3
There’s only one yeti in the world who can help me, Mawei thought, and that’s my uncle Rei. The problem was that she didn’t know enough about humans to know how to proceed. Her uncle would know. In his quest to become an authority on the strange creatures he had lived for a number of years undetected in one of their villages, an experiment that had been the subject of much discussion. He would be headed to the Gather too, so if she traveled east she should pick up his trail. She sniffed at the air hopefully, but there was no trace of him.
The snowfall had lightened and the child was asleep again in Mawei’s arms as she trudged over hills, through creeks, and across snowy fields, deftly cutting a path through the black wilderness. The child’s dreams were growing stronger, and Mawei felt her own thinking being affected by their sleepy logic, so she decided to bed down for a couple of hours rest. She found a little nook next to a fallen tree on a grassy incline and curled the child’s legs under her arm and draped her forearm and hand across the human’s torso for warmth. Mawei rested her head on a mound of dirt.
She awoke a while later when she felt the child urinating. Apparently neither having to go, nor even the wetness had stirred the child, so Mawei assumed it was another peculiar human trait and went back to sleep.
She awoke again, just after dawn, when the child climbed off of her and began running down the hill. Mawei stretched out lazily and watched the child push past some bushes and out of sight. She sat up and thought about letting the child run for awhile to wear itself out, but then decided it was a bad idea. She didn’t know how aware of its surroundings the little human was, and she was afraid it would hurt itself.
She caught up to the child in about five steps and lifted the kicking human off the ground, turning it to face her. “Don’t run off little bird, you might hurt yourself.” She said, speaking to the child the way a human might speak to a dog or cat, expecting no response.
The child looked directly at Mawei and said, in perfect yeti, one word:
“Monster.”
Yetis don’t communicate through sounds as humans do, they communicate through a combination of micro facial expressions, posture and something akin to sign language. This language can be reduced to eye or hand movements alone, or expanded to include the whole body depending on the situation. It is a very intuitive language and yetis are born knowing the basic vocabulary, which becomes more subtle and nuanced as they age. Mawei was surprised the child had said ‘monster,’ but it wasn’t a particularly difficult word, so she thought it might’ve said it by accident.
“I’m not a monster, I’m your friend.” She said. In response the little human bit Mawei’s hand, causing Mawei to drop the child.
It recovered from the fall quickly and began running again. Mawei caught the child’s arm before it got far and turned it around. It was seething hostility toward her. “Let go!” The child said, speaking in perfect yeti. “I want to go home!”
Mawei let go of the child’s arm and stepped back, thinking she must be dreaming. She checked the chronology leading up to that moment, as her father had taught her to do whenever she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake. Before Mawei could be sure, the child spoke again. “You can’t just come out of nothing and drag me all over the forest, I’ll call the police on you!”
Any word that can be thought can be expressed in yeti, including words that a yeti wouldn’t understand, like ‘police.’ Mawei still couldn’t process what was happening. She crouched down, closer to the child. “Can you really speak?” She asked.
“No.” The human said. It looked around as if plotting its next escape attempt.
Mawei put a hand on the child’s shoulder. “How can you be talking to me?”
“It isn’t real talking monster, don’t be dumb. I want my mommy, understand? Where’s mommy?”
Mawei struggled to keep her posture neutral and not show how much she didn’t want to answer the question. “What’s your name?” She asked.
In response the child made a sound, and Mawei thought the little human had ignored the question. “It’s cold,” the human said.
Mawei scooped up the little genius animal that could speak yeti and held it close, gripping its legs to warm them, and asked if it was ready for the day’s travels. She was curious whether it could understand yeti when it was expressed with the eyes alone, and to her surprise the child answered, also speaking only with its eyes.
“No,” the little human said. “Where are we going?”
“To find my uncle. He’ll take you someplace safe and warm.”
“To my mommy?”
Mawei couldn’t help the flicker of pain that tightened her expression for a moment. “If your mommy were here what would she do?” Mawei asked.
“Make me feel better.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” the child said, “she’d give me some food and make me wear my coat. She’d sing me a song.”
“What’s ‘sing me a song?’” Mawei asked.
The little human began making noises and Mawei understood. She tried to imitate the sound the child was making but the little one held its hand up to Mawei’s mouth to stop her.
Mawei made a yeti gesture that could be translated as ‘worth a shot,’ or ‘no harm in trying.’ “Let’s go find my uncle little bird, he’ll know what to do.”
The child again gripped Mawei’s fur as Mawei bounded into the forest. It was a cold morning, but blue sky could be seen beyond the treetops, and there were little clouds traveling fast, as if they were also a day late and in a rush to get somewhere.