime my blood pressure got high. I didn't know what I was going to do about this, but I knew I would keep going ... after I took a little time to get used to the idea that this could happen.

"Laziness is unforgivable, but a little down time is essential after hard work. It recharges your batteries," my mother always says. And I certainly felt I'd been hard at work since entering the jungle. Working to stay alive and lucky to
be
alive. I didn't bother tying myself with a vine.
And though I slept well, I dreamed of the wood wit and its knowing laugh and of the spots and lines that signified a death by scorpion poison. In my last dream, I died and all went black, like falling into a deep sleep; like the one Dari was in or the one I could now fall into if I got too scared. I woke up shivering, with tears streaming down my face.

Still, the tree I was in was a good one. It was the tallest in the area and not too fat, with very rough bark, making the trunk easy to climb. And it had many thick branches that led all the way to the top. It felt homey and safe.

Because these trees killed the plants and trees around them, they gave me a clear view of what was going on below. Baobab trees also seemed to discourage many creatures from making a home in them. My digi-book said, "There's something about the baobab tree that the creatures of the jungle have a problem with. Is it a stench? Particularly rough branches? We do not know, but it's certainly something. Possibly just a bad vibe. We've seen only small groups of birds and the occasional tree sloth and flying squirrel in them."

After I woke up and shook off the nightmare in which I died, I lay awake for a while feeling disturbed and agitated.

I slowly climbed down, cleaned my whip-scorpion wound with some water, and patted some soil on it. It looked better; the blue spots on my skin were gone. But the wound was crusted over with a thick, bluish scab, an obvious sign that the poison was still in my blood, even if I was alive. Then I ate the rest of the honeycomb. This time eating it made me feel better, more refreshed and energetic. I sighed, thinking of the tricky wood wit. It had helped me, even though it seemed a little crazy. Like the Dark Market, sometimes things weren't what they seemed.

I spent the rest of the morning reading passages from the field guide. I reread the edible fruits chapter, the chapters on small Greeny Jungle ponds and balloon frogs, and a long chapter on Greeny Jungle panthers, yet another "truly deadly" Greeny beast I might soon encounter. I tried my best not to think about the fact that I could instantly fall asleep if I met one of these beasts.
If I can't do anything about it,
I told myself,
it's a waste of energy to worry about it.

The panthers I read about were different from panthers found in the small patches of forest within the Ooni Kingdom. Greeny Jungle panthers were larger and more muscular, had bigger green eyes that could see farther and sharper teeth, and were very, very intelligent.
Why is it that everything in the forbidden jungle is always scarier?
I thought.

"This is the only large cat in the jungle. We believe that this is because they've killed off all of their direct competitors. Black as the inside of a cave on a cloudy night, Greeny panthers move smoothly like oil, silently like the shadows of ghosts. Males and females mate for life. If you see one, be careful; there is always another close by."

I shivered but continued reading about their breeding habits, their preferred food, and, most important, the best way to survive an encounter with one.

Panthers like to ambush their prey from treetops. One minute you're walking along your merry way, the next, a panther has jumped on you and is tearing your head off. By this time, prepare to say hello to death. You have no chance. Panthers are expert killers.

Several of us have seen a friend die in this way. Panthers go right for the throat, and its companion will mate sure the job is finished quicly going for the chest. Trying to scramble up a nearby tree is hopeless because, obviously panthers are excellent tree climbers. They'd probably like you to climb up a tree. They might even stop and give you the chance to do so. Panthers prefer to eat their meals there.

Now, panthers despise the smell of lemons. To them lemons smell the way poo smells to us. Would you want to eat anything that smelled like poo? When they
smell it, their nostrils flare and they start to sneeze in disgust. Thus the minute you start seeing ravaged car-casses dangling from tree branches, find yourself a patch of
lemongrass
(click the link for a description of lemongrass and where to find it).

Hopefully it won't be too late. And when you see a panther, do not run. It only gets them more excited, and when excited, they are often willing to ignore the bad smell. And trust us, if you're in the jungle for more than four days, you will see a panther. Assume it. Be ready for it.

I clicked on the lemongrass link and held my breath, hoping with all my heart that the digi-book wouldn't choose to malfunction. It didn't, thankfully, and I memorized the information.

That afternoon I practiced levitating. For the past few days, I'd practiced for an hour before going to sleep. Dari would have wanted me to do so. "It's stupid to waste talent," he always said.

So on these days, I sat high in the trees and used my talent. I no longer had to close my eyes to gather concentration. And though I could float from one branch to another and had significantly conquered much of my fear of heights by climbing trees day after day, I still was too afraid to attempt actual flight.

I have to try to get over this,
I thought. The idea of zooming about high in the air gave me the same nausea as on the day I'd driven with my mother to the center of Ile-Ife and looked up at the tall plant towers. Nevertheless, I was better than I'd been a week and a half ago. Much, much better.

I pushed my satchel and bundle close to the tree trunk and scooted farther out on the branch. I no longer needed to hang on to nearby branches. I knew how I'd react if I fell off, and it was to my advantage. A few days before, I'd done exactly that, and as I fell, I'd instinctively caught myself before I could collide with the branch below. Once again, I was assured that I could rely on my instincts. I'd hovered in the air for a moment, completely surprised. Then I'd reached for a nearby branch and pulled myself onto it.

I stretched out my legs on the wide branches and leaned back on my elbows. Then I willed the spiral of wind to circulate around me. In the baobab tree, I smiled as I felt myself lifting. For a while I let my body get used to the sensation. I looked around. It was only in the last three days that I was able to do this, felt comfortable enough to do this, allowed myself to do this. Before, I'd had to focus on a focal point.

I looked up at the branch above.

"OK, Zahrah," I said to myself. "Focus."

I took several short breaths and then hummed the tune of my favorite song, "Reedy Bells." I didn't know why I was humming, but the vibration in my chest was somehow calming.
Whatever works,
I thought. Slowly, I floated up to the branch above me. I had never done this before. I had been able to float from one level branch to the next but not from the branch below to the branch above. The branches were very wide, and this required more maneuvering. I smiled, maintaining my concentration.
Now the next one.

Again I floated up. But was I really floating now, now that I was actually controlling my movement while in midair? Maybe. Maybe not. I went all the way to the top and laughed loudly. I didn't know why. Maybe it was the feeling of the shock from the whip-scorpion encounter finally lifting from my shoulders. Or maybe it was just the success of it all.

I remembered Nsibidi's words, which seemed like they were said so long ago: "The rest will come when you want it to."

I didn't want it to just yet, but someday, maybe when I was a few years older, I might.