pretty good trick — Janie’d fallen on her behind when
she tried to get over and then she’d had to stand on level ground
and get her bearings. But the funny man didn’t even need to do that.
He just turned around and started moving along the sides of those
rocks, like he was a spider or an inchworm or some sticky-footed
fly. When he’d come to a tree, he’d squeeze behind it if he could fit,
and if he couldn’t just lift his arms over it and sort of jump-like with
his long hairy legs, and keep on yum-tum-ing along the rocks like
nothing had happened. Janie’d put her fist to her mouth and gasped
at that — he was sure a good climber, the funny man was.
And he kept at it, until he’d gone half-the-way around the rock
circle and come up beside Janie where she leaned against it. For a
minute, she thought he was going to crawl over her like she was
another tree, rub his dangly privates all along her middle and then
go on along the rock like he hadn’t rubbed nothing. But the funny
man didn’t. The rock glowed next to her shoulder where he looked at
it, and then his fire-filled eyes moved up to her yellow-clad shoulder
and made it glow, and underneath the sweat oozed out of her skin
like pus from a dirty cut. And then he said yum-tum again, and she
knew it wasn’t words at all. It was the sound his tongue made when
it licked against the rock, tongue-out-yum, tongue-in-tum, right
next to her arm.
Janie pulled away from him a little — she sure didn’t want that
long, knobbly old tongue licking her next, any more than she wanted
those privates on her middle — and quick as she did, the funny man
yum-tum-licked the rock where she’d been leaning. A big strip of
lichen came away when he did.
Janie put her hand to her mouth again, and let out a little squeal.
Of course! That’s what the funny man was doing — she followed
the path he’d taken around the rocks, and the whole way she found
a dotted strip as wide as a tongue, like the passing line on the
highway.
“Hey!” she said, turning back to him. “That lichen any good to
eat?”
But the funny man was already gone. Or so Janie recalled as she
sat up in the middle of the night, and looked at the rock beside her.
The funny man must have been a dream-thing, because the
lichen on the rock face hadn’t been touched. He’d just given it a
sniff, and made on his way.
Janie ran her fingers across it — it was rough and dry and flaked
under her thumb, and it was blue like the funny man’s hair. It didn’t
seem much better than mustard and butter, but then Janie didn’t
see any harm in giving it a try either. She leaned close to the rock —
so close she could feel the match-flame heat of her breath bounce
back at her.
“Yum-tum,” she said, and swallowed.
Outside the rock circle, the wind had been roaring and splashing
and rattling things all night. But by the time Janie was done eating,
it stopped making all that racket and went quiet. The lichen meal
didn’t quiet Janie’s stomach any, however. It was twisting and
yelping up at her like a colicky baby. Her aches elsewhere weren’t so
bad, but her belly . . .
Her belly would need quieting.
Janie peeled off some more lichen — just a little, a strip not much
bigger than a postage stamp — and put it on her tongue. It was dry
and tasted like dirt, and seemed like even the wet in her mouth
wouldn’t go near it. She shut her mouth, and made herself swallow,
but the dry lichen gritted up in her throat like she was swallowing
sand. She didn’t let herself cough, though. Just kept swallowing and
swallowing until the last of it was down.
Then she got up, and looked over the rock.
The water was still now, and the sky was clear. There was a tiny
bit of moon up there. It was just a little crescent, like the cut on her
head, like a bite mark, and it didn’t give off very much light. There
were a lot of stars, though, and the dim moon let them shine all
the brighter. Janie could see a long swath of
she tried to get over and then she’d had to stand on level ground
and get her bearings. But the funny man didn’t even need to do that.
He just turned around and started moving along the sides of those
rocks, like he was a spider or an inchworm or some sticky-footed
fly. When he’d come to a tree, he’d squeeze behind it if he could fit,
and if he couldn’t just lift his arms over it and sort of jump-like with
his long hairy legs, and keep on yum-tum-ing along the rocks like
nothing had happened. Janie’d put her fist to her mouth and gasped
at that — he was sure a good climber, the funny man was.
And he kept at it, until he’d gone half-the-way around the rock
circle and come up beside Janie where she leaned against it. For a
minute, she thought he was going to crawl over her like she was
another tree, rub his dangly privates all along her middle and then
go on along the rock like he hadn’t rubbed nothing. But the funny
man didn’t. The rock glowed next to her shoulder where he looked at
it, and then his fire-filled eyes moved up to her yellow-clad shoulder
and made it glow, and underneath the sweat oozed out of her skin
like pus from a dirty cut. And then he said yum-tum again, and she
knew it wasn’t words at all. It was the sound his tongue made when
it licked against the rock, tongue-out-yum, tongue-in-tum, right
next to her arm.
Janie pulled away from him a little — she sure didn’t want that
long, knobbly old tongue licking her next, any more than she wanted
those privates on her middle — and quick as she did, the funny man
yum-tum-licked the rock where she’d been leaning. A big strip of
lichen came away when he did.
Janie put her hand to her mouth again, and let out a little squeal.
Of course! That’s what the funny man was doing — she followed
the path he’d taken around the rocks, and the whole way she found
a dotted strip as wide as a tongue, like the passing line on the
highway.
“Hey!” she said, turning back to him. “That lichen any good to
eat?”
But the funny man was already gone. Or so Janie recalled as she
sat up in the middle of the night, and looked at the rock beside her.
The funny man must have been a dream-thing, because the
lichen on the rock face hadn’t been touched. He’d just given it a
sniff, and made on his way.
Janie ran her fingers across it — it was rough and dry and flaked
under her thumb, and it was blue like the funny man’s hair. It didn’t
seem much better than mustard and butter, but then Janie didn’t
see any harm in giving it a try either. She leaned close to the rock —
so close she could feel the match-flame heat of her breath bounce
back at her.
“Yum-tum,” she said, and swallowed.
Outside the rock circle, the wind had been roaring and splashing
and rattling things all night. But by the time Janie was done eating,
it stopped making all that racket and went quiet. The lichen meal
didn’t quiet Janie’s stomach any, however. It was twisting and
yelping up at her like a colicky baby. Her aches elsewhere weren’t so
bad, but her belly . . .
Her belly would need quieting.
Janie peeled off some more lichen — just a little, a strip not much
bigger than a postage stamp — and put it on her tongue. It was dry
and tasted like dirt, and seemed like even the wet in her mouth
wouldn’t go near it. She shut her mouth, and made herself swallow,
but the dry lichen gritted up in her throat like she was swallowing
sand. She didn’t let herself cough, though. Just kept swallowing and
swallowing until the last of it was down.
Then she got up, and looked over the rock.
The water was still now, and the sky was clear. There was a tiny
bit of moon up there. It was just a little crescent, like the cut on her
head, like a bite mark, and it didn’t give off very much light. There
were a lot of stars, though, and the dim moon let them shine all
the brighter. Janie could see a long swath of
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