– it had a purpose. I could train with and even lead some of the best warriors from other tribes. It was… freeing.”
“You know,” I say after a little while. “I’m starting to feel the same way. Back on Earth, everything is set. Everything is already decided. Everything is closed off, ancient, safe. Dull. Here, everything is new. Everything is possible, feels like. We can build anything we want. A new life, new houses, an army, a new tribe. There are no limits. Some of the things we do are done for the first time on the planet.”
“You can even make soap,” Brank’ox adds. “I used it. It does make me feel clean.”
“You did? Okay, I have to check. Come here.”
I straighten up and put my face close to his thick neck and sniff. That does smell like my soap. But it smells more of Brank’ox, himself, dry and fresh.
“So you did,” I say, my head swimming with his scent. And with the tequila, probably. “I’ll make more. If you liked it.”
“I like it. It smells good. You say you feel free here. Still, you want to return to your home planet.”
“Do you mind?” The booze is making me brave again. I put my backpack on Brank’ox’s lap and lie down again, resting my head right on it and effectively in his lap. “Is it okay?”
He smiles. “It’s okay.”
“Yeah, some of us want to return. The jungle still scares us. We miss our families and our friends. Our things, our habits. The things that gave us joy. It might be a dull life on Earth, compared to here, but it can be very good.”
“Easier than here?”
“Easier in some ways. Much more difficult in others.”
The stars twinkle above us. The air is balmy and sweet-smelling. It feels like this is going to be a pretty warm night, not something to be taken for granted after the sun started growing smaller.
Brank’ox opens the pouch in his belt and takes out some strange pieces of wood and sinews. He assembles them to something I can’t identify, seeing it from below. A frame of some kind. Probably something for his sword, a sharpener, perhaps.
He holds the device with both hands. He touches it with a finger, and the most wonderful sound fills the air. Like... from an instrument.
I sit up in sheer astonishment. “What is that?”
Brank’ox runs his finger across it, and it gives off five deepening notes. “Just a sound maker.”
I stare at the instrument. It looks most of all like a small harp. “Make more sounds.”
He strokes it again, and it sounds like a simple chord you would get from a guitar. The notes aren’t quite in tune to my ears, but just hearing something remotely like music after two years on an alien planet is enough to make my eyes tear up.
“Is this a common thing in your tribe?”
He plucks each string, hearing their notes. They seem to be made from animal sinews, or maybe very thin strands of leather. “Not common, no. Do you know anyone else who has a sound maker?”
“I don’t. We thought music was unknown here.”
“Myisik?”
“Music is what we call this on Earth. Making pleasant sounds just for listening to. Can you play something on it?”
“I don’t know really what that means. I can only do this.” He plucks one string after the other, a little slower than playing a guitar. It becomes a little melody of out-of-tune flats, very emotional and alien.
“Brank’ox, that’s wonderful,” I say with emphasis.
I could never play an instrument, myself, so I’m in awe of those who can. I don’t really have much to teach him. Except that maybe the strings could be attached in such a way that they could be tuned. But I’m not going to take this over from him. He’s showing me a lot of trust.
“Did you make that yourself? The sound maker?”
He plays another slow melody, reminding me of ancient Japanese music. “Our old shaman had something like this. He used it to make pretty noises when he chanted for our Ancestors. I made one myself for times of prayer. Then I found myself using it even when not praying, just because I liked the sounds. In time I made more, ones that could be taken apart so I could bring it with me on hunts in the jungle. When I play it, it feel like I make a little part of the jungle my own.”
I can’t help it. I put one hand behind his head, pull