Wild West
Chapter 7

When Leonardo woke up he was faced with the harsh reality that it wasn’t all a bad dream. Hob was dead. 

He looked over and saw Slash sitting under a nearby tree, sleeping. He was going to be an interesting travel companion considering that they didn’t speak the same language. That is, if he decided to travel with Leo. 

As Leo walked up to the cart to get some supplies, Slash woke up. Slash didn’t try to say anything, he knew it was pointless. So the large snapper stood and made his way over to the water to get a drink. 

Leo took the large pot to the lake so that he could get some water for the horse. Then he stoked the ashes of the cooking fire and managed to get another one going. Slash must have understood what Leo’s intentions were and entered the river to catch a few fish for breakfast. 

After they had eaten they were on their way. Leo drove the cart and Slash road in the back. The large snapper looked wan. Leo figured it was because of the parasite that was starting to grow from him. The slow death that awaited him must have been having an effect on his psyche. 

Even though Leo didn’t know Slash’s story, he had a decent idea as to why he was alone and in the box. He knew enough about snappers to know that they were a cruel people. His tribe no longer wanted him and he was destined to die alone. Leo had no idea how long the snapper had left but Leo refused to let him spend that time alone.  

They traveled down the path with no destination in mind. Leo didn’t know where he could go. He thought it was hard to find work while he was traveling with Old Hob but now it was going to be even more so. No one was going to hire a turtle especially one with a diseased snapper in tow. 

The pair didn’t even try to talk to one another and used simple hand gestures to express what they wanted. Slash didn’t seem to care where they were going. Why would he?

Leo thought about the two documents that were in the satchel. Was it even possible for him to get justice for his parents’ death or would it only end in his own? Would anyone care about the rights of a turtle? Did he even want to fight for it?

They traveled for a while, stealing from a few farms along the way. After a few weeks they had past beyond the point where the settlers had pushed through. The land was rocky and there was a tall mountain in the distance. Leo had never seen a mountain before. It was breathtaking. 

As darkness fell Leo could see the glow of a fire in the distance. He pulled the cart to a halt. Slash shifted in the back to see what had caused Leo to stop. Without a word Leo pointed to the fire in the distance and looked at Slash. 

The snapper shrugged. 

Leo sat a pondered for a moment. The reason the settlers hadn’t traveled this far north wasn’t because the natives in these parts were aggressive but because the winters were so harsh. Did anyone live in the area or were they travelers too? 

There was only one way to find out. Leo urged the horse to move again, towards the glow. It was further away than Leo had first realized and it wasn’t one fire, it was several. They were approaching a village. 

Leo’s heart pounded in his chest and he only hoped that he wasn’t making a huge mistake. He glanced back at Slash who didn’t look at all concerned. Why would he be concerned? He was on death’s doorstep anyway. A swift death at the hands of savages would be preferable to what he had to look forward to. 

As Leo approached the village they were met by some large turtles of varying colors. He had heard some of the settlers talk about the painted turtle tribes but he had never seen one before. They weren’t actually painted. The vibrant colors were their natural skin tones. Legend had it that they were painted by the gods. 

One of them spoke. Of course they didn’t speak the common language of the settlers. So Leo once again looked back at Slash. 

The large snapper grunted and got up from the cart. When the painted turtles saw him they started to talk among themselves for a moment before addressing Slash. They spoke to each other slowly. Though the languages were similar, their accents were different. 

That point was driven home when Slash gestured to Leo and said his name. The way it said it was strange for Leo to hear. Stranger still was when the painted turtles repeated it with a completely different accent. 

The painted turtles looked at Leo but spoke to Slash. The large snapper shrugged and gestured to Leo a few times as he spoke. It was a little unnerving for Leo to simply sit there while others spoke about him in a language he didn’t understand. 

One of the painted turtles turned to another and spoke, gesturing back to the village. The other painted turtle nodded then ran off. The painted turtle then gestured for them to follow and Slash walked over to grab hold of the horse’s reigns.  

They made their way into the village among a sea of curious onlookers. Leo was fascinated by the various shapes and colors of the people. Their colors ranged from bright orange and yellows to cool purple and blues. Their sizes varied from large and imposing to slight and sleek. 

They stopped by a hut and an elder stepped out. She said a few things to Slash and then led him in side. Leo remained sitting in the cart, unsure of what to do. 

“Hello,” someone called out to him and he turned to see a large red turtle heading towards him. Looking around Leo noticed that there were no other red colored turtles among the tribe. Leo dipped him head, acknowledging the approaching painted turtle.  

“Hello,” Leo said back. “You speak the common language?”

The read turtle smiled, “What is common for the settlers is rare here among the tribes. But, yes, I do speak the language.” His words were heavily accented but Leo understood them well enough. “The question is why do you not speak the language of your people?”

Leo nodded and sighed, “I was not raised by a tribe. I was found by the side of the road by a settler and raised as his son.”

“Then how did you come to be named Leonardo?”

Leo shrugged, “It is the name my father gave me.”

“But it is in the language of the tribes.”

“I did not know that,” Leo admitted. 

“I see,” the turtle nodded his understanding. “More mysteries.” He extended his large hand, “My name is Red.”

“Red?” Leo lifted an eye ridge.

Red laughed, “We are named based off of the first time someone makes a declaration about us. Someone with my coloring is rare so when I hatched the first one who saw me declared, ‘He is Red,’ and the name stuck.”

“What if the first thing someone declares is, ‘He is sick,’?” Leo asked. 

Red laughed once again, “Most of the time we are more careful but if that were to happen, we have names for it.”

Leo looked over his shoulder back at the hut Slash was taken into, “What’s going to happen to Slash?”

“His illness will be tended to,” Red answered. His hand was still outstretched. “Come down. We will tend to your horse and get you something to eat.”

“Why are you being so kind?” Leo asked, eyeing Red’s hand. 

“Because we have no reason to be cruel,” Red answered. “I take it that you are not accustomed to people being kind to you.”

“That would be correct,” Leo said and then accepted Red’s help down from the cart. As soon as he dismounted his horse was surrounded and unhooked from the cart then led away. Leo turned and reached into the cart to remove a few of his more valuable items, including Hob’s satchel. 

Leo then followed Red to a bond fire and sat down. A blue turtle handed him a bowl filled with a mix of meat and vegetables with a side of flat bread. Leo looked around and saw that the others were using the bread to shovel the food into their mouths and did the same. 

Leo hummed in delight. It was good, either that or he was hungry enough that anything would taste good. 

Red sat down next to Leo, “Why are you traveling with a snapper when you do not speak the same language?”

“It’s a long story,” Leo sighed. 

“I have time to hear it,” Red smiled, passing Leo a drink. 

**

Slash sat in the old woman’s hut as she assessed his wounds. Her age had her once purple skin more of a grey color and her body hunched over under the weight of her large shell. “Do you want to talk about it?” the elder asked. 

“I was punished and then banished,” Slash answered. “Now I will die a slow and miserable death.”

“Death is an inevitable outcome of life,” the old woman smiled. “But you will live for a while yet.”

Slash outstretched his crystal covered hand, “Do you not see what I have, old woman?”

“I do,” she nodded. 

“Then you know that time for me is short.”

“You see this as a death sentence but I see it as a curable infection,” she corrected. 

“There is no cure,” Slash countered. 

“But there is,” she grinned showing her missing teeth. 

Slash perked up, looking the woman in the eye, “Give it to me.”

She backed up, “It’s not that simple. The cure is not here.”

“Don’t taunt me, woman,” Slash roared, slamming his fist on a nearby table. A tall, sleek, purple turtle looked into the hut with a glare on his face. He looked ready to rush in at a moment’s notice but the old woman waved him away. 

“The cure lies within the mountains,” the elder said. “The waters there are rich in a mineral that kills the crystal growing inside you. Find a hot spring and soak within the waters then you will be cured.”

Slash stood, “Then I will go.”

“The path is treacherous,” she warned. “You must climb up the mountain to get to it. If you don’t know what you are doing, it could mean your death.”

Slash was becoming agitated, “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Rest for now,” she soothed. “Eat. In the morning one of my grandsons will guide you to where you need to go. You have time.” She stood and walked toward the exit. “Come. Let’s get something to eat and see if one of my grandsons will be up to taking you.”

Slash grunted and stood to follow the old woman out. He saw Leonardo sitting by a fire and talking to the large red turtle. The old one grabbed Slash’s hand and led him to the same fire. 

“These are my grandchildren,” she said sweeping her hand. “Red, Leon, Angelo, and Dee.”

Each of the four colored turtles nodded as their names were said. To Slash their names were all strange. What kind of name is Red? How is that a name of anyone to be feared? Dee was the one who had poked his head into the hut when Slash had his outburst. That name was just as stupid.  

Leon handed Slash a bowl and flat bread. “What are they talking about?” Slash asked as he sat, gesturing to Red and Leonardo with his chin. 

Leon shrugged, “I do not understand that language. My cousin is the only one in the tribe who has bothered to learn it. He is also the one who knows that mountain best so he will most likely be the one to escort you.”

“If the springs do as your grandmother promises then I don’t care who takes me,” Slash replied. 

The next morning Red stood ready to take Slash up the mountain. The large snapper looked around, “Where is Leonardo?”

“When I assured him that you would be alright he decided to leave and seek out justice for his family,” Red answered, handing Slash a pack. 

“Did you tell him what his name meant?” Slash asked as they walked together. 

“No,” Red replied. “I do not think that he knows the whole story about how he was found. And telling him will only give him more questions.”

“He is going to be told one day,” Slash said. 

Red shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Slash looked back over his shoulder and huffed, “I wish he would have waited. I would have helped him. He knew I was sick and did not abandon me. And then he brought me here, where my life is to be saved.”

“He did not know we had a cure here, or of us for that matter,” Red corrected. 

Shaking his head, Slash said, “That does not matter. If it wasn’t for him I would be facing death alone. The least I could do is to help him avenge his family.”

“He said he will come back to let us know and to make sure you are truly alright.”

“Teach me his language so that I can tell him myself,” Slash requested. 

Red nodded, “Alright. I warn you now, though, it is a stupid language. There is no structure in the way they conjugate and they have several words that mean different things but are pronounced the same.”

They reached the foot of the mountain by sunset and made camp. The next morning they started to climb and Slash quickly learned what the old woman meant when she said that the way was treacherous.  

Loose rock and steep sides made the climb slow and there was very little room for mistakes. As they climbed, the forgotten corpses of failed climbers marked the wrong paths. They all looked like they had died from falling or from something falling on them and were in places difficult to get to. So retrieving the bodies was not an option. 

“Besides the springs, what else is of value on this mountain that others would attempt to climb it?” Slash asked as they reached a ledge and a chance to rest. 

Red handed over a container of water as he answered. “Most come for the springs and their abilities to heal. Others come for the bragging rights that come with conquering the mountain.”

“Have you reached the top,” Slash asked, handing the container back to Red. 

“I have,” Red smiled, “and nearly died a few times doing it. Don’t fret though every person I have guided up the mountain has come back down alive.” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Slash taunted in good humor. 

It took them several days to climb to the plateau where the springs were located. They were surrounded by lush flora and the air was thick but sweet. Red indicated a large pool and Slash wasted no time in entering the warm waters. 

His wounds tingled in the murky waters almost to the point of itching. Whatever it was doing, Slash hoped that it was working. Slash dunked his head underwater to get the spots on top of his head and wondered how long it was going to take. 

Red sat by the edge of the pool and offered Slash something to drink. The large snapper accepted the offer and downed it in a single gulp. 

“The berries here are nice,” Red said, holding out his hand. 

Slash brought his hands up out of the water and cupped them then Red dumped the berries into them. They were just the right balance of tart and sweet. Slash couldn’t help but think of Leonardo and what he could make with them. 

“How long do I have to soak?” Slash asked. 

“A while,” Red answered. “Sit back and enjoy it.”

“How do I know when it’s working?”

“When the crystals coming from your body turn soft.”  

Slash reached down and squeezed one of the crystals. It was still solid. “How am I supposed to get the ones on the top of my head?”

“We’ll think of something,” Red answered, patting Slash on the shoulder. “We will stay here for a few days and leave once we are sure you are free of the parasite. The plateau has plenty of food and water for us and it is warm. We can stay here as long as it takes.”

Slash stayed in the pool for several hours before the crystals finally started to soften. When Red deemed them ready to be removed, he instructed Slash to lie down in a trench that he had dug next to the pool. Slash was able to lie back in the trench and dip the top of his head into the water.    

Red got to work removing the crystals from Slash. Red pulled on them slowly and the feeling of them sliding along the bone caused shivers along Slash’s spine. The large chunks had tendrils that had grown around the bone and Red had to be sure that none of them broke off during the extraction. After each crystal was removed, Red treated the wound before moving on to the next. 

It was a long process and by the time he was done, the ones on Slash’s head were ready. He could feel that the tendrils had grown so long that they reached below his jaw line. The sensation of them being removed was almost nauseating. 

As Red finished with the last one, Slash was exhausted. He moved over and lied down in a bed of lush flowers. Their sweet scent mixed with the wet ground was almost intoxicating and eased his tension. “How long are we going to stay?”

“Just a few days,” Red answered, sitting down next to Slash. “We need to make sure that there is none of it left in your body. As you know, a small amount only takes a few days to grow enough to break the skin.”

Slash nodded his understanding. “What will happen after we return to your village?”

“That’s up to you,” Red smiled. “You can stay with us or… not. Whatever you decide.”

Slash wondered if he would be able to adjust to life among the painted tribe. But, where would he go if he chose to leave? He sighed and closed his eyes as sleep washed over him. He had plenty of time to decide.