cjost / Pixabay
The creature was huge and descending rapidly from the clear sky. On Earth it would have been called a dragon, with its huge wings and long, sinuous neck. It was more bird, though, than reptile, with feathers that caught the sunlight and refracted it in an ever-changing pattern of colors. It was easily the largest flying creature Melissa Cantor had ever seen. The gravity of Earth would have made the existence of such an avian impossible, but here on Telos 4 it was just one more strange thing.
The Telans called the bird sussonsun, in a sort of imitation of wind. The Telans themselves were taller than humans and heavyset, so that they seemed giants. They spoke softly and their grasp of language was astonishing. They had learned her language with the ease of children.
“What are they doing?” Melissa asked the women standing with her. The men headed toward where the sussonsun had landed on the hard, gray dirt. Telos was not exactly barren, but it was a hard land where vegetation was more the exception than the rule.
“Watch,” said Durdon. “It is better to see first and then explain.”
Melissa had expected as much. They had, as far as she could tell, a deep and fanciful language, and yet they listened and observed before speaking and accepted the silence of their world with ease. Melissa had come as a missionary to these people; she recited the Gospel to them, and they absorbed the words eagerly, but nothing came of it. They were watching her. She explained but they did not yet see.
The men reached the sussonsun. It dwarfed even their formidable size. Slowly, they reached their hands out and stroked the feathers, surrounding it, caressing it. The sussonsun seemed to sigh, a musical twitter like bells chiming on a porch. It lowered its head and rested. It seemed to shimmer as it breathed.
Now some of the women moved, but Durdon touched Melissa on the shoulder. “You can go no closer yet. Only the married women can.”
These women carried large buckets, and one hefted an axe as tall as she was. The men continued to caress the sussonsun as the women set down their supplies and moved again to the perimeter. The Alanalan, who was both chief and priest, moved from where he stroked the sussonsun between the eyes, giving his place to another, and hefted the axe. He took a position next to the outstretched neck. He set his feet in a wide stance.
With one blow, he severed the head from the body, and blood began to spurt from the neck. The body convulsed, colors along its body trembling. Men rushed to bring buckets to collect the steaming flow.
Melissa tried to remove her emotions from the moment. “You killed a beautiful thing,” she said. “Will you eat it?”
“No. It would not be right to eat it,” Durdon said. “Come.”
Melissa did not want to go near the bloodletting, but she followed. With long spears, the men had opened other wounds. They collected vats of blood, thick, brilliantly red blood.
The Alanalan’s sons each held a deep steaming bowl and were moving to meet the young women and widows that approached along with Melissa and Durdon. They dipped fine brushes into the bowls and began to draw lines upon the women who stopped before them, long twisting designs along the arms and legs and neck and face. It was not a quick process. Each woman took several minutes, and once completed, the one painted would help to paint another.
“You must come,” Durdon said. “Celebrate with us.”
“No,” Melissa said. She felt dizzy. “I can’t.” It was barbaric, like one of earth’s primitive cultures drinking the blood of animals to gain their powers.
“The life of the sussonsun brings life to the dirt,” Durdon said. “Crops will not grow unless the dirt is given life. We take some of this life and celebrate the life it gives. Let the life cover you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“All who live together must share life.”
Melissa submitted. Durdon painted her, wrapping long lines around her neck and fingering branches across her arms. The thin brush tickled her as it ran smooth and warm over her skin. She gingerly touched the wet running under her chin. She began to cry as Durdon worked, not even knowing why at first, just that some deep truth resonated within her, something beneath the disgust and anger she felt. The dead sussonsun was still now, its colors are brilliant as ever.
Durdon stepped back and smiled approvingly. “It is finished,” she said, handing the bowl to her..
Melissa took the bowl hesitantly. Blood as life, blood as joy. “I will paint you now,” she said. “And afterward, we may begin to understand each other.”